Warhammer 40,000 has a long history of evolving lore across its decades of publications. With each new edition, storylines expand and sometimes previous assumptions are rewritten. For the dedicated fanbase, consistency in lore is more than just trivia – it’s the backbone of a believable universe they’ve invested in.
When core lore elements shift, it can jar longtime fans who expect the setting to play by its own established rules. This dynamic has come to the forefront with the recent Aeldari Wraithbone retcon controversy in the 10th Edition Codex: Aeldari.
In this new codex, Games Workshop redefined Wraithbone – a fundamental material of the Aeldari (Eldar) faction – in a way that departs from how it had been understood for decades.
The change has sparked intense debate over whether it undermines the integrity of the Aeldari’s lore, highlighting the delicate balance between refreshing a franchise and respecting its legacy.
Background on Wraithbone in Warhammer 40K Lore
To understand the controversy, it’s important to know what Wraithbone has traditionally represented in Warhammer 40K lore. In classic sources, Wraithbone is not a mundane material at all, but a psycho-reactive substance – essentially solidified Warp energy given form by the psychic artisans of the Aeldari.
The Eldar (now often called Aeldari) have always been depicted as a highly psychic race with technology that bridges the gap between the material and immaterial. Their starships, weapons, and even city-sized Craftworlds are built from Wraithbone, making their engineering as much a work of psychic art as of science.
Aeldari Bonesingers – specialized psykers devoted to craftsmanship – are the ones who create and shape Wraithbone. In earlier lore, a Bonesinger would “draw raw energy from the warp and shape it into matter”, the matter being Wraithbone. Through ritual songs and psychic harmony, they “grow” structures and tools from this material, rather than assembling them from mined resources in the way human engineers might.
Eldar technology has thus been described as almost organic in nature. As one second-edition source puts it, for the Eldar there is “no real difference between technology and nature – they are a single process by which the Eldar imbue living things with function and functional things with life.”
Their building materials are “complex and varied ectoplastics that can be formed into solid shapes under psychic pressure… more like living tissue than inert substances, growing and reacting to their environment in a similar way to plants.”
Wraithbone is singled out as the greatest of these materials – “immensely resilient… grown rather than made, more resilient than adamantium and far more flexible.”
When damaged, a Wraithbone construct will slowly repair itself, a process accelerated by the chants of Bonesingers. In effect, Eldar Wraithbone functions like a living, regenerating framework infused with psychic energy.
Because it is forged from the Warp (the psychic dimension), Wraithbone has unique properties that set the Aeldari apart from other factions. It is said to maintain a connection to the Warp even when solid, allowing it to act as a conduit for psychic power and a buffer against psychic harm.
For example, Eldar ships and buildings woven from Wraithbone can carry telepathic communications along their walls, and the material naturally dampens chaotic energies – this is how Craftworlds protected their inhabitants from the birth-scream of Slaanesh during the Fall of the Eldar.
In terms of durability, Wraithbone has been described as far stronger than conventional metals – “stronger than any known plasteel and harder to damage than adamantium” according to early sources.
A relatively thin layer of Wraithbone can provide the protection of much thicker imperial armor. All of these traits – extreme strength, self-repair, psychic conductivity – combined with its mystical method of creation, have made Wraithbone a signature of the Eldar.
It exemplifies how alien and advanced their craft is, compared to say the brute-force steel and ceramite constructions of the Imperium or the hyper-technical but non-psychic engineering of the Tau.
In short, Wraithbone has long been integral to Aeldari faction identity: it’s the literal skeleton of their Craftworlds and the figurative backbone of their lore.
The Retcon in the 10th Edition Codex
Given this background, the surprise in the 10th Edition Codex: Aeldari (2025) came from a few innocuous-looking sentences that drastically reframed what Wraithbone is. The new codex’s description of Wraithbone reads, in part:
“The wraithbone substance from which each Craftworld is wrought is a composite material formed from various compounds, ores and minerals; it is as much grown as it is forged.”
It further explains that “specialist Aeldari psykers, known as Bonesingers, can subtly manipulate Wraithbone, encouraging it to grow and expand into the shape they require.”
In essence, the lore was changed to say Wraithbone is a composite material made of real-world minerals and ores, albeit one that can be psychically grown and shaped. This is a significant shift from previous interpretations where Wraithbone itself was described as psychically generated matter (pure warp-stuff made solid).
In older lore, the phrase “grown not made” was meant literally – grown from the Warp. In the new codex, “grown” seems to refer to shaping an existing material, more akin to how one might grow a crystal or a fungus from seeds and nutrients. It’s a subtle difference in wording with major implications.
The change essentially blends Wraithbone into the category of physical engineering. By calling it a “composite material” of compounds and minerals, the codex implies there is a tangible substance that Eldar gather or produce from raw ingredients, which they then grow and forge into structures.
Bonesingers under this description come across less like sorcerer-artisans creating matter from nothing, and more like expert chemists or metallurgists who “encourage” an exotic material to take form – perhaps comparable to growing biotech or crystallizing alloys. The fantastical element of conjuring is downplayed.
The mention of Bonesingers manipulating Wraithbone subtly is still there, but conspicuously absent is any reference to the Warp as the source of the substance. For longtime lore devotees, this felt like a glaring omission and a direct retcon of the fundamental nature of Wraithbone.
It’s worth noting that Games Workshop did not call attention to this change in any announcement – it was presented matter-of-factly in the lore section of the codex.
This means it wasn’t a part of some storyline event (for instance, it’s not as though the Eldar discovered a new way to make Wraithbone in-universe); it was simply a new description, as if this is how things have always been. That made it all the more jarring to those familiar with older depictions.
To use an analogy raised by one baffled fan, it felt like if a new publication suddenly said Necron Necrodermis was just a normal metal alloy, or that Boltguns are basically regular rifles – technically small changes in phrasing, but ones that would strip away the mystique and distinction of those elements.
The Wraithbone retcon landed similarly: a core aspect of Eldar lore, unchanged for decades, apparently rewritten in a single stroke.
Fans immediately began comparing the codex text to prior sources to confirm that this was indeed a contradiction. Many recalled clear descriptions from older codices, Black Library novels, and White Dwarf magazines describing Wraithbone as psychic solidified energy.
For example, the novel Valedor vividly showed Bonesingers singing light into solid Wraithbone, “the creation of matter from nothing,” in a scene that epitomizes the old lore (a passage widely shared in discussions).
No previous source had ever mentioned Eldar needing minerals or ores to build their ships; on the contrary, Eldar Craftworlds were often portrayed as entirely self-sufficient, sustaining their populations without conventional industry.
Thus, the 10th edition codex entry stood out as an anomaly. Whether intentional retcon or a mistake, it effectively rewrote the rules of Aeldari technology by implying Wraithbone is a tangible resource-based material.
Community Response and Analysis
The community response to the Wraithbone change was swift and passionate. On online forums, social media, and discussion boards, many Warhammer 40K fans expressed shock and displeasure. Some long-time Eldar players saw this as more than a small tweak – they viewed it as gutting a pillar of the faction’s lore.
As one YouTube commentator summarized, people were saying that the change to Wraithbone “spit on 30 years’ worth of established canon,” that the Eldar had been “gutted” as a faction, and that it was evidence GW didn’t care about the space elves anymore.
While that reaction may sound hyperbolic to an outside observer, it underscores how central Wraithbone’s mystical nature was to the Eldar identity in the eyes of fans. When you invest in a faction’s lore, seeing it seemingly disregarded can feel like an insult, hence the strong words.
Let’s break down the major concerns fans have raised about the new Wraithbone depiction:
Contradiction of Established Lore
It appears to overwrite decades of prior canon that portrayed Wraithbone as a psychic construct. This one codex blurb flies in the face of all the stories where Eldar conjure Wraithbone via psychic means, causing outrage that a core truth of the setting was altered so casually.
Undermining Aeldari post-scarcity Society
Traditionally, Craftworld Eldar did not need to mine or trade for raw materials – their psychotechnology made them largely self-sufficient. If Wraithbone now requires ores and minerals, the Eldar would have to seek out resources like any other race, which “flies in the face of [them being] a self-sufficient, post-scarcity society.” This changes the very socioeconomic backdrop of the Craftworlders.
Loss of Mystique and Uniqueness
Eldar technology has always been distinguished by its almost magical nature. Turning Wraithbone into “just a bunch of rocks” (as some put it) makes the Eldar feel less special. The elegant, spiritual aspect of their craftsmanship could be diminished, and Bonesingers risk being reduced from arcane creators to “glorified welders,” merely shaping pre-existing matter. In short, the wonder and alienness of Eldar tech would be lost.
Many fans elaborated on these points in discussions. For example, one Reddit user (a self-proclaimed Mechanicus fan with a love for Eldar lore) lamented that one of the coolest things about the Aeldari was how “their tech is on a completely different tree from the Imperium and the Necrons and everyone else, and that it’s mystical in a way no other faction could truly understand. They have elegant warp-born armor and weapons to contrast the IoM’s clunky heavy industrial steel, or the Tau’s slicker future-tech. This retcon just takes out all the wonder.”
Such sentiments capture the disappointment that the Eldar might lose their flavor if their defining material is explained in a mundane way. It’s the difference between space elves wielding living magic-infused constructs versus simply another fictional metal.
Another commenter highlighted how nonsensical the change felt in context of Eldar lore: the Asuryani are the pre-eminent psychic race of the galaxy, so psychic that their excesses once literally birthed a Chaos god, yet now we’re asked to believe they “suddenly use base materials to build their buildings after almost 40 years” of doing it the old way.
From that perspective, it’s an immersion-breaking retcon – akin to telling readers that wizards no longer cast spells but use flashlights, after you’ve shown magical fireballs for years. It just doesn’t square with what we know of the Eldar’s nature.
However, not everyone in the community reacted with outrage. A number of lore enthusiasts took a more analytical or forgiving stance. Some suggested that this codex excerpt could be interpreted in an in-universe way rather than an objective truth.
In other words, perhaps the description is how an Imperial scribe or a primitive human might misunderstand Wraithbone, whereas the reality in the lore hasn’t actually changed. “Meh. Easily dismissed as an in-universe misconception,” one veteran hobbyist wrote.
By this reasoning, a few odd lines in a codex need not erase all the prior background – they can be considered a fluke or a fringe theory in the setting itself. Another user argued similarly that “one new piece of information on its own doesn’t overrule the previous lore, if the previous lore…was repeated across lots of different sources.”
They advocate effectively ignoring the discordant codex snippet, viewing it “merely as one in-universe theory, which happens to be wrong.”
This approach is bolstered by a common saying among Warhammer lore fans: “Everything is canon, but not all of it is true.”
The idea here is that within the fictional universe, different texts might reflect different perspectives or propaganda, and it’s up to the reader to discern the actual truth – a tongue-in-cheek way to deal with contradictory lore.
In practice, it means fans can choose to treat the Wraithbone retcon as a mistake or a lie told by an in-setting source, thereby preserving the older interpretation in their own minds and games.
Some players also tried to reconcile the new description with the old. A few theories floated around: perhaps Wraithbone has always been a composite of psychic energy and physical matter, but this just hadn’t been spelled out before.
For instance, maybe the Eldar do gather some crystalline minerals which Bonesingers then infuse with warp power to create true Wraithbone. One commenter mused that it might be “not unreasonable” if rare ores are needed and the Bonesingers “infuse warp energy into it [to] become Wraithbone and gain all the special properties.”
In this interpretation, the codex phrasing could be seen as clarifying that Wraithbone isn’t literally something from nothing – there is conservation of matter – yet it still requires psychic catalysis to achieve its final state.
If that’s the case, then Eldar would indeed need some raw materials, but the essential magic of it (warp energy making those materials something extraordinary) remains. However, even fans proposing this view often added that if the intention was only that, the writing in the codex didn’t do a great job conveying it. As the same commenter concluded: “If it’s just ‘they [Bonesingers] shape it’ [with no warp infusion], then yeah not so great.”
In comparing this backlash to past Warhammer 40K lore retcons, one finds some interesting parallels and differences. Not all retcons are received equally. For example, the revelation (in recent lore) that the elite Adeptus Custodes are not all male – that there have been female Custodians – was a surprise to many, but it was actually met with a lot of positivity or at least acceptance. Some fans noted that this “female Custodes” update was “cool” and helped differentiate the golden warriors from just being a variant of Space Marines.
In that case, a lore change added diversity and didn’t obviously break any core logic, so it avoided significant backlash. On the other hand, changes to the nature of exotic materials have proven contentious before.
A recent example involves the ancient Blackstone Fortresses – mysterious mega-structures of the 40K universe traditionally associated with cosmic or Warp power. Newer lore (such as the novel Hand of Abaddon) indicated that Blackstone is essentially a rare mineral that can be mined, and even had the Leagues of Votann (the “space dwarf” faction) discovering a deposit that turned out to be a derelict Blackstone Fortress.
This effectively reframed Blackstone from an unfathomable xenos artifact to something like a resource vein. Sound familiar? Fans drawing this parallel have speculated that Games Workshop might be systematically reinterpreting some “mystical” elements (like Blackstone or Wraithbone) into more concrete terms. And indeed, that speculation leads into possible reasons why the Wraithbone change happened at all.
Potential Reasons for the Change
Beyond expressing approval or disapproval, the community has also been abuzz with theories about why Games Workshop would implement this Wraithbone retcon. In absence of an official explanation, a few main ideas have surfaced:
Accessibility and Simplification
One suggestion is that the change could be an attempt to make the Eldar more relatable or easier to grasp for new players. Describing Wraithbone as a high-tech composite material might sound more like a familiar sci-fi trope (futuristic alloys and bio-engineered materials) as opposed to the previous almost fantasy-like description of “sung from the Warp.”
Perhaps the writers thought grounding the Eldar’s tools in physical reality (even if just slightly) would prevent confusion. In a codex – which is part rulebook, part lore primer – brevity and clarity are important. It’s possible the authors wanted to convey “Wraithbone = special Eldar stuff used to build everything” in simple terms, and chose to liken it to a composite without realizing they were stepping on established lore.
Essentially, it could be a simplification gone wrong, where an attempt to be concise introduced an unintended retcon. As one YouTuber commented wryly, sometimes codex fluff sticks to basics in a way that leaves out nuance – and if a writer only consulted recent codices (which might not have explicitly mentioned how Wraithbone is made), they might not have realized the depth of older lore they were contradicting.
Narrative and Faction Development
Another theory posits that the change was made to facilitate future story developments. The comment about Blackstone becoming a minable resource ties into this – with the introduction of the Leagues of Votann (a new faction of space miners), Games Workshop may be laying groundwork for resource conflicts between factions.
By retconning Wraithbone into a material that exists in realspace (even if partially), it opens the door for stories where, say, humans or squats plunder Eldar ruins for Wraithbone, or Eldar have to protect (or harvest) certain planets for the raw compounds that become Wraithbone. Indeed, one humorous conjecture was that “the psychic might of the Aeldari has been changed so the damn dwarves can now mine them,” predicting a future narrative of space dwarves vs. space elves over Wraithbone deposits.
While tongue-in-cheek, this idea isn’t far-fetched – Warhammer 40K often drives plot by creating strategic resources (Blackstone, Promethium, Black Library knowledge, etc.) that factions fight over.
If Wraithbone is reimagined as the Eldar’s special resource (rather than an innate ability), it could become a plot device in campaigns or novels. It’s also worth noting that in the current edition, GW has been advancing the storyline (the galaxy has a big Chaos rift, new alliances, etc.), so they might be setting pieces in place for something like a desperate Eldar mining operation or a conflict with the Votann/Imperium over Wraithbone-rich worlds.
This is speculative, but it’s a narrative justification that some fans have considered.
Internal Consistency or Future Proofing
Relatedly, the retcon might be an attempt to reconcile or future-proof Eldar lore in light of other developments. For instance, if in upcoming stories Eldar are seen doing anything involving material logistics, the writers might have felt the need to clarify that Eldar do use matter, not just magic, to build.
It could also be a way to explain why Bonesingers aren’t conjuring endless goods out of thin air for the Eldar – perhaps to impose some limitations and stakes for them. (Though, as fans noted, that was already handled by saying Bonesingers are rare and the process is time-consuming, without needing material scarcity.)
Simple Error or Oversight
Of course, sometimes the simplest reason is the real one: it might just be a mistake. It’s possible a GW writer or editor added this line thinking it was a neat bit of fluff without checking against older lore. Given that the change was not emphasized, it doesn’t appear to be part of a grand retcon campaign (unlike, say, when the Necron lore was deliberately overhauled in 5th edition, or when the nature of the Primarchs was expanded in the Horus Heresy novels).
If it was unintentional, we may even see it quietly ignored or reversed in future texts. The original poster of the Reddit thread quipped “With any luck, it will be quietly retconned back in the next Eldar novel.”
In the past, GW has occasionally backpedaled on controversial lore bits by simply not mentioning them again and letting older interpretations reassert themselves through fiction. So one reason for the change could simply be an editorial lapse, one that might be corrected as the feedback has certainly reached GW through community channels by now.
In summary, the reasons behind the Wraithbone retcon are not confirmed, but fans have speculated a mix of pragmatic (accessibility, simplifying for codex readers), creative (setting up future story arcs or aligning Eldar with current narrative themes), and accidental (a mistake or oversight) motives.
It could be one or some combination of these. Understanding GW’s intention matters to some fans because it influences whether they view this change as an isolated blip or the start of a trend in how Eldar will be portrayed going forward.
Impact on Warhammer 40K and the Future of Lore
What could this change mean in the long run for Warhammer 40K, especially for the Aeldari? The immediate impact is a hit to faction identity in the lore sense. The Eldar, as many have pointed out, stood out as a post-scarcity, psychically advanced civilization. If one takes the new codex at face value, the Eldar suddenly seem a bit more like everyone else – needing raw materials, engaging in industry (even if it’s a psychic bio-organic form of industry), and lacking that absolute self-reliance that their mythology implied.
This potentially diminishes their mystique. Aeldari fiction going forward might focus less on mystical construction and more on, say, the struggle to obtain resources or the techniques of material engineering. That would be a noticeable tonal shift. However, it’s also possible that the broader impact will be minimal if the change is largely ignored outside the codex blurb. Black Library authors (who write the novels) and campaign writers might continue depicting Wraithbone in the old way unless mandated otherwise.
It will be telling to see future publications: if we read about Eldar mining asteroids for Wraithbone ingredients or trading with other races for minerals, then we’ll know the retcon stuck. If instead Bonesingers in fiction still summon Wraithbone out of the air, then the codex line might remain an odd footnote.
For the Aeldari players, there’s a concern that such changes indicate a lack of care or focus on their faction’s lore from the developers. Eldar have sometimes felt sidelined in major story developments (the spotlight often being on Imperium vs. Chaos). When they do get attention, seeing it change something fundamental can be disheartening. A commenter in the lore thread vented that “GW does their damndest to make it so hard to like the Eldar sometimes.”
That sentiment, while born of frustration, touches on an important aspect: community trust. If players feel that any cherished aspect of the lore might be suddenly altered or contradicted, they can lose trust in the narrative continuity of the game world. For some, the rich lore is a big part of the hobby’s appeal – it inspires their army themes, painting, and roleplay. Repeated retcons or perceived lore missteps risk alienating those invested fans, or at least dampening their enthusiasm for new lore releases.
On the other hand, Warhammer 40K is a living setting, and part of its enduring nature is that it does evolve. We’ve seen significant lore shifts in the past that initially met resistance but eventually enriched the universe. A classic example is the overhaul of the Necron lore in the early 2010s: what were once mindless, galaxy-ending terminators guided solely by star gods were given depth, individual personalities, and a dynastic culture.
Many old-timers cried foul at first (it was a big change from what was established in 3rd edition), but over time Necrons became a much more popular and story-friendly faction with that added nuance.
Similarly, the introduction of the Primaris Marines (a big addition to the Space Marine lore in 8th edition) was controversial, yet it has since been integrated rather seamlessly, and the game moved forward. These examples show that not all changes are bad – context and execution matter. In the case of Wraithbone, the execution (a brief codex note without clarification) left a lot to be desired, hence the backlash.
But could there be a scenario where this change is expanded on in a satisfying way? Possibly, if a future narrative showed why Eldar might be experimenting with ore-based Wraithbone or revealed new secrets about how Bonesingers work, it might become an interesting plot point rather than a one-off retcon. It really hinges on what Games Workshop does next (if anything) with this piece of lore.
Another potential impact is on how the Eldar interact with other factions in lore. As mentioned, if Wraithbone is now effectively a resource, it could become a plot device (e.g. a reason for conflict or cooperation). This might actually increase the Eldar’s involvement in certain stories (imagine a campaign where Eldar approach the Imperium for a trade agreement, or war breaks out over a planet rich in “Wraithbone ore”).
Some fans, while not happy about the retcon, have half-jokingly mused that it might at least mean more narrative spotlight on the Eldar – even if it’s about space mining wars, it’s something! In a grimdark universe, even being fought over can be a form of flattery in terms of plot importance.
Will Games Workshop address or reverse the change?
It’s hard to say. Publicly, GW rarely acknowledges fan outcry over lore; they tend to just incorporate changes or not and let the fandom sort it out. However, internal feedback and the writers’ own viewpoints can lead to course corrections.
It’s conceivable that a future Codex: Aeldari or an associated publication might tweak the wording back towards the classic interpretation – for instance, adding a line like “Wraithbone is formed from psychic energy solidifying around certain crystalline minerals” or something to that effect, which would satisfy both descriptions.
If the backlash is loud enough and deemed justified, the easiest fix for GW would be to quietly omit the contentious phrasing in the next edition or even in a digital FAQ/errata (though doing a lore errata would be unusual).
Another avenue is through Black Library novels: if a prominent novel by an author like Gav Thorpe or Graham McNeill (who have written a lot of Eldar lore) depicts Wraithbone in the traditional way, that would effectively override a codex blurb in most fans’ minds. It’s possible that an upcoming story would “retcon it back” by simply showing Wraithbone creation as it used to be.
If GW chooses not to address it at all, the ball is in the community’s court to decide how to handle this inconsistency. Warhammer 40K has an enormous lore, and it’s not free of contradictions even in the best of times. Fans often exercise selective canon for their personal headcanon or gaming stories.
We may well see a split where some Eldar players incorporate the new idea (perhaps imagining their Craftworld having to secure minerals for Wraithbone) while others stick to the classic vision (Bonesinger as pure warp-weaver) – each justified by different sources. In effect, the lore might fragment slightly in fan interpretation until a more definitive take appears.
From a broader perspective, this incident has sparked discussion about how much flexibility the lore should have.
On one side, flexibility allows the universe to stay fresh and for creators to explore new concepts. On the other, too much change, especially if abrupt, can make the setting feel unmoored and arbitrary.
If anything, the Wraithbone controversy has made some fans more vocal about wanting Games Workshop to respect established lore or at least to provide a solid in-universe explanation when they do change something fundamental.
It’s a reminder that for many, Warhammer 40K isn’t just a game – it’s a rich narrative world they deeply care about, where consistency equals credibility. Lose enough of that, and some might disengage from the lore entirely (even if they continue to enjoy the gameplay). Conversely, handle changes thoughtfully, and the lore can grow in a way that keeps even veteran fans invested.