Fun fact: SystemSoft began its career in Japan making detailed computer wargames for domestic PCs. By the late 1980s and early 1990s, it had built a reputation for meticulous hex-based simulations. Advanced Daisenryaku is a product of that focus. It was one of the earliest entries to stitch individual battles into a full campaign that could diverge from history. The team’s affection for rules-heavy design shows through every hex. They kept refining this approach through the decade, eventually becoming part of the SystemSoft Alpha lineage that strategy fans in Japan still recognize.
We are sitting at the CRT, two floppies on the desk, and the campaign map is up. The opening invasion of Poland looks deceptively simple: a tidy cluster of cities and roads. Yet moving the first infantry units out already feels like conducting an orchestra that refuses to follow the sheet music.
The interface is austere, but everything you need is present: unit stats, terrain modifiers, movement per hex. The grid mercilessly rewards planning. I pinned down an enemy infantry unit in a forest hex. Its defense bonus destroyed my light tanks until I brought artillery into range. That interaction — armor versus terrain versus support — is the game’s heartbeat.
Gameplay Highlights appear quickly. The campaign structure makes choices matter. We once bypassed a fortified town, and the scenario forked into a completely different path than the historical map implied. That branching makes every playthrough feel like a miniature alternate history novel. In 1991 terms, it was like reading a choose-your-own-adventure with microcomputers and metal-on-metal engines.
I love how the unit matchups are clear but not simplistic. Tanks chew through infantry, but in rough terrain they become vulnerable. Aircraft give you reach, but supply and fuel constraints limit abuse. The decision to capture cities as the ultimate objective means you cannot simply annihilate the enemy; logistics and positional play win the day.
We are candid about rough edges. The presentation is dated even by our standards: text-heavy menus, spare sound, and a user interface that expects patience rather than hand-holding. Expect to save obsessively — which, in our room, is code for “keep a spare floppy and a comforting cup of coffee nearby.” Still, these are mostly surface complaints. The rules underneath are elegant.
Hot Tips we’re swapping while plotting the next move:
- Use recon units to screen ahead and reveal enemy formations before committing tanks.
- Place infantry in cities or forests — their defense bonuses are decisive when holding lines.
- Keep an artillery battery behind the front to soften entrenched units; artillery can tilt stalemates.
- Manage supply lines: a spearhead without fuel is a graveyard of expensive metal.
- Practice in standard mode to learn each unit’s strengths — it’s the safest way to learn how different terrain shifts combat odds.
There are memorable moments already. In a southern Poland scenario I staged a feint with light armor while flooding the center with infantry. The enemy commander — the CPU, but stubborn — committed reserves to chase the decoy. The resulting encirclement felt cinematic. Later, our Panther-ish tank (they look smaller in sprite form) earned a promotion after surviving a counterattack; we named it ‘Old Tin’ as a joke and it survived two more battles. War games live on anecdotes like that.
The final boss of the campaign here does not come as a single commander on a throne. Instead, our climax is a Kursk-like armored maelstrom: a Soviet counteroffensive with endless T-34 waves, layered minefields and aircraft sorties that keep our supply lines under constant siege. We are literally counting hexes of frontage and praying artillery saves our skin.
That last scenario is an endurance test. Our biggest memory: a night assault where visibility is down and the CPU launches a flank through a shallow forest. We react by rotating our reserves, sacrificing a mechanized brigade to buy time, and then launching our own armored counter-thrust once their supply chokepoint opens. The tension feels like a turn-based thriller: methodical, cruelly patient, and then, suddenly, decisive.
It is not flawless. The AI occasionally makes baffling moves — committing units into obvious traps or failing to exploit breaches — which breaks immersion. Also, the historical framing is single-minded: you play as the German army throughout, which may be off-putting to some players today, though the game is purely a simulation rather than a political statement. Still, as a tactics exercise the scenarios teach you a lot about combined arms.
Anecdote: at one point I mis-clicked during a crucial move — the old PC keyboard did me no favors — and handed a city to the enemy. We spent the next two hours trying to claw it back, like rewinding a VHS to get the tape back on track. The frustration was real, but retaking it later felt earned; that tug between setbacks and recovery is what keeps us here beyond the novelty of the hexes.
Our verdict? We give Advanced Daisenryaku a B. It is a deep, characterful strategy game with satisfying tactical layers and a campaign that rewards clever play. Presentation and AI roughness hold it back from greatness, but if you are in the mood for patient planning and historical hypotheticals, it is one of the best hex-based experiences available right now.
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