The console war isn't the only bit of battle being waged at the Tokyo Game Show. There is also quite a fierce psychological battle being fought and the foot soldiers in the war for the hearts and minds of gamers are those elegant, perpetually smiling booth models.

While on the surface they may resemble the booth babes of E3 and Leipzig, dig a little deeper and you discover something crafty and calculating. Not a booth babe really as much as a booth bot.

I first noticed this while playing Patapon. They didn't just walk me to the game and explain how to play, they hung around and enthusiastically watched me play. We're talking clapping, laughing, even a bit of praise.

Playing a lengthy round of Eye of Judgment earlier this week, I was sitting at a table flanked by two booth bots, one man one woman.

A bit into the game, after I had finely managed to figure out how to play the game and was taking my first clumsy steps in the virtual-meets-meatspace game, the guy bot seated to my left eyed one of my moves and leaned across the table toward me. In a hushed voice he said "You have very good tactics."

Part of me immediately recognized it for what it was, a friendly bit of false praise meant to make me feel good about the game. But the other part of me, the much louder bit, didn't want to hear it. It believed, firmly, that not only had the guy spoken the truth, he was on to something.

I played for a bit more and then managed to summon up a three-headed beast that attacked simultaneously in three directions when played. The card spewed fire into two enemies at the same time, killing both.

The bot to my right laughed, clapping, bouncing a bit in her seat, then said "This is exciting."

It wasn't, but at that moment I felt the excitement. I knew she was just saying what they wanted her to say, that there was no way watching the latest in what for her had to be an endless stream of matches, could ever be exciting. But dammit, it was exciting wasn't it?

Finally, after misplaying a card, the game ended and I lost, but before I could leave my seat the left bot leaned over. His eyes, it seemed to me, scanned the people lined up behind me as if looking for anyone who might be listening in.

"You are... very good at this game... very good."

It was a small bit of praise, but the tone seemed to hold much more meaning. It spoke of my potential. I could, he seemed to be saying, perhaps after years of punishing training, one day be a master of Eye of Judgment. I had in me, his eyes said, some vast amount of card summoning potential. I was Arthur, Eye of Judgment my Excalibur.

But my time was up and the next padawan was waiting for his turn.

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