I've lost count of how many times I've read The Hobbit. As a child, I lived for its action – for goblins, dragons, and life-or-death games of riddles – but with every re-read, I've fallen more and more in love with its first chapter about Hobbits. Middle-earth's laziest layabouts, Hobbits live only to furnish their cozy burrowed homes, eat voraciously, and enjoy the Shire's gorgeous countryside. I often fantasize about living there, and if given the chance to move to the Shire, I'd be smoking pipeweed in Bag End before you could say "second breakfast".
Until then, I've lived out similar carefree fantasies in Stardew Valley and Animal Crossing, but living in a Hobbit-hole of my own has remained the ultimate fantasy. I'm saying all of this because in theory, Tales of the Shire, a life sim set in the Shire's village of Bywater, should be right up my street. But after playing it for a couple of hours, I'm left lukewarm.
An unexpected party
Tales of the Hobbit is set in Middle-earth's Third Age - see where it fits in our Lord of the Rings timeline.
Our anti-adventure begins with creating a Hobbit, who's just been woken up by Gandalf after falling asleep between Bree and Bywater. I'm thoroughly amused by the match-two naming system here – Bungo Underhill, how do you do – but less impressed with my attempt at character customisation, which results in poor Bungo looking like a strangely angular Miss Piggy. Luckily, it's only upward from there, as having inherited a home in Bywater, Bungo's got a whole new life ahead of him.
There's a lot of promise here. Bungo's new home is neglected and run-down, and as mossy as it looks now, I can already envision how satisfying it will be to clean things up and carve out my own snug corner of the Shire. Most importantly, there's a large, barebones pantry that I'm giddy at the thought of restocking. In fact, the first thing I have to do is search its shelves to cook a meal for local Hobbit Orlo Proudfoot, who appears to be on death's door because he missed his last meal.
Cooking is surprisingly intricate. After selecting a recipe – earned by befriending Bywater's residents – you can chop, fry and season each ingredient to your liking. How long you chop rhubarb, for example, determines how chunky or smooth it will be for a pie, and it takes experimentation to work out the best combination of textures for each meal. Trial and error is worthwhile, as food is the quickest way to a Hobbit's heart, and serving delicious meals will befriend your neighbors quicker. Hosting more elaborate dinner parties with better food seems to be one of Tales of the Shire's driving features – in preparation for hosting two Hobbits for lunch, I found myself foraging in the forest for mushrooms, fishing in the Brandybuck, and whizzing through the village square's market to buy cream and bacon. Your time in each day is limited though (stay up too late and you'll be carted home à la Stardew), so keeping a well-stocked pantry is a trial in itself.
But as much as I enjoy putting together the perfect lunch, I'm not sure if these dinner parties alone are enough to keep Tales of the Shire engaging. You can customize your little Hobbit-hole and its garden, but there doesn't seem to be many longer-term goals to chase – think saving up to buy new buildings in Animal Crossing, or completing Stardew Valley's community center. There are quests to complete, but the ones I played were nearly all dull fetch quests and frustrating back-and-forth couriering between characters (no, you sniffly little Hobbit, I won't cross the Shire and back for a third time because the second cold remedy I've fetched for you didn't work). It's a shame, because the game's writing really surprised me with how funny it is – at one point I was roped into what felt suspiciously like a multi-level marketing scheme to sell "dwarven" silverware in weekly installments – but it's all mired in tedium.
I think my biggest issue with Tales of the Shire, though, is that it just doesn't feel cozy. A lot of this is a visual issue. Broader environments look lovely – I love the lush green forests and hills that surround Bywater – but up close, textures are flat and plasticky. When you're out in the forest picking mushrooms, or watching the evening's sunset drizzle into the Brandywine from afar, everything's gorgeous. But the legendary Green Dragon Inn, rather than feeling like the beating heart of Bywater, is bare and empty. Hobbits look too smooth to have any character. Rain – despite being my favorite weather in any game – is pixelated and ugly, seemingly designed for smaller screens like the Switch rather than the PC I'm playing on. I'm not usually one to complain about graphics, but these visuals lack the warmth that games like Stardew Valley sorely need.
Right now, Tales of the Shire feels like a generic life sim with a thin Middle-earth veneer. I don't want it to stay that way, because there's real potential here. The tone is brilliant, and I'm really keen to see how Hobbit-hole customization opens up further into the game. Even some of my biggest gripes aren't foundational issues, as things like boring quests and patchy graphics can hopefully be improved before launch. My lingering concern, though, is that Tales of the Shire currently has a distinct lack of charm – and without that, even the promise of a second breakfast won't be enough to win me back.
Tales of the Shire is set to launch in 2025. Until then, here are the best Lord of the Rings games you can play now.
