As kids, we were taught to fear what lurks in the forest: strange sounds, silent shadows, and dense trees blocking out the Sun’s warm, illuminating rays. Any manner of horrors could lurk within the thickets. All it takes is the howl of a wild beast to set your mind racing. This fear is capitalized on in Howl, an indie, tactical, turn-based folktale about a girl wandering the woods searching for her lost brother.

The monsters in this folktale are real. Twisted wolf-like beasts lurk within, turning all who hear their howls into monsters. But our protagonist, the Prophet, is deaf, so she’s unaffected by their wailing. This part of her being is a strength, not a weakness. It reflects developer Mi'pu'mi Games’ commitment to diverse characters, as seen in its previous title, The Flower Collectors, which featured a wheelchair-bound protagonist.

Though the woods are dangerous, they’re also beautiful. The “living ink” art style perfectly captures that folktale feeling; it gives Howl the appearance of a children’s pop-up book, one made to warn them about wandering too far from home. It reminds me of the backgrounds in Disney’s animated 101 Dalmatians. There’s also a rich soundscape on offer in Howl; the narrator’s soft voice and the discordant, folksy guitar melody simultaneously soothe and unnerve as the Prophet makes her way through levels, one tile at a time. 

Read the room

The Prophet starts with four action points per round. She can walk, attack, wait, or end rounds early, a system well explained by in-game hints and prompts. After each of her actions, the enemies take one; if they land an attack on her, the queue gets cleared, and the round ends. Fortunately, they’re very predictable, always walking toward the Prophet in the most direct route possible, but favoring horizontal moves over vertical. It’s a lot like Into the Breach, especially when you turn on Howl’s assistance mode. It clearly marks out where your foes will go after each of your moves, so you don’t have to keep track of everything in your head.

Each round becomes a series of decisions that have to be painstakingly thought out. The Prophet’s only got two hit points and three arrows, so her options are severely limited—prepare to die, a lot. Fortunately, there’s a rewind ability that lets her redo a round, and restarting the bite-sized levels is quick and easy, meaning the difficulty never gets frustrating.

Of course, she powers up as Howl progresses. You can spend the skulls you collect by killing monsters to unlock new paths on the overworld map that lead to new abilities. These are powered up with confidence, which is gained by beating levels in a set number of rounds and saving people. This system encourages you to go back and perfect earlier levels that once proved too tough, adding a fair bit of replayability to Howl. I loved giving the beasts a spanking with my overpowered Prophet once I’d gotten an exploding arrow or a smoke bomb that damages and confuses enemies caught in its radius.

Interestingly, you can only use these abilities on certain turns during each round. The stealthy smoke bomb and shawdowstep on turn two, force and vault on turn four, and exploding or piercing arrows on turn six. The Prophet can’t just unleash hell whenever she likes; she sometimes has to bide her time to strike the deadliest blow at the most opportune moment. Or, sometimes, she has to put down her bow and move out of harm’s way rather than going for the kill.

New enemy types are also added, each with different abilities, attack styles, and hit points. New hazards come into the environment, too. There are fires that damage anything still on them at the end of a round, destructible barbs you can blast enemies into, and holes in the floor you can jump over to make a quick escape. Through Howl continuously expanding upon a relatively simple tactical combat system, layers of complexity build alongside your skill, making for a perfect difficulty curve that remains challenging yet rewarding. 

A complex journey

As the Prophet ventures deeper into the woods, she stumbles upon ruined towns and eventually the source of the Howl. The narrator paints a nostalgic picture of the idyllic life people lived before this plague, creating an emotional attachment to the strangers that can be saved along the way. Her words also make you feel as though you’re currently living in a folktale being told, perhaps to children listening intently, fretfully pulling their covers tighter around themselves whenever the Prophet gets into danger.

The writing is sparring yet paints a complete picture of old characters and the mythos of the world of Howl. Folklore and spirituality go hand in hand, be it some sort of paganism or more mainstream religions, and there’s an undertone that permeates everything in Howl, from the title of Prophet to the source of the plague itself; something transformative spreading via sound, passed on from person to person, turning them into mindless beasts, can be read as a critique on the way many organized religions preach their views and impose them on others.

What complicates reading Howl as a criticism is the Prophet’s very existence. She’s the hero of the story, saving townsfolk and slaying beasts, ultimately fulfilling the role of savior promised in many religions. While an interesting theme, I can’t help but feel it and the mystery of the plague could have been explored or interrogated more thoroughly—this is exacerbated by the fourth and final chapter being relatively short compared to the first three, making the ending seem abrupt.

Despite concluding a little too rapidly for my liking, Howl is a wonderfully crafted game. There’s no bloating or wasted material; every system compliments another and forms a surprisingly complex series of combat puzzles. That, combined with the gorgeous art, wistful writing, and thought-provoking, if slightly undercooked ideas, make Howl a delightful experience. 

For more incredible games that will let you explore fantastic lands check out the best indie games and the best single-player games that are available right now. 

As soon as you wrap up Prince of Persia: The Lost Crown’s tutorial and get into the magical mountain where the meat of the game takes place, you’ll be hooked. This first hour or so is all movement, bouncing around to take the fight to the scores of undead that uneasily stride into your path in each room, and it’s hard not to fall in love with it. 

This is the new Prince of Persia, the same as the old Prince of Persia. The Lost Crown is a two-dimensional side-scrolling action game that takes that 1989 idea of the original Prince of Persia and infuses it with metroidvania sensibilities. The end result has the same intensity as its genre stablemates Dead Cells and Metroid Dread, but The Lost Crown is its own beast, with a kineticism that outstrips any other metroidvania I’ve ever played.

New hero Sargon pinballs around The Lost Crown’s open world as equal parts acrobat and dancer. Fights will often involve springing into a diving attack from a wall jump, knocking enemies up from the flagstones below, or parrying attacks with ease. 

Honestly, though, The Lost Crown is better in movement but flails a bit when it asks you to get stuck in with the combat. Luckily, you spend most of the time holding down the right trigger to sprint around, barely stopping to brutalize the infinitely respawning enemies dotted around the map. 

While there is some awkward friction, it’s hard not to see Prince of Persia: The Lost Crown as a bold and thoughtful blueprint for reinventing a franchise. While it’s not for this review to talk about the state of AAA game development, and I can’t claim to know how much Prince of Persia: The Lost Crown cost to make, it feels like it’s blazing a trail for a world where more experimental visions of your favorite games can be tried out, instead of rote retreading of games everyone is, secretly, a little bit bored of. 

Hail to the prince

If you haven’t noticed yet, movement is the most satisfying part of Prince of Persia: The Lost Crown. Sargon is lithe and immediately has access to a full suite of movement-based abilities. From the very start of the game, he can wall jump, sprint, slide across cobbles, and sling himself through the sky, gripping metal rings and flag poles right out of the Super Nintendo classic Aladdin. 

You’ll unlock more abilities throughout the game; this is a metroidvania after all. But you never feel like you’re missing out in the way you do in games like Dying Light 2 or Mirror’s Edge Catalyst, where your movement is initially hampered. When you do get extra objects to help you get around, like a bow and arrow (mostly used for traversal and puzzle solving) or even air dashes, they feel like they’re adding layers to a fleshed-out set of skills rather than papering over glaringly obvious gaps that have been there since the start of the game.

Combat is similar in that you’re given access to a variety of different moves. Your repertoire of abilities will let you knock enemies into the air or off ledges, and while the base attack is that same dull three-hit combo (that can be expanded into four later in the game), you’ll often be moving around instead of fighting from a stationary position, so you’ll rarely notice.

The problem with fighting in The Lost Crown is more about impact. Even the lowliest minion can take a real beating, which feels at odds with how nimble you are. When it takes 10 hits to send even the most mediocre of enemies to the shadow realm, the rhythm of combat feels a little off. This isn’t as noticeable in the boss fights: those are supposed to be hard to fight. But when the game throws a handful of enemies at you in one of several scripted fights, it’s a real chore when even ostensibly human assassins are shrugging off repeated sword strikes.

Combat is brutal, too. Enemies hit hard, so dodging and parrying are essential if you don’t want to get turned into a meaty paste. I’m bad at melee combat games, so it’s potentially a skill issue, but I found parrying to have a brutally short window and pulling one off successfully can be incredibly frustrating. 

Upgrades - doled out by the titanic god Kaheva at her blacksmith or an old woman squatting in a tent - do little to make the combat feel punchier, and so I found the best option was just to avoid the fights as I explored. 

Time to kill

Obviously, it’s a Prince of Persia game post 2003’s Sands of Time, so there’s a heavy time element. The story involves Sargon and his gang of ancient heroes wandering into a cursed mountain. There are no real surprises here, but the narrative is well-handled, and there are a few different side quests that encourage you to explore.

The aforementioned upgrade system is fairly by the numbers, with the addition of an amulet system that lets you pick up extra perks and slot them into empty sockets. More powerful amulets take up more sockets, and it can add a bit more customization to vary your playstyle. Personally, I was a big fan of an amulet that made every parry generate a little time bubble that slowed down enemies within it. I sucked at parrying, but it made parrying so valuable in encounters where you were getting swarmed that it made it worth trying to pull them off again and again. 

My most memorable moments with Prince of Persia: The Lost Crown aren’t the story or the combat but the platforming puzzles of jumping through spinning buzzsaws and skipping like a stone through chambers filled with puddles of poison, whirling blades, and hordes of enemies. That dizzying sense of speed is the unique thing that The Lost Crown brings to the metroidvania genre though, and it’s something that will keep me coming back to it again and again.  

For more thrilling titles just like this one, check out the best single-player games and the best story games that are all available to play right now.

I should have turned away the villagers when I had the chance. An exclamation bubble had appeared next to my Casualty Clearance Station, the intake tent for my hospital, and a nurse informed me that the residents of a nearby hamlet had come down with a mysterious illness. I wanted to be the hero, something that rarely ends well in World War 1 strategy game War Hospital. 

If I had said no then my staff morale would have taken a hit, and it was already trickling away with each soldier who died on the operating table, but it would have been one swift knock. Now, there are ten villagers all seeking treatment, on top of all the wounded who are arriving from the front after the Germans’ latest push, and my exhausted doctors are running out of medicine.

In the heroic version of this story, there would be a last-minute arrival of much-needed supplies, or the doctors would rally, working through the night to treat every last patient. In War Hospital, a game that’s studied in the Frostpunk school of strategy, there are no free victories. If I push my doctors, they will collapse from the work and not be able to help the next patients who arrive. If I don’t prioritize the soldiers, then I won’t have enough troops to withstand the next assault on our frontlines. If I leave the civilians queued up waiting for care, and they die before they see a doctor, then the morale hit will end my tenure as the hospital’s administrator. 

No, instead, I take each one of their patient cards that is waiting in my in-tray and slide it over the denied tray. Each one of them will die without treatment, but because they weren’t in line for a doctor, there’s less of a hit to morale; my staff accepting the civilians were already dead.

There are no easy choices in War Hospital, and as the Major in charge of running the operation, you face each and every one of them. You assign patients to doctors, make choices about their care in the operating room, and, if they survive, you choose where to send them after they have been rehabilitated. If a soldier is still fit to fight, you can send them back to the front line, strengthening your defenses; off to work at HQ, awarding you with a draft point you can trade for resources; or even release them from active service, for a boost to morale. 

All of these choices create a sense of responsibility; every soldier who lives is, in part, thanks to you, but you also play a role in every name etched into the memorial in the cemetery. 

World Ward

You're always low on something in War Hospital, so you must balance your needs to provide the best care you can. While you can order medicine if you have the draft points, your engineers can produce it in the pharmacy, but engineers are also who you use to upgrade your facilities and produce food. Run out of medicine and your doctors can’t treat anyone, and patients will die as they wait, run out of food and your staff and patients will starve; both outcomes see your morale dropping. If it reaches zero, then your campaign will end.

You also have to contend with the enemy, though only indirectly. German forces periodically attack the frontline just north of the hospital and the effectiveness of their defence is down to how many rehabilitated wounded you send to the front. Send too few and the lines will be overrun and it’s game over. 

War Hospital certainly has its weaknesses. Useful information can be hidden away in submenus, there are typos in the text, and the voice acting is uneven. Its biggest failing is that it doesn’t have an autosave function, which became apparent after I hit a bug which meant I had to quit the game, losing an hour’s worth of unsaved play. Even a timed save every ten minutes would be appreciated. But, it speaks to how absorbing a game War Hospital is that I went an hour without even thinking to save.

Meaningful choices

While the systems in War Hospital are simple – even a little blunt when you dissect them – they combine to create poignant choices. My trauma ward is perpetually full, I often lack the resources to produce the meds my patients need, so they sit in long queues waiting to be treated. In one case, I remember a patient who arrived in good condition who I put at the back of the queue, as he would be able to hold out to see a doctor, whereas the patients in critical condition had a more immediate need. 

The soldier waited for more than a day, slowly moving up the queue but still hanging in there. I put the engineers working in the pharmacy to produce medicine on a 24-hour shift to try and ease the backlog and it was working. Bit by bit he edged forward.

Then, when the patient was next in line for treatment, after his long wait, a VIP case in critical condition arrived. I tried putting the VIP in second place in the queue, but the prognosis told me they would die if they waited, taking the outsize reward I would get for saving their life with them. So I picked up the card of the patient who had waited all day, slid them into the denied tray and let them die, bumping them.

It wasn’t the wrong choice – I used the reward from treating the VIP to buy trauma meds – but it was a meaningful one, and War Hospital is full of them.

For more games like War Hospital, be sure to check out our list of the best PC strategy games. You can find even more varied recommendations on our roundup of the best PC games.

Against the Storm is a meticulously well-constructed town builder with a twist of dark fantasy horror. From Eremite Games, this challenging strategy title frames intense bursts of city management within a wider, roguelike campaign setting which tells an emergent story all of its own. Despite a considerable learning curve and occasionally dated visuals, Against the Storm will thrill and delight strategy fans with its meaningful decision points and deep systems. 

The first thing you’ll notice about Against the Storm is its bleak dark fantasy setting. You play as a Viceroy, an expeditionary leader charged by the queen of the Smouldering City to found new towns, gather resources on her behalf, and locate and bolster the seals - mysterious prisons that keep ancient evils locked beneath the earth. 

To make matters worse, the entire land is ravaged by a magical scourge called the Blightstorm. Not only does this storm lead to constant inclement weather for your settlers, but every few dozen years, the storm intensifies, wiping the land clean and forcing you to retreat back to the Smouldering City. It’s dramatic and engrossing stuff, luring you in with a setting full of mysteries and intrigue. Who is the queen? What’s underneath the seals? What causes the Blightstorm? To even begin to answer these questions you’ll first need to embark on missions and gather as much food, machinery, and artifacts as you can before retreating back to the Smouldering City at the end of the cycle.

Each town you attempt to found offers its own self-contained city-building mission, riddled with unique modifiers based on its location in the campaign map. Once you gain enough ‘Reputation’ with the queen to prove that your town is self-sufficient, you move on to your next project. Accumulated by fulfilling her demands and appeasing your villagers, you’ll need to accrue a certain amount to win each mission.

Between missions, you use the resources you’ve extracted to unlock upgrades including new building blueprints, powerful buffs, and even fresh game mechanics at the Smouldering City before continuing your expedition. In addition to subtle improvements to villager speed and resilience, you can unlock entirely new technologies, including the ability to power your buildings with rainfall. Throughout the game, you’re also bound to only a single save, too, ensuring that every choice you have to make feels weighty and significant. 

Under pressure 

Over the course of a mission, your handful of villagers, humble storage warehouse, and warm hearth gradually expand into a full-on town as you cut your way through the surrounding forest in real time. However, this is far from a relaxing countryside stroll. In your quest to amass enough Reputation to finish the mission, the Blightstorm ensures that you’re bound to a seasonal cycle, where consistent storms keep you under mounting pressure. 

The forest itself is also hostile. The more you meddle, the tougher it’ll get for you and your villagers. But, since you need wood to keep the hearth going and food to prevent starvation, sooner or later, the forest will be alerted to your presence, complicating your life with bespoke debuffs unique to each mission, ranging from mysterious curses to deadly plagues. Villagers may leave if you fail to keep their spirits up. Sometimes they might die outright. On top of all this, the queen herself is watching; an ominous ‘impatience’ meter imposing a time limit on your attempt at city-building. This serves to light a fire underneath you as you play. Your decisions concerning what to build, where to build it, and what sorts of production to focus upon carry a deliberate weight that adds to the sense of drama and tension. 

However, as much as she’s a threat, the queen can also be a lifeline. The queen will also approach you with ‘Orders’, giving you objectives to fulfill in exchange for significant rewards, including 'Reputation'. As time goes on, new ‘Orders’ slots open. Each one gives you a choice between two potential missions, adding another layer of consideration to the game’s thick strategic weave. 

Against the Storm is all about such pivotal decision points. Whenever you unlock a new building (usually as a result of Reputation gains), rather than just getting access to another structure, the game has you pick between several possible new unlocks. What’s more, your villagers will need to be manually assigned to buildings, forcing you to consider exactly which sorts of production are worth your attention. As circumstances change thanks to discoveries in the forest or changing seasons, you’ll find yourself constantly tweaking your villagers’ work assignments, trying to keep your economy as flexible as possible. The need to be optimal and to respond to evolving pressures keeps you on your toes, ensuring that Against the Storm’s duller moments are few and far between. 

Trial by fire

The game’s sophisticated web of resources and products enhances this satisfying feeling of weightiness, too. Everything you amass from the humblest berry to the finest wine has multiple uses, both in and of themselves and as part of the production of other resources. For instance, wine can be used to make luxury goods to help you earn money with traders or it can be distributed at a tavern to keep your villagers happy. It can also be used in place of pigment to make scrolls. Many resources can be substituted during the production process like this, letting you get clever with your supply lines. 

However, this complexity reveals a weakness in Against the Storm; namely its steep learning curve. While far from insurmountable, Eremite’s PC debut has a lot of moving parts and requires ample investment in its tutorials before it becomes truly rewarding. To the game’s credit, the tutorial missions are fit for purpose, if a little by the numbers. However, they’re also time-consuming, meaning that Against the Storm’s first few hours can drag.

Additionally, though the game’s old-school Warcraft 3-adjacent art style may delight nostalgic players, some may equally find Against the Storm’s production value to be a little lacking in some areas. For instance, the game has no voice acting beyond the occasional grunt, murmur, or burble of your villagers. Though the game never feels unfinished, it does occasionally feel dated. 

However, despite these niggles, Against the Storm is a fantastic entry in the strategy library. Bursting with meaningful decision points and plenty of tension, this deep and rewarding city-builder offers a fulfilling and demanding suite of systems wrapped in a dark fantasy package. 

Want more intense gaming experiences? Check out our guides to the best PC strategy games and the best single-player games.

Warhammer 40,000: Rogue Trader’s ambitious sci-fi odyssey artfully captures the overwhelming scale and dread at the heart of Game’s Workshop’s satirical dystopia. The role-playing game’s (RPG) writing manages to find shades of grey in a galaxy full of horrible people doing horrible things. However, developer Owlcat Games doesn’t offer a completely finished product. Bugs and glitches dog Rogue Trader, making for an incomplete experience that’s not yet reached its full potential.

Rogue Trader is a ‘computer role-playing game’ (CRPG) reminiscent of Baldur’s Gate 3 or Owlcat’s own excellent fantasy offering Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous. You click on your party members and tell them to go places, talk to people, and fight things; advancing numerous plots and often finding yourself having to make difficult decisions with no right answers. 

Given the setting's three decades of real-world history, getting into a Warhammer 40,000 game might seem like an intimidating prospect. However, Owlcat provides an accessible on-ramp for players that introduces key concepts quickly without getting bogged down in unnecessary details. After creating your character, complete with a customizable appearance and backstory, the game opens on a voidship - one of Warhammer 40,000’s kilometer-long starships. Throughout the prologue, you’re met with dialogue that surreptitiously tells you, the player, all about the tyrannical, theocratic Imperium that you represent and the venerated God-Emperor that rules it.

Eventually, you find yourself to be the captain’s last surviving heir, making you a fully licensed space privateer: a Rogue Trader, with your own companions and voidship to boot. Your goal: rediscover lost worlds and re-map the stars. Here, the adventure opens up, offering an experience that could be described as open-world for its breadth and emphasis on exploration. However, once you leave the prologue, the game’s greatest weakness reveals itself: namely an abundance of bugs.

Enter the hive 

The further into the game you go, the more bugs rear their heads. As you enter into more combat encounters, you’ll start to notice animation glitches such as characters awkwardly shuffling out of cover and firing without aiming their guns. You’ll see sprinting enemies glued to the spot. In what was supposed to be a particularly dramatic moment, I encountered my entire bridge crew T-posing which, while hilarious, undercut the emotional weight of the scene substantially.    

During my thirty hours with the game, I often found myself needing to reload saves as characters would get stuck. Cutscenes occasionally wouldn’t play properly either, requiring me to skip through them. In combat, vital tooltips sometimes won’t appear, too, forcing you to guestimate your way through battles.

These issues are prevalent enough that no play session will be unmarred by glitches. Rogue Trader’s enjoyable combat, storytelling, and sense of scale are often overshadowed by this jankiness.

The battle-waffle  

This is a shame because the game’s mechanics are generally very competently put together - a fact that’s especially true for Rogue Trader’s battle system. 

As you might expect from a setting with ‘war’ in the title, you often find yourself embroiled in combat throughout Rogue Trader. When this happens, the world becomes a grid, and the game’s turn-based mechanics take over, operating like a novel combination of XCOM and Baldur’s Gate 3. You move to cover and take shots at the enemy, informed beforehand of your chances of hitting and potential damage output. Your close-combat characters will burst out into the open, striking foes with heroic melee attacks. Diverse skills ranging from charismatic yelling to literal space magic spice things up a great deal, too. 

Given the tabletop RPG roots of Warhammer 40,000: Rogue Trader, based as it is on Fantasy Flight Games’ pen-and-paper game by the same name, you’d be right to expect deep combat. The game is bursting with abilities for your characters to learn and ways to modify them to get more bang for your buck. Each character has access to dozens of features whenever they level up. These usually allow you to tweak existing abilities, allowing your buffs to add temporary hitpoints or increasing the range of your charge attacks. It may seem small, but these little changes add up, offering wildly different potential builds. 

This dazzling degree of customizability has the potential to be off-puttingly complex, however. Those looking for accessible combat mechanics may find themselves in the wilderness, here.

The game also includes a ‘Momentum’ mechanic which adds a pendulous ebb and flow to battles. Do lots of damage and your Momentum gauge fills, giving you access to powerful ultimate abilities such as a powerful single shot or a deadly frenzy. Take damage and be outflanked, however, and you’ll lose Momentum, so you'll need to stay vigilant. This is a strong addition, giving battles a back-and-forth that almost makes them self-contained stories of their own. 

Lasers and feelings 

A rich ensemble of characters joins your adventures throughout the game, acting as your officers, advisors, and most trusted crew members. All of them represent different factions from the sprawling setting. Abelard, your right-hand man, represents the steady, traditionalist hand of the Imperial Navy while the rakish Jae Heydari represents the sector’s criminal underbelly.  However, these characters are far more than just factional mouthpieces.

Take Sister Argenta. Scratch the surface of this zealous battle monk and you’ll find an anxious soul, haunted by a failed quest to find a holy relic. Conversely, Interrogator Heirix von Calox may be a representative of the Imperium’s secret police, but he often proves himself charming and surprisingly practical. The man does horrible things, but he’s also interesting to share a drink with. They’re not the deepest characters you’ll ever encounter in an RPG, but they make for a compelling roster of companions, whose opinions on the game’s many moral dilemmas make for some spicey dialogue.

You’ll also find yourself having to manage your trade empire, too. The trade system feels thin at times, eschewing typical currency mechanics for a ‘Profit Factor’ system which roughly amounts to you throwing junk at a faction until they give you free stuff. That said, the decisions you have to make as ruler are as immersive as they are taxing. Do you side with a local zealot for expediency, or challenge his rule and risk instability? How hard do you squeeze the worker populations of your worlds? You may find yourself making monstrous decisions in Rogue Trader, but they will almost always be thought-provoking. I often found myself having to pause with a fresh cup of tea to mull over major decision points. 

Warhammer 40,000: Rogue Trader presents a vast galaxy you can get lost in. Unfortunately, the glitches and bugs on display speak to a game launch that seems premature. Though Rogue Trader’s storytelling and systems are thoroughly enjoyable in isolation, the shadow cast by these issues makes the game a hard sell.   

Accessibility 

Warhammer 40,000: Rogue Trader has solid accessibility options for folks with colorblindness, allowing you to adjust the game’s palate easily from the menu with sliders for Protanopia, Deuteranopia, and Tritanopia. Subtitle text size can also be adjusted, which is a plus. The difficulty level is also highly customizable, allowing you to calibrate elements of the game experience to your liking such as enemy damage output and skill check difficulty.    

How we reviewed 

I played over 30 hours of Warhammer 40,000: Rogue Trader, engaging with as many of the game’s systems as possible. I spent a great deal of time with the combat system, as well as the space-combat mini-game and the trade and empire management mechanics. I also tested all of the game’s combat classes. 

I am an RPG specialist, having played thousands of hours of them throughout my life. I am also very experienced with the Warhammer 40,000 setting, having run six full-length tabletop RPG campaigns in the setting. All of this experience was vital when approaching the game for review. 

Looking for more narrative-heavy games? Check out our lists of the best RPGs and best story games.