As the moon rose over the pixelated plains, a strange ship appeared on the edge of the map, sailing not by water, but across fields and forests. At its helm stood Sinterklaas, cloak flowing, staff glowing faintly with magic. Beside him jumped Piet, already checking the coordinates.
They arrived just before midnight. The village was quiet, barracks still warm from recent troop training. Instead of troops, Sinterklaas left gifts: full resource warehouses, boosted production, and a small blessing that made construction finish just a little faster the next day.
In the next village, things were different. The player had forgotten to dodge an incoming attack. Piet rang the village bell softly, and when the attack arrived, the troops were mysteriously already hidden—safe and sound.
By morning, players across the world woke up confused. Messages filled the forums:
“Did anyone else get free resources?”
“My academy upgrade finished instantly!”
“Why do I suddenly have morale again?”
High above the map, Sinterklaas smiled.
“Even in a world of conquest,” he said, “a little generosity keeps the game worth playing.”
And with that, the ship vanished—leaving behind stronger villages, happier players, and one strange boot icon on the minimap.
On a cold December night, when the world map of Tribal Wars lay quiet and most nobles were asleep, a strange rider appeared on the roads between villages. It was Sinterklaas, traveling not by ship this time, but on his trusted white horse Amerigo, moving faster than any scout.
He carried no spear and commanded no army. Instead, he held a great book, said to be older than the oldest world, listing every village and every player’s deeds.
His first stop was a small village in K44, where the fields were well upgraded but the warehouse was always full. Sinterklaas smiled and left behind extra merchants and a boost to farm production, so the villagers would never worry about population again.
Next, he rode to a border village constantly under attack. The palisade was damaged, morale was low, and the troops were tired. Sinterklaas repaired the wall with a single tap of his staff and gifted the village a hidden stack of defensive units. When the next attack arrived, the reports were green.
In the core of a powerful tribe, Sinterklaas visited a nobleman village where players argued more than they planned. There he left no units and no resources—only a message in the tribe forum reminding them that cooperation wins more worlds than strength alone.
At the very edge of the map, a beginner village stood forgotten, its owner logging in every day despite slow progress. Sinterklaas stayed there longest. He upgraded the HQ, queued buildings through the night, and left a single coin on the town square: a promise that dedication would always be rewarded.
Before dawn, Sinterklaas vanished from the roads. All that remained were fuller warehouses, stronger walls, and a system message seen across the world:
“Happy Sinterklaas. Play fair, help your tribe, and watch your villages grow.”
And for one night in Tribal Wars, even the strongest players sent no fake attacks.
