I was shuttling up to my Voidship, planning to check out a prison planet uprising, when the sun exploded. The unexpected arrival of Xenos ships and the quick deployment of their star-shattering weapon left my crew in complete disarray. As I met with a round table of companions and ship staff, I was presented with choices.
With the collapsing force of the star and the growing instability brought on by the Warp, evacuations were ill-advised. Still, I could try to save the nearby planet’s population, but allies noted that the Warp had likely corrupted them. Alternatively, a member of the Adeptus Mechanicus asked if I’d consider diverting resources to save a piece of sacred machinery. Others at the meeting demanded we high-tail it out of the system as fast as possible.
I made what I thought was the best decision at the time, opting to save as many people as possible. But soon after arriving in a new system, commanders among my crew alerted me that evidence of the Warp’s stain was present within my ship. Amazed by what had transpired over the last ten minutes, I realized I had only just exited the tutorial-like starting area of Warhammer 40000: Rogue Trader.
There are certainly examples of great Warhammer 40K games, like Dawn of War 2 or Space Marine. But I contend that even these top-shelf offerings stumble when trying to present the universe as a whole. I’ve talked about this before. It was the crux of my argument that Destiny 2 is a better Warhammer 40K game than most legitimately licensed options. In almost every Warhammer 40K game I’ve played, you’re either an eye in the sky commanding vast forces or a specific individual within some lore niche.
Both avenues present their inherent problems. Strategy games lose ambiance
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