As the roguelike genre continues to expand and crossover into other genres, I feel it’s my job to try and give them all a whirl. As a fan of pretty much anything apocalyptic, Apocalypse Express has long been on my radar. After spending about a dozen hours protecting my train, developer Llamaware Studios has done a solid job of merging these two genres.
All Aboard the Chaos Train
Llamaware Studios built Apocalypse Express around a simple premise: you’re conducting a train through post-apocalyptic wasteland, and absolutely everything wants to stop you. What makes it work is how the game layers crisis upon crisis until your brain enters a strange flow state where panic becomes productivity. Enemies swarm from all directions. Fires break out in critical systems. Resources scatter along the tracks, requiring you to physically run to the edge of your train and snag them before they disappear behind you.
Apocalypse Express’s tension comes from competing priorities that all feel equally urgent. That breach in wagon three will let more enemies pour in, but the fire spreading toward your ammo storage will end your run entirely. You can’t do both at once. Every second spent repairing is a second not spent shooting, and every second spent shooting is a second the flames grow higher. Early runs feel impossibly hectic, like juggling while someone throws more balls at your face. But something clicks around hour three. You start reading the battlefield, anticipating where the next fire will spark, positioning yourself to intercept threats before they cascade.
When it works, when you’re flowing from crisis to crisis and somehow keeping everything together, Apocalypse Express delivers a satisfaction few games manage. The chaos never stops, but you learn to ride it.
Building Your Rolling Fortress
Between runs, you’re assembling a modular death machine from salvaged parts. Cannons, turrets, flamethrowers, reinforced plating, automated repair drones. Each wagon slot accepts different module types, and the combinations matter more than raw firepower. I spent three runs getting demolished before realizing my turret placement created blind spots enemies exploited. Moving a single cannon from the center wagon to the rear transformed my survival rate.
This roguelike progression feeds this experimentation beautifully. Unlocking a new module type doesn’t just add power; it opens strategic questions. Do I want the heavy cannon that shreds armored enemies but drains resources faster? Or the lighter turret that handles crowds but struggles against bosses? Train layout becomes a puzzle where the pieces change based on what you’ve unlocked and what the wasteland threw at you last run.
I kept returning to the customization screen between deaths, tweaking loadouts, trying weird combinations. A train built entirely around fire suppression and passive turrets plays completely differently from an aggressive glass cannon setup. The game rewards you for finding your style, then challenges you to adapt when that style stops working.
Surviving Together on the Rails
Playing Apocalypse Express solo feels like patting your head while rubbing your stomach while also solving calculus problems. Playing it in co-op feels like a perfectly orchestrated disaster response team having the worst day of their lives together. The split-screen and online multiplayer support transforms the experience from overwhelming to genuinely cooperative.
My partner and I fell into roles naturally. She handled forward weapons and resource collection while I managed fires and rear defense. Communication became essential. “Fire in engine!” “Breach in wagon two!” “I need ammo, switching positions!” The frantic callouts during intense waves created moments of genuine teamwork that solo play simply can’t replicate. When we finally cleared a run that had killed us separately a dozen times, we were both shouting at the screen.
The game scales enemy density and crisis frequency for multiple players, so co-op isn’t easier, just differently challenging. You’re still overwhelmed. You’re just overwhelmed together, which turns frustration into laughter more often than not.
The Wasteland’s Endless Tracks
Roguelike structure lives or dies on variety, and Apocalypse Express delivers enough to keep runs feeling distinct. Enemy types force different responses. Flying swarms require different tactics than armored bruisers. Environmental hazards change the rhythm. Resource scarcity in later waves forces hard choices about what to repair and what to abandon.
What I can’t fully assess yet is long-term depth. After roughly fifteen hours, I’m still unlocking modules and encountering new enemy combinations. But the game released recently, and whether the content holds up over fifty hours remains unclear. The core loop is strong enough that I want to keep playing, but I’ve hit runs that felt samey when my unlocks slowed down. More content would help, and I hope Llamaware continues supporting it.
The $9.99 price point matters here. This isn’t asking for a premium investment. It’s asking for the cost of a mediocre lunch in exchange for a fresh roguelike experience. At that price, even if the long-term variety proves limited, the value proposition holds.
Last Stop: Worth the Ticket
Apocalypse Express won’t suit everyone. If you want relaxation, look elsewhere. If multitasking under pressure sounds more exhausting than exciting, this isn’t your train. But if you’ve ever enjoyed the frantic plate-spinning of Overcooked or the build-craft of roguelikes like Vampire Survivors, Llamaware has combined those pleasures into something that feels genuinely its own. The learning curve hits hard for solo players, and the chaos can overwhelm before the systems click. But when they do click, when you’re flowing through fire and fury with a train you built from scrap, Apocalypse Express earns its ticket price several times over. The apocalypse keeps rolling. Might as well enjoy the ride.
