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Nagash Turns Warhammer III Into a Corpse Economy

Writer: Niels Gys
Niels Gys
19 hours ago
4 min read

Yes. Nagash absolutely counts as proper playable-villain material.


And I don't mean because he's Nagash, a man whose general appearance suggests somebody dug up Death itself and then somehow made it more unpleasant.

The interesting bit is what his campaign actually lets you do.


You conquer the living world, turn its settlements into undead infrastructure, generate Necromantic Energy from your new corpse-based property portfolio, raise increasingly obscene armies and slowly build Nagash towards godhood.


That is already a much better villain fantasy than the usual approach, where the game tells you you're evil because your soldiers wear black and somebody occasionally says something about suffering.

Nagash doesn't just look evil.

His entire economy has gone evil.



If Nagash has ruined normal protagonists for you, Halloween: The Game takes the same question somewhere considerably more stabby: does actually playing Michael Myers feel like being Michael Myers, or just murder with licensed trousers?



Conquering a city is only the beginning

This is where I really like what Creative Assembly has done.

Take a settlement and you don't simply own another settlement.


Coastal settlements can become Pirate Coves. Inland settlements can become Burial Chambers or Mausoleums. Major settlements can become Necropolises, producing Necromantic Energy from the surrounding territory.

Which means every city you conquer immediately stops being somewhere people live and becomes something Nagash can use.

That's important.


Plenty of games let you play a villain while still making you interact with the world exactly like everybody else. You capture Town A, build Bakery B, eventually research Improved Wheat Management because apparently even Satan needs bread bonuses.


Nagash looks at the bakery and wonders how much Necromantic Energy Geoffrey would produce.

Geoffrey has been making bread there for thirty years.

Geoffrey is now infrastructure.

And because Necromantic Energy feeds construction, increases unit capacity and supports Gravecall recruitment, the idea keeps going. The more of the living world you consume, the more powerful your undead machine becomes.


You're not just conquering territory while coincidentally playing a necromancer.

You're conquering territory as a necromancer would.

That's the difference.


Nagash channels swirling green necromantic magic while spectral undead surround him in Total War: WARHAMMER III.

Prefer your undead nightmares considerably less organised? Fallout 76: The Slasher trades Nagash’s necromantic property empire for corpses, masks and an Appalachian murder investigation where nobody has thought to appoint a skeleton CFO.



Godhood apparently requires administration

Then there's the Black Pyramid and the Books of Nagash.


Your campaign keeps pushing Nagash towards more power. You recover his books, develop the Pyramid, expand the empire and gradually turn him from an already horrifying problem into the sort of person other horrifying problems probably discuss during meetings.


I love this because there is something wonderfully stupid about godhood being an infrastructure project.


We're talking about dark magic, undead armies and one of Warhammer's greatest villains trying to ascend beyond mortality.

And underneath all of it, somewhere, there must be paperwork.


Necromantic Energy output down three percent.

Gravecall recruitment above forecast.

Mausoleum Four requires additional corpses.

Nagash summons whoever prepared the report.

Mausoleum Four no longer requires additional corpses.

Problem solved.


But underneath the joke, that's exactly why the campaign works for me as villain design. Everything points in the same direction.

More land gives you more energy. More energy gives you more undead. The Books give Nagash more power. The Pyramid becomes part of that progression.


Nothing feels like a completely unrelated game system somebody stapled onto Nagash because strategy games are legally required to contain upgrade menus.

It's all feeding the same obsession.



Then Nagash starts acquiring other villains

The Mortarch side of the campaign is probably the bit that really sells this.

Nagash can bring several existing undead Legendary Lords under his control, and subjugating them transfers their armies and existing empires to you.

That's magnificent.


Normal strategy-game diplomacy involves alliances, treaties, trade agreements and occasionally staring at a number until somebody agrees to stop hating you.

Nagash's version is apparently:

Congratulations. I've acquired you.

Not your cooperation.

You.

Your armies too.

And your country.


This is less diplomacy and more hostile corporate consolidation conducted by a seven-foot necromancer.


It also makes sense mechanically because Nagash can draw units from the Vampire Counts, Tomb Kings and Vampire Coast. You're not simply building another undead faction. You're gradually assembling the undead faction.

That feels right.

You take territory.

You reshape it.

You generate Necromantic Energy.

You recover the Books.

You strengthen the Pyramid.

You acquire other undead powers.


After a while the world presumably stops looking like nations and starts looking like assets Nagash hasn't purchased yet.

There probably isn't an HR department.

There certainly won't be once he finds it.


Ghostly green undead creatures surge through the darkness in Total War: WARHAMMER III’s Nagash campaign.

If CRIMENET turning necromancy into corporate restructuring improved your evening, buy us a coffee on Ko-fi. We’ll spend it responsibly, which is already more fiscal restraint than Nagash has shown with the dead.


This is where most “play as the villain” games lose me

Being allowed to control an evil character is easy.

Games have done that forever.

Give somebody a skull helmet. Add red eyes. Make their special ability called Devour the Innocent. Job done.


But if I'm supposed to be playing a villain, I want the mechanics to start changing how I look at things.

Nagash gets there.

A city stops being a city.

It's Necromantic Energy.

Another undead empire stops being another faction.

It's something you're eventually going to absorb.

A magical artefact stops being treasure.

It's another rung on the ladder towards godhood.


And the living population?

Well.

They appear to have made the tactical mistake of still being alive.

That's much more interesting than a morality meter.


Nagash doesn't need one anyway. Imagine opening the character screen and seeing:

Morality: -97

Thanks, game.

I gathered that when I converted Prague into a corpse generator.


What matters is that the campaign starts making you think in the same horrible terms Nagash would.

That's what proper villain gameplay should do.

It shouldn't constantly tell you you're evil.

It should give you a perfectly functioning system where doing something appalling makes complete strategic sense, and then quietly watch what happens.


Nagash doesn't just let you play the bad guy.

He gives evil a logistics department.

 
 
 

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About the Editor
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I'm Niels Gys, founder and editor of CRIMENET GAZETTE. I write about crime, heist, villain, and horror games because somebody has to separate genuine criminal masterpieces from games that couldn't organize a successful mugging.

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Outside the website, I'm the frontman of JETBLACK SMILE, a Belgian rock 'n' roll band that sounds like bad decisions played through loud guitars. Turns out writing about chaos, criminals, and morally questionable life choices isn't all that different from writing songs.

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I started CRIMENET because too much gaming coverage feels afraid to have an opinion. Reviews become press releases, every game is "solid," and somehow everyone leaves happy except the reader.

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Not here.

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CRIMENET covers crime, heist, villain and horror games, with GTA Online as one of our main ongoing beats. Not the heroic kind. The kind where you rob banks, build empires, betray your crew, or become the monster everyone else is trying to survive.​

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I don't do review scores. The internet already has enough people arguing whether a game deserves a 72 instead of a 71, like they're negotiating a hostage release over a single percentage point. I'd rather tell you what the game actually feels like to play and whether it's worth your time.

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Every article is built on research, evidence, and an unhealthy intolerance for mediocre game design.

 

Strong opinions are welcome. Invented facts are not.

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Think less "trusted reviewer."

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More "your inside man in the digital underworld."

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I'm not here to save the world.

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I'm here to tell you which crimes are worth committing. 🤘

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