The historical stuff is believable when you do it correctly
When Warhorse Studios asked where their medieval world should take root, the answer came not from ambition but from honest self-knowledge. The Prague-based team recognized that historical authenticity — the kind that makes a world feel genuinely inhabited — cannot be borrowed or approximated; it must be earned through proximity and deep familiarity. By choosing the Kingdom of Bohemia, the land beneath their own feet, they turned a limitation into a foundation, and in doing so, demonstrated that creative constraints can be among the most clarifying forces in craft.
- A studio with grand ambitions found itself caught between romantic options — Robin Hood's England, the Holy Roman Empire — and the sobering reality that they knew neither world well enough to build it honestly.
- Their entire design philosophy rested on a single, uncompromising standard: that players must genuinely feel present in the world, and that every system must serve that sensation of historical truth.
- Rather than fake their way through unfamiliar territory, Warhorse turned inward — to Prague's archives, local clergy records, and an in-house historian tasked with excavating the texture of medieval Bohemian daily life.
- The constraint that might have felt like defeat became the engine of distinction: Kingdom Come: Deliverance launched to widespread praise for the very quality the team had refused to compromise on.
When Warhorse Studios began building Kingdom Come: Deliverance, the first question was deceptively simple: where should this world exist? Medieval England — the age of Robin Hood — had romantic pull. So did the Holy Roman territories of Germany. Both could anchor an ambitious action-RPG. Warhorse walked away from both.
The reason was not artistic but practical. Design director Viktor Bocan was candid about it: the team simply knew nothing about those regions in the periods that mattered. For a studio whose entire philosophy rested on historical authenticity — the belief that a world only becomes believable when every detail carries real weight — ignorance was not a minor obstacle. It was disqualifying.
So Warhorse chose Bohemia. The studio is based in Prague, the capital of what was once the Kingdom of Bohemia, and that proximity proved invaluable. Local archives, clergy records, and the accumulated memory of a place still living in the shadow of its medieval past were all within reach. The studio employed an in-house historian, Joanna Nowak, whose work was to extract the granular texture of 15th-century daily life — the clothes, the food, the rhythm of labor and prayer — and ground it in something verifiable.
The alternative would have meant starting from nothing, learning not just broad historical strokes but the specific, lived details that separate genuine verisimilitude from mere costume. Bocan's standard demanded more than intuition or a consultant's overview. It demanded the kind of knowledge that only comes from being close to the source.
The choice proved sound. Kingdom Come: Deliverance became a landmark, praised precisely for the sensation Warhorse had fought to protect: the feeling of stepping into a world with its own logic and gravity. The team's limitation had pointed them toward their greatest strength — a reminder that the most clarifying creative decisions are sometimes the ones you make not because you can, but because you must.
When Warhorse Studios set out to build Kingdom Come: Deliverance, the team faced a fundamental question: where should this story unfold? The Prague-based developer had ambitions to create something that felt lived-in, a world where every detail—from the way cloth hung on a merchant's stall to how a guard might react to a stranger in the street—carried the weight of historical truth. Two obvious candidates emerged: medieval England, the era that gave us Robin Hood, or the Holy Roman territories of Germany. Both had the romantic pull of legend. Both could anchor an ambitious action-RPG. But Warhorse Studios walked away from both.
The reason was not artistic but practical. The studio simply did not know enough about those worlds. Viktor Bocan, the design director, was blunt about it in conversation with Edge magazine: they "knew nothing" about England or Germany in the periods that interested them. This was not a small problem for a team whose entire philosophy rested on a single conviction—that historical authenticity, done correctly, creates believability. Bocan explained the thinking: "I believe the most important part of the design is that you really feel you are there, and all the systems are there to support that. You can do anything to the world, and the world should react." The historical scaffolding was not window dressing. It was the foundation that made everything else work.
Instead, Warhorse chose the Kingdom of Bohemia at the turn of the 15th century. The choice was not romantic. It was practical. The studio is based in Prague, the capital of what was once Bohemia and is now the Czech Republic. That proximity mattered enormously. Warhorse had access to local sources—clergy records, university archives, the accumulated knowledge of a place that still lived in the shadow of its own medieval past. The studio even employed an in-house historian, Joanna Nowak, whose job was to burrow into those sources and extract the texture of daily life from centuries ago. Every detail that made it into the game—the clothes, the food, the rhythm of work and prayer—could be grounded in something real.
This was the difference between starting from strength and starting from scratch. Moving to England or Germany would have meant beginning research from zero, learning not just the broad strokes of history but the granular specifics that separate verisimilitude from mere costume. Bocan and his team wanted verisimilitude—the attempt to replicate something as exactly as possible. That standard demanded more than a game designer's intuition or a consultant's overview. It demanded the kind of deep, local knowledge that comes from living near the sources.
The decision proved sound. Kingdom Come: Deliverance became a landmark game, praised for the very thing Warhorse had prioritized: the sensation of stepping into a real place, a world with its own logic and weight. The constraint—the team's own ignorance of other regions—had forced them toward their strength. Sometimes the best creative choices are not the ones you make because you can, but the ones you make because you must.
Notable Quotes
I believe the most important part of the design is that you really feel you are there, and all the systems are there to support that.— Viktor Bocan, design director at Warhorse Studios
The historical stuff is not there because we wanted to reconstruct the history. We did that because when you do it correctly, it's believable.— Viktor Bocan, design director at Warhorse Studios
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why did the location matter so much? Couldn't they have just hired consultants for England or Germany?
They could have, but it wouldn't have been the same. Warhorse's whole philosophy is that historical accuracy creates believability—not as decoration, but as the engine that makes the world feel alive. You need to know not just what happened, but how people lived, what they ate, how they moved through space. That's not something you get from a consultant's report.
So proximity to Prague was actually an advantage, not a limitation?
Exactly. Being in Prague meant Joanna Nowak, their historian, could walk into local archives and universities and pull from sources that were literally part of the city's heritage. That kind of access—that intimacy with the material—is hard to replicate remotely.
Did they worry they were being too narrow? That Bohemia was less recognizable to players than Robin Hood's England?
Bocan didn't mention that concern. What he emphasized was that doing it right mattered more than doing it famous. If they'd built England poorly, the game would have felt hollow. Better to build Bohemia well.
And it worked?
The game became a landmark. People still talk about how present the world feels, how reactive it is. The constraint forced them toward their strength.