I didn’t expect to enjoy this as much as I did; it’s another Ultramarines story… But honestly? It was really good. As such, I didn’t expect to write such a long review. If you’re on the fence about Roboute Guilliman (Rob, Bobby G, Rowboat Girlyman, Poster-boy of Warhammer 40,000), Guy Haley would like a word.
Most reviews of this series tend to critique the ‘Unnumbered Sons’ or, more importantly, the retconned timeline, but I’ll sidestep and focus on three separate motifs that stuck with me: Sense of Security, Primarch-Level Logic and Conversations on Divinity.
—
Sense of Security:
Throughout Dark Imperium, I felt like a baby wrapped in Guilliman’s blue and gold ceremite-plated arms. Reading ADB’s Night Lords omnibus alongside it, which is as grimdark as you can get in the setting, only amplified the contrast. Just being around Guilliman almost zaps the grimdark feeling away. And it makes sense, right? It wasn’t grimdark when he was alive 10,000 years ago before the Horus Heresy. He embodies hope in a universe suffocating under despair, and many of the characters in the story catch onto this as well. Just don’t be fooled by that hope.
—
Primarch Level-Logic:
There’s a common trope in fiction where an author is tasked with writing a character who is supposed to be superior—a godlike warrior, an elite tactician, a once-in-a-millennium genius. A primarch. But when it comes time to actually show their brilliance in action, the character is only as good as the author’s own strategic thinking. If the author isn’t a master tactician themselves, the character’s supposed genius often boils down to vague declarations like “He outmaneuvered them at every turn” or generic battle plans that don’t feel any more impressive than what a competent general could come up with.
Instead of showing actual strategic depth, the narrative leans on characters telling us how brilliant the protagonist is. This is completely natural and something that can often be overlooked. But it’s very common in 40k. Show-don’t-tell is never completely possible, but several moments in Dark Imperium (usually in conversation), Guy Haley pulls this off well.
Guilliman is hyper-competent, decisive, and fixing things at a superhuman pace. In ~10 years (originally ~100 years, but again, they had to retcon the timeline for the Dawn of Fire series, and now I’m doing exactly what I said I wouldn’t do), he turns a massive agri-world into a fucking hospital for those humans infected from fighting in the Plauge Wars. Any other primarch? “Oh, you got shrapnel in your arm, and now there are worms crawling out your belly? Please step into the firing line.” But not Guilliman. He actually solves the problem. And it works (for a while, because, well, grimdark). Sure, some other loyalist Primarchs might want to save as many people as possible, but none of them could logistically pull it off like Rob. And the book does a decent job of showing us this—quarantining the infected, transporting them across space, purging war zones with chemicals and holy rites—it’s all too complex, too large-scale for anyone else. But Guilliman? He kinda makes it happen. And Haley? He kinda makes it real.
—
Conversations on Divinity
“‘The Emperor denied his own divinity,’ said Guilliman flatly.
The priest shrugged. Guilliman had seen that expression too many times before—on the faces of the blindly faithful.
‘If the Emperor himself stood before them…’ Guilliman thought, ‘stepped down from the Golden Throne and declared, “I am not a God,” they would burn him as a heretic.’”
I love the idea of the Imperial Regent, the most powerful person in the Imperium, being a gnostic-atheist to his father’s supposed divinity. By some estimates, the only thing that has kept humanity alive for the last 10,000 years since the Horus Heresy is their blind faith in the God-Emperor. And honestly? That’s probably true. But having Emperor’s most dutiful son stand in reverence before his people yet rebuke these beliefs adds a layer of tension and freshness to the universe I hadn’t seen coming.
However, in Dark Imperium, we eventually find Guilliman working through various theoretical arguments of the Emperor’s “divinity,” as he walks through a desecrated cathedrum. This isn’t just idle philosophy; it’s the smartest mind in the Imperium, armed with superhuman logic, walking through a war zone while trying to reconcile cold reality with the power of faith. To the point where he accidentally blurts out his forced thoughts of rebuke to these theories in front of his very elite and very religious entourage. Very compelling stuff, coming from Rhubarb Pieman.