Talking Tom & Friends is the digital equivalent of flinging open the front door on the first day of summer vacation, only to discover that the entire neighborhood has been silently remodeled into an outlandish carnival at some point while you were sleeping. Outfit7 has cleaved that now seven-year-old, globally popular squad — Tom, Angela, Hank, Ben, Ginger, Becca and Pierre — from the sleek apartments, tour buses and roof terraces that once dominated their existences.

The studio has stitched together a seamless, living diorama that ranges from rolling hillsides to sugar-frosted suburban candylands to neon-splashed downtown blocks to fog-blanketed pine forests — and never ruptures the make-believe with so much as a single loading screen. Once it opens, the camera swoops past a blimp featuring Hank’s smirking visage, over a toy-town skyline and down into the central plaza, where a three-story fountain shoots bubbles but no water. You’ve not just downloaded an update; you’ve landed inside a mutual, ever-whirring snow globe that keeps turning, whether you are present to witness it or not.

It's a laid-back life sim. You can spend a whole afternoon redecorating Angela's loft with floating crystal swings and rose-gold recording booths and then take a walk to the seashore for a soft-serve ice-cream Tom will lick too soon and regret doing so. Each character is subject to a day-night rhythm with the real world clock at the wheel: Ginger naps under a tree at eight, reciting cheat codes for his handheld console; Ben haunts the 24-hour diner, sipping black coffee and debugging his newest drone; Angela hosts rooftop open-mic sessions commencing at twilight, whose sounds cover the plaza in velvety jazz loops. Stopping by at various hours feels like visiting old friends who have learned to live, independently of your attention — a small miracle that transforms the city into a habitat instead of a toy box.

Micro-transactions glitter everywhere, but they are masquerading as souvenirs, not shortcuts. Buy the “forever sparkler” and your avatar will leave inquisitive pinpricks of harmless fireworks in the sky at night; buy the retro arcade cabinet and you can play an 8-bit version of the original Talking Tom app inside this newer, shinier world. Nothing you purchase here speeds up karma or locks friendships behind paywalls, so the economy feels more like tipping a street performer than bribing a bouncer.

Seasonal events come at the clip of pop singles: a week-long alien conference turns downtown into an overlay of neon crop circles, a food truck festival where raccoons with tiny chef hats cook every order, a surprise hurricane that leaves the park submerged and a co-op boat race. Long after it's over, echoes persist — one crop circle that won't disappear, a recipe card for raccoon tacos wedged in Angela's cookbook — so the city always seems a little more ancient, a little more alien than the day you first met it.

Talking Tom & Friends ultimately works because it trusts the same anarchic imagination that caused us as kids to tell the lives of stuffed animals under kitchen tables.

By Jerry | Copyright © Character100 - All Rights Reserved