It’s all done in individual rooms, each with a specific function, and up to three placed adjacently to one another will result in one huge, dedicated facility. In the meantime, though, your Vault requires nurturing, initially by creating a steady output of your three most valuable resources: power, clean water and food. When you cut ties to your Vault, you get the sense it’ll be okay without you. After a while, Fallout Shelter feels slightly resentful of your interference, and that’s a good thing. It’s the pride of bringing something into the world, rearing it, and eventually watching it turn away from you and go off to do its own thing. Your Vault, like most things in life, starts small, and the satisfaction in watching it expand and develop under your fingertips is, I imagine, what old people get out of planting seeds. But another, bigger part of it is simply old-fashioned, lizard-brain-tickling good design, the kind that has you up in the middle of the night collecting batches of resources that your precious little Dwellers have churned out while you were away. Part of that is, undeniably, down to style and personality, which evokes that of the series’ mascot, Pip-Boy. Fallout Shelter doesn’t – can’t, really – convince me that this whole trend in mobile gaming isn’t an utter waste of time, but I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t something remarkably compelling about this particular example of it. I’m generally opposed to the idea of repeating a task for its own sake of biding my time secure in the knowledge that there’s no endpoint to be reached of putting time and effort into developing a multi-faceted, fully-functioning subterranean paradise when the only thing to do with it is, eventually, abandon it. There are lots of things which don’t appeal to me about these endless, repetitive games, but in fairness to this one, none of them are really Fallout Shelter’s fault.
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