The most anatomically committed naval combat engine ever built. You are also the ship's Inclusion & Belonging Officer, and the Q3 compliance report is due whether or not the hull is on fire.
At battle stations, WARSHIP delivers broadsides rendered down to the individual rivet and the individual consequence. Below decks, it delivers something the genre has never dared attempt: the full administrative weight of a 340-person floating workplace.
Every sailor you fail to protect in combat is a sailor you personally onboarded. You ran their orientation. You laminated their name tag. War has never asked this much of a laminator.
Shrapnel is tracked per-fragment through the ship and everyone in it. Our physics team included two naval historians and a butcher. All three signed NDAs. One retired.
Conduct one-on-ones with all 340 crew members. Chief Gunner Halloran feels "unheard." He is manning a 16-inch gun. Hear him.
The deck remembers. The deck-swabbing minigame is 40 minutes long and, critics agree, harrowing.
Run mandatory belonging workshops in the mess hall between engagements. Attendance is tracked. Torpedo strikes do not excuse absence; they reschedule it.
Close-quarters combat with cutlass, wrench, and fire axe. Every enemy boarder has a family, a backstory, and a ragdoll skeleton with 209 breakable bones. The game will tell you which ones broke, alphabetically.
Every casualty generates paperwork. Form 88-C must be filed within 48 in-game hours or morale drops shipwide. The forms are real forms. We licensed them. It was expensive and nobody will say from whom.
If the ammunition magazine goes, it goes with a fidelity that made our QA lead switch careers. The blast is rendered in 96 stages. You will see stage 96 exactly once and never load that save again.
Belonging, Morale, and Psychological Safety, tracked in real time, all trending down, because you are in a naval battle. Your job is the arrow. Good luck with the arrow.
"I sank the enemy flagship and felt nothing. Then I filed the incident report, checked the box marked 'preventable,' and wept at my desk. Game of the year." — Barnacle & Ledger Magazine, 10/10
"The battles are unspeakable. The exit interviews are worse." — Quarterdeck Quarterly