Kingdom Come: Deliverance 2 has thrust players into a breathtakingly authentic medieval world, where every cobblestone in Trosky Castle and every ripple in the lake where Henry gets ambushed feels meticulously crafted. Warhorse Studios, the masterminds behind this ambitious sequel, have poured their hearts into delivering an RPG experience that prides itself on realism—from the clashing of swords in brutal combat to the smallest details like bustling kitchens, horse stables, and even ramshackle outhouses with grimy stains streaking down their walls. Yet, amid this painstaking attention to detail, one glaring omission has sparked a peculiar outcry among players: why can’t Henry, our rugged protagonist, use those toilets? In a game that revels in its historical fidelity, is this the ultimate betrayal of immersion?
Picture this: you’re trudging through the muddy paths of 15th-century Bohemia, your sword freshly sharpened, your stomach full from scarfing down a plate of Henry’s beloved sausages. You wander into a grand castle, its architecture a testament to Warhorse’s dedication—moats encircling the walls, sprawling courtyards, and yes, those humble latrines built for guards and lords alike. You glance at one, its dark pit and weathered stains practically begging to tell a story, and a thought crosses your mind: “Can Henry take a seat here?” Alas, the answer is a resounding no. And for a vocal portion of the game’s fanbase, that’s a problem they’re not willing to let slide.
The issue first gained traction on the official Kingdom Come: Deliverance 2 subreddit, a hub where fans typically gush over the game’s immersive qualities. It all started with a tongue-in-cheek post from user ColdApartment1766, who declared, “This game is unplayable because Henry can’t use the toilet!” What began as a jest quickly snowballed into a full-blown discussion. Players chimed in, expressing genuine disappointment that Warhorse had overlooked what they saw as a golden opportunity to deepen the game’s realism. Some even suggested practical applications—imagine a hidden perk where Henry could read skill books faster while perched on the privy, making use of downtime to finish that tome languishing in his inventory.
It’s not as far-fetched as it sounds. In a game that celebrates the minutiae of medieval life—forging blades at the smithy, brewing potions at the alchemy bench, even bathing to scrub off the grime—excluding toilet functionality feels like an odd oversight. The outhouses scattered throughout the game are designed with care, their stained walls and crude construction evoking the raw, unfiltered essence of the era. So why stop short? Was this a deliberate choice to avoid bogging down the experience with trivialities, or simply a feature that slipped through the cracks during development?
Over on the game’s subreddit, where players are usually all praises for it, ColdApartment1766 joked that the game is unplayable because Henry couldn’t use the toilets. This prompted other players to comment with funny scenarios if this was actually possible. Others even suggested that it would be a unique saving mechanism, rather than the same old going to bed sequence.
Speculation abounds. Some players theorize that Warhorse feared overcomplicating an already intricate game, where activities like smithing and alchemy demand patience and precision. Yet, the community’s response suggests otherwise—many argue that toilet mechanics could enrich the role-playing experience. One X user mused, “If I can spend hours grinding a sword or picking herbs, why can’t Henry take a quick break to handle his business?” Another went for laughs: “Imagine Henry squatting in the latrine, flipping through a swordplay manual, while enemies storm the castle—that’s peak realism right there!”
Beyond practicality, fans have brainstormed ways toilets could enhance gameplay with humor or strategy. Picture Henry hiding in an outhouse to evade guards after swiping a loaf of bread—a ridiculous yet quintessentially medieval scenario. Or perhaps using the facilities could alleviate a hypothetical stress stat, offering a minor but flavorful bonus. These ideas, while quirky, underscore the creativity and passion of a fanbase eager to see Warhorse push the boundaries of their meticulously crafted world.
Of course, not everyone is on board. Critics within the community argue that fixating on such minutiae risks overshadowing the game’s core strengths—its gripping narrative, innovative combat, and expansive open world teeming with secrets. They contend that if Warhorse diverted resources to toilet mechanics, those efforts might be better spent polishing performance or fleshing out side quests. It’s a fair point, but it doesn’t dim the curiosity of players who crave a fully realized Henry—one who lives, breathes, and, yes, relieves himself in this unforgiving medieval landscape.
The debate has even sparked broader questions about realism in gaming. Kingdom Come: Deliverance 2 isn’t just a hack-and-slash adventure; it’s a love letter to historical authenticity, where every muddy bootprint and clanging anvil tells a story. So when players stumble across a detailed latrine they can’t interact with, it’s not just about bodily functions—it’s about the promise of a world so immersive that no detail feels out of reach. For some, the absence of this feature breaks the spell, a reminder that even the most lifelike games have their limits.
Warhorse Studios hasn’t officially weighed in on the toilet controversy, leaving fans to speculate about future updates or DLC. Could a patch one day grant Henry his long-awaited pit stop? Or will this remain a quirky footnote in the game’s legacy? Whatever the outcome, the uproar over medieval latrines reveals the depth of players’ investment in this world. From towering castles to stained outhouse walls, Kingdom Come: Deliverance 2 has ignited imaginations—enough to make even the smallest oversights feel like grand betrayals.
For now, Henry will have to soldier on, sausage in hand and bladder unemptied. The battles ahead are daunting, the roads treacherous, and the enemies relentless. But as players carve their path through Bohemia, they’ll keep glancing at those lonely latrines, wondering what could have been. Maybe, just maybe, Warhorse will hear their pleas and deliver not just deliverance, but a deliverance of a different kind—one that lets Henry sit in peace, if only for a moment, in the gritty splendor of the Middle Ages.
