The Decline of Miniatures Gaming – A Look Back at Warhammer 40,000 Rogue Trader

Part I: Huffing Lightning

I never played Rogue Trader. I was three when Games Workshop published Rick Priestley’s defining work. This 1st edition of Warhammer 40,000 would go on to shape the future of not only the company, but the entire hobby.

Despite never playing it, I owe much of my gaming ideology to this title. My formative years were spent mired in its offspring. In the mid 90s, Necromunda was life. In between shootouts over sumpholes we liberated dungeons in the Old World and cut through Genestealers in tight corridors. We fought just as many battles with converted Lego minifigs as we did with Citadel miniatures. My room housed more copies of White Dwarf and Citadel Journal than age-appropriate books. These were some of my best hobby years.

Now, that time has come back. I’m feeling it.

In 2023, Rogue Trader was given an official limited-edition reprint. It’s likely the most important game I’ve held in my hands. It’s bringing it all back home.

If you began playing 40k in the new millennium, then much of this hardback would be alien. The foundation is there. Ballistic skill, leadership, saving throws. Even the sub-table for when you need 7+ to land a hit. All of this was there from the very beginning. But despite this familiar scaffolding, it’s all so strange.

It wears its influences on huge armored sleeves. Judge Dredd, Moorcock, Tolkien, Judas Priest, and Traveller. That last little bastard is the fleck of inspiration to hone in on. Dating all the way back to 1977, the seminal space-adventure roleplaying game is the underlying vibe Rogue Trader is riffing on. That’s because the genesis of 40k is owed as much to roleplaying as it is to wargames like Chainmail.

It’s correct to approach this book as an RPG manual. It’s absolutely loaded with setting and inspiration. From full spreads of dirty wall-to-wall firing lines where every inch of space is covered with spike or skull, to blurbs of enigmatic text describing the immortal emperor fused to his throne. Unlike its predecessor Warhammer (Fantasy), the style here is a more shocking confluence of human and machine. It feels dangerous and less heroic than 40k’s current aesthetic. There’s a menace to it that is essential. Somehow, it’s balanced remarkably against the spokes of humor that arise intermittently, establishing the basis for the company’s everlasting tone. But the concoction here feels raw and more authentic.

This tone is carried to the gameplay where the clear intention is for players to adopt the roleplaying perspective. The default assumption is for a gamemaster to be running firefights. Just as much credence is given to wild beasts and unexpected encounters as it is to troop types. Many of the extended rules – such as aircraft and sneaking – are presented as discretionary, ready to be plugged-in when the GM deems necessary. There is even the option to run the game as a cooperative endeavor with players splitting forces to oppose an enemy menace. It expects the GM to craft scenarios with detailed backstories where each player is given their own printed out pamphlet. This handout sets the scene from their faction’s perspective, lists their units and capabilities, and fills in elements of world building and color.

One of my favorite sections is the one detailing how to create new units and creatures. Players are explicitly encouraged to stat up characters that represent themselves on the battlefield. You can attain new abilities over time and increase in influence. The equipment options are interesting and varied. You can even play as mutants with multiple pages dedicated to all the mutation options. This section in particular mimics the Traveller character creation system, although you can’t die before you’ve even started playing.

The unbridled creativity on display is riveting. It’s as if Priestley cracked open the sky and huffed lightning. This sense of inventiveness similarly defined my affection for Necromunda. It was also found in other tabletop designs of this era, including Battletech and Car Wars. This is the design ethos I want to cut open and crawl inside.

Part II: The Death of Creativity

Nothing stays the same. Warhammer evolved. Over time, the crackling edges were ground away and the whole system sold high on imagination. What began to slowly creep in was the idea of “competitive play”.

It’s so very clear, particularly when coming at this from the modern-day perspective. A prime example: Rogue Trader contains a whole section detailing how to assess firing arcs from bases of different shapes. It fully supports, even encourages, basing your figures on whatever size and shape you feel is appropriate. Some of your forces could be on hexagons with others on squares, while your opponent is fielding a patrol based entirely on circles. They can even be all different sizes. It’s totally cool and you’re not going to be kicked out of your local scene.

Contrast that with today. Warhammer: The Old World players are scrambling to rebase their existing Fantasy miniatures because Games Workshop decided to uniformly increase base size. People are coming up with kludgy solutions such as movement trays that expand the models’ footprint so they don’t have to hack away at the feet of their precious figures. Just last night someone posted online in our local group seeking suggestions, as they are looking to play this weekend but didn’t think their order of new bases would get here on time. It’s all backwards.

Another example is Rogue Trader’s vehicle section. At the time, Games Workshop didn’t produce a single vehicle kit. The book offers the advice of tracking down model kits and either adapting them to the included sample profiles or creating your own stat-lines. Imagine this in 2024. It’s ludicrous and would never happen. While the game originated with an inspiration first ethos, it’s evolved into product first.

One of the central areas creativity was choked out of existence is in the scenario writing. Modern Warhammer is mostly pitched battles or slightly modified setups with one force defending a fixed position. There is no background text or great narrative. No one is crafting these games for you, instead you’re trying to fit your game into the mold. I compare that to the example “Battle at the Farm” scenario in Rogue Trader. This preconstructed firefight has evocative scenario-specific background that is tailored to each faction, and it’s an entirely different game than the one-size fits all generic encounters of modern design.

It’s easy to dump on this shift in philosophy. But it’s pervasive across the hobby. Nearly everything has flattened out, seeking fair play and competition at the expense of soul. The rules adjudicate form and style instead of simply facilitating imagination. They’ve eliminated the role of GM and instead focused on structure. Rogue Trader is brimming with ideas, whereas modern Warhammer is brimming with rules. This is why this book is such an inspiring read.

Beyond the notion that structure and competition is superior, the contemporary approach is largely driven by commercialization. “Use whatever models you want” isn’t going to get it done. This accessible approach allowed for a wide latitude in expression. Now, it’s all about WYSIWYG, buying branded sprue cutters and glue, and having your pockets shaken out just to buy a single character. As rules editions are cycled, old units become obsolete and newly released options are given the juice. Models are packaged in predatory ways, offloading old sprues and saving coin as often as possible. Try and show up to a Games Workshop event with another company’s vehicle kit and tell ’em Priestley says it’s cool. They will call in an orbital strike.

It’s not the Emperor sitting on the Golden Throne of Earth. It’s capitalism.

Sadly, this has diminished the allure of the setting. Games Workshop have tried to obfuscate their prolific tendencies. New narrative modes of play are clearly an attempt to reclaim some of the lost spirit. It’s telling that this bespoke format had to be manufactured as supplementary content and layered atop, as the core rules exist outside of this ethos with a more sterile approach to games construction.

Part III: Punk AF

The groundswell of independent miniatures games in recent years is a direct response to this decline. Some of the most fascinating work is going on in these secluded communities where rulesets are often not intertwined with miniatures lines and the spirit is less restrictive.

F28 for instance is a stellar little game, now on its second edition. This system explicitly suggests leaning into narrative games run by a GM. The Doomed, another miniatures agnostic title, allows for fully cooperative or even solitaire play against third-party monstrosities that terrorize the battlefield. It encourages kit-bashing and creativity in modelling these horrors.

I’ve long been a fan of Brett Spivey, the mind behind the bizarre game Rogue Planet. This indie cut is full of a wild vitality that bleeds from every page. Like The Doomed, it does away with traditional movement completely. And like Rogue Trader, it encourages custom content with a sophisticated character creation system.

My love of Core Space is also well known. It’s full of emergent narrative and unpredictability. It’s explosive, particularly once you’ve thrown in several expansions allowing for an unhinged environment that could be crawling with paramilitary space grunts one minute, and large swathes of robotic fiends the next. While it’s not explicitly stated, this game would totally benefit from a GM running the campaign and creating custom missions. Everything about it absolutely embodies the tenets of Rogue Trader.

There are dozens more. Space Station Zero, Five Leagues from the Borderlands, and Rangers of Shadow Deep. This trio calls for solitaire play, a popular format that is peaking in popularity in the aftermath of COVID-19. They all hold an intense indie spirit heavily influenced by the axioms of Priestley’s early work.

In working my way through these games over the past few years, I’ve come to realize just how vital that old-school philosophy is. It’s what draws me to miniatures gaming. Screw competition and structure. I want shock and drama. I want the tradition that’s become non-traditional.

We’re not getting this from the heavy hitters. Games Workshop wants to sell new miniatures and new books. Mantic, Corvus Belli, Battlefront, they’re all the same. Like other mediums, the most exciting work is being done in alleyways and basements.

The influence of Rogue Trader is of such significance that one could compare this book to a religious text. It’s sacred. It heavily altered the course of Games Workshop by birthing Warhammer 40k and its undying aesthetic. The tenets of the genre were laid bare, and then subsequently crushed into sediment under the weight of commodification. That original artistry lives on, however, in the indie scene. It’s thriving.

I don’t know if Games Workshop will ever recapture this game’s essence. At this point, it’s difficult to imagine they care as much about being stewards of miniatures gaming as they do about their stock ticker.

 

If you enjoy what I’m doing and want to support my efforts, please consider dropping off a tip at my Ko-Fi or supporting me on Patreon.