Total War: A retrospective

By JAMES CULLINANE - Gameplanet.co.nz

Hyperbole is an indulgence dabbled in by game reviewers so frequently that at times it becomes difficult to divine the enthusiasm from the insight: Every year, enough games are touted as "genre-defining" and as "the new benchmark" that we're fast approaching the day when we take their usage with a grain of salt.

Many of us may already do so. In very real terms, such expressions are becoming so diluted that they now teeter on the precipice of cliché.

Think on it briefly and it begs more professionally existential questions: Are we boot-licking hired-geeks over-stimulated on free games, press passes and cocktails?

Beanbag-owning hacks regurgitating press releases between the load screens of unreleased titles? Are we the self-appointed and occasionally self-righteous champions of a community, furiously shaking our wiimotes at The Man? Do we use too many hyphens?

Small wonder sardonically ruthless critiques from the likes of Zero Punctuation and Penny Arcade are so wildly popular.

 The truth is that it's in our own interest to guard against the rampant overuse of hyperbole. After all, what happens on those occasions when something truly unique and worthy lands on our desks?

To what phrases do we turn to when we need to tell readers that "this product is a cut above the rest" after we've dried up our rhetorical repertoire on tomorrow's bargain bin fodder?

So it is with a printed page of navel-gazing caveats under his belt that this writer begs supplication before a jaded and cynical audience as he describes the Creative Assembly's Total War series as one that has been a benchmark production.

The series is not without its flaws - no game is - nor is it the very last word in the real-time strategy category. But Total War's story is one of green-eyed envy turned radical innovation, of iterative improvement and polish. That is something that is something worthy of our regard.

It's also story that covers five titles, five expansions and centuries of bloody conflict - and it starts in 1997.

At a glance, UK-based Creative Assembly's breakout divergence into the RTS genre appeared to be poorly informed: In 1997, the studio's catalogue ran from creating PC ports of sports games to developing titles for the EA Sports franchise. They were an unknown quantity to few but industry buffs and sports gamers paying close attention during credit sequences.

Moreover, the RTS genre was very much a known quantity, one populated by series such as Dune, Command & Conquer and Warcraft: wildly popular titles wherein players built and bled on the same 2D fantasy maps, level by level.

In fact, Creative Assembly founder Tim Ansell has never romanticised Total War's conceptual origins. His account is of increasing disenchantment working on sports titles destined to sell little more 100,000 copies while pig-in-makeup Command & Conquer clones effortlessly jaunted past the half-million mark.

In short, Ansell looked at the gaming community's ravenous appetite for RTS titles and raising his hand said, "me too".

Shogun: Total War

Thus was Shogun: Total War envisioned: a low-budget, top-down RTS cash-cow for a minnow developer.

But two developments in PC gaming by 1999 radically reshaped the Creative Assembly's vision for Shogun: Total War into something much more ambitious. The first was the maturation of the RTS market.

While Blizzard saw perennial success with 1998's StarCraft, gamers were becoming increasingly sceptical of the base-builder glut. Command & Conquer: Tiberian Sun rightly received a lukewarm reception.

Quick turnaround clones simply weren't flying off the shelves as they had the year before. Players were once bitten, twice shy.

The second was the introduction of 3D graphics to the mass market. In 1997, 3dfx launched the Voodoo chip. By 1999 Nvidia and ATI had joined the party with their TNT and Rage product lines.

Total War's developers were initially reserved about the feasibility of 3D landscapes but once their viability was proven, the Creative Assembly enthusiastically returned to the drawing board.

But the camera tilt from the top-down 2D view to what would become Total War's iconic "general's" view came with a hefty investment burden. Shogun had gone from a low budget, low risk project to an expensive and as yet unproven re-imagining of a genre that was in mild decline.

Its newly-determined focus on realism saw the number of Samurai on the battlefield multiply from hundreds to thousands. Units were now variously fearful, weary, steady or impetuous depending on how the battle was progressing. Most importantly, tactical application of the terrain became pivotal: Height conveyed range, foliage provided cover, bridges created chokepoints.

A dynamic weather engine occluded player and AI visibility, froze rivers and dampened gun-powder. Military historian Stephen Turnbull was brought in to help apply the principles of Sun Tzu's The Art of War to AI mechanics.

From the conceptual outset, Shogun had intended to handle combat and resources in two different formats. The game's Risk-style campaign map was to be a self-contained space in which players could manage recruitment, construction and matters of governance. Figures representing armies and agents would be negotiated around a map divided into provinces until they came into conflict with one another. Now, the map was to add a strategic overlay and provide narrative context to the game's main attraction.

Shogun: Total War was released on the PC in June 2000 to widespread acclaim.

Set during the Sengoku jidai, a period of political upheaval in feudal Japan, players took control of one of seven aspiring Daimyo bent on claiming the Shogunate - the hereditary title of supreme military ruler of Japan.

Shogun's two interrelated components worked together smoothly - each dramatically shaping events on the other. Sure enough, the game's 3D battlefields, populated by thousands of multifaceted sprites, were duly heralded as an innovative advancement for the RTS genre.

As a rule, a game is in a good place when community commentary runs to "what if" rather than "no, because" (in a manner of speaking). But for all its functionality and relevance, the campaign map never felt fully realised.

Shinobi, the game's espionage units, could be moved but not given orders - whether they incited rebellion or conveyed intelligence was left to chance. And apparently the Creative Assembly also brought in a zookeeper to help apply the mating principles of captive panda to Daiymo AI: The arbitrary natural death of your heirless warlord could undo weeks of work in an infuriating moment. Then and now, "game over" screens are better reserved for player error.

On the battlefield, the tactical benefit of 3D terrain was occasionally extreme. Each province had a single battlefield and attack and defence positions were finite: A unit of just-recruited-off-the-paddy archers could bring an advancing horde of seasoned warriors to its knees with the right amount of elevation. Bridges had the same effect. A handful of maps were death traps.

On the whole however, Shogun was a masterstroke. Realism and scale proved to be welcome additions to mainstream real-time strategy - a genre that cast a wide net, but one in which it was widely believed that to have mass appeal, a game should sugar-coat it's offering with otherworldly environs, spectacular scenarios and the occasional scantily-clad femme.

Almost immediately after completing Shogun's Mongol Invasion expansion, the Creative Assembly began working on a sequel entitled Crusader: Total War. Delving into Japanese history was an inspired point of difference for the studio's first RTS outing.

It's possible that European history may have sat easier with prospective audiences but on the other hand the record of western conflict has been parsed over so many times that the game could have risked being lost in the clutter.

Suffice to say, it's interesting to speculate on what impact setting the first game in medieval Europe might have had on the game's reception.

Nonetheless, with a freshly-clocked track record behind them and an enthusiastic audience to draw upon, "new and different" became a matter of less urgency: Crusader, it seemed, need only elaborate.

Announced in August 2001, Crusader: Total War promised to cover 400 years of medieval conflict spanning from the titular wars to the fall of Constantinople in 1453. Clearly, the game's working title hardly did justice to its ambition (George W. Bush had also made "crusade" an especially charged word shortly after September 11, 2001, injudiciously applying it to his war on terror.

Intended or otherwise, the Creative Assembly did themselves a favour by side-stepping the whole quagmire). Rebranded Medieval: Total War, the game's new literature promised more thorough campaign mechanics and expanded modes of conflict - in particular, artillery and siege warfare.

Medieval: Total War hit shelves in August, 2002. The game reprised and expanded upon Shogun's provincial campaign map format. Now Total War had 12 playable nations and numerous AI controlled factions.

The number of producible unit types increased from 20 to 100, many of which were unique to certain factions.

The role of subordinates was also embellished. In addition to their command ability, Lords governed provinces on the player's behalf and each was rated on a series of characteristics ranging from dread to piety, loyalty and acumen.

A lord with poor administrative acumen would run a region less effectively but his greater dread might ensure a rowdy populace was kept in check. A larger variety of agents also added depth to political intrigue and negotiation.

A-sexual Daimyo were no longer an issue: now princesses could be married off to ensure the future of a dynasty and seal political alliances. And adding a new layer to the map's strategy, Europe's waters were also carved into spheres of influence.

An unbroken chain of fleets increased trade income and allowed players to move armies to any coastal province. Sea engagements were auto-resolved.

Religion, once simply a practical conduit to unlocking gunpowder in Shogun (at the expense of Buddhist units), had a greatly enhanced role in Medieval.

Each province had a devoted populace ready to burst into zealous revolt if their ecclesiastical needs were not carefully attended to. Papal interference, favouritism and excommunication were very real problems.

The increased strategic depth saw Shogun's visual propping of the campaign interface cast aside. Assassinations and diplomacy no longer resulted in interactive cut scenes and cinematics.

Also breaking with Shogun's format, each province now had several battle maps, their selection for use based on where armies were positioned. And the greater distances covered in Medieval meant that the battlefields ranged from the dusty plains of the Holy Land to the sodden plains of Ireland.

Running on an updated version of Shogun's engine, Medieval increased its battlefield capacity to 10,000 soldiers and added destructible buildings. Siege warfare was a robust and entertaining addition to the series.

Medieval's added strategic elements had addressed some of the originals few loose threads. However, in the interceding years the game's competitors had caught up graphically. Released just over a month earlier, Blizzard's Warcraft III had demonstrated that the top-down perspective could still be both visually compelling and relevant.

The engine's formerly intoxicating panoramas were rebranded "simple" by some who had taken two years between drinks. Like its predecessor, Medieval received high marks from critics. Even so, many included a caution that the next iteration in the series would have to be built on a new engine or the franchise would face visual redundancy.

"Tens are precious, and it takes more than merely being extremely good to get them. Perfection is no guarantee. In fact, perfection just implies you were setting your sights too low. To have your fingers brush the firmament, you have to risk an Icarus-like fall to earth on internet-forum-flaming wings.

To get a ten you need scale. You need to be more than just a game." It's a vivid piece of fretful writing by Kieron Gillen that perfectly conveys the dilemma writers would face by the end of 2004.

But the media hype around Rome: Total War would start long before the game landed in any reviewer's inbox. Shortly after receiving Strategy Game of the Year at E3 2003, a fully reworked Total War engine would make its TV début in September as the centrepiece for a TV series called Time Commanders on the UK's BBC Two.

The premise: eight noobs of varying ages and lens prescriptions go head to head on two teams, recreating famous battles of antiquity for our entertainment and historical enlightenment.

Not one to be trampled on their own turf, the History Channel aired Decisive Battles in the months preceding Rome's launch late in September 2004. Speaking with Wired magazine, Margaret Kim, director of programming at the History Channel, said, if a little pre-emptively, "We're pioneering something new in this series, and we'll see how it evolves.

The gaming industry is one of the fastest-growing, and it's likely that we'll see more convergence between video games and programming in the future."

Whatever the case, the two engines don't bear comparison. The soldierly sprites of Shogun and Medieval - wilfully stabbing at the air in front of them - were gone, to be replaced with polygonal soldiers who would dodge, parry and thrust at their foes.

Being able to bear closer scrutiny also freed up the developers to play with camera angles: Now, players could lock onto a group of cavalry and revel in the bone crunching-impact of their charge.

They could watch on as barbarians were flung into the air with perhaps a bit too much coded enthusiasm on the behalf of programmers. Doing their best Russell Crowe impersonation, generals would now add further context to battles with speeches to their legions, denouncing their foes, praising their allies and speculating on the momentous victory to follow.

You play as one of three Roman houses seeking total control of the Roman Republic. The Julii focus on the Gallic provinces to the north of Rome, the Brutii seek to expand Rome's power to the east and the Scipii see to Rome's ongoing wars with Carthage in North Africa.

Playing as one third of the world's dominant power right from the outset meant that the campaign map needed to be approached differently. Gone was the provincial map as it stood in the game's predecessors.

Instead, armies and agents had a movement allowance defined by unit type, season, and by that quintessentially Roman development: roads.

Sea trade and transport was also updated. However, the movement limitations of boats were gimped.

It could take upwards of five turns (years) to traverse the width of the Mediterranean Sea. Moreover, naval combat continued to be a 'strictly for computers' auto-resolve affair.

Without provinces as such, the strategic placement of armies on the campaign map became essential. Armies were needed to hold mountain passes and river crossings; forces could lie ready to ambush in forests and these new strategic factors were carried over to the newly-full 3D battlemaps.

Production and governance was also revamped. The Lord system of Medieval was given a new spin as your governors were now a part of your house. In addition to paying attention to their strengths and weaknesses and assigning them regions accordingly, players would also need to promote the candidacy of their family members for senatorial position and influence.

Neglecting senatorial postings would result in a government controlled by your political enemies. Rome paid special attention to this simmering political hostility. Holding the purse-strings, the Senate was not to be ignored.

However, succeeding on these missions would raise your popularity with the plebeians and bring you a step closer to your true ambition.

In fact, you rarely felt the full power of Rome behind you: the divergent geographical interests of the houses meant that they rarely crossed paths until later in the game when, inevitably, your house was deemed too powerful by the Senate and Rome collapsed back in on itself in civil war.

Once players had entered Rome in a triumph as the newly ordained Imperator they gained of the Roman Empire.

Medieval II: Total War

The Creative Assembly have had a curious relationship with the medieval period. It's probably a cynical pronouncement, but the record suggests that the developer turns to medieval Europe when it wishes to bring increased scale and depth to a winning format. And to be fair, it works very well.

But by the end of 2006, there would be a certain sense of déjà-vu when reading critical and community reception of the Creative Assembly's indirect sequel to Medieval: Total War.

In spite of an increased polygon count, Medieval II's most noted graphical advancement over Rome was increased variation in unit models. Knights would display their personal livery and wear alternate suits of armour.

The faces of men at arms and archers were also diversified, adding still more colour and realism to battles. Units now correctly looked like a collection of individuals rather than a mass of clones.

But naturally where Medieval II broadened its offering was on the campaign map. Importing and inflating Rome's reworked campaign mechanics saw the addition of heretics, witches, inquisitors and merchants to Medieval's priests, diplomats, spies, assassins and princesses.

Inquisitors would scour heretical provinces and occasionally put the less pious members of your administration to the stake. And returning to the campaign map was the use of cinematics, a format not seen since Shogun.

Rome's naval functions were remodelled but largely given a "working as intended" tick and transported into Medieval II - even if the computer was perhaps more ruthless in its auto-resolutions.

Newly, communities were now either castles or townships, chosen at the player's discretion. Townships conferred greater economic productivity but advanced unit production was assigned to castles.

The enhanced defences afforded by a castle would be both strategically and tactically beneficial: Better equipped to withstand a protracted siege, the garrison could wait longer for military relief. In the event of an assault, the castle's enhanced defences would be carried over to the 3D battlefield.

In spite of being acknowledged as the best iteration yet of the Total War franchise, Medieval II received a familiar strain of criticism, albeit applied differently.

The game was widely regarded as having implemented enough to be considered a stand-alone product, but the similarities with Rome - right down to renaming the senate the 'council of lords' and having it deliver trying edicts to what should now be an autocrat - simply begged extensive comparison.

For many, the century tacked onto the close of Medieval II showed the most promise for the future of the series. No longer closing with the historical fall of Constantinople, Medieval II extended its timeline into the Renaissance and the discovery of the new world.

The promise was compounded by Medieval II's expansion: Kingdoms. The Kingdoms expansion went into increased detail on four historical campaigns, the last of which, "the Americas", focused on the Spanish conquest of South America.

Empire: Total War

This year, the Creative Assembly delivered Empire: Total War, a game thematically detached from its predecessors in scope and gameplay. As we put it our review, Empire: Total War concerned itself with something wholly different.

"The eighteenth century has been woefully ignored in game culture to the extent that most gamers have a scant appreciation of what a truly dynamic time it was. If Antiques Roadshow has taught us anything, it's that the eighteenth century largely consisted of widespread furniture making.

Scratch below the surface of that Chippendale desk however, and you'll discover a tumultuous time of revolution. A time of glorious rebellion and patriotic fervour. A time when a man could step off a boat, shoot anything that moved and get a small hill named after him."

And one where showing up to a gun fight with a knife was about as informed as Paul Holmes' diversification into the music industry. Battles now largely revolved around masses on infantry lining up opposite one another at forty yards and exchanging lead balls until one side flinched. Only then would bayonets would be fixed to drive the point home.

Terrain features were also enhanced. Soldiers could now take cover behind a wall or commandeer a cottage. Rivers now had two crossings meaning that to choke both was to divide your army.

The computer's tactical AI was also greatly improved, investing more effort into exposing a player's flaws, or teasing out an ill-considered charge. Cavalry, no longer the tanks of Medieval II, instead served as highly vulnerable impact troops and as tactical chips on a board, extending a flank or capturing exposed artillery.

But without a doubt the most touted addition to the game was large-scale naval warfare. Flotillas could wheel and manoeuvre on the high seas before unleashing a devastating broadside at the last moment for maximum impact.

While some players found the naval combat finicky and occasionally confusing - it required meticulous attention to detail, ships could rarely be left to their devices for long, each tack required a counter-tack - it was both a necessary and engaging addition.

The campaign map was also dramatically reconsidered. Now spanning three immense continents, Empire removed diplomatic units, replacing them with a menu. While priests and religion remained in play, they were in many ways counter-balanced by a new agent type, gentlemen.

The eighteenth century was a time of rapid economic and social progress and to reflect this, gentlemen became research agents, unlocking technological and cultural developments.

On the 19th of August, SEGA and the Creative Assembly announced Napoleon: Total War, the first expansion to Empire. As ever with expansions to the series, Napoleon will zoom in on the campaigns of its namesake, and follow his campaigns through Italy and Russia, before culminating in his campaign against the Duke of Wellington and the famous battle of Waterloo.

Due in February, Gameplanet will have a hands on preview of the expansion next week.

Should you choose to pull Total War's components apart and compare them singly, you'd be right to say they're not best in class. Grand strategy gamers may take the campaign map and, comparing it to something like Hearts of Iron, find it wanting. But what has set Total War apart is the sum of its parts and how these parts come together, each strengthening and contextualising the others.

It offers a total package, and if there's some aspects that feel under-realised, maybe it's only because the experience is so lacquered that the odd scratch or chip is all the more apparent.

- Gameplanet.co.nz