There was a time when the name Mantic Games barely registered in my mind, except as a curiosity. I was already entrenched in the world of tabletop games, having spent years dabbling with Warhammer 40,000, other Games Workshop offerings, and a variety of products from Fantasy Flight Games. The hobby felt familiar, comfortable, and deeply tied to that specific ecosystem. I knew the lore of the grim darkness of the far future, I had my painted squads of Space Marines and Chaos forces, and I spent evenings poring over codices and campaign books. It felt like the pinnacle of miniature wargaming. So when I first saw Mantic Games’ products, they struck me as something unnecessary, almost like an imitation of something I already had. I looked at them with a sense of skepticism, even mild disdain, assuming that they were merely trying to copy what Games Workshop had already perfected.
One of the first things that really shaped that early impression was their boxed set of ORX. At a glance, the models seemed to me like obvious stand-ins for Warhammer’s Orks, and because I had been steeped in Games Workshop’s aesthetic for so long, I saw that as derivative rather than original. It felt like a shadow of a shadow, a distant echo of something I had already spent years enjoying. In hindsight, this was an unfair and narrow view. It was not that Mantic lacked creativity but rather that I was unwilling to give them a chance. Like many long-time hobbyists who grew up with Games Workshop being the single dominant force in miniatures gaming, I found it hard to accept another company attempting to occupy a similar space.
But the tabletop landscape has shifted. Games Workshop of the 1990s was a scrappy company full of personality, with wild ideas spilling out of White Dwarf magazine, encouraging players to kitbash terrain from household junk and experiment with their hobby. As the years passed, they became a much larger corporate entity, and along with that came a tighter grip on intellectual property, stricter rules around what could be shown in their magazines, and a more polished but also more restrictive hobby culture. The raw, messy creativity of those earlier days began to fade. It is not that Games Workshop stopped producing good games, far from it, but the experience of engaging with the company shifted.
Mantic, by contrast, now feels like what Games Workshop once was. They have that sense of scrappy independence, that drive to build something that is for the players first and foremost. Listening to Ronnie Renton, the CEO of Mantic, speak about the company and its plans makes it clear that this is a group of passionate gamers who want to make games they themselves would play. There is a sense of community involvement, a willingness to listen to feedback, and an openness to experimentation. Where Games Workshop can sometimes feel like a distant monolith delivering pronouncements from on high, Mantic often feels approachable, almost collaborative.
This realization came slowly for me. It was not the result of one single moment but of a series of experiences, videos I watched, games I tried, and conversations I read online. Over time, I began to see that Mantic was not simply copying Games Workshop but forging its own path, taking inspiration where necessary but always with a clear goal of doing something new. They were not just making a cheaper version of someone else’s product; they were making games that were quicker to play, more streamlined, and often more innovative in their mechanics.
Part of what helped me shift my thinking was looking at how the tabletop industry itself has changed since the 1990s. Back then, Games Workshop was almost the only major player in miniature wargaming. If you wanted to play a large-scale fantasy battle game or a sci-fi skirmish game with plastic miniatures, they were essentially the only option. That monopoly gave them enormous cultural weight within the hobby. Today, however, the landscape is crowded. There are dozens of small and mid-sized companies producing everything from board games with miniatures to boutique skirmish games with high-end resin figures. Crowdfunding platforms have further diversified the field, allowing passionate designers to bypass traditional publishing routes and bring niche projects directly to the public.
In this environment, Mantic feels refreshingly focused. They have carved out a space where they can deliver games that are accessible, both in terms of rules complexity and price point, without sacrificing depth. They are not trying to compete with the most lavish miniatures or the most expensive deluxe boxes. Instead, they are providing tools for players to have fun quickly and to spend more time playing than referencing rulebooks. This ethos resonates with me more and more as I get older and have less time to spend preparing for games, but still want that feeling of excitement on the tabletop.
When I first started warming up to Mantic, I remember thinking about how much I missed that old do-it-yourself spirit that used to be encouraged in the hobby. White Dwarf magazine in the 1990s would show you how to turn cereal boxes and plastic lids into bunkers and barricades. They would encourage you to customize your models in wild and imaginative ways. As Games Workshop shifted toward a more tightly controlled brand experience, much of that encouragement faded. There was a stronger push to buy official terrain kits and use official components. From a business perspective, this makes perfect sense—why show players how to make something from scratch when you could sell them a model kit? But from a creative standpoint, it took something away from the hobby.
Mantic, by contrast, seems to embrace the idea that players will make their games their own. Their rulesets often explicitly encourage proxy models, kitbashing, and creative scenario building. Their products are modular in a way that invites players to expand upon them rather than just assemble them as instructed. This open attitude feels liberating. It is as though they are saying that what matters most is not whether your army is 100 percent official but whether you and your friends are having a good time at the table.
As I think back on my early dismissive attitude toward Mantic, I find it almost funny now. I had been so certain that they were just a knockoff brand, so sure that I would never be interested in what they had to offer. And yet, now I find myself actively excited when I hear about a new release, watching videos from content creators who share their passion for the games, and planning out which starter boxes or expansions I might add to my collection next. It is not that I have abandoned Games Workshop entirely, but I now see Mantic as a vital part of my hobby life. They offer me something different, something that scratches the itch for fast, engaging gameplay and hobby creativity.
What is most remarkable is that this transformation in my attitude has rekindled my enthusiasm for the tabletop hobby as a whole. For a time, I had been drifting away from wargaming, dabbling more in board games or roleplaying games. The cost of keeping up with large armies and the complexity of rules systems sometimes felt like too much of a barrier. But Mantic’s games brought me back in. They reminded me of the fun of setting up a battlefield, deploying miniatures, and rolling dice. They reminded me that this hobby does not have to be intimidating or prohibitively expensive. It can be approachable, friendly, and welcoming.
In the early hours of the morning, unable to sleep, I found myself reflecting on this journey and deciding that it was worth sharing. It is easy to be cynical about gaming companies, to assume they are just out to make money, but there is a human side to all of this. Mantic, in particular, feels like a company run by people who genuinely love games. That love shows in the way they interact with the community and in the way they continue to support their products even years after release. It shows in their willingness to experiment and take risks.
As I look over my shelves now, seeing boxes of Mantic games where once there were only Games Workshop products, I feel a sense of satisfaction. It is not about replacing one company with another but about expanding my horizon and allowing myself to enjoy what is out there. There is room for more than one vision of tabletop gaming, and Mantic’s vision happens to align with my own desire for creativity, accessibility, and fun.
This change in perspective has not only deepened my appreciation for Mantic but has also given me a renewed appreciation for the hobby as a whole. It is a reminder that gaming is supposed to be joyful, that it is meant to bring people together and spark the imagination. Whether it is a fast skirmish game played on a coffee table or a sprawling battle fought across a full-size gaming board, the essence of the hobby is the same: friends gathering to tell stories through dice rolls and miniature armies.
Immersion Through Skirmishes And Battlefields
My first step into the world of Mantic Games proper came through Deadzone, and it was a revelation. At first, I was hesitant. I had heard discussions online that left me scratching my head, especially about the mechanics. Deadzone uses a three-dimensional grid system for movement and shooting range, but line of sight is determined from miniature to miniature. At the time, this seemed to me like an odd combination, unnecessarily complicated compared to other skirmish games. Dust Tactics, for instance, used a more streamlined system where both range and line of sight were simplified to match its grid. So when I first read about Deadzone, I thought it might be more fiddly than fun.
But curiosity has a way of winning out, and in my case, it was helped along by the enthusiastic work of community members like DreadPathZone, who created videos full of passion and excitement for the game. Their enthusiasm was contagious. They were not just reviewing the game; they were living it, breathing it, showing how it played on the table in a way that felt authentic. So I took the plunge and ordered the second edition Two-Player Starter Box.
The first games I played were with the Enforcers and Forge Fathers from that box. The experience was eye-opening. The system was far more elegant than I had assumed. The grid-based movement meant there was no endless measuring and re-measuring of distances with tape measures. Positioning became cleaner and faster, and the three-dimensional nature of the grid made verticality an exciting tactical consideration. It reminded me of the thrill of playing with terrain in other games, but with a clearer sense of structure. The alternating activations of units kept both players engaged, reducing the downtime that sometimes plagues turn-based skirmish games.
If there was one area where the starter set felt a little thin, it was terrain. The contents were just enough to play, but the battlefield did not feel as alive or as cluttered as I wanted it to be. That was not really a flaw in the system but rather an invitation to expand, and expand I did. I traded away some of my older game collections, including my Warhammer Quest set, and used that trade to acquire a large Deadzone first edition Kickstarter bundle. This gave me a treasure trove of additional factions, terrain sprues, and components that expanded my options dramatically. Suddenly, the battlefields looked the way I had always imagined them, with multi-level buildings, tight corridors, and claustrophobic kill zones where firefights could break out at any moment.
The third edition of Deadzone, which I picked up later with the Veer-Myn and GCPS starter, refined the experience even further. I have yet to assemble all the models from that box, but I find myself daydreaming about the campaigns I could run with them. The Veer-Myn, Mantic’s take on spacefaring ratmen, are a faction full of character and flavor, and the GCPS gives a more grounded, human military presence. Between them, the Forge Fathers and the Enforcers, I have a varied set of forces that let me experiment with different styles of play.
What makes Deadzone stand out to me is its speed and its cinematic feel. A game can be played in under an hour, yet it never feels insubstantial. Each activation is meaningful, each firefight dramatic. It is not just about who can bring the most firepower but who can maneuver cleverly, use the terrain to their advantage, and take risks at the right moment. This is the kind of game that makes you lean over the table, heart racing, as you wonder whether that last crucial dice roll will succeed or fail.
From Deadzone, it was only a short leap to Star Saga, which quickly became one of my favorite games in my entire collection. I had missed the Kickstarter, which was disappointing at first, but fortune smiled on me when I found someone on Facebook offering to sell their pledge. I bought it and waited patiently for the delivery. When it finally arrived, opening that box felt like Christmas morning.
Star Saga is a dungeon crawler at its heart, but one that takes place in a rich sci-fi universe. It feels like playing through a season of a sci-fi TV show, or better yet, like stepping into a video game campaign. In fact, for me, it became the closest thing to playing Mass Effect on the tabletop. I could assemble a crew of mercenaries, specialists, and alien allies and send them on missions that played out like episodes. The rules encouraged cooperation and tactical thinking, with each player’s decisions affecting the success of the group as a whole.
I set about planning my own little narrative arcs within Star Saga, even to the point of customizing miniatures to represent characters I wanted to play. Commander Shepard from Mass Effect was recreated in my own way as a sniper-wielding infiltrator. Commander Roca, a character from the Mantic universe, made a perfect stand-in for that role. The more I played, the more I found myself thinking of ways to expand the experience, adding homemade scenarios and additional enemies to keep things fresh.
The only frustration I had with Star Saga was that I missed out on some of the expansions during the Kickstarter campaign. I managed to track down The Devil’s Betrayal expansion on eBay, but to my surprise, it arrived without miniatures, as it was the Kickstarter version. The seller was kind enough to give me a partial refund, and eventually, I found someone willing to sell me their complete collection, which filled in the gaps I had been missing. This sense of completion was deeply satisfying. Star Saga is the kind of game that grows richer the more content you have, as you can mix and match enemies and missions to create endless combinations.
One of the things I love most about Star Saga is its treatment of the Enforcers. They are not the shining, noble space knights of other universes but a more ruthless, morally complex force. They represent the iron fist of the Council, a galactic authority that sometimes acts less like a protector and more like a controlling bureaucracy. In some missions, they come across less as heroes and more as intimidating agents of order, a bit like the SPECTREs from Mass Effect but operating with fewer moral qualms. This adds a layer of depth to the setting that I appreciate, giving me stories that feel more nuanced than simple good versus evil conflicts.
From skirmishes and dungeon crawls, I eventually moved into Mantic’s larger battle systems, Warpath and Firefight. These games captured the spirit of what I had once loved about Warhammer 40,000, but without the bloat. Firefight, in particular, felt like the game that 40K should have been all along—fast, brutal, and tactical. I had initially been skeptical of the need for a second edition of Firefight, since I enjoyed the first, but after playing it, I was completely sold. The updated ruleset made everything smoother, from army building to resolving combat, and the balance between factions felt more carefully considered.
I picked up the rules for Firefight and began experimenting with lists using the miniatures I already owned from Deadzone. This was another thing I appreciated about Mantic’s ecosystem: miniatures are cross-compatible across multiple games. The same Enforcers that patrol the urban ruins of a Deadzone battlefield can form a full army in Firefight. The same Forge Fathers that skirmish with aliens in one game can take to the field in larger battles with tanks and artillery. This kind of integration gives me the feeling that my collection is alive and versatile, not locked into a single system.
Warpath, which operates on an even larger scale, is something I have only dipped my toes into so far, but the potential is thrilling. The idea of massed futuristic armies clashing on a large battlefield with squadrons of tanks and aircraft swooping overhead is exactly the kind of epic vision that drew me to wargaming in the first place. There are rumors and discussions about Mantic doing Warpath at a smaller scale, perhaps 10mm, which would make it easier to play massive battles on a standard tabletop. This is an exciting prospect, especially as Games Workshop has revived Epic but limited it to a single setting and faction lineup. Mantic could provide the diverse factions and open-ended universe that I crave.
What unites all these games—Deadzone, Star Saga, Warpath, Firefight—is a sense of cohesion and passion. They are not just products but parts of a living, breathing science fiction setting. Each game explores a different slice of that universe, from covert missions to skirmishes to full-scale wars. This interconnectedness gives me a sense of belonging in the setting. I can tell ongoing stories across multiple systems, watching my characters and factions grow and change as I shift from one game to another.
Looking at my shelves now, I see more than just boxes of miniatures and rulebooks. I see the tools of storytelling, the building blocks of entire campaigns and narratives, waiting to be played out. I see factions with personalities and grudges, missions that could lead to triumph or tragedy, and endless opportunities for tactical puzzles to solve. These games have not just entertained me; they have inspired me. They have reminded me why I fell in love with tabletop gaming in the first place and why I continue to return to it.
Rediscovering Creativity Through Fantasy And Sport
After immersing myself in Mantic’s science-fiction games, it was only natural that my curiosity turned toward their other offerings. Dreadball was one of the first to catch my eye, partly because I already had some familiarity with Games Workshop’s Blood Bowl. Sports games with miniatures had always intrigued me. They were a unique hybrid, mixing tactical positioning and dice-driven drama with the immediacy of a match played in turns. When I first started reading about Dreadball, I discovered that its designer, Jake Thornton, had written a series of design diaries discussing the thought process behind the game’s mechanics. These writings fascinated me, because they explained not only the “how” of the rules but the “why.” It was clear that Dreadball was not just a reskinned version of Blood Bowl but something entirely its own, with a focus on speed, flow, and cinematic excitement.
I had dabbled with Blood Bowl’s 2016 edition but never fully immersed myself in it. The game always felt slightly cumbersome to me, perhaps because of the way turns could grind to a halt if one side suffered a bad roll early in the sequence. Dreadball promised a smoother experience. The pitch was smaller, the teams were leaner, and the pace was faster. I acquired a first edition Dreadball collection off eBay, which gave me a wide selection of teams to try. Later, I bought the second edition boxed set and the complete rulebook to make sure I had the most up-to-date material.
Even though I have not yet played as many full games of Dreadball as I would like, I find its premise easy to grasp and exciting. The dice system has a built-in rhythm that keeps the action moving. Players can chain actions together in clever ways, turning what might have been a straightforward match into a tense back-and-forth battle of wits. There is something uniquely satisfying about seeing a perfect play come together, watching your striker dash past defenders and launch the ball into the strike zone at the last possible moment. It feels more like a fast-paced sport than a board game simulation, which is exactly what I wanted.
I also love the personality that Mantic bakes into its Dreadball teams. Each team has its own quirks and unique playstyle, which means that switching factions is not just a matter of swapping models but of rethinking strategy entirely. Some teams are bruisers that focus on smashing opponents off the pitch, others are nimble and rely on clever passing plays, and still others bring in strange alien abilities that completely change the tempo of the game. This variety keeps things fresh and encourages me to keep experimenting. One day, I would like to get the card deck that features the alien sports commentators, not just for gameplay reasons but because the idea of a game having its own in-universe commentators adds to the flavor.
From the futuristic stadiums of Dreadball, my journey took a sharp turn back into the realm of fantasy with Dungeon Saga: Dwarf King’s Quest. This game had been on my radar for some time, but I was hesitant to commit. Part of the reason was that I already owned several fantasy dungeon crawlers, and I wondered if Dungeon Saga would offer anything unique. Eventually, a trade opportunity came along, and I was able to acquire a Kickstarter pledge locally. I sat down to try a solo scenario, excited but also slightly cautious.
The first experience was a little underwhelming, mainly because I made the mistake of rushing through the rules and missing some important details. The result was a game that felt too easy and too straightforward, so much so that I decided to sell off my collection. For a while, I thought Dungeon Saga simply was not for me. But over time, I found myself thinking back to it and wondering if perhaps I had been too hasty. The premise of the game was still appealing: heroes delving into dark crypts, facing off against undead horrors, unlocking new abilities as they progressed through a campaign. There was something classic and comforting about that formula.
When another opportunity arose, I decided to give Dungeon Saga a second chance. This time, I found a seller who had a complete Kickstarter pledge minus the Eye of the Abyss expansion and was offering it at a very reasonable price. I sold off some other games to fund the purchase, and when the box arrived, I felt a sense of excitement that had been missing the first time around. This time, I sat down with the rules and read them carefully, making sure I understood the flow of the game.
The difference was night and day. With the rules properly absorbed, the game came to life. Suddenly, every encounter felt tense and tactical. The overlord player’s ability to play command cards and spring traps gave the dungeon a personality of its own, making it feel as though the environment was actively working against the heroes. My first few plays were thrilling, full of close calls and desperate last stands. I played three games in four days, each one leaving me eager for more.
Dungeon Saga also sparked my imagination in terms of hobby potential. The modular tiles could be rearranged to create custom scenarios, and the miniatures offered plenty of painting opportunities. I began thinking about acquiring additional monsters and expansions, not just to increase variety but also to expand the narrative possibilities. The book-box expansions, which come in compact boxes that look like tomes, were particularly appealing because they offered both content and storage in one neat package. The Dungeon Critters pack, with its quirky selection of small creatures, went on my wish list.
Parallel to this, I dipped my toes into Kings of War, Mantic’s answer to large-scale fantasy battles. For years, I had been entrenched in Warhammer Fantasy, and the idea of leaving that system felt daunting. Warhammer Fantasy was the game of my youth, and its lore and world had a powerful hold over my imagination. But as time passed and Games Workshop moved on from Warhammer Fantasy to launch Age of Sigmar, I began to feel the loss of rank-and-flank fantasy battles.
Kings of War offered me a chance to return to that style of game, but with a ruleset that felt streamlined and approachable. I found a Dwarf Hold Two-Player Starter box on eBay that came with Dwarves and Undead, giving me two armies to get started. The system clicked with me almost immediately. Instead of removing individual casualties, units are treated as whole regiments that take cumulative damage until they break. This speeds up gameplay and keeps the battlefield looking impressive deep into the game.
While I still have a deep fondness for Warhammer Fantasy’s world-building, I appreciate that Kings of War lets me focus more on the tactics of maneuver and less on bookkeeping. It is easy to learn but has layers of depth that reward repeated play. Even if it is not currently my highest priority, it is a game I plan to revisit regularly, particularly because I can use many of the models and terrain from Dungeon Saga to enhance my battles.
What unites Dreadball, Dungeon Saga, and Kings of War is Mantic’s willingness to trust players with creative freedom. Their rules are often streamlined not to remove complexity but to give players space to improvise and tell their own stories. They do not lock players into rigid army lists or insist on official models for every figure. This openness is part of what makes Mantic special in the modern tabletop landscape.
For me, this has rekindled the sense of imagination that first drew me to tabletop gaming. I no longer feel like I am just a consumer buying prepackaged experiences. I feel like a co-creator, building campaigns, painting miniatures in my own color schemes, and dreaming up characters and story arcs that span multiple games. When I play Dungeon Saga, I imagine how the surviving heroes might later join a Kings of War army as legendary characters. When I play Dreadball, I think about which corporations might be funding my team and what backroom deals are being struck in the wider Warpath universe.
Mantic has created an ecosystem that encourages this kind of cross-pollination. Their games speak to one another, not just mechanically but thematically. The same factions that fight in Deadzone appear as military forces in Firefight and Warpath. The same dwarves and undead that clash in Kings of War show up in Dungeon Saga’s dungeons. Even Dreadball’s sports teams can be tied back to corporations and species in the Warpath setting, giving a sense of a shared universe that feels alive.
This interconnectedness fuels my enthusiasm to keep collecting and playing. It means that every purchase adds value across multiple games, every painted miniature has multiple uses, and every scenario I write can potentially tie into a larger narrative. It is a hobby experience that feels holistic rather than fragmented.
As I sit and plan out future purchases, I find myself excited not just about playing individual games but about weaving them together into a larger tapestry. Perhaps my next Dungeon Saga campaign will feature a villain who later becomes the leader of an undead army in Kings of War. Perhaps a Dreadball star player will make a cameo appearance as a mercenary in a Deadzone mission. These little connections make the games feel less like isolated experiences and more like chapters in an ongoing saga.
Embracing Collections And The Challenge Of The Hobby
One of the things that keeps me drawn to Mantic Games is the variety of genres they explore. Having delved deep into their science fiction skirmishes and their fantasy dungeons and battlefields, I eventually found myself attracted to something a little different: Hellboy: The Board Game. I had always enjoyed the Hellboy comics and the distinct atmosphere they created—dark, pulpy, yet tinged with humor and heroism. When I discovered that Mantic had adapted this world into a cooperative board game, I knew I had to try it.
I was fortunate enough to find a local copy of the Deluxe Edition, which gave me not only the core game but also some of the extra content that had originally been part of the Kickstarter campaign. Hellboy: The Board Game is a dungeon crawler at heart, but it has its own unique flavor that makes it stand apart from other games in that genre. Instead of generic adventurers fighting through nameless dungeons, you take on the roles of iconic Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense (B.P.R.D.) characters, investigating eerie mansions, crypts, and industrial complexes while battling supernatural threats.
The mechanics emphasize investigation as much as combat. You gather clues, examine items, and work to solve the mystery before the showdown with a powerful boss. The tension is built through the Doom track, which advances as the game goes on, putting pressure on players to act decisively rather than stalling. This keeps the pacing brisk and prevents the game from bogging down into endless room-clearing. It feels like a narrative unfolding in real time rather than just a series of isolated encounters.
As soon as I played my first few games, I knew I wanted more. I went to eBay and tracked down the Box Full of Evil and Wild Hunt expansions, which added new bosses, new scenarios, and additional agents for the B.P.R.D. With these in hand, the game’s replayability shot through the roof. I now had a campaign’s worth of material to explore, and each mission felt like a new episode in an ongoing Hellboy series. The only piece I am still missing is the Big Box of Doom expansion, which I plan to acquire in the near future. Knowing that it is still available at a decent price online makes it easier to be patient, but it is high on my priority list because I want to complete my Hellboy collection.
Hellboy is one of those games that shines whether played solo or with friends. Its cooperative nature makes it an excellent choice for a game night, as everyone can work together toward a shared goal. I find that it hits a sweet spot between thematic immersion and streamlined mechanics. There is enough crunch to make decisions meaningful, but not so much that you are constantly flipping through the rulebook. Like so many of Mantic’s games, it respects the player’s time.
From the paranormal pulp of Hellboy, my attention shifted to another beloved license that Mantic brought to life: The Walking Dead: All Out War. This game occupies a special place in my collection, partly because of its narrative focus and partly because of the bittersweet fact that its license has expired, meaning no new content is being produced. When I first heard about The Walking Dead: All Out War coming to an end, I felt a pang of regret. There was so much I had yet to collect, and the idea that the range might vanish from shelves made me act quickly.
Through a combination of local sales, eBay hunts, and shipments redirected through family overseas, I managed to assemble nearly the entire plastic collection, plus some resin miniatures. The only piece I am missing is the Lee and Clementine event box, and while those characters do not have the same personal significance to me as they do to players who know them from the video games, part of me still wants to eventually track them down for the sake of completion.
What makes The Walking Dead: All Out War special is its ability to capture the tone of the source material. It is not just about gunning down hordes of walkers but about the tough decisions that survivors have to make in a post-apocalyptic world. The game’s scenarios often force players to choose between taking risks to scavenge more supplies or playing it safe and escaping with what they already have. The threat of the walkers is ever-present, but the real tension often comes from dealing with rival survivor groups who are competing for the same resources.
When I play, I find myself imagining the wider story unfolding around the skirmish. Who are these survivors? What brought them here? What will they do once they get back to camp with their haul—or what happens if they fail and come back empty-handed? In this way, The Walking Dead: All Out War becomes more than a miniatures game; it becomes a storytelling engine.
Mantic’s decision to create a card game based on The Walking Dead, using a similar system to their Hellboy card game, shows that they still see value in the property even after the main line ended. Ronnie Renton has even spoken publicly about the possibility of pursuing the license again if there is enough community interest. When I heard this, I immediately voiced my support. The idea of The Walking Dead returning with fresh content is incredibly exciting. There are still so many characters and scenarios that could be explored, and the fan base is still hungry for more.
One of the challenges of collecting so many games is the sheer volume of miniatures that come with them. Over the years, I have accumulated a massive backlog of models waiting to be painted. This phenomenon is sometimes jokingly referred to as the “pile of shame” in the hobby community, but I prefer to think of it as a pile of potential. Each unpainted miniature is an opportunity, a blank canvas waiting to be brought to life with color and personality.
Of course, finding the time and motivation to actually paint all these miniatures is easier said than done. Life is busy, and sitting down for a painting session requires both time and mental energy. There are days when I look at the rows of grey plastic and feel overwhelmed. But there are also days when I pick up a brush, start working on a single figure, and find myself completely absorbed in the process. The act of painting becomes meditative, a way to unwind and focus.
I have plans to start making progress on this backlog, even if it is just one model at a time. My approach is to focus on the games I am most excited to play in the near future. Perhaps I will begin with the heroes from Dungeon Saga, since they see the table regularly, and it would be satisfying to have them fully painted. Or maybe I will work on my Deadzone Enforcers, giving them a unified color scheme that will make them look like a cohesive strike team. Having painted miniatures on the table enhances immersion and makes the games feel that much more cinematic.
One thing I have learned is that I do not need to paint to a competition standard to be happy. A clean tabletop standard is often enough to make the models pop and bring the battlefield to life. Mantic’s miniatures are well-designed in that regard—they look good even with simple techniques like washes and drybrushing, which means I can get satisfying results without spending hours on a single figure.
Looking back on this entire journey, from my initial skepticism about Mantic Games to my current enthusiasm, I feel grateful that I gave them a chance. They have reignited my passion for tabletop gaming, given me new systems to explore, and encouraged me to embrace creativity again. I no longer see myself as tied to one company or one way of playing. Instead, I have a diverse and thriving hobby that spans multiple genres, from sports arenas to dungeons to post-apocalyptic wastelands.
What I value most is the sense of community that comes with being part of the Mantic player base. Whether it is watching fan-made battle reports, reading discussions online, or sharing my own progress on painting projects, I feel connected to other players who share the same excitement. Mantic’s approachable nature and willingness to listen to feedback make it feel as though we are all collaborators in building this universe together.
Conclusion
The goal is simple: to have fun, to create stories, and to share them with others. Whether I am rolling dice in Deadzone, plotting plays in Dreadball, delving into crypts in Dungeon Saga, or trying to survive a walker attack in The Walking Dead, I am doing what I have always loved—using games as a way to spark imagination and bring people together. The fact that Mantic supports this vision with passion and respect for the players makes me all the more loyal to them as a company.
My shelves are full now, my backlog is daunting, but my enthusiasm is higher than ever. The future holds new expansions, new factions, and perhaps even the return of licenses I thought were gone forever. And somewhere in that future, there is a painted army or a finished set of miniatures waiting to be proudly placed on the table. Until then, I will keep playing, keep painting, and keep celebrating what Mantic Games has brought to my hobby life.