Sunday Musings - Looking Back At The First Age (Of Sigmar) (Copy)

Before Age of Sigmar, there was Warhammer Fantasy Battles—a sprawling, grimdark saga that had been building for decades. Think ancient tomes, endless campaigns, and armies that clashed like thunder across rolling hills, shattered forests, and cursed mountains. The Old World was a richly woven tapestry, thick with tradition, history, and a world so detailed it practically breathed.

But as every old world must, it eventually faced its end.

In 2015, Games Workshop dropped the bombshell that sent shockwaves through the community: after nearly 30 years, the Old World was going to be destroyed. Yep, you heard that right—the entire setting, with all its heroes, villains, kingdoms, and gods, was going to be wiped clean in an event called The End Times.

For many, this felt like a betrayal. The Old World was home, a living museum of fantasy that they’d grown up with, painted meticulously across thousands of minis and countless battles. Losing it felt like watching your childhood castle crumble in apocalyptic fire and fury, characters we loved died horrific deaths, alliances shattered, and the world itself was swallowed by chaos.

Why did GW do it? Partly to shake up the status quo, partly to make room for fresh ideas, and partly because after decades of expanding, the Old World had become a sprawling beast that was hard to manage or update.

Out of this ruin rose Age of Sigmar, a game and universe born from the ashes of the Old World but unlike anything fans had seen before.

If Warhammer Fantasy was a gritty, medieval saga, Age of Sigmar was more mythic, cosmic, and yes, cinematic—think god-like heroes in gleaming armor fighting across realms of elemental fury.

At launch, the game was radically different—no more rank-and-file infantry blocks, no more clunky rulebooks stuffed with exceptions. Instead, it had sweeping battles with heroic figures, powerful magic, and what some called “rules that felt like they’d been written on the back of a napkin.” No point values meant armies could be wildly unbalanced, and the lore felt distant and abstract compared to the Old World’s grounded history.

The reaction was intense. Many longtime players felt alienated. The loss of the Old World felt like the loss of a friend. Forums lit up with debates and heartbreak. Critics derided the new rules as oversimplified and the lore as a hollow shell.

But here’s where the story gets interesting: Age of Sigmar didn’t just fade away. It evolved.

Recognizing the outcry, Games Workshop doubled down on developing the game—introducing matched play, point systems, and endless spells that added tactical depth and spectacle.

They fleshed out the Mortal Realms—each a vivid, elemental plane with its own themes and factions. The Stormcast Eternals emerged as shining avatars of hope, reforged from death itself to stand against Chaos. New heroes, terrifying villains, and complex factions brought fresh life and drama.

The second and third editions steadily improved mechanics and narrative, turning Age of Sigmar into a strategic, cinematic experience that balanced accessibility with complexity.

Age of Sigmar’s story is a lesson in rebirth and resilience—not just in-universe, but in the real world. It’s about risking everything to create something new, risking heartbreak to find hope again.

And while the Old World will always hold a special place in fans’ hearts, Age of Sigmar has carved its own identity—mythic, sprawling, and endlessly imaginative.

So when you pick up a Stormcast Eternal or summon a firestorm on the battlefield, remember this: you’re part of a saga of transformation. From the ashes of the old came a new legend—a game that dared to dream bigger, bolder, and yes, a little crazier. And for many, that gamble paid off.

When Age of Sigmar first landed, the rules felt a bit like a wild party where nobody quite remembered who invited whom. Imagine showing up to a grand banquet only to find the seating chart missing and the appetizers all mixed up—but the wine was flowing, so hey, it wasn’t all bad.

The first edition famously tossed out point values—the sacred math that balanced armies in tabletop games—and replaced it with a glorious free-for-all. Want to bring a dozen dragons to face off against a handful of foot soldiers? Go right ahead! Want to stack your army with nothing but mighty heroes? Be my guest! It was liberating… if you didn’t mind the occasional (or frequent) battles ending in one-sided chaos.

Movement was streamlined, dice rolls were simplified, and the idea was to encourage cinematic, story-driven battles instead of spreadsheet-level strategy. It felt like playing a blockbuster movie where your heroic knight might suddenly get squashed by a random giant crab because hey, anything could happen!

But underneath the flashy magic and thunderous hammer strikes, some players found the rules frustratingly vague. Ambiguities in timing, unclear unit interactions, and the infamous “who goes first” conundrum meant that arguments over what exactly “move and shoot” meant could last longer than the battles themselves.

There were gems, though—the Endless Spells added a brilliant, unpredictable layer of battlefield control, and the Winds of Magic system kept casters on their toes (or their robes). The lore-heavy Battletomes began rolling out, giving factions personality and flavour—although you might still spend half your game just figuring out if your unit could charge after casting a spell.

In short, Age of Sigmar’s first edition rules were like a shiny new toy that promised the world but needed a bit of tinkering before it really worked. It was rough around the edges, often baffling, and occasionally downright chaotic—but it was also fun. And sometimes, that’s all you really want.