In the 41st millennium, there is only war. Everything, and I mean everything, is abysmal in the grim dark universe that is Warhammer 40,000. Whether it’s man fighting man, man fighting varying alien races, or man fighting the relentless hordes of the demonic powers of Chaos, there is nothing but endless violence and bloodshed. After years of resisting, and with the announcement of the 11th edition of the tabletop game, I finally succumbed to the hobby’s temptation and decided to embark on the daunting task of building my own army of Grey Knights – a task that, due to the nature of model assembly and painting, presents its own accessibility challenge.
My foray into Games Workshop’s Warhammer IP first began in 2016 with the release of Creative Assembly’s Total War: Warhammer. The first expedition into the Warhammer world for the Total War series was so enticing because it not only satisfied my craving for a rich fantasy world, but thanks to turn-based empire management, an auto-battling system, and the capability to pause and organize units at any moment throughout battles, it also proved to be an accessible strategy game. Since then, I’ve put approximately 1,700 hours into the Total War: Warhammer trilogy, enjoyed Fatshark’s Vermintide and Darktide, and even thoroughly enjoyed Saber Interactive Inc.’s Warhammer 40,000: Space Marine 2. And now, as I begin exploring the intricacies behind the tabletop series, I’m discovering new forms of accessibility, or lack thereof.
Relearning Accessibility through Warhammer
I intimately understand video game accessibility. For almost seven years, I’ve reviewed dozens of games, interviewed countless developers, and provided numerous critical analyses of accessibility across genres. I know what disabled players need and desire, but more importantly, I know what features and designs are crucial for me to play. With accessible designs implemented, I can beat 300 turn campaigns in Total War: Warhammer and even complete every operation on the hardest difficulty in Space Marine 2. It’s because of these accessibility tools that I can play without immense fatigue or physical strain. With the tabletop, I have no options or designs, just the help of others or disabled ingenuity.
The most shocking yet seemingly obvious barrier I’ve encountered is arguably the most basic – I can’t even physically roll my dice. In this tabletop wargame, every action aside from initial unit placement is determined through rolling dice. From charging, shooting, melee, and spells, to even calculating damage and wounds, you need to roll the dice. This simplistic, yet immediate lack of independence has been nothing but humbling. I haven’t encountered this level of inaccessibility since losing the capability to feed myself at the age of 14.
