The suffocating darkness of Warhammer 40,000's bleak future isn't where one would typically seek out a breath of fresh air, but I've come away from every session of Warhammer 40,000: Darktide reinvigorated nonetheless. Whether it's the vicious yet darkly comedic melee brawls, the electrifying group encounters, or the head-bop-inducing synthwave soundtrack blasting through intense shootouts, this four-player cooperative FPS from developer Fatshark frequently had me grinning like an idiot. Sluggish performance and an aggressively monotonous progression grind might make that smile falter at times, yet even those issues don't diminish the glory that comes with chain-swording heretics in half.
Darktide opens like many other wondrously over-embellished Warhammer 40,000 stories before it: with a legion of Chaos-worshipping Poxwalker traitors causing trouble. The massive hive city of Tertium is overflowing with zombie-esque hordes, gun-toting preachers spouting blasphemous gospel, and all sizes of misshapen, rift-powered monstrosities that you'll joyously slaughter by the thousands as a conscripted convict. Regrettably, Darktide's story never grows into a tale worthy of note across the 13 playable missions. Cheeky squadmate banter and clever winks toward the tabletop game's intricate lore don't quite make up for there being no broader narrative tissue holding everything together. Cutscenes more-or-less boil down to several authority figures suggesting that you're merely a dissident exterminator until proven otherwise, which became a running joke in my friend group during the 35 hours it took us to reach the level cap. Luckily, squashing so-called free thinkers doesn't get old, regardless of the story context.
Darktide has no wrong choices amongst its four playable classes, which include the Veteran Sharpshooter, Ogryn Skullbreaker, Psyker Psykinetic, and Zealot Preacher. Each one has customizable equipment loadouts and a unique ability that compliments the other's toolkits to magnificent results. Of those, I fell head-over-heels for the tank-like Ogryn Skullbreaker – this chaingun-toting brute can easily knock down dozens of enemies with one lumbering swipe or utterly decimate crowds via the locomotive-like Bull Rush ability. If overwhelming firepower is more your speed, then the Veteran Sharpshooter's Volley Fire prioritizes elite targets and briefly amplifies the stopping power of both rifles and automatic weapons. Psyker Psykinetics use staffs to force-push crowds, then follow up with a gruesome Brain Burst that… well, let's say the name isn't metaphorical. Finally, there's the Zealot Preacher – a holy warrior adept with close-range weaponry like hammers that increases their damage melee output through the Chastfise the Wicked ability. These classes really do feel distinct since there’s not too much overlap with weapon types, though multiple classes can use smaller arms, such as Laspistols.
I took to the Ogryn Skullbreaker's stopping power due to its muscly stopping power never going out of style, as Darktide's shockingly in-depth melee combat will consistently test your hand-to-hand martial prowess. Light, heavy, and special attacks are all chainable to brilliant results. It's endlessly satisfying to slice and dice a dozen Poxwalkers, then block an incoming overhead two-handed hammer swing from one of the more sentient enemies before shoving them away. Better yet, darting into an armored enemy's range to knock off their shoulder pad, exposing a weak point in the process, then dashing away before they can retaliate will almost certainly make you smile. Heck, I even let out a good belly laugh after lopping off some poor sod's arm because he examined the bloody stump before falling over as if this were a Wile E. Coyote and Roadrunner bit – Darktide isn't shy about those tongue-firmly-in-cheek moments that Warhammer 40,000 does so well. I'm not sure if an Ogryn doing the whole "float like a butterfly, sting like a bee" routine is intentionally silly, but it's still hilarious.
Getting into its satisfying melee exchanges can reveal Darktide's performance woes.
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Unfortunately, getting into those busy up-close exchanges reveals Darktide's performance and technical woes. My admittedly aging RTX 2080 may not be a top-tier GPU anymore, but it's not so far out of date that the framerate should slow down to near-slideshow levels when bodies start piling up. Yes, Darktide can be very pretty – I regularly found myself looking up from Tertium's seedy underbelly to admire the ornately detailed superstructures above. However, those gothic sights would be more impressive if achieving a halfway decent framerate didn't require lowering most quality settings to medium at 1080p, even with Nvidia DLSS enabled. Worst of all, crashes and disconnects happen with no rhyme or reason. These aren't frequent, and overall stability has seen noticeable improvements since launch, but randomly dropping out mid-shield bash got my blood boiling on numerous occasions. If you don't enjoy fiddling with graphics settings and filling out bug reports, booting up Darktide might not be stress-free until a few more patches arrive.
Thankfully, everything tends to stabilize once you're picking off nasties from afar. Darktide's firefights may be less frenetic than its melee tussles, but they are no less exhilarating, largely thanks to how the suppression system works. Taking shots at foes who know better than to shamble into bullets mindlessly will make them hide behind cover. Keeping up that barrage makes their return-fire sloppy, usually resulting in projectiles that miss you by several feet. It's fair, though, since they can also suppress your squad. My go-to gun for return fire is the Ogryn Skullbreaker's Grenadier Gauntlet, a lightweight grenade launcher that doubles as explosive brass knuckles – flinging bombs or delivering comically violent Falcon Punches up close is too fun.
There's this fantastic risk-reward element to breaking (or imposing) suppression that forces you to either find cover and regain a steady trigger finger or recklessly blitz toward the shooter. The latter is more dangerous, but every successful melee kill slowly restores your toughness meter – a protective barrier that negates incoming damage. It's delightfully refreshing that Darktide rewards those fighting for every square inch of territory with shields to make doing so worthwhile. Huddling beside allies has a similar therapeutic effect too, but my goodness, caving in some mutant's orbital bone after they make it nigh-impossible for you to shoot is more efficient and never gets old. Particularly when a John Carpenter-like synth track rife with catchy metal clangs and downtempo choir chants commemorates the occasion. Jesper Kyd's phenomenal soundtrack gives every disembowelment and warp-infused explosion some extra grimdark oomph that Warhammer 40,000's universe rightly deserves.
Darktide's impressive assortment of more than 15 different enemy types will also have you strategizing on the fly – doubly so on the latter end of its five difficulty levels. Taking out an ironclad chainaxe-wielding Mauler while some maniacal Dreg Tox Flamer covers the battlefield in fire isn't easy, especially if a rabid Pox Hound spontaneously pins your teammate down. Although the Ogryn Skullbreaker's thick hide is fantastic for absorbing a horde's deluge of rusty shovel swings and gnashing teeth, there's no denying that other classes handle specific combatants better. Walking away from spicy ranged situations might require the Psyker Psykinetic's brain-popping magical abilities and some superb marksmanship from a Veteran Sharpshooter, while Zealot Preachers excel at dishing out swaths of high-damage melee strikes. Fixed tank/healer/DPS roles aren't a thing in Darktide, but the astonishing number of variables in any skirmish beautifully encourages teamwork in a way I've not seen in many multiplayer PvE settings outside of an MMORPG.
Darktide shines brightest when your team works together to pull off the unthinkable.
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Nothing tests synergy with your comrades like Darktide's bosses. These ghastly abominations can materialize at any time, and none get the blood flowing like a Daemonhost. Think of Left 4 Dead's Witch, except with wicked sorceries that'll split you from head to toe in this world and the next. They generally spawn in the fetal position and stay that way until provoked – tip-toeing around and avoiding confrontation is a valid tactic that I was tragically unaware of initially. I'll never forget a friend carelessly awakening our first Daemonhost with one loud mace smack, causing the beast to leap toward us as if we’d just insulted its mother. Not even an Ogryn Skullbreaker's shipping-door-sized slab shield offered much protection against this ghoul's relentless assault, so I could only take a few hits before sprinting away, periodically spinning around to keep its attention while everyone else unleashed hell. Steady energy blasts together with lasgun volleys from the Psyker Psykinetic and Veteran Sharpshooter in our party eventually made the Daemonhost past tense, though not before it telekinetically snapped my neck Darth Vader style. An undignified death, no doubt. It doesn't matter, though: another agent of chaos went belly-up. Darktide shines brightest when a team pulls off the unthinkable, and those legendary exploits are often more rewarding than Tertium's treasures.
I'm not blowing smoke, either, since Darktide's various progression treadmills are stingy beyond belief. Gaining one measly rank takes roughly two or three missions that go on for about 30 minutes a piece on lower difficulties, and worthwhile weapon replacements rarely drop during the post-match rewards screen. Bumping up the challenge to Heresy (the fourth of five tiers) and beyond for bigger experience gains and better loot is always a viable option, but it also increases your party's chances of wiping by considerable margins, yielding almost nothing. Given how tough Darktide is at any moment, relying on strangers to pull their weight in random matchmaking is a huge ask when friends are unavailable, and tackling missions by yourself isn't possible. In fairness, there isn’t much of a reason to rush toward max rank because there's currently no real endgame – only the same handful of missions await, albeit with unique ”condition” modifiers like fog and pitch-black darkness that don't do a lot to shake things up.
All it takes is a short stroll across the starship Mourningstar's steel decks, a social hub area of sorts, to sense Farkshark's live-service aspirations with Darktide. For every firearms vendor or barbershop, there are dozens of empty market stalls that I assume will have new merchants and occupants in future updates. Usually, I prefer something more old-school, but at least this direction provides creative wiggle room to grow and flesh out progression and endgame activities. While craftable weapons and weekly challenges are decent starts, I need a goal or an overarching carrot and stick to hold my attention long-term. Right now it just has its exceptional combat to keep me coming back, but that appeal can only last so long on its own.
