This is Skeezix’s Brain on Gaming
Is Total War: Warhammer 2 Still Worth Playing?
Two armies meet in a yellow wood. One shambles forth, a disorderly crowd of grinning skeletons and rotting zombies, and the other steps proudly ahead, a glittering display of ancient beauty utterly undiminished by the passage of time. Each charging towards the other, they meet with a clash of ringing steel, and soon it becomes apparent that the real question is whether the singing Elven bowstrings will be able to deal enough (re)death to put down the unliving horde before it overwhelms their front line completely.
Once again, Total War: Warhammer asks the age-old question: Who would win…?
Full disclosure: I have already written something that could be considered a review of Total War: Warhammer. That’s available here. But…well, that was never going to be enough. I now have nearly two hundred hours on both games combined. If I had spent that time working out, I would be a monster. If I had spent that time practicing, say, Swedish, jag kunde tala det mycket bra. If I had spent that time writing, I might end up being able to put out a Medium article more than once a month. The waste is incredible, though I have to admit it was highly enjoyable. So I feel that I owe some kind of explanation to myself and my readers as to why, just why, I’ve spent so much time on this one game.
As always, the review will follow my typical format: Presentation, mechanics, and “story,” which, as I’ve covered a number of games without real “story modes,” per se, I’ve realized has merely come to mean any element of the experience which provides some overarching theme or message to justify the player’s actions within the world of the game, whether that’s dialogue, plot, objectives, or even just the general vibe you get as you play. For review purposes, I’m treating the first and second game as the same experience, because functionally they are: You can play the entirety of Warhammer 1 (and then some) as a free add-on to Warhammer 2, provided that you own both titles.
Though I love the game just as much as I did when I wrote my other article on it (and if you haven’t clicked on that link yet, you should be right about now), I’ve realized a number of things in the hundred hours or so I’ve put in since I wrote it. Therefore, I feel better qualified now than before to put out an authoritative review of the title, which is one reason that I’ve decided to do this now. Another reason is that I failed, in my prior review, to properly hype up the Vampire Coast. So, without further ado, let’s get into it, starting with the game’s presentation.
Though the game is a couple of years old now, Warhammer 2 is, especially in the battle mode, about as nice-looking as a strategy game can get. Zoom in on the New World, the game’s verdant equivalent of South America, and you’ll see flying terradons wheeling around majestic jungle cliffs. In Ulthuan, the Atlantis-like island home to the High Elves, divine rays of sunlight shine down from the heavens, allowing glittering rainbows to sparkle above picturesque waterfalls. Even the gross parts of the map look good, from filthy Skaven strongholds to dreary, abandoned-looking Vampiric castle. Units also interact beautifully in battle, barring the odd awkward animation, and every attack they make seems to carry a satisfying weight. Powerful units look powerful, be they huge undead crabs or soaring magical phoenixes, which is not only extremely cool but also a useful guide to figure out what’s a threat and what isn’t, something that the game’s dizzying unit variety might otherwise make rather difficult.
The music is also quite good. It’s mostly ambient and doesn’t ever take center stage, but each faction has its own theme, which I’m always a huge fan of, and some of them are very memorable — I’m not sure I’d ever thought about whether the Skaven would be fans of throat-singing, but now I know that they are. I find that the swelling tracks tend to contribute to my feelings of triumph when the enemy is on the run, but add to my stress when I’m on the back foot, which is exactly what I want from music in a strategy game.
Lastly, I think I should discuss UI and performance, two things that are sort of related to presentation but could arguably fall under “mechanics” as well. The UI is clean and snappy, and I rarely have trouble finding the information that I need. There are a few exceptions, though. For example, melee attack, melee defense and leadership are the three critical stats for a melee unit, and the AI gets buffs to all three on higher difficulty settings — but while the UI tells you how much of a leadership buff they get, you can’t tell how much their melee attack and defense are getting boosted. And when you have a wizard cast a spell that resurrects soldiers in a unit, which is a very common ability for undead factions, there’s no indicator that the spell won’t work on units that arrived at the battle missing part of their strength — so if you have 50 zombies out of 120 initially, and that then falls to 45, you can only resurrect five zombies even though it seems like you should be able to raise 75. Still, little complaints like this aside, the experience is very good.
Performance, unfortunately, tends to struggle. It’s only natural for a game that can see battles with up to five thousand warriors taking part, but the campaign map is also quite slow to process sometimes. I have a computer that I would describe as one solid step up from a potato, firmly in the low- to mid-range category with an AMD RX 570. With that hardware, I’m forced to keep many graphics options on the lowest setting. Obviously, I can’t blame the game for my slow computer, but many readers wondering whether this game is worth playing are also wondering whether they could run it — and the sad truth is, well, not necessarily. The first game does run noticeably better than the second one, however.
Next up, I’d like to cover the game’s mechanics. For Total War: Warhammer, this has to be battle mechanics first and foremost: if they don’t work, then it doesn’t matter whether the game’s grand strategy elements are the best thing since sliced bread. This is Total War, not Crusader Kings; arcane, dysfunctional battles just aren’t going to cut it.
And battles…well, on the bright side, they’re a ton of fun. It’s satisfying to hammer away at enemy units with artillery and missile troops, gratifying to send a huge monster crashing through a spearwall, and exciting to slay just such a monster with gunpowder weapons, which tend to be their Achilles heel. Magic is game-changing when cast well, but a complete waste when cast poorly. Almost everything feels snappy, responsive, and effective.
On the not-so-bright side, balance tends to be kind of wonky. For example, Total War: Warhammer, like all Total War games, has trouble with artillery and ranged units. The game determines who wins via a “balance of power” mechanic — essentially, each army has a “strength rating” coming into the battle that’s then worn away as they take damage, fire off ammunition, use abilities, and so on. When one army loses something like three-quarters of its strength rating, whether through casualties or routing, that’s game over. The thing is, this calculation seems to assume either that ranged units and artillery won’t successfully get off all their shots, or that they’ll get into melee midway through the battle, or both — reasonable assumptions, all, but, if you manage to keep enemy troops away from your ranged line, you can win with substantially fewer casualties than the game thinks you “should” be taking. When playing ranged-heavy factions like Skaven, Dwarfs and High Elves, I find myself going to any length to stop the enemy from ever touching my vulnerable missile troops, including summoning expendable units, arranging my troops into a “box” or “checkerboard” formation, and so on — and, if I pull it off successfully, winning much more easily than seems to have been intended.
Adding to the wonkiness, so-called “single-entity” units — lords, heroes and monsters who operate by themselves — can conspire with the ranged units and artillery to break things further. While melee-focused characters do almost no damage by themselves, putting out just one attack every four seconds that might kill two or three enemies, the AI tends to send large waves of infantry to attack just one of your characters, especially if they are the lord in command of the whole army. The resulting disorderly clump makes an ideal target for ranged units, artillery, and especially wizards using highly-damaging lores of magic like Fire and Heavens, distorting the balance further. And heroes, especially fast ones mounted on horses or pegasi, excel at wasting enemy ammunition. Simply having one ride in a figure-eight in front of the enemy army will result in the hapless foe throwing away all of their arrows shooting at one measly character. Even if they did get the kill — and they don’t even get hits most of the time — it still wouldn’t be a fair trade, as the damage-dealing potential of the enemy force is nearly completely neutralized once their ranged units run out of ammunition.
Lastly for the balance, melee units (except the aforementioned lords and heroes) are absolutely awful. As I mentioned before, higher-difficulty AI gets buffs to its melee stats, which means that it absolutely shreds the player’s own melee units. To reliably win an all-melee engagement on Very Hard, I find that I need three melee units to the AI’s one. This means that dealing out melee damage is more of an impossible dream than a reliable battle tactic that could conceivably produce a victory; even the best melee units, like the High Elven Swordmasters of Hoeth, rarely get more than fifty kills in a battle where a decently-placed artillery piece might come away with three hundred. Instead, the function of melee troops becomes to create “tarpits” — blobs of infantry that the AI can’t get through because their own melee troops, while significantly deadlier than the player’s, aren’t exactly killing machines either, because, no matter the stats, only the, say, forty soldiers at the front of a unit are actually fighting at any one time. Then, artillery and ranged units do all of the actual killing, shooting over (and sometimes through) friendly troops into the mass of enemies. Even on lower difficulties, where the player’s melee units are actually competitive against the AI’s, the opportunity cost of not taking a much deadlier ranged unit is just too great to ignore.
What this all adds up to is that many factions play very similarly to each other, even if, on the surface, they seem like they shouldn’t. Without melee infantry, the player loses the ability to control the pace and shape of a battle, so there’s always a reason to bring some — but most, if not all, can be replaced by heroes instead, or simply forgone. Unless I’m playing a faction that’s very weak at range like Lizardmen or Norsca, I’ll usually bring armies consisting of four or five heroes, most of whom will be capable in melee, two to three units of melee infantry, three to five artillery pieces, and the rest ranged units. The melee infantry I do bring tends to be very cheap, since it usually gets shredded regardless of quality, and I prioritize Melee Defense over everything else — since that stat increases evasion in combat, the unit will last for longer, all else being equal. Other types of melee troops that aren’t infantry, like multi-entity monster units, cavalry, and war hounds (there are a surprising number of different kinds of war hound in the game) are almost never worth bringing more than one or two of; they still lack punch, and the fact that they can’t form a blob and don’t fight well in prolonged combat makes them useless in almost every way. Even the Vampire Counts, who have no ranged units or artillery (I joke with a friend about the Crypt Cannon, but unfortunately that one has yet to make it into the game), end up playing like this; you may not have catapults or crossbows, but you do have magic, so the goal becomes creating a melee mosh pit that will fall victim to deadly Vampiric sorcery. The actual units in the mosh pit don’t matter, and you can roll with extremely cheap skeleton spearmen all the way through to the late game.
And that’s just field battles. Sieges are completely broken as well. When the player is attacking, the AI sits behind the walls and waits to die, watching as artillery (even one piece can be enough) pounds down the towers and then the walls. These towers, while theoretically effective, are vulnerable to the same cheese as normal ranged units — they simply shoot at the closest unit, so you can protect all the more vulnerable units in the back by simply, again, having a character ride in a circle through the inaccurate hail of arrows. They may not run out of ammo, but doing this creates an opening for your artillery pieces to destroy them, rendering them completely pointless. Spells are also hilariously effective when used to attack a fortress, since the AI doesn’t even try to dodge them — a single well-placed attack can score three hundred kills or more. The player is capable of handily winning offensive sieges that the game thinks should be utterly impossible, and it’s much easier to beat an army in a siege than it would be to beat that same army in the field.
On the other hand, defending is harder — defending is always harder in Total War: Warhammer because, on offense, the AI isn’t completely passive — but it’s still very much doable. Holding the walls is pointless. In real life, fortifications worked because building them meant that a much-larger enemy force would be forced to attack across the comparatively narrow front of the walls. In Total War: Warhammer, though, the map is split perfectly down the middle by the city walls, meaning that the defender gains no advantage by holding them — the entire enemy force can attack at once regardless. Towers don’t activate unless there are defenders nearby, but they are too ineffective to bother with. Having to climb up the walls with ladders does drain enemy troops’ stamina, which negatively affects melee stats, but stamina is drained so quickly in melee combat anyway that this hardly matters, and then the player will be in an unfavorable melee engagement — exactly what they must always avoid. Instead, the best strategy is for the player to pack all their troops into the capture point at the back of the fortress, ignoring the walls completely and leaving ranged units free to fire away. This allows for some surprising wins, and it is the fact that the AI never does it that leads to their continual defeats at the hands of the player.
So much for the battles. While they’re a lot of fun, they often end up feeling more than a little broken and unbalanced, and by the time the player has a proper army recruited, which happens as early as turn 50, it’s really all over but the shouting. What about the campaign?
Well, it’s significantly better. You won’t generally find the complexity of a Paradox game or even Civilization, but that’s okay; everything you really need in a strategy game is there. The settlements are much improved from previous Total War titles, with a major/minor settlement system that would later be ripped off by Total War: Three Kingdoms, and buildings vary between factions enough to change the way you play significantly. You’ll generally find yourself building walls, economy buildings, and recruitment buildings in every campaign, but beyond that, whether you want to, say, spread corruption, increase your hero capacity, or improve public order really depends on the race you pick.
Public order is actually a little bit broken. Having high public order seems like a good thing, and it is, but on higher difficulties it’s very difficult to maintain in the early game. Instead, you have a perverse incentive to let rebels pop up and squash them just as they begin to gather strength, which, if they aren’t interrupted, takes several turns. Each battle you win levels up your lords and heroes, making them easier to cheese with, and gives experience to your units, which does a lot to counteract the advantages the AI naturally has. In fact, I often find myself enabling taxation in rebellious areas, which reduces public order further, so that I can get more frequent rebellions and thus more easy XP. If you do allow them to gather strength, rebels can pack a punch, but there’s absolutely no need to do that. Later on in the campaign, public order does become an issue — it’s the number one thing limiting your expansion — so public order modifiers, especially faction-wide public order modifiers, start to be crucial.
Each faction has different mechanics that appear in a special menu tab, as well as a completely different tech tree. This adds further variety; the realm politics mechanic for the Empire completely changed how they played when it was introduced, and the Waaagh! mechanic for the Greenskins gives them a temporary, maintenance-free second army that’s incredibly powerful in the early game. The DLC factions expand further on this, so, for example, as Grom the Paunch, the fattest goblin of all time, you can cook special dishes that boost him, his army, and his entire faction all at the same time, and as Clan Skryre, leaders in Skaven mad science, you can buy permanent upgrades to your best units in the Forbidden Laboratory. While sometimes the mechanics these factions provide feel a little overtuned, you certainly can’t say that they’re not interesting and fun.
Some aspects of the campaign as a whole are a bit frustrating. The corruption mechanic I mentioned before is usually most relevant as undead or chaos factions, but having the wrong form of corruption in a province can really eat into public order. The penalty only goes away when the province has one hundred percent correct corruption, which is nearly impossible if you’re next door to, say, the Vampire Counts. This can create a terrible choice: Should you go to war and root out the source of your problems, or sit passively by and have to deal with huge unrest? The solution is obvious if the corruption generator is a faction that you’re going to fight anyway, but if it isn’t — if you’re Grimgor Ironhide and you run up against the Vampire Counts — then you face a real dilemma, because an unnecessary war would be both difficult to win and ultimately damaging. After all, if you take out Mannfred von Carstein, who will hold back the Empire? In situations like this, you just have to live with it, which isn’t ideal.
Also, the AI has a huge advantage when it comes to generating money and recruiting units, which leads to situations where you’ll come up against insane numbers of armies. Normally, things are fine, since the AI has to make the same choices as the player about allocating resources, and they’ll mostly be at war with other AI factions, so the hordes cancel each other out. However, when you run into a relatively isolated and not-very-busy AI faction — say, a Cult of Pleasure that has conquered all of Naggaroth — attacking can mean you’re instantly swarmed by as many as eight armies. And large battles just aren’t much fun; they’re chaotic, giving the computer a considerable advantage, and they absolutely murder the game’s frame rate. Obviously, the moral of that story is that it’s just not a good idea to attack Naggaroth in that situation, but the same thing can happen when the AI declares war on you as well, and in that case there’s much less that can be done to avoid it. The resulting mess can take hours to clean up, which hardly makes for a very fun experience.
Lastly, there’s a general issue with the results of decisions not being entirely clear. For example, as the Vampire Coast, you’ll periodically get an event asking you to choose between four enemy armies to fight, granting varying rewards for each. I picked the one with the biggest reward — only to have it spawn right next to my territory, far away from the army that could have dealt with it, which was busy raiding on an entirely different continent. Sure, I should have kept some force at home, but I was at peace with all my neighbors, so I didn’t expect to have to immediately defend myself; it felt unfair that the game should suddenly throw a massive, scary army at me without giving me any chance to prepare. Needless to say, I had to reload that save. There are a number of “surprise” events like this throughout the game, and you pretty much just have to play your faction of choice through a couple of times to figure out when they’re going to happen.
Still, despite its issues, the Total War: Warhammer campaign works quite well, especially by the standards of other Total War games. The AI doesn’t generally attack you for no reason at all, and when they do they tend to break treaties a few turns in advance to avoid diplomatic penalties, which gives you some advance warning. The enemy armies you face may not be commanded by a stellar AI, but they’re at least filled with strong units, which makes a change from Shogun 2, where you often encounter stacks of basic chaff well into the late game. And all the mechanics — income, trade, campaign movement and stances — gel together and make sense, making for an experience that, ninety percent of the time, works quite smoothly. Usually, if you get into an impossible situation in Total War: Warhammer, it’s your fault. Isn’t that beautiful?
Speaking of the campaign, we’ve now come to the final part of the review: the “story” segment, where I cover the “quest” and “lore”-type aspects of the game. I have to confess that I’ve never played tabletop Warhammer, and so I have no knowledge of the backstory of any of the factions. It’s therefore kind of tough for me to draw the line between what the game devs had to work with going in and what the results of their efforts ended up being. I do wonder, though: How do people who do play tabletop get their lore? Do they actually buy those Warhammer books at Barnes & Noble? Do they spend hours flipping through the campaign booklets, devouring every little tidbit of information about what Reiksemperor Karl Franz eats for breakfast? I’m not judging; I can be just as bad, but I’m not as much of a Warhammer person.
Speculation aside, I will say this: I know that most of what’s in the game is from the canonical Warhammer universe, and I also know that most of what’s in the game is extremely silly. Most story elements and side plots — Ikit Claw’s New World adventure, Skeggi’s colonization of Lustria, the Dark Elf expeditions to the southern oceans — simply amount to excuses for the different factions to fight each other. For tabletop Warhammer, that presumably served the purpose of allowing a new player with only one race to be able to take on any other opponent without upsetting lore-hungry neckbeards, and for the video game version it gives welcome variety and more exciting gameplay, but it does leave me rolling my eyes occasionally, because the narrative gymnastics such side plots require can be very impressive.
What passes for a central “plot,” the End Times, is utterly ridiculous. Archaon the Everchosen, Chaos Champion and, judging by his personal style, a rejected thrash metal singer, gets together a band of crazy, horned-helmet-wearing misfits in an attempt to destroy the entire Warhammer world, as well as presumably raiding its rich supplies of eyeliner. They travel the Old World, fighting every faction at least once, and then, at least in the lore, they ultimately win, plunging everything into primordial Chaos and restarting the eternal cycle of the Warhammer universe.
The thing is, that’s a terrible plot to base an entire game around. It made more sense in the first game, which included just the Old World map, but for the Mortal Empires campaign in Warhammer 2, three quarters of the factions will never even encounter Archaon. The solution the game developers ultimately adopted was to sprinkle the seas with random Chaos fleets, forcing the player, wherever they are, to deal with the forces of disorder — but this just adds to the problem of huge, unexpected armies that I discussed before. There’s no easy way to know when Chaos will strike, and if you start in Ulthuan, which is in the map’s exact center, it could come from almost any direction. This is, to say the least, a bit frustrating.
Adding insult to injury, Archaon (as well as his early-game buddies, the Beastmen) are utterly atrocious at sowing chaos and destruction. They’re supposed to win, obviously, but that doesn’t actually happen ninety-five percent of the time — instead, they’re crushed like bugs by waves of fifteen or twenty Ordertide armies almost the instant they spawn in. Even as the player, Chaos isn’t much of a threat, since you usually face them as the Empire or the Dwarfs, both of which have good ranged and artillery options that can see off a melee-focused Chaos army easily. Chaos is a playable DLC faction, but I haven’t purchased them — supposedly, they’re even worse in the hands of the player. For a faction that’s supposed to be the game’s final boss, they’re pretty weak, to say the least.
Also falling under the category of “plot” are quest battles. These are a lot of fun, usually with a voiced speech from your lord at the beginning, and give a great impression of their personalities, beyond just being killing machines decked out in shiny gold armor. Azhag the Slaughterer’s unstable but brilliant ranting really drew me to the character, as did Ikit Claw’s manic glee at getting the opportunity to test new “kill-devices.” Some characters, like the cranky-but-just Thorgrim Grudgebearer and the large-chinned yet bland Karl Franz, don’t really do it for me, but I feel like these short episodes give players a more digestible picture of who they are playing as than they would receive by playing the tabletop game. It doesn’t hurt that most of the quest items are really good and worth having, pairing a sweet reward with the exposition.
The Eye of the Vortex campaign, which is what’s available to players who own only Warhammer 2, throws out much of the wonky Mortal Empires stuff and creates an experience that feels much more tightly-designed and well-structured. Instead of just trying to blob and then potentially handle a threat that will probably be dead on arrival, players have a number of different things to achieve, and many more quest battles and structured experiences than could be found in Mortal Empires. It’s not too restrictive to be enjoyable, though, and the fat is all but completely trimmed; there’s no unpredictable Chaos Invasion, factions are much more straightforward in how they behave (after all, they’re trying to achieve goals too, not just blob), and you generally have a sense of being driven forward to achieve something rather than just play until you get bored. It’s wonderfully gratifying. I have to confess that I play Mortal Empires most of the time, since it’s “canon” and because of the greater faction variety you can encounter, but if you forced me to pick which of the two was “better,” I would choose Eye of the Vortex.
Speaking of winning, the Eye of the Vortex campaign has a number of interesting victory conditions that vary by faction, but the Mortal Empires campaign…does not. Usually, you’ll be required to eliminate a main enemy faction (usually much more straightforward than it sounds, because if, say, you never manage to eliminate Karaz-a-Karak as Grimgor Ironhide, you’re really just doing it wrong), build a couple of key landmark buildings (easy enough, once you have the provinces and the money), and hold a certain number of large, important settlements from a long list of possible choices. Sometimes these make sense — for Settra the Imperishable’s campaign victory, you have to conquer all of the arid Southlands — but sometimes not. The lists of “important settlements” vary by faction, but many of them are based on a “master list” that includes world cities like Altdorf, Lothern, Hexoatl and Karaz-a-Karak as well as a sprinkling of targets that are nearer at hand to the faction you’re actually playing. Since I usually get bored when I’m approximately three quarters of the way done with this checklist, the last part of every campaign always seems to become a Carmen Sandiego-like race around the world, trying to grab whichever of the targets are the most poorly-defended and easiest to capture, all so I can wrap things up as quickly as possible. This is hardly an ideal gameplay experience, and I suppose I could give up at any time, but I’ve always had an achievement-hunting streak, and securing at least the short campaign victory is required to get those sweet Steam icons. If a game presents you with an objective, I feel that it’s reasonable to expect to complete it before starting a new campaign.
So that’s Total War: Warhammer. Creative Assembly was standing on the shoulders of giants — Games Workshop is among the richest and most successful companies in the nerd-stuff business, so much so that, earlier this year, they sent back the coronavirus relief money supplied to them by the British government. This union of Total War and Warhammer was always destined for success.
Ironically, the game has been more successful than tabletop Warhammer as of late. While that property continues to make money hand over fist, Games Workshop has never figured out how to make its rebooted Age of Sigmar work as well as the original Warhammer once did, and 40K is having similar issues. One almost wonders whether the tabletop formula, while successful, may be trapped in the past; after all, it was born in an era before video games, attempting to simulate via math and dice rolling exactly what Total War: Warhammer can show much more smoothly and realistically. Of course, board games will always have a place in nerd-dom, but I think that Total War: Warhammer is a better-produced Warhammer experience than tabletop Warhammer, at least for the time being.
Adding to this impression, one of Total War: Warhammer’s best factions is inarguably the Vampire Coast. An undead faction like the Tomb Kings and Vampire Counts, the “vampirates,” as they are affectionately known by the community, are a ranged-heavy faction that relies on undead marksmen as well as fearsome beasts summoned from under the waves. One of the lords, Cylostra Direfin, is possibly my favorite Warhammer character, with her self-absorbed histrionics punctuated by snobbish putdowns of her rotting soldiers and lowly surroundings; when encamped in a forest, she sniffily observes that there’s “too much wood.” And the faction’s mechanics are fun as well; Pirate Coves let you leech off of the AI’s success, and the fact that some armies are hordes gives you that horde gameplay (replenishing in enemy territory, being able to recruit anywhere) without depriving you of the ability to occupy settlements, which I honestly think all horde factions should be able to do, lore be damned. It doesn’t quite feel overtuned, since you have to spread vampiric corruption, which can be very difficult, and because your heavy reliance on gunpowder units can create huge problems in hilly terrain and in ambushes, but it is incredibly fun, and, I mean, come on, zombie pirates! For a game with no naval combat, they fit in surprisingly well.
The thing is, the Vampire Coast doesn’t appear in the Warhammer canon, except for a brief cameo by one of its lords, Luther Harkon. It’s far more original and memorable than most of what Games Workshop has created, though, and it leaves me excited for Total War: Warhammer 3; there’s a lot of blank space on the map in Warhammer’s version of Asia, and I’m thrilled to see what Creative Assembly comes up with to fill that space. It makes one wonder whether the Warhammer property might have finally found the home it deserves — and whether that home isn’t on the tabletop at all. Regardless, though, Creative Assembly’s production may have its issues, but it’s clearly a masterpiece in the making, and, once the third game comes out, it will be one of the greatest strategy-game series of all time.
I give Total War: Warhammer five whiffed Winds of Death out of five. Aw, man, I really though it would hit that time!
Originally published at http://skeezixblogs.wordpress.com on November 14, 2020.