And in the game of Travian, where players obsess over crop consumption and troop training, the truest lesson is this: They remember. And they are always, always hungry.
By dawn, the Roman vanguard was not marching. They were dancing —swatting at ankles, cursing as thousands of black-furred bodies swarmed their supply carts. One century lost two days and three wagons to fevered bites.
But he also had an old, yellowed map— The Bestiary of the Unharvested .