Warhammer: the gaming hobby that Dwarfed the industry (documentary: video format).

When we think of iconic collaborations, we might remember Lennon and McCartney or Jobs and Wozniak. But let’s not forget a legendary trifecta that dramatically changed the world of tabletop gaming – Richard Halliwell, Rick Priestley, and Bryan Ansell. Their creative genius gave birth to an empire – the Warhammer Universe. Their story, from a skirmish game conceived in the classrooms to a paradigm-shifting behemoth, is as riveting as any game of Warhammer itself.

In the late 70s, a couple of British school friends, Halliwell and Priestley, found themselves bored with mainstream tabletop games. Halliwell, a maverick with an imagination as wild as a Goblin Wolf Rider, and Priestley, a perfectionist as meticulous as a Dwarf Runesmith, began creating a little game of their own. In the spirit of rock ‘n roll, punk, and the DIY ethos, this ragtag game was a way to rebel against the sanitized world of board games that they felt lacked dynamism and narrative depth.

Word of their quirky creation reached Bryan Ansell, a renegade business mind at Citadel Miniatures. Ansell, spotting the glimmering mithril of opportunity, embraced the idea of a tabletop game that broke the mold. A man as visionary as a High Elf Archmage, he saw in their imaginative game the seed that could blossom into a grander project.

Warhammer began in a world where tiny soldiers were the protagonists, and kitchen tables transformed into epic battlefields. Like a medieval fight club, players would take turns maneuvering their armies across miniature landscapes, equipped with dice as their weapons. And while the warfare tactics were distinctly medieval, the occasional dragon, wizard, or magical spell added a bit of spice to the battle broth.

Prior to Warhammer, miniature wargaming was an egalitarian affair. Any miniature soldier, irrespective of its maker, could participate in the battlefield. But Warhammer played the capitalist, introducing proprietary models – the bourgeoisie of miniature warfare. This shift shook the industry like a dwarf on a sugar rush, making Warhammer a game changer – literally and metaphorically.

Warhammer’s influence endured for over three decades, supported by a consistent stream of models, rulebooks, and new editions, each one adding another layer of complexity to this epic cake of fantasy warfare. However, like any longstanding empire, Warhammer had its sunset. The game ended its official support in 2015, only to be reborn as Warhammer Age of Sigmar, swapping its previous Middle-Earth-inspired setting for a shiny new cosmos.

Warhammer’s lore was as dense as a Dwarf’s beard, drawing inspiration from the works of fantasy stalwarts such as J.R.R. Tolkien, Poul Anderson, and Michael Moorcock. The game’s rich background was fleshed out in numerous rulebooks, magazines, and over 150 novels, making Warhammer not just a game, but a bonafide literary universe.

Gameplay in Warhammer was the perfect blend of military strategy, Dungeons & Dragons, and a math class. Players would command armies of heroic miniatures, ranging from 25mm – 250mm in height, with rules as intricate as Elven script. On a surface as mundane as a tabletop, epic battles were fought, with fate often decided by a simple roll of a six-sided die.

Throughout its eight editions, Warhammer kept the core gameplay intact while adding a dash of new elements to keep things interesting. It was akin to a master chef subtly changing the recipe, keeping the dish recognizable while introducing new flavors.

The starter armies evolved with each generation, becoming more detailed and diverse. From the basic Spearmen and Bowmen figures of the High Elves in the 4th edition to a comprehensive range including cavalry, Sword Masters, a mage, and a general mounted on a griffon in the 8th edition, Warhammer’s evolution was as dramatic as any of its in-game narratives.

Warhammer was not without its critics, of course. It was often seen as a Jekyll and Hyde of games – an excellent miniature wargame but a less-than-stellar role-playing experience. It was as if the game wore two hats – one as flamboyant as a Bretonnian knight, the other as dour as a Chaos warrior. But, as in any great saga, conflict and controversy only added to its enduring appeal. From its first edition in 1983 to its transformation into Warhammer Age of Sigmar, Warhammer etched its mark not just on the gaming industry but on pop culture itself. A revolution born on a kitchen table, Warhammer is a testament to the power of creativity, imagination, and, ironically, a bit of basic arithmetic. Because, as it turns out, it’s possible to fight dragons and still have time for math.

As Ansell brought the raw creative force of Halliwell and Priestley into the professional sphere, the duo found themselves working in a heady atmosphere of creative freedom and endless cups of tea. The project soon caught the eye of the parent company, Games Workshop, who gave the green light to this audacious project, and Warhammer was born.

The first version, Warhammer Fantasy Battle, was a melting pot of magic, sword, and sorcery, drawing from rich tapestries of folklore, fantasy literature, and more than a few pints of beer. A groundbreaking skirmish wargame, it brought the playability of board games to the richly imaginative world of fantasy literature.

It was like the Beatles’ first appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show – it was the right time, the right place, and most importantly, the right game. The community lapped it up, their minds blown by the game’s intricate lore, eye-catching miniatures, and the interactivity that Halliwell, Priestley, and Ansell had always yearned for in tabletop gaming.

Emboldened by their success, the trio returned to the lab, eager to concoct a fresh brew. Warhammer 40,000, or 40k as fans affectionately call it, was their sophomore effort. It was louder, brasher, and even more over the top. Mashing together the fantasy elements of its predecessor with grimdark sci-fi, the 40k universe presented a future where “there is only war.” The game brought a new level of complexity and narrative depth to the tabletop, turning the dial of the original Warhammer up to eleven.

These two versions of Warhammer didn’t just win hearts and minds – they practically conquered them, catapulting Games Workshop into a dominant player in the gaming industry. But more than that, it changed the landscape of tabletop gaming, introducing a blend of tactical play, rich narrative, and detailed miniatures that was a far cry from the monotony of Snakes and Ladders.

From a twinkle in the eye of two imaginative school friends to a titan of the industry, the tale of Warhammer is a testament to creativity, vision, and a stubborn refusal to play by the rules. So, whether you’re commanding the valorous forces of the Imperium or simply love a good underdog story, remember to thank Halliwell, Priestley, and Ansell. Their rebellious spirits and tireless efforts changed an industry and ignited a worldwide passion that continues to thrive.