Captured equipment can be very much of a mixed blessing if you’re trying to actually use it on the battlefield, especially big complicated pieces of equipment like tanks which are notorious for requiring a lot of maintenance and spare parts. Supplying spare parts to your own guys for your own tanks is already enough of a challenge; it can be downright impossible if your captured enemy tanks use components which aren’t an exact match for what your own factories produce. Ditto for ammunition: I don’t know if the Germans had 45mm guns on any of their tanks, but if they didn’t I can see why they would have replaced the KV’s 45mm gun with a flamethrower. When the French battleship Richelieu switched to the Free French side in 1943, and went to New York for a refit, the shipyard workers – whose experience and measuring tools and (literally) nuts and bolts were based on the imperial system of weights and measures – had all sorts of headaches working on the vessel, which had been built using the metric system. Sometimes the best use for captured equipment is study rather than combat, a good example being the T-34, which gave the Germans a considerable shock when they they saw the shells from their Panzers bouncing off of it. Once they had recovered from their embarrassment (among other things, at discovering that the supposedly backward Russians had successfully produced a diesel engine powerful enough for a tank, something which Germany had failed to do), they created their own version of the T-34, the Panther. Another good example is the Akutan Zero, an A6M Zero which crashed in the Aleutians during the diversionary operation for the Battle of Midway. The pilot was killed, and from the air the plane looked like it had been totalled, but in fact it was barely damaged. U.S. forces found it about a month later. It was dismantled, shipped to the States, reassembled, then throughly evaluated by test pilots. This told American pilots, and American aircraft designers, everything the needed to know about the Zeros’s strengths and weaknesses.

Thanks for this excellent picture of a great ship’s demise. Earlier in 1941, Ark Royal famously launched the torpedo-bomber attack which jammed the Bismarck’s rudder, delivering the German battleship to the pursuing British naval units who otherwise would have failed to catch her.

Hi everyone,

Sorry to have been absent for so long; this is the first time I’ve logged into my forum account since the pandemic started. I’m fine, and I appreciate the expressions of concern; I’ve simply had to devote my time and my mental energies to dealing with the new situation we’re all living through. I’ve sidelined – for the moment – a lot of normal activities, including (sadly) my daily visits to the forum because I need to maintain my focus on working from home and dealing with the surreal environment in which we’re all living. Who ever thought that grocery shopping, a normally mundane task, would turn into an experience similar to the movie The Andromeda Strain, which features a multi-level biological research laboratory which requires increasingly severe sterilization procedures as one goes form level to level? Anyway, I hope everyone is doing okay.

All the best,
Marc

@Intrepid said in Introduce or Re-Introduce Yourself (Feb. 2019):
for the last three years given more time to A&A games […] > I have a huge interest in customizations such as map-making and other printed resources, as my professional background is as a graphic designer. My other hobbies include WW2 history and carpentry/woodworking/fabrication.

Sounds to me like the perfect combination of interests and skills! Welcome to the forum, and looking forward to seeing pictures of your eventual war room.

@Wittmann said in On this day during W.W. 2:

@captainwalker Stukas: now I am excited!

And on that subject, note that the photo correctly shows (for the spring 1942 period) conventional Stukas, not the Ju 87G Kanonenvogel tankbuster version which entered service about a year later and first went into combat at Kursk. The Ju 87G is easily recognizable by its large underwing 37mm cannon pods. To put things in perspective, this was the same caliber gun which was the main weapon of the early versions of the Panzer III.

Given that your players are a mixed group with different levels of experience at various other A&A games, I think your best option would be a two-part strategy: start with Anniversary, play a few games to get everyone up to speed, then make the jump to Global. In terms of size and complexity, Anniversary is nicely positioned between the 1942 game and the Global 1940 game, so it’s a good tool for transitioning from the former to the latter. Jumping straight into the deep end of the pool might be less comfortable for the less-experienced players in the group; ideally, you want to set up a situation where the whole gang gets into Global with more or less the same level of skill and enthusiasm, so that nobody feels like an odd man out.

To follow up on a post I added to a different thread yesterday, here’s something I put together last evening: a home-made war rake, also known as a croupier stick. It’s made from a 12" x 3/8" wooden dowel (the arts and crafts section of my local dollar store sells them at $1.25 for a pack of six), a coffee stir stick sawn in half, and a drop of white glue. Unit cost: about 20 cents; assembly time: about five minutes (not counting the time it took for the glue to dry). The edge produced by the saw cut wasn’t completely smooth, so I used a nail file as improvised sandpaper to touch it up. To produce a good bond, I used two heavy books to press the components together while the glue was drying, since the glue company’s recommended practice of “clamping” is a bit difficult for an object that’s a foot long and less than half an inch wide. The end of the rake can be used either vertically to move individual sculpts, or horizontally to move massed formations of units. One pack of dowels and three stir sticks will produce six war rakes, which will serve the basic needs of a six-player game of Global 1940; two packs and six stir sticks will produce rakes for all nine Global player nations (with three spares which could be used for neutrals and for house-ruled additional player nations). An added refinement would be to paint the sticks in the appropriate national sculpt colours, if a deluxe version of the rakes is desired.

@dan-hamilton said in Introduce or Re-Introduce Yourself (Current):

Hi everyone. I am new to this forum

Welcome aboard!

Ceylon and Madagascar do indeed occupy strategic positions in the Indian Ocean, but in order for a hypothetical Japanese occupation of these islands to have had a serious effect on the Allies the Japanese would have had to establish large and well-equipped naval and air bases there, keep them regularly supplied with food and fuel and ammunition, and defend them against Allied countremeasures (such as blockade and/or invasion). Considering how far these islands are from Japan, and considering how much trouble Japan (which had an inadequate marchant shipping capacity and inadequate convoy defenses) had with the logistical support of its much-closer holdings in the Pacific, I doubt that a large-scale, long-term Japanese presence in the Indian Ocean would have been a realistic proposition. Note by the way that Japan did occupy the Andaman and Nicobar Islands, which are south of Burma and west of Thailand; the effects of this occupation were marginal (except to the local population) and by the end of the war the garrison was starving.

The site has been such a well-established part of my life for such a long time that it was a bit of a shock, upon seeing that this is its 20th anniversary, to take a step back and realize just how long a time it’s been and how much the A&A game has evolved during that interval. Many of the unit types and player nations available today in Global didn’t even exist at the time, which makes those days look like ancient history (which isn’t a bad thing, given that many A&A players are history buffs). As the previous post said, here’s to another 20 great years!

In A&A, players know in advance who will play which power, and they know in advance which power gets to play in what order. They know in advance who will play which power because, prior to the start of the game, they’ll have come to an agreement about it – either by a random draw, or by mutual agreement, or whatever. And they know in advance which power gets to play in what order because the turn order is prescribed in the rulebook:

1. Germany
2. Soviet Union
3. Japan
4. United States
5. China
6. United Kingdom
7. Italy
8. ANZAC
9. France

In your game, it sounds as if one or both of those elements have been discarded. It sounds as though the five colours don’t play in a predetermined order, and it sounds as though the players don’t get to choose which colour they play. Rather, it sounds as if these things are determined either by the game system, or by the actions of one or more players, or both. To use the analogy of a five-part train consisting of a locomotive and three passenger cars and a caboose, it sounds as if the game starts with somebody somehow being assigned to the driving the locomotive (and therefore getting to play first). The results of that person’s first-player actions then determine who gets assigned to the first passenger car (and therefore getting to play second). And so on, until the last remaining person ends up being put into the caboose. And it sounds as if one of your playtesters is complaining about being stuck in the caboose, a problem which you’re wondering could be remedied by changing the configuration of the caboose to make it more comfortable. At least that’s how I’m interpreting your (understandably) cryptic remark that turn order determines what colour/nation you get. I say “understandably cryptic” because I realize you want to keep the details secret, which is fair enough and which is why I don’t think I’ll have any further questions on the subject. Good luck with your project.

The fact that you haven’t said anything specific about how your game works actually makes it easier to discuss it from a broad theoretical perspective. The theoretical issue I’m wondering about at this point relates to what you mentioned here: “The main complaints I’ve gotten are more like, “Bob kept screwing me up because he moves right before I do.” That’s where the idea of only having to play against every opponent once came to mind, in an attempt to lessen some of the luck of the draw that’s involved.”

What I’m wondering is: to what degree are you trying to eliminate (or compensate for) factors which give one player a potential advantage over another? And with all those factors eliminated, what does the game outcome actually end up hinging on? There has to be some way for Player X to gain advantage over Player Y, because otherwise there would be no mechanism for winning the game. I’m not expecting any answers, since your game is confidential; I’m just framing these as questions for you to think about.

Even though nobody wants to play a game that’s unfair, the flip side is that wants to play a game which is so perfectly balanced and utterly fair that it’s dull and pointless. Games are inherently conflictual. Okay, an exception can be made for certain Euro-style games in which the focus is on teamwork rather than winning and losing, and perhaps that’s what you’re designing, but I’m going to assume that we’re talking about conventional adversarial games. Let’s take A&A, and the conflict which inspired it, WWII. In simplistic terms, the Axis powers start out in a position of military strength and economic weakness, while the Allies start out in a position of military weakness and economic strength. Is this situation balanced? Arguably yes, since each side has both strengths and weaknesses. Is the situation symmetrical? Definitely not, because the strengths and weaknesses are different on the two sides. Is it fair? That’s a matter of opinion. Does it make for an interesting game and an interesting historical event? Absolutely yes.

One final observation about turn order, by the way. The quintessential no-luck-involved game, chess, has a turn order: White plays first. Does this mean that chess has a deep structural flaw and is inherently unfair? I don’t think so. There was a Soviet chess grandmaster (I can’t remember his name, so I’ll call him So-and-so) who was once asked if he preferred playing White or Black. He answered, “It doesn’t matter to me. If I play White, I win because I play first. If I play Black, I win because I am So-and-so.” Blaming one’s defeat on turn order alone is simplistic, unless the game is so badly designed that turn order inherently gives one side such a clear advantage. In such a case, the bias will be obvious without having to play dozens of game to verify its existence.

Your response to aardvarkpepper provides some interesting insights into why you’re developing this matrix, and it also raises some new questions. I’m not sure I’ve fully grasped what you’re getting at, but it sounds as if you’re trying to generate a massive amount of evidence in order to make a point by the sheer brute force of quantity. What I’m most unclear about is the nature of the point you’re trying to make by doing this. To put it as a question: are you trying to test your game’s level of balance for your own benefit (possibly because its balance can’t be proved from theoretical considerations alone) or are you trying to prove its balance to someone else who needs to be convinced? If it’s the latter, I doubt that a bunch of statistical data is going to overcome their scepticism. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen the original pilot movie for the eventual TV series Voyage to the Bottom of The Sea, but there’s a scene depicting an argument at the U.N. between two scientists, each of whom thinks the other is an idiot. Scientist B produces a stack of calculations which he says proves that he’s correct, puts them on Scientist A’s desk and says he’s welcome to check the figures for himself. Scientist A mumbles for a few seconds, looking at random through the stack of papers, then puts them down in disgust and declares that there’s no point in checking these figures because “I cannot be wrong!” So much for the scientific method.

When I talk about proving fairness (or lack thereof) from theoretical considerations, I’m referring to this sort of thing, quoted from something I remembered from Wikipedia: “Robert Feinerman has shown that the game of dreidel is “unfair”, in that the first player to spin has a better expected outcome than the second player, and the second better than the third, and so on. Feinerman, Robert (1976). “An ancient unfair game”. The American Mathematical Monthly. 83 (8): 623–625.” Or to use a different model, consider the buttered toast phenomenon. If a slice of toast, buttered on one side, were flung energetically into the air a hundred times under perfectly random conditions, it would land buttered-side-down exactly (or almost exactly) 50% of the time. Then why is it that, in real life, buttered toast sliding off a plate tends to land buttered-side-down significantly more often than 50% of the time? Because in real life it involves conditions which are relatively standardized rather than random. The slice of toast typically starts out sitting on plate buttered-side-up being held somewhere between waist height and chest height by a human being roughly five to six feet tall. If the plate is accidentally tilted, the toast slides off and falls with an acceleration of 1G (9.8 m/s squared). Over the distance at which it was dropped, this typically gives the slice of toast enough time to turn over once but not twice – so it hits the floor buttered-side-down. I don’t know if all this has ever been proved empirically, by running hundreds of toast experiments (half of them randomized and half of them standardized), but even if it’s been done the numbers wouldn’t change my mind; the theoretical argument I’ve mentioned sounds convincing in and of itself. In fact, I’d find it much more interesting to read additional theoretical arguments demonstrating that the above model is wrong than to read masses of numerical data demonstrating that the above model is right.

But anyway, I agree that the matrix is, if nothing else, an interesting theoretical exercise in its own right – kind of like solving a “Seven Bridges of Konigsberg” type of problem. I don’t have the mathematical background to crack it, so unfortunately I can’t be of any help with it.

Here are a few additional thoughts, based on your “I’ve tried many, many matchups, but they all have thus far failed” comment and on aardvarkpepper’s analysis, which among other things raises the question of whether the kind of matrix you’re contemplating actually achieves the fairness it’s supposed to deliver.

To illustrate the argument I’m about to make, I’ll use the relatively simple case of the three-player matrix, which has already been solved, my version of it being:

A B C
1 2 3
4 1 5
6 7 1
2 6 4
7 5 2
3 4 7
5 3 6

The first point to consider is this. You’ll note that every player does indeed play in each position (A, B and C) exactly once, and that every player plays against every other player exactly once, as required. At first glance, everything looks perfectly symmetrical, and therefore perfectly “fair”, because the assumption being made is that “symmetry equals fairness.” It turns out, however, that there are two problems here. Problem one has already been pointed out by Aardvarkpepper: the concept that “symmetry equals fairness” is questionable. Problem two is that the matrix is only symmetrical when you view it it terms of every player playing against every other INDIVIDUAL player. It stops being symmetrical when you view it it terms of every player playing against every possible COMBINATION of players. In the above example, for instance, 1 gets to play against three combinations of players; 2&3, 4&5, and 6&7, but never gets to play against all the other possible combinations of players (such as 2&6). If you work from the assumption that “symmetry equals fairness”, the logical conclusion would be that your players would all have to play a game against all the other possible combinations of players, not just against every individual player. This would not only increase the number of games to be played, it also require you to drop the requirement that each play play each position only once.

The second point to consider is this. As noted, the above matrix does not include all the possible three-player combinations. Some of the possible combinations are “valid”, in the sense that they work within the matrix, while others are “invalid”, in the sense that they wreck the matrix. This may explain the “I’ve tried many, many matchups, but they all have thus far failed” problem you’ve been running into. Your five-player matrix experiments presumably all use the following match-ups as their starting points, since those match-ups are quick and easy to identify…

1 2 3 4 5
1 6 7 8 9
1 10 11 12 13
1 14 15 16 17
1 18 19 20 21

2 6 10 14 18
2 7 11 15 19
2 8 12 16 20
2 9 13 17 21

…but I’m wondering if those match-ups include “invalid” ones that make the rest of the matrix impossible to complete? I’m not saying that your contemplated 5-player matrix is impossible; I’m saying that working it out may require a good deal of mathematical knowledge (which I certainly don’t have). If you look at the Wikipedia articles on round-robin tournaments…

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Round-robin_tournament
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tournament_(graph_theory)

…you’ll note that the scheduling algorithms for even the relatively simple case of rotating two-player match-ups are quite complicated, or at least (to borrow a phrase from Calvin and Hobbes) look complicated “to the untutored eye of the ignorant layman.” This doesn’t appear to be a problem you’ll be able to solve by continuing to “diligently working on at least finding ways that DON’T work for the 5-player, 21-participant bracket.”

Which brings me to a practical suggestion. The problem you’re working on is extremely difficult to solve if the only solution that’s acceptable to you is one that meets your requirements perfectly. If you settle for “almost perfectly,” however, it immediately becomes quite manageable. I assume from your remark “I’ve tried many, many matchups, but they all have thus far failed” that every time you try to set up a matrix, there are always one or two match-ups that don’t fit. How about simply living with them? As has ben discussed above, the premise that “symmetry equals fairness” has got a couple of conceptual problems with it, so it seems to me that having a couple of non-fitting outliers in your matrix is hardly going to be a fatal flaw. And you’ll note that the Wikipedia articles mention the concept “dummy competitors”, whose function seems to be make scheduling algorithms work. If the professionals need to use loopholes of this type, there’s no dishonour in your doing likewise.

Incidentally, I’ve just checked my table against yours (which is oriented horizontally rather than vertically)…

Game 1. Game 2. Game 3. Game 4. Game 5. Game 6 Game 7.
----1---------4---------6---------2----------7----------3---------5
----2---------1---------7---------5----------4----------6---------3
----3---------5---------1---------6----------2----------4---------7

…and I see that we got the same results in three of the cases and similar but different ones in the remaining four, so it looks as if the problem has at least two valid answers. This is is good news because this suggests that even your five-player matrix should be workable in at least one way.

Now to resume. By now we’ve generated a tentative table of three-number match-up lines which looks like this:

1 2 3
1 4 5
1 6 7
2 4 6
2 5 7
3 4 7
3 5 6

As a check, I then mentally went through the following two-number combination: one-two, one-three, one-four, etc., all the way up to three-seven, to see if each pair of numbers in the combination can be found on one and only one line of the table. Answer: yes. So – unless I’ve overlooked something, which I hope I haven’t – we now have a complete list of who gets matched with whom, which meets the required “play with everyone but only once” condition.

Now to figure of the turn order. Each player gets to play in each position (A, B and C) once. The first cluster of unedited lines is:

1 2 3
1 4 5
1 6 7

If we move the 1 by one and two spaces respectively, we get:

1 2 3
4 1 5
6 7 1

Now for these unedited lines:

2 4 6
2 5 7

The first line already has the 2 in the A position, and the 4 and the 6 don’t conflict with anything above, so it’s tentatively fine as is (more on this later). The second line needs to have the 2 in the C position. Putting the 7 in the B position would conflict with an earlier line, so our only choice is to put it in the A positition:

7 5 2

Our table thus far is:

1 2 3
4 1 5
6 7 1
2 4 6
7 5 2

We’re now left with these two unedited lines:

3 4 7
3 5 6

Here we run into a problem: the lines can’t be arranged to avoid conflicts. I therefore had a second look at that “tentatively fine” earlier line and tried switching it around. That fixed the problem, with the rest of the table fell into place. The full final result is…

1 2 3
4 1 5
6 7 1
2 6 4
7 5 2
3 4 7
5 3 6

…which can be verified by noting that each number appears once in each column:

A B C
1 2 3
4 1 5
6 7 1
2 6 4
7 5 2
3 4 7
5 3 6

I think I’ve found a way for you to work out your five-player matrix without too much trouble. I tried to see if there was a reasonably systematic / programmatic way to work out the answer for the simpler case of a three-player matrix; there is, and you should be able to scale it up. It’s a manual process that involves checking things – but it uses a process of elimination, so some parts of the process get shorter as you progress, which makes it manageable.

It also breaks the problem down into stages, so that you don’t have to try to figure out all the variables at once by an excruciating process of trial and error. Crucially, it first determines only the issue of “who plays with whom in each game”, and it leaves until a second stage the issue of who plays which turn order position.

Here’s the approach I took, after studying the photo you posted (which answered a lot of my earlier questions).

For clarity, I designated the players with numbers (1, 2, 3, etc.), and I designated the turn order positions with capital letters (A, B and C). You might want to give Roman numerals to the games.

I started with Player 1 (hereafter just 1). The game has three turn order positions, and therefore also has three players per game. 1 has to play once in each turn order position, which means three games. There are three players per game, so at each game 1 plays against two opponents. The opponents are required to all be different at every game, so this means that 1 will play against six other people, numbered from 2 to 7. Thus:

1 plays against 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7

Since it’s a three-person game, this translates into:

1 plays against (2 & 3) and (4 & 5) and (6 and 7)

All three of 1’s match-us are now spoken for (though note that we haven’t yet nailed down which turn order position he plays in each pairing; that will come later), so we can turn to the next player to consider. Here’s where the process of elimination comes in. The next player to consider is 2. If we were replicating the pattern of this line…

1 plays against 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7

…you’d think this that corresponding “2” line would look like this…

2 plays against 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7…

but in actuality it looks like this…

2 plays against 4, 5, 6, and 7

…with two numbers (1 and 3) eliminated because 2 has already played against both of them. (The systematic check to apply at every step of this procedure is the question, “has this been used before?”)

At first glance, if we follow what we did with 1, this…

2 plays against 4, 5, 6, and 7

…translates into…

2 plays against (4 & 5) and (6 and 7)

…but if we apply the “has this been used before?” test we see that (4 & 5) and (6 and 7) were both used with 1, so we can’t use them with 2. Switching two of the digits, however, gives this…

2 plays against (4 & 6) and (5 and 7)

…which works because 4 hasn’t previously played against 6, and 5 hasn’t previously played against 7.

At this point I put together a little table to see if anything was missing. The results I have so far are:

The “1” match-ups

1 2 3

1 4 5

1 6 7

The “2” match-ups:

2 4 6

2 5 7

This leaves the “3” match-ups to work out. 3 has already been used with 1 and 2, but has not been used with 4, so I wrote the partial line:

3 4

We need another number to complete the line. 5 comes after 4, but it’s been used with 4 previously. Next comes 6, but that’s also been used with 4 previously. Next is 7, which has no previous use with 4, so the line becomes:

3 4 7

I then went back over all the previous lines to check whether there are any remaining numbers with which 3 had not yet been used. Yes indeed: 5 and 6. This generated the following line:

3 5 6

I don’t know if the forum has a posting length limit, so I’m going to break off here and continue in a second post in a few moments.

Thanks for the additional information. It helps to know that this isn’t for A&A because a single A&A game can take an awfully long time to play, never mind 21 of them. I have some follow-up questions.

1. You say that each game involves five players (that’s clear enough) and you say that “every opponent will only be seen once” over the course of the multiple games. What I’m wondering is whether “every opponent” refers to specifc individuals or whether it refers to a unique combination of individuals. To explain myself, let’s take five people and designate them as A, B, C, D and E, and let’s use person A as our reference point. In the first game, person A will face B, C, D and E. So far so good. In the second game, will person A need to face four entirely different individuals (say F, G, H, I and J)? Or does it suffice to face a different combination of individuals which can include some of the members of the previous group but not all of them – for example, B, C, D, E and F? If it’s absolutely prohibited for any of the players to ever face any of the same individuals in any of the games, regardless of what combinations they’re in, this implies a rather large number of people.

2. Is a “different opponent” defined by who the physical persons are, or is it defined by the position in which they’re playing? In other words, if person B is playing the #1 position (which I assume means the person who plays first in the turn order) in one game, and if person B is playing the #2 position in another game, is person B considered to be a different oppenent, even though it’s the same individual?

3. When you say “turn order matters”, do you mean that players are defined (within your system) in terms of what – in an A&A context – is the prescribed order in which the nations on the board get to take their turns? Or do you mean something else?

4. How many game rounds are there? (I define a round as each player in the turn order playing one turn.) Are people allowed to play multiple rounds until a game is finished?

5. Is the “you’ll never play the same opponent twice” concept an end in itself? Or does it relate to a larger concept for winning the tournament itself? To use an imperfect analogy: in the NHL playoffs, most teams never get to play against each other; they play in pairs, and each pairing eventually results in one team eliminating the other. Each winning team then meets another team which similarly eliminated another team in the first round, and so forth, with the number of teams surviving each round dropping by 50% at each round, until ultimately only two teams face off in the finals. There’s a clear goal and a clear progression. Is there some sort of similar goal in your rotational system? You seemed to indicate that one of your aims is to compensate for the fact that some players are strong and experienced, and thus can potentially bully weaker ones. Fair enough, but does this mean that the objective is simply to allow everyone to experience one game against every possible level of opponent, but that there’s no specific overall outcome regardless of who wins which games?

@charles-de-gaulle
I don’t have an answer to your actual question, and I have no idea whether what you have in mind is mathematically possible, but here’s the angle which really puzzles me. You mentioned that this issue arose out of hosting small tournaments, but you also mentioned that the concept involve 21 people playing 21 games, which doesn’t sound like a small event to me. From a practical point of view, there are two questions which come to mind. First, what is the rationale for having all the stipulations you mention? If I’m understanding your post correctly, you’re saying that what makes the problem so difficult is satisfying all the stipulations – but this begs the question of why you have so many of them in the first place. Second, your post presumably works from the assumption that you actually have 21 players on hand who’ve indicated that they’re willing to play under this round-robin system…but is that actually the case? In other words, are you trying to work out the mechanics of something to which they’ve already agreed, or are you developing a concept that you want to pitch to them as a cool idea once you’ve worked out the details? If it’s the latter, you may end up investing a great deal of work in a concept that might not actually fly with your intended audience.

@magnum said in Tinkering with Heavy Tanks:

I also disagree with the fear rule. “Fear” is not cancelled by any aircraft in the area. “Fear” is cancelled by holding a weapon in your own hands that can be used to kill that tank. Panzerfausts, bazookas, and magnetic mines abounded at the end of the war. Infantry feared Pz. IIs more at the start of the war than they feared King Tigers at the end of the war.

A good point. U.S. Marines supposedly say that “hunting tanks is fun and easy”, especially in forested or built-up areas which infantry can use to their advantage. Another thing to keep in mind is that WWII heavy tanks were the product of an era when tank technologies (such as engine design) weren’t sufficiently advanced to produce a tank with excellent performance in all three areas (firepower, mobility and armour protection), just as battlecruisers were a product of the same problem in ship technology at the time of WWI. Designers had the choice between balanced designs which had reasonable (but not great) performance in all three areas, or unbalanced designs which optimized one or two features at the expense of the remainder. WWII heavy tanks got their firepower and protection at the expense of mobility. It wasn’t just a case of being slow (which they were); the strain put by their huge weight on their drive systems was a source of breakdowns, a problem made worse in the case of the German forces because of a shortage of spare parts. Deployment by railroad could be tricky if the tank was too large, and crossing bridges could be problematic. So it’s correct that heavy tanks shouldn’t blitz. As for the relation between fear and the presence of enemy planes, it could be argued that it’s the tanks to which the fear factor would apply because WWII tanks were vulnerable to air attack, notably by aircraft armed with rockets or heavy cannons. If the 188-ton Maus had ever gone into combat, a good way for the Americans to have handled it would have been with ground-attack aircraft armed with napalm bombs, a weapon which saw operational use in the Pacific towards the end of the war though I don’t know if this was the case in Europe.