Bus Go Go

A driving game for the age where a truck going past the window is the best thing that has happened all day.

A long yellow school bus full of children, with more waiting on the pavement.

Eight things to drive

He picks one from eight cards. There is not a word on the screen — he cannot read yet, and a menu made of words would be a menu made of nothing.

A dump truck loaded with rocks beside a stone crusher.

The dump truck

Load the rocks up off the ground and take them to the crusher, which eats them and rumbles.

A blue and white Japanese refuse truck at a collection point.

The rubbish truck

Collect the bags, boxes and bottles, tip over a wheelie bin to see what falls out, and empty the lot into the recycling works.

A yellow school bus with children sitting at the windows.

The school bus

Pick the children up, sit them by a window wherever he likes, and drive them to school. Four buses, eight colours, and every one holds a different number.

A white patrol van with blue lights and dogs at its windows, outside a police box.

The patrol van

Lost dogs and cats wait in the park. Drive them to the police box, where a door opens for them — and tap the cab for the siren and the blue lights.

A yellow taxi with people aboard, in front of a block of flats in a town.

The taxi

Grown-ups and children at the rank, and a different building for each: a shop, a block of flats, a café. The roof sign goes dark when somebody gets in.

A black steam engine pulling flat wagons of logs, at a sawmill.

The train

Logs from the forest to the sawmill, on rails. A steam engine, a wooden one, a railcar and a shunter — and at the level crossing, this time it is the cars that wait.

A red sport motorcycle with a rack of parcels, beside a pillar box.

The motorcycle

Parcels from the post box to the houses on a sport bike, with an engine that changes gear as he goes.

A silver saucer with a blue band hovering over a red road, three green visitors below it.

The saucer

Visitors from a field to the mother ship, on a saucer that hovers over the road and lifts them up in its beam — over the Moon, Mars, and further out, the world changing at every landing.

A school bus waiting while a family of ducks crosses the road.

The road never ends

It is made up as he drives, so there is always another yard, another crossing, another thing coming.

  • Traffic lights go red, and then they go green.
  • Level crossings ring, drop their barriers, and a train goes past behind the road.
  • Ducks cross in a line — and sometimes a donkey, or a horse with somebody riding it.
  • Somebody is driving. Tap her and she sounds the horn.

Made for a two-year-old

Which mostly means the things it does not do.

No score, no timerNothing to win and no way to lose.
No adverts, everNothing to tap by accident.
Nothing to buy hereThree are free in the browser; tapping one of the other five shows a grown-up the way to the app. In the App Store app, those five are one purchase, once, behind a parental gate.
No internetThe game has no networking code of its own. It works in aeroplane mode; only the app's shop needs the internet.
Nothing collectedNo account, no sign-in, no analytics.
No way outNo links, nothing to read, nothing to break.

Hand him the tablet

It runs in the browser, sideways, full screen. Nothing to install and nothing to sign up for.

Play it now