Each of these is to a hugely significant degree rather than just a token boost. You can then select one of a bunch of different rituals, each of which has a different effect on your game - you'll gain experience quicker, build faster, sporadically generate special units or, most importantly, fight better. Point as many Villagers (AOE3's build unit) as you can spare at it, and they'll dance around it.
A lot of it's in the firepits, the only building in the AOE3 pantheon that requires interaction beyond build, place and queue up production. Bereft of the unit and narrative restrictions of the single-player, the comicbook Native American stuff comes to the fore. It's in the multiplayer that Warchiefs really goes crazy, though. They'll dance all game, without stopping. It gets you to try a bunch of different things, its challenge is consistent and the jump forward to the future in the second acts means a pleasing switch from increasingly tiresome American Revolution fare to cowboys & injuns scrapping it out during a Frontier gold rush. Nevertheless, its high-action approach means the singleplayer manages to be far more fun than a game that's still largely about chopping wood faster than the other side can entirely deserves to be. But hey, it's an RTS expansion pack - the narrative segments were only ever going to be in-engine, or consist of Hollywood Advert Man intoning something tedious about destiny and vengeance as the camera pans slowly across a painting of some historical scene. Sure, it's a perennial problem for RTSs that need to spread their polygon count across dozens of characters rather than a handful, but it grates all the more when we're supposed to be taking the cutscenes as serious drama. It's still fairly good-looking a few months down the line from the original AOE3, but a lack of animations means that, rather than moving anything like naturally, characters do laughable stuff like spin 180 degrees on the spot instantly when they turn to face each other, like a two-sided cardboard cutout on a stick. Part of that's because the graphics engine isn't really up to cutscene work.
Such schizoid flitting between history and vague attempts at movie drama works out surprisingly entertaining, though the tales are nowhere near as involving as the overdone gravitas suggests their creators thought they would be. The second act plays up the fiction even more, with Nathaniel's brooding grandson suffering a bit of an identity crisis and running into one General Custer. There's a bit of a back-to-front Last of the Mohicans vibe to it - the hero's called Nathaniel in both cases, but here he's of Iroquois descent rather than being a Frontier settler, and in both, there's a helpless, kidnapped woman holding out for a hero, but this time around she's been snatched by boo-hiss baddie German colonialists rather than the novel's evil Indians. Quickly escaping his rustic roots, the first act's Native American hero, Nathaniel Black, soon becomes intertwined with George Washington and his American resistance, and from then on it's pretty much business as usual, though at a rather more break-neck pace than in AOE3 vanilla. There's a sense that the internal debate on whether to ramp the crazy levels up to eleven was never quite resolved, as the single-player campaign actually dials it down hugely, after initially introducing wardances around the firepit and hero units with the power to mentally enslave. Age of Mythology) rather than risk disgusted letters from Age of Empires' huge and stern contingent of history devotees. Making the three new races - Iroquois, Aztec and Sioux - semi-fantastical is a bold move, and one Ensemble has previously reserved for entirely separate games (i.e. Even so, this really isn't your large-bearded, pipe-smoking, stuffily accuracy-obsessed daddy's Age of Empires. Everything short of transforming into a spectral hawk, in fact, but that may only be because Prey already tried that trick. So, as well as those mystically bewitched urisdae, we get similarly tamed cougars and wolves, spirit dances and magical medicine men. In fact, you could make a total raid of every book on Native Americans in the children's section of the library, and cheerfully shoe-in just about every fact, myth and cliché concerning the USA's long-suffering original inhabitants. How d'you make a somewhat by-the-numbers, forgettable RTS better? Well, you could always just throw in some hypnotised bears.