Anno 117: Pax Romana Review — An Antique City-Builder With Clear Ambition

Anno 117: Pax Romana Review enters the conversation with the advantage of a strong setting and a meticulous sense of craft. It is a city-builder shaped by the rhythms of Roman administration, coastal trade, and the gradual layering of social hierarchy. It also arrives at a point when expectations for historical strategy games have shifted, with players demanding both clarity and depth from systems that once relied on charm alone. Ubisoft’s take on the height of Rome’s influence meets that demand with confidence, drawing attention through scale, precision, and a quietly expressive visual identity.

The picture comes into sharper focus when seen through the work of Leana Hafer (IGN), whose review of the game forms the backbone of this report. His examination provides a grounded reading of its successes and its limits, tracing the way Anno 117 builds on the series’ strengths while smoothing — though not erasing — some familiar rough edges.

The opening hours follow a well-rehearsed pattern: modest plots of land, a loose scattering of freedpeople’s homes, and early production chains supplying everyday materials. The decision to begin with liberti lends the settlement a specific social texture, even if it skirts around the historical institution of slavery by shifting attention to its adjacent class. As citizens advance through the economic ladder, their demands expand into a network of delicacies, luxuries, and prestige goods that stretch your reach across the Mediterranean.

The geography of the city’s growth helps shape the game’s sense of place. High-status structures — theaters, shrines, the kinds of buildings whose outlines still anchor archaeological sites — exert their pull on nearby housing, while more utilitarian work sites push lower-income districts toward the edge. The contrast forms the natural topography of the city, and it maintains clarity as the population grows. Roads extend building influence in a direct, readable way, making infrastructure feel consequential rather than procedural.

The effect is strongest when the camera drops down to street level. Small vignettes unfold across the map: citizens carrying goods along shaded lanes, farmers tending lavender fields, ships gliding into the docks with barrels stacked neatly on their decks. The environmental work is consistently sharp, even when the character models fall short in cutscenes. Lip-sync issues pull some scenes back toward an earlier generation of animation, creating a mismatch between the world’s polish and its storytellers’ expressions.

A decisive shift occurs when the map expands beyond Latium. Albion, cooler and rougher, offers new materials and cultural decisions that complicate the familiar Roman baseline. The choice to maintain Celtic traditions or fully Romanize your new lands is more than a visual toggle. Each path influences production chains, social stability, and long-term efficiency. Mixing approaches produces meaningful combinations rather than compromises, adding room for experimentation in an otherwise structured progression.

The game’s true weight rests on its trade system. Anno has always used logistics as a source of drama, and Pax Romana treats it as the spine of its design. Production chains stretch across islands, regions, and the full width of the campaign map. Ships must be assigned manually to each route, which makes their movements legible rather than abstracted. When a vital good is delayed, the consequences ripple visibly across the economy.

Hafer’s example of routing cheese from a distant island reflects how the system encourages small, specialized outposts to feed larger, more intricate hubs. Creating a secondary warehouse or a fisheries-based staging point shortens supply lines and stabilizes demand, reinforcing the sense that the world responds to structural choices rather than scripted triggers. The interface keeps this manageable, even when the network grows dense.

Naval combat benefits from this same clarity. Battles are weighty without being sluggish, and ships behave according to their means of propulsion. Oar-powered vessels pivot more aggressively, while sail-driven ships carry momentum that must be accounted for during tight maneuvers. Pirates escalate over time, forcing a meaningful investment in escort fleets. It is one of the areas where the game’s historical framing dovetails naturally with its mechanics.

Ground combat is functional rather than expressive. The unit roster is limited, but the encounters avoid the hollow feeling that sometimes accompanies strategy side modes. Players who prefer to solve conflicts at sea can do so, but land skirmishes offer at least a workable alternative for moments when brute force becomes unavoidable.

Diplomacy remains narrow, though it gains some texture from the presence of the Emperor. The relationship is asymmetrical: you cannot negotiate with him in the traditional sense, but his shifting demands and expectations determine a broad arc of favor or disfavor. Highly positive or negative standings unlock powerful outcomes, either through the honor of being named Consul or through a more rebellious path that mirrors the historical overreach of figures like Caesar. It is not a complex diplomatic web, but it gives the campaign a distinct political current.

The story campaign itself lasts under ten hours, functioning as an extended introduction. It defines tone and stakes without overshadowing the sandbox, which remains the main attraction. Characters like the Canaanite advisor Ben-Baalion add color, and the dual-protagonist setup — Marcus as the conventional choice, Marcia as the comic-chaotic counterpart — lends the narrative some range. Yet the campaign is designed to be left behind. Endless mode is where the design blooms, offering a wide spectrum of difficulty levels, rival governors, and open-ended construction goals.

Rival governors add unpredictability, though their cities sometimes behave in ways that break from the player’s logic. Their methods are inconsistent, but the presence of unpredictable neighbors gives the map an occasional jolt of competition. When they function as trade partners, they help round out the diplomatic gaps.

The game’s weakest link is an old one: the series’ propensity for cascading failures in late-game economies. Large cities are fragile and susceptible to sudden collapse if production dips or workforce distribution shifts. Hafer notes a moment when changing a city’s patron god caused its agricultural bonuses to vanish and the population to spiral irreversibly downward. It underscores how sensitive the system can be and how easily a single misstep can force a restart. On the other hand, trade can often cushion the impact if cash reserves are strong enough to buy missing goods.

Despite these frustrations, Pax Romana remains compelling for long stretches. Its systems interlock with enough tension to sustain interest, and the visual presentation invites extended observation. It balances the educational outline of a historical builder with the creative freedom players expect from the genre. The campaign may serve mainly as a prologue, but the endless mode absorbs the difference with its longevity and flexible structure.

Taken together, Anno 117 is a city-builder with a clear identity. It does not reinvent the form, but it refines it with confidence. Its attention to detail, well-organized trade simulation, and robust naval layer distinguish it within a crowded field. The game never strains to overstate its significance; it wins its ground through steady craft and deliberate pacing.

Anno 117: Pax Romana is available to play on PC (Steam).