Ask for the shape of the challenge.

A storyteller AI aims raids at whatever you are worst at, and mood is a second economy that collapses faster than the defensive one.

A city builder where the scarce resource is time and every law you sign is unrepealable. The storm arrives on schedule whether or not the city is ready.

Armour has to be stripped before any control lands, surfaces do more damage than swords, and the game explains neither. Act two is where under-levelled parties stop entirely.

Classic mode makes every death permanent, and the calendar decides months in advance who will be strong enough to survive. Maddening turns recruitment into its own strategy layer.

It barely tests your hands at all; it tests whether you can walk away from a dungeon you have already paid for.

Hundreds of hours of interlocking systems with a mid-game crisis on a timer. Most losses happen fifty in-game years before anybody notices them.

Division templates, supply and production efficiency are the game, and none of them are on screen when you start. The front line is only ever a symptom.

You do not lose fights here, you lose campaigns — and usually about three missions before you notice.

The failure state is a confused kind of boredom — you will rule for two centuries before you work out what you were supposed to be doing.

Not difficult so much as undocumented — everything that kills you was perfectly legible, in a menu you did not know existed.