Questions people ask

Can anyone send my child a message?

No — and not because we filter them. In a game with a child in it there is no chat, no typed names, no team names and no free text of any kind. There is no field on the screen that accepts words from another person. Every name and every message your child reads in that game was written by us and shipped inside the app.

We left it out on purpose, knowing exactly what it costs us. A stranger who cannot write to your child cannot ask them anything, tell them anything, or talk them into anything — and that is worth more to us than a chat window.

Can my child play against people we don't know?

Yes, and we think that's the right answer. At this game a stranger is an opponent and nothing more: they can take a shot at your fleet, and that is the entire vocabulary available to them. The protection isn't keeping people away. It's that there's no way for anyone to say anything.

If you'd rather they only played family, that works too — a game started at home and joined in person never goes near anyone else.

What name does my child play under?

One you pick from a list we wrote. Typing your own name is an adult feature. It's a small thing that closes a big door: a child can't publish their real name by accident, and can't be talked into putting anything else there either.

Why do you want my child's date of birth?

To work out one date — the day the restriction on their profile could be lifted — and then we throw the birthday away. It is never written to our database. What's stored is a single date with no birthday attached to it.

What happens when they turn thirteen?

Nothing, unless you do something. That date is a note to you, not a switch. Protections stay exactly as they are until you deliberately turn the profile into an adult account — and at that point it needs a licence of its own, so that one purchase never quietly becomes five adult accounts.

We built it that way on purpose. If growing out of the protections happened on a birthday, or could be bought, then the safety would belong to whoever had access to a card.

Can my child spend money in the game?

No. A child's profile plays on yours, and there is nothing inside the game to buy — no coins, no chests, no unlocks, no adverts to watch for a reward.

Do you track what we do?

No analytics, no advertising ID, no third-party trackers of any kind. We can't tell you how long anyone played, because we never asked to be told.

What do we need?

An Android phone each. There's no iPhone version and we're not going to promise you one until there is.

Do we all have to be online at once?

No — that's rather the point. Take your turn when you have a minute; the game nudges whoever's next. If you all happen to be holding your phones at the same time it feels live, and if you don't, it waits.

Can they play on their own?

Yes. The computer will give you a game whenever you want one — a single CPU opponent or several of them, same rules, same fleets, nobody to wait for. It's the sensible way to learn what a carrier is for before you try it on your uncle.

How many people can play?

Two, or considerably more. There's no cap in the rules. A six-way game is long and slightly chaotic and some families will love it.

How do we get into the same game?

One person starts it and shows a code on their screen for the others to scan, or reads out a short code to type. The scannable one changes every half a minute, so a photo of it is useless by the time it's been forwarded.

Someone has to drop out mid-game. Now what?

You can let them go, and their fleet stays on the water as a wreck for everyone else to keep shooting at. Removing somebody needs everyone else to agree — one person can't quietly eject another. Quitting yourself is always allowed, immediately, with no vote.

Is it on Google Play?

Not yet. A small closed test comes first. When there's a listing, there'll be a link at the top of the Fall of Shot page.

What will it cost?

$10 a year — and only the person who starts the game pays it. It renews yearly until you cancel, one subscription covers your household, and a guest who scans into your game needs no account and pays nothing at all.

The intent is that a great many children get to play on a small number of licences. That's deliberate, and not a hole we're planning to close. When there's more than one game with our name on it, we'll do something sensible about buying them together.

What do you keep about us?

An email address to sign in with, a display name, your games, and your career statistics. No location, no contacts, no photos, no microphone. The privacy policy is two minutes long and lists the lot.

How do we delete everything?

Ask, and it goes. The account deletion page explains exactly what disappears and when — including the one thing that takes ninety days rather than thirty, and why we can't honestly promise otherwise.

Who is "we"?

One person in Ohio, and the family who play-test whether he likes it or not. RedmonLabs is the name on the door.

Something's broken. Who do I tell?

desredmon@bright.net. It goes straight to the person who can fix it, which is either reassuring or alarming depending on how you look at it.