Warhammer 40,000: Darktide News

The Mission Terminal is the centerpiece of the Mourningstar hub. Here, players share the space with others, and access a variety of missions. We want all players to find a few missions at any point in time that are relevant to their character’s competency. Missions get dynamically populated on the Terminal according to either predetermined narrative or emergent events that happen inside the world.



We’ve learned a lot from our work on the Vermintide series, as well as from looking at similar titles. With that knowledge, we built something suited to the W40K universe while making the system a bit more dynamic than what you’re used to when coming from our -Tide games.

Inspired by the analog nature of the technology layer present in Warhammer 40,000, the Terminal emulates the space cop fantasy where the world is alive, and the Mission Terminal is ever-so-changing, reflecting the perils and urgency of its contents.



In terms of presentation, we chose to go more diegetic: Fewer floating menus and more of an in-world setup where everything “lives” on the Mission Terminal. This makes the whole experience feel better grounded into the universe and more distinct and easy to understand for players (some early feedback helped us steer the ship right in the sweet spot between clarity and immersion). Missions are displayed in different ways:

• In a small panel: where users get a very condensed idea of what they have to expect about the selected mission
  
• In a medium panel: where users get access to quick play (a fast way to queue in missions) or events of critical nature get displayed; this panel also acts as a legend for better explaining the small panel's iconography
  

An expanded panel is also present when you select any particular small or medium mission panel, where users get all the information they need to embark on said mission.



Furthermore, as you prove yourself to The Inquisition, the more trusted you become on the Mourningstar. This progress follows through in the Mission Terminal, unlocking higher difficulties, and better rewards following that trend. However, with the co-op nature of the game, it was essential for us to allow the possibility to play missions together, even if players are way apart in progression.

As for missions of critical timing, these get highlighted in the middle of the Mission Terminal. These urgent encounters have better rewards and higher intensity in combat, so in true grim-dark fashion, you might not survive :).

You will first be introduced to the Mission Terminal, during the prologue once you have completed basic training. When the Mission Terminal is accessible, players can team up and start a mission. The first player that selects a mission initiates a vote for the other Strike Team members in their team, with the possibility of any player in the Strike Team being able to start voting on a mission.

Missions send you and your Strike Team deep into the Tertium Hive. A mission follows this structure:

• Mission Difficulty:
  - Relates to the power/strength of the enemies
  
• Mission Name:
  - Flavor-name for the mission
  
• Mission Location:
  - Where this mission is taking place
  
• Mission Type (Objective):
  - What are you doing inside of the mission (note: some missions can have side objectives)
  
• Rewards:
  - What will you get for playing the mission; we have various types of rewards that fuel progression:
  
  Experience: The driving source for empowering your character.
  Ordo Dockets: Can be used to buy new weapons and apply modifications to them.
  Weapons: The player by succeeding a mission has a chance to be rewarded with a weapon to
  add to their arsenal.
  
• Mission Timer
  - How long is a certain mission available (upon expiry of a timer, new missions “populate” the Terminal)
  

Some missions can have modifiers; we call them Special Conditions. An example of this is a Power Supply Interruption. Missions with this Special Condition, will be (as the name suggests) darker and add a unique way of playing the level. A Special Condition could also apply on a more global scale in Tertium Hive, and we call this a Global Condition (pinned at the top of the mission board). During a Global Condition, the game will alter the missions more frequently. There could, for example, be a blackout in the hive, and therefore almost all the missions available are affected by Darkness.

Given all the specs that missions can have, this makes the world transcribe its dangerous and chaotic nature while allowing us to expand on it more easily in the future.

Thanks for reading and see you in the Mourningstar!

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Time for another class spotlight! In case you missed the earlier class spotlights, here are the Zealot: Preacher and Veteran: Sharpshooter spotlights.

Today’s class spotlight focuses on the Ogryn: Skullbreaker - big, strong, and unstoppable.



"If you want to win, you send for the biggest, meanest, and angriest you’ve got. That’s me. Not these runts. They can’t hold a proper gun. Can’t hold a proper knife. Scream in pain all the time. Or just because it’s fun. Or because they’re bored. Idiots. Not good enough. Not gonna win. Not without me. Everyone agrees. Everyone I talk to, anyways. And people like talking to me. If they know what’s good for them. Not polite to ignore me, now is it?"

Ogryns are abhumans, a subspecies of humanity deemed useful enough to protect it from the sanction of purgation. Stronger and tougher than ordinary humans, Ogryns excel at work that requires extra muscle or indifference to pain and often serve as laborers, manufactorum workers … or, in the Astra Militarum, shock troops, and bodyguards, using their brawny bodies to shield their comrades and immense strength to smash their enemies.

To date, only male Ogryns have been seen on the battlefields of the Moebian Domain. If an inquisitive soul is brave (or stupid) enough to inquire an Ogryn about such matters, it’s a toss-up whether they’d get an annoyed low rumble in response, or an over-sized fist to the face. They are (mostly) loyal, and slow-witted, thriving on simple, direct commands. Anything nuanced is likely to be ignored, or boiled down to a brief, joyful act of violence …

Pictured: Early concept art of the Ogryn: Skullbreaker



Being bigger than everyone, most Ogryns see themselves as being better … which isn’t always the case. They value strength above all else and thrive in situations where their straightforward approach to life (fetch, carry, shoot, smash) is likely to earn praise, reward, or food from their teammates and superiors.

Ogryns particularly admire Veterans, who they dimly recognize as proper soldiers and people to impress. They’re less keen on Zealots, who are often loud enough to be Ogryns themselves but are generally speaking too squishy to be respected. As for Psykers? Ogryns don’t know what to make of those Spark ‘Eads. Sure, they seem nice enough, but the air’s always all tingly around them, and sometimes they explode (and Ogryns only like things to explode after they’ve been shot – preferably by an Ogryn, BOOM!).


Better to keep Spark ‘Eads at a distance, yes?

Ogryn: Skullbreaker artwork by Miguel Iglesias

A Skullbreaker leans into the Ogryn’s foremost attribute: its prodigious strength. He loves nothing more than to charge into the thick of the fighting, shouldering aside any “punies” that get in his path to deliver punishing, shattering blows against his chosen target. Often while laughing as the tiny, tiny foes tire themselves out flailing at him in return.

It’s not subtle, but it’s definitely effective.

More importantly, it’s fun. Ogryns like having fun.

Pictured: Snapshot of the Ogryn: Skullbreaker's Progression Gear


Large and brutally strong, what ogryns lack in wit and strategic ability, they make up with sheer strength. Slow but reliable, their immense toughness grants them great survivability, serving well to take the brunt force of their enemies' assault in the place of their comrades.

The Skullbreaker charges headfirst into danger, excelling in melee combat against particularly tough and armored foes. When you play as the skullbreaker, be ready to always be in the very center of attention - if not for always being the first in the thick of battle, then certainly for your size. Take care not to block your comrades line of sight, lest you long to perish alongside the masses of enemies.

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Naturally, it would be difficult for an Ogryn to handle human weapons with those massive slabs of hands they have.

For this reason, they have their own arsenal of weapons - such as the starter weapons Ogryn Pipe Club, or the Ogryn Thumper, a massive, break-action shotgun.

Key Features

- Good vs. hordes
- Effective stagger/suppression
- Melee combat focus

Starting Loadout

- Melee: Club
- Ranged: Thumper Shotgun

Tactical Action

- Box of Grenades

Passive

- Increased melee heavy attack damage
- Increased toughness from melee kills
- Tough skin - Greatly reduces toughness damage taken. Also reduces damage taken
- Increased revive and assist speed

Class Ability

“Bull Rush” - The Ogryn charges forward and knocks enemies back. After Bull Rush, the Ogryn has increased movement and attack speed for a limited time.

Coherency Bonus

Increased melee damage

This past week, we hosted a Closed Beta of Darktide to help test some of our in-game systems, scale our servers and give you a taste of what to expect with Darktide.

Many of you participated, and for that - THANK YOU! The feedback you provided will help us make an even better game. I assure you, The Emperor noticed!

So, for those looking to fine-tune their mouse sensitivity, the ability to call out a “Sniper” in the chat, or those having general performance, frame rate, or crash issues - know that the team is focused on addressing these along with other issues we uncovered in the Beta in advance of launch.

This past week has been fun for many of us, especially as we had a chance to sift through the stacks of feedback and data. And as a way of bringing you along the journey, we also wanted to share a few of our favorite insights. Enjoy!



But. That’s not all. We have an Ogryn-sized surprise for you.

Many of you have joined us in the technical tests and closed beta. We have found these early tests extremely helpful in addressing issues and helping make our game better.

So, with that in mind, we want to invite anyone who pre-orders or has already pre-ordered the game an opportunity to play Warhammer 40,000: Darktide as part of a pre-launch Beta period starting November 17th.

This is a chance to start playing the game early, but it will also be critical to helping us fine-tune the game before launch on November 30th.

Finally, let me say that we’re blown away by your positive response to Darktide. Thank you for the support and for being part of our journey!

Now, back to finishing Darktide. Tertium Awaits!

Martin Wahlund and the rest of the Sharks

by Sarah Cawkwell



Two night cycles previously – at best guess – half of the strike team seated at a table playing a semi-serious game of Darktown Whist. Others were cleaning and maintaining their weapons, some sleeping, but at least it was all of them. Still together. A unit. A squad. A team. Friends.

Now?

Now only four remained and the circumstances were most definitely not conducive to playing games. Strafing gunfire ripped through the ruins of the hab block in which they were taking shelter. Everywhere the sounds of death and dying echoed throughout the blasted streets like a ghastly opera playing to a very small, select audience. The traitors of the Moebian 6th were hammering Chasm Station, but then it felt as though everywhere in Tertium was being hammered. Maybe everywhere on Atoma.

Vox communication with the other strike teams scattered throughout the sector - and worse, with the orbiting Mourningstar - had broken down after a heavy stubber shell had punched through the equipment as well as the man carrying it and they were running out of places to take cover in the long reaches of Ironside Alley.

“Odds not so good this time, Sarge,” muttered Alusha, the team’s demolitions expert. Her long black hair, usually wound up tightly beneath her cap, had come loose and hung in strands around her harassed face. She propped her lasgun on the ground before her and frantically took stock of what explosives she had left in her arsenal.

Not many.

Sergeant Taril groaned softly, running his hands through his thinning hair. His helmet was long since gone, thrown off by the blast that had scattered the strike team in all directions, apart from Kerrin, whose luck ran out when he’d been too close to the impact to be able to escape the fire and spinning shrapnel. What remained of Kerrin when the smoke and dust had cleared had not been a pretty sight. An even less pretty sight was that of the big Ogryn, Tig, as he had cradled his best friend’s torso in his arms, trying to convince himself that everything was fine.

Kerrin and Tig formed an instant bond from the moment the Ogryn had arrived, newly assigned to the strike team: a big, clumsy mountain of muscle with the flat, blocky features and overly-hirsute body of his kind. He’d come to them comparatively recently. Young for an Ogryn, what he lacked in knowledge and social grace – and by the Throne, he had precious little of either – Tig made up for with single-minded determination, unwavering loyalty and boundless energy. At first the team had only reluctantly accepted his company, but his endless child-like enthusiasm and relentless optimism had quickly worn them down. Within days they had warmed to him, within a week none of them could recall the team without him.

Overhead, a squadron of blunt-nosed, ramshackle attack craft banked sharply to their left with a scream of tortured plasma jets, peeling off in pursuit of the remaining thunderbolt fighters. 

Tig hunkered down beside Taril. The Ogryn’s face was distorted more than usual; the heavy brow twisted into an expression of abject misery. He had grown close to Kerrin, a man whose sardonic humour and sharp tongue had savaged the pride of many. Tig was immune to sarcasm and took everything so much to heart that they’d all learned to be careful what they told him to do. He would quite literally follow an order to the letter.

“Fight now, Sarge?”

The bass rumble of his voice began somewhere deep in the barrel chest, making its way through vocal chords far more used to shouting battle cries. He was the brute strength of the squad and little more: not smart enough to be trusted with a firearm, he brandished his serrated-edged war maul with immense pride, hefting the heavy weapon with practiced ease. On the occasions the maul had not been to hand, he snatched up any heavy object and did what he referred to as ‘makin’ do’.

“Rest for a bit, Tig. We need to get our breath back.”

“Yeah,” agreed the Ogryn, nodding solemnly. “Breath gone. Kerrin gone. Bed… gone. Is very sad, yeah? Chasm Station broken. Tig fight now while you get breath back.” He patted his sergeant on the shoulder awkwardly. Taril winced at the heavy-handed gesture but couldn’t hide the tired smile that flickered over his face.

“Stay where you are Tig, that’s an order.” If the Ogryn moved out of cover now, he would attract the attention of recon teams. Even if there were no enemies on the ground within sight, Tig was large enough that he’d be an obvious target for the traitor aerocraft. The Ogryn may have been as tough as a Commissar’s boot, but he was not immortal.

Tig scratched at the back of his neck, dislodging a clod of dirt clinging there from an earlier trip into the mud. “Tig fight,” he repeated, then his face darkened. “Is all Tig can do now. No bed, no Kerrin, no squad if Tig not fight.” His muscles were bunched beneath the surface and his posture suggested that he was ready to burst from cover there and then but Taril put a restraining hand – for what little good it would do – on the Ogryn’s arm.

“No,” he said sharply. “Tig stay.” He loathed talking to the Ogryn like an animal, but it was sometimes necessary. The abhuman understood and obeyed simple commands and it was how most people spoke to him when they deigned to speak to him at all. Even Taril had spoken to him like that in the start. Then he had come to realise that the Ogryn wasn’t stupid, not exactly, he simply processessed the world around him in a different way, and at a different speed. Maybe it shouldn’t have come as a shock, but it had. Over time, that realisation had deepened into understanding to the point that he knew he could rely on Tig as much as any member of the squad. Maybe more so, were he brutally honest.

Fresh explosions rocked the shell of the hab block in the ruins of which they were hiding. Debris rained down on their heads. Sergeant Taril looked over at Alusha and Gorek, the other remaining squad members. They were hunkered down, frantically scooping out foxholes in the debris and making themselves as small as they could in an effort to minimise the chances of being hit by fallen masonry and stray rounds. A spinning chunk of plascrete glanced off Tig’s shoulder. The Ogryn didn’t even flinch.

“We need to move out of Ironside Alley,” said Taril, making a decision. “If we can get to the next enclavum, maybe we can contact the Mourningstar. We just need an opening. If we can hit Burnside, we can keep moving. We just need those traitorous scum to stop raining death down on us for five minutes.” 

Tig brightened. “Tig fight now?” His brow unfurled and the slightly off-centre smile suggested how excited the idea made him. Such devotion was in no small way, utterly heartbreaking. His willingness to die in service to the Emperor was commendable of course, but Taril was old-fashioned in wanting to very much keep as many of his squad alive as he could.

But things were as bleak as they had ever been; the Emperor would understand.

Sergeant Taril reached out and clapped Tig on the shoulder. “In a minute, Tig. Just wait a minute. Alusha, Gorek, when we get an opening we’re falling back, double time, for the Deadside Drop  and we do not look back. Is that clear? Whatever else happens, keep moving.”

Gorek nodded. Alusha murmured her understanding. Tig was already getting to his feet, showering Taril in particulate dust. Not for the first time, the sergeant felt the guilt and shame of the way some treated abhumans. Like idiots. Like fools. Expendable. They were not. They were both more and less than the common soldiery and there was purity in their service.

“Tig fight?” The big Ogryn beamed happily at Taril who, in that instant, hated him for it. Just for a moment he considered giving different orders, but strategic options were limited and half-remembered regulations from before his time aboard the Mourningstar gave clear direction for such scenarios. He released his hand on Tig’s shoulder and nodded sharply. Any sorrow would  have to wait. It would probably have to wait a very long time.

“Yes, Tig. You fight, my friend. If you can, meet us in Enclavum Baross. But now… get out there and make those karking traitors hurt. That’s a direct order. Emperor be with you.” Tig’s rumbling, infectious laughter slowly grew softer as he set off at a loping run towards the enemy. Taril knew there was no way in all the Imperium’s million worlds that he’d ever see the Ogryn again.

“Emperor be with you,” he repeated in a low, grim voice.

And may he forgive me.


~END~