The official Warhammer 40,000 Space Marine Thread

[silentsod]

I never played the MP and never bought any DLC but thoroughly enjoyed the base game.

I thought the use of the Darksiders engine lent itself well to the scale in the universe.

 

[Armenius]

Now DRM-free on GOG.

https://www.gog.com/game/warhammer_40000_space_marine

 

[SOAREVERSOR]

I never played the MP and never bought any DLC but thoroughly enjoyed the base game.

I thought the use of the Darksiders engine lent itself well to the scale in the universe.

The scale was still a bit off. In the fluff/lore there would be a lot more Orks, a lot more IG, massive air bombings constantly, titans, and you'd NEVER see that many chaos marines, you'd see tons and tons of cultists but the marines are really extremely rare. Also a captain wouldn't be with that small a group, and they don't really take the field. That's more a basic squad with a sargent, at best, for that type of situation. The weapons also don't work how they actually should. IE the meltagun is not a cone shaped shotgun of doom, it's a pinpoint weapont hat's only really worth a damn on truly heavy armor at pointblank range. Nor would a Chaos Lord take the field for something so small, tiny, and worthless.

It's fun, and it gets the visuals and audios right for "cartoon anime" warhammer right. But the scale is completely off, the fluff is off, the weapons are off, and it is not remotely "grimdark".

The MP is fun but broken. Specifically the dreadnaught is broken, which it should be. By the lore a dreadnaught is a rampaging elder space marine often thousands of years old. The process of putting them into one is so damaging, so painful, that even a spacemarine can't take it. Most die during the attempt. They are insanely broken. Space marines are so stupidly insanely rare most humans never see one, they are almost mythical. It's like vampires or thor to us now. It's a thing we are told exists, and there are statues and movies of it, but a huge portion of people just don't believe they do, and will never see one unless you are directly on a world they control and even that is hit or miss. There are exceptions that prove the rule of course. But the galaxy is so wide even having one space marine means the scale of the whole thing is off. Let alone a captain and a chaos lord. A dreadnaught is even rarer. Most captains don't have the balls to wake them up because waking up someone who probably outranks you, is thousands of years older than you, and who's first words are along the lines of "who are you, where am I, what year is this, why did you do this, put me back to bed and get off my lawn" isn't something you do. In the lore it's almost comedic their rampages. A dreadnaught is sort of "ah shit, oh well, we are all going to die, wake up old cranky pants". If they wanted to do ground combat vs dreadnaughts they'd need to build in terminators which are the only space marines that have a prayer of standing up to them, and even that is sort of a suicide mission.

FWIW here is what a dreadnaught actually is per the lore. Fore the scale Karlaen is the 1st Company Captain of the Blood Angels and a named character with a specific model. So the captain of the best company, in the best chapter for close combat, second only to the oldest space marine in the imperium, who has one of the best close combat weapons in the game. And even he is shitting his pants at how bonkers insane the dreadnaught his boss woke up (takes a chapter master to authorize it or someone else that won't get executed for trying it) is and the sheer carnage it causes.

The carnifex continued on, lumbering through the smoke of the warrior’s passing. Its bio-cannon swung about, vomiting more strangling thorns across the plaza, and its scything talons swung out in deadly arcs, sending Death Company berserkers crashing to the ground in clouds of blood and entrails, their power armour cracked open and their torment ended. It spat plasma, incinerating anything that dared stay its progress. And when none of those weapons sufficed, it simply crashed through the opposition, be it a living warrior or an unfeeling statue. It was unstoppable, and it was heading right for Karlaen and the others.

As one, the Terminators fired. The carnifex shrugged off the explosive shells and continued to bull forwards. It would not stop, Karlaen knew, until it was dead, or until something even bigger decided to get in its way. Nevertheless, he continued to fire, his targeting array trying to find some weak point in its carapace. The ground shook beneath his feet as the carnifex closed in. Joses readied himself to meet it, his face split by a wide, feral grin. Karlaen could smell the incipient blood-lust in the other Blood Angel’s sweat, and see it building in his eyes. He hesitated, wondering if he should order the sergeant to step back. Would that stop him? Would he listen? Or was he already too far gone?

Before the question could be answered, something black smashed into the charging carnifex from the side and sent it slewing through a column. The carnifex rolled to its feet in a cloud of dust, but its attacker was on it before it could move. Metal talons, each as long as a sword blade, flashed out, carving bloody tracks in the carnifex’s flesh. The alien reared back, screaming in rage. Its cry was answered by its opponent.

‘Come, traitor. Come to Cassor. Come and fight, come and die, but come all the same,’ the vox-speakers mounted in the Dreadnought’s hull crackled. ‘Come and meet thy doom, dogs of abomination. Come and feel the angel’s wrath, curs of Angron. Come screaming or in silence, but come so that Cassor might lay thy hearts at Sanguinius’s feet. The walls of the Palace stand, the Eternity Gate remains barred and Cassor will break thy crooked spines across his knee.’

The Dreadnought, hull painted black and daubed in red, set itself as the carnifex charged towards it. The talons mounted on the ends of the piston-like arms rotated and flexed. Then one rose, revealing a storm bolter mounted beneath the claw. The storm bolter spat, and the carnifex shuddered as its already abused flesh received new punishment. It crashed into the Dreadnought and drove it back into a statue. The Dreadnought shrugged off the blow and rammed itself into the carnifex’s gut, lifting the beast into the air momentarily before smashing it down onto the ground.

‘By the wings of the Angel, it’s Cassor,’ Alphaeus breathed as he watched the battle unfold before them. Karlaen did not ask him how he recognised the Dreadnought, for there was only one Cassor.

Cassor the Chained, Cassor the Mad, Cassor the Damned – whatever name he was known by, he had been one of the greatest warriors ever produced by the Blood Angels, even before he had been interred in a Dreadnought sarcophagus, to rise and fight again after his death on some far-flung battlefield.

He was also a warning, a testament to the dark truth that even the dead were not truly safe from the curse which afflicted the Sons of Sanguinius. For almost three centuries after his death, Cassor had served the Blood Angels from the war machine’s sarcophagus, until that final, fateful day at Lowfang. In the early hours of the battle, his mind had shattered, though no one could say why. Some swore that it was the shadows of the wings of the Sanguinary Guard falling on him as they passed overhead. Karlaen suspected that there was more to it than that. Whatever the reason, however, Cassor now belonged to the Death Company and was far too dangerous to be unleashed without cause. He could barely tell friend from foe, and he was, in his own way, as monstrous as the tyranid creature he was now fighting.

‘The Damned One,’ Zachreal murmured, as he watched the battle. He looked at Karlaen. ‘Truly, our mission must be important if Commander Dante has unleashed him to aid us, captain.’

‘Were you ever in any doubt?’ Karlaen said, watching as the black-hulled Dreadnought crashed into the carnifex again. The two maddened beasts, one metal, one flesh, came together like rival bovids. The stones of the plaza were crushed and churned to rubble as they strove against one another.

‘Ho, traitor, strive and strain all you wish, you will never conquer Cassor. While Cassor stands before the gates of Holy Terra, none shall pass. Shriek, daemon. Scream out your prayers to the gods of wrong angles and shattered skies. Summon them. They shall not defeat Cassor. It cannot be done.’

Cassor’s emotionless, rasping monotone echoed across the plaza, drowning out the shrieks of the carnifex. The carnifex ripped at the Dreadnought with its huge claws, scoring the ancient armour but failing to pierce it. Cassor slashed at the beast with his own talons.

Xenos and Dreadnought reeled across the plaza, brawling through the ruins, the carnifex howling out bestial challenges as Cassor roared out gibberish in reply. Suddenly, a ceramite plate buckled, and one of the carnifex’s claws lanced down into the nest of grav-plates and fibre bundles that made up the Dreadnought’s innards. The claw crashed down through the war machine and on into the ground, pinning Cassor in place.

‘Pinned. Inconceivable. Cassor shall not stand for this, puppet of false gods. Release me, so that I might wipe thy stain from the earth,’ Cassor rumbled.

In reply, the carnifex opened its maw wide. A greasy ball of plasma began to form between its jaws.

‘Sorcery. You dare? Suffer not the witch to live, so says Cassor.’ One heavy mechanical claw closed around the carnifex’s throat, holding it in place. The beast, as if understanding what Cassor had planned, began to struggle, but to no avail. As surely as it had the Dreadnought pinned, Cassor had it held fast. Before the monster could release the burst of bile it had prepared, the Dreadnought brought up his wrist-mounted meltagun and shoved the barrel between the creature’s jaws. With a dull hiss, the back of the beast’s skull vanished in a cloud of superheated gas.

The carnifex toppled sideways, freeing Cassor in the process. The war machine shoved himself upright. His chassis rotated, as the optic augurs mounted in the hull scanned the plaza for more enemies. ‘Listen, traitors. Hear Cassor’s words: I still stand. The Emperor’s hand is upon my shoulder. I am death incarnate!’ The words echoed out over the area. But no new challengers appeared. Then, with a grinding of unseen gears and a whine of servos, Cassor the Damned stalked towards the palace, in search of new foes to slay.

And he know's he's nuts and babbling gibberish, later after taking on the Broodlord, the supreme commander of the Tyranids.

Despite the haze which clouded his thoughts, Karlaen could see that there was a not a single black-armoured form left standing. The Death Company had earned their name, and their redemption. Cassor stared at the scuttling horde that clambered over the bodies of his fellows and rumbled, 'Cassor stands alone. So be it. Vengeance must take place and Cassor shall deal it in red increments. Come traitors. Cassor is waiting. He has waited all of his life for this moment.' The Dreadnought's optic sensors rotated down, to meet Karlaen's still stunned gaze. 'I know that I am no longer sane. But I still serve. You shall not fall here, brother. Not while one flicker of rage remains in Cassor's heart. Up, commander. Glory awaits.'

While that's one of the most bonkers ones that's sort of how stupid OP they all actually are.

If you know the fluff the scale of the tabletop is all wrong as well. The TT and the VG are all balanced so they actually work but nowhere close to each other in scale, the actual universe is a completely different ballgame. It's