Tally Ho
By Kreg Segall
☆☆ (8/10)
Ya know, I’ve never read anything strictly comedic in my life, and I didn’t intend to. I don’t even like comedy shows or specials because comedy is hard. Even harder than romance or action or poetry, honestly. At least with every other genre, you have your usual tropes: the hero’s journey or enemies-to-lovers or the sexy, mysterious stranger and what not. But with comedy? I’m scratching my head thinking about any tropes or storylines to support a comedic work. Slapstick, maybe? Anyway, a CoG text lives and dies by its writer, and though I was politely flummoxed by Tally Ho’s plot, Kreg Segall’s (intentional) loquaciousness and wit carries the game hard. I’ve already picked up the sequel (review to come!). In Tally Ho, however, you play as the perfect gentleman’s gentleman or lady’s lady in 1920s England, who gets into quite a lot of hijinks. You show up expecting to polish silver and politely remind your employer about their aunt’s visit, and instead you find yourself embroiled in motorcycle chases, jewel-thieving escapades, a boat race, high-society conspiracies, and perhaps the most polite espionage ring in literature. The premise should not work. It’s weird, quick in pace, and wacky. Yet Tally Ho leans fully into the foppery and the absurdity, and the result is a delightfully silly romp that had me genuinely laughing out loud multiple times. And, of course, a warm thank you to the staff for giving me a free copy 
Pros:
The writing. I cannot say enough good things about Segall’s writing. Quick, think of all the stereotypes about British people in the 1900s as fast as you can! Did you think of prissy, pretentious, uptight old people? A British soldier drinking Earl Grey with his pinky out? Their emphasis on keeping a stiff, upper lip? Yep, it’s all in here! The writing walks this tightrope between clever satire and full-body slapstick, and the wild part is how effortless it reads. It’s light on its feet, quick with a quip, and always ready to escalate the situation by precisely one absurd degree. The prose is modern enough that you never feel like you’re drowning in ye olde diction, but it’ll suddenly treat you to a perfectly purple, perfectly ridiculous sentence that sounds like it was ghostwritten by an over caffeinated Victorian novelist who just discovered adjectives. Like, of course you’re perfectly making tea on a motorcycle while in a fierce gunfight. What else would happen?
The game jabs at the classism of the era without becoming preachy or awkward. Aristocrats behave with a level of detached idiocy that would get a normal person killed twice over, and the narration treats these blunders as completely mundane inconveniences. Nearly getting arrested over some peacocks? Unfortunate, but hardly unexpected. A head servant wishes to recruit you to an underground cabal of hyper-trained household staff? Well, that’s just the industry. By having everyone act like these events are normal, the story highlights how utterly nonsensical the old social order was. Rich characters are charming disasters who survive only because an overworked servant (you) keeps patching the world together behind them. It’s almost as if such hierarchies are fragile and absurd . . .
Structure. Unlike a lot of CoG titles that funnel toward a single path regardless of early decisions, Tally Ho branches like a particularly chaotic family tree. Entire acts can shift based on your choices. Even little decisions, like where you sit on a train, grants you a new scene. Your relationships, your employer’s fate, your standing in the shadowy Committee of Superservants—everything changes depending on how you navigate this fine mess. The replayability is genuinely impressive.
The humor is a massive highlight. This is one of the rare games where failing a stat check leads to the funniest scene you’ll get all playthrough. The low-stakes tone helps: you’re not saving the world, you’re just saving your employer from themselves, which is infinitely more fun.
The cast. The cast, respectfully, is a bunch of strange, odd weirdos. I could not love them any more.
Cons:
There is a certain painter subplot that is notoriously mandatory for a good chunk of the story. For me, I quite liked this plotline, but I grew weary of it after the constant back-and-forth. I sort of wish there was a way to say “figure it out amongst yourself!”
The second or third act leans hard into detective/caper territory. This was well-written—credit to Segall—but the natural pacing of the game is fast. Tossing in events such as investigating a suspicious party or a jewel theft struck me as abrupt. I personally came for a more grounded(-ish) “behind-the-scenes” servant drama. So I had no idea what was going on at that rate (or why I was boat racing).
Time-based. So, let me use a scene in one of the early chapters as an example. You and about six or so characters go on a hunt. Fun! However, you cannot talk to everyone. Each conversation takes up an amount of time. Additionally, you are also asked to help out a fellow servant and investigate back at the manor. Again, each task carries a time limit, so you are forced to juggle your priorities. This design choice, in itself, is not a bad thing. It leads to great replayability and allows the player quite a bit of agency. However, I am the type of reader who only wants to do one, “perfect” playthrough. This time mechanic comes up quite a bit, so it was a bit of a bummer to me, personally. As a result of me not being able to do everything I wanted to do, I did not get enough—or any!—time with the supporting cast. So characters like Haze or the Inspector remained mysterious, as I only allowed myself to focus on my job and romance.
Poly romance option could use a bit more fluff. I’m quite pleased with the (potential) love triangle aspect. You can choose to be in love with your employer, your employer’s betrothed, none, or both! I, of course, in an effort to raise society’s brows as high as possible, romanced both. I got a good ending! They both confessed their love for me, and we all lived together (very scandalous, I know). However, the poly romance felt like I was romancing them individually. I could spend time with one but not both at the same time. I couldn’t hint about all three of the characters together. The narrative sort of ignored the fact that I had feelings for both, and you do sorta have to go behind each ROs’ back to flirt with the other. I wish there was a bit more openness, though I understand these things are simply not done in polite society.