Showing posts with label Rants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rants. Show all posts

Thursday, 8 November 2012

So why is it called Warhammer For Adults anyway?

I'm feeling a bit ranty today. I've had a cold for two weeks now and frankly, I'd cheerfully microwave a rhinoceros and swallow the remains whole if I thought it would help.

Also, we're not yet done with the first turn of the Bridge Over the River Chai. Which is probably what you actually came here hoping to see. Soon, pet.

Soon.

So, I thought I'd have a rant instead.



When I started the blog, I had a page describing my reasons for the name, which were also largely my reasons for engaging my time machine and heading back to the eighties for some decent wargaming.

Then, one day, I read through the thing again and I found it to be, well, quite angry. It was written just after the most unsatisfying game of Warhammer I'd ever played. I unpublished the page, with a view to coming back and revisiting the thing at some time.

Consider the thing revisited. 

If you're deeply suspicious of hyperlinks, you can also follow the navigation on the top left of the page. That's also a hyperlink, but it has a different name, so maybe that's better for you.

Thursday, 2 August 2012

Double-dip Recession? What Double-dip Recession?



Wow. Just...wow. Perhaps the problem with the Oldhammer movement is that now that its public, every ex-gamer with a loft has gone completely mad?

I think, depending on how this chaps sale goes, I'm going to put my whole lichemaster collection on eBay and pay off my house...

Monday, 4 June 2012

FFS: Old World Real Estate

Off the back of a recent discussion over at the Lead Adventure Forum, I identified one of the things that triggered my disenchantment with Warhammer 8th ed. The discussion was very interesting, and included the valuable opinion of one Andy Hoare, game designer extraordinaire and one time employee of the Games Workshop design studio. Apparently his contribution to 8th ed. was very small, so we can forgive him his sins and offer him the respect he deserves - no hate mail, please.

I mention Andy not as a name drop of my brief dalliance with game design stardom, but rather, to add credence to the fact that a good discussion was had. Many opinions are present. Did I mention the time a man who looked an awful lot like Rick Priestly touched me inappropriately in a crowded tube once?

Anyway, the thing that I realised was about the bizarre workings of terrain in 8th edition. In the argument, I summarised briefly the story of a poor Imperial village baker, Hans von Bloodskullspikenstein (it seemed like a suitable name for 8th ed - it includes all their favourite things) and how the scenery around his house might affect him. I thought I might explore that story a bit more.

Lets listen in:

***


"Well, Mr Von Bloodskullspikenstein, as you can see, I've kept the best for last," Walther Dragonskullsplitter said. "It's a four bedroom manor house, separate ablution block, private well and it even has it's very own fortified tower. Let's just stand here and drink it in, shall we?"


Hans looked up at the behemoth. How the hell was he going to pay for that? He was just a humble baker, and the village only had about two hundred inhabitants. He'd have to bake two thousand loaves a day to pay for that, surely? The last two places they'd looked at had been single room flats. The last one was fifteen feet underground, didn't have any windows, and doubled as the neighbouring property's cess pit overflow - and he could barely afford that one. It dawned on him the reason why everyone hated estate agents.


"Its - its quite large, isn't it?" he stammered. 


"Go on. Ask me. Ask me the question." Walther beamed at Hans, nodding and grinning.


"To be honest, Mr Dragonskullsplitter, I think it's out of my price range."


"Ah, but Hans, old buddy, old pal - how long have we known each other now? Would I do such a thing? I am not so callous as to mock your frankly laughable price limit, am I? That's just mean - go on, ask the question."


Hans wasn't sure how or when he'd crossed the 'old buddy, old pal' bridge with Walther, but he was fairly sure he'd never met the ingrate before today.  


"Okay - how much is it?" he asked, wincing.


"How much for this place? This one right here?" Walther waved expansively at the property. 


Hans blinked. "Yes. How much for that one. The only property out here," he said, as he looked around at the abandoned forest flanking each side of the house and back at the dilapidated road that led here. 


Walther placed an arm over Hans' shoulder and swept him through the front gate towards the imposing front door. "This place, my good sir, is dreadfully expensive. Before I came here, and negotiated with the landlord - all for you, of course - it was said that the rent here rivalled the running costs of the Imperial Palace!-"


"Bollocks," Hans blurted. 


Walther looked wounded. "Hans, Hans, Hans. Mr Von Bloodskullspikenestein, even, seeing as how our relationship sours with every word you say - you wound me to the core! Let me finish, let me finish.  Good sir, perhaps I have been dramatic in my estimation. Imperial Palace? Okay, okay, you've got me - a little bit of creative license. Would I show you a place your paltry income could not cover? Why, Hans, even on our way here, if you had but asked about any of the houses we passed, I would have been able to show you ones you could not afford. But, that is not me. Truly, this house was devastatingly, even desperately, expensive, but now, it is affordable. Even for you, Mr Von Bloodskullspikenestein, even for you." He patted Hans on the hand. "Go on - ask me the question. Ask me."


"I think I already did."


"Ask me again. It's that special."


"How much is the bloody house?" 


"Bloody? Again, Mr Von-"


"How. Much. Is. It?" Hans hissed through clenched teeth.


Walther stepped back and looked at Hans with approving eyes. "A man who knows what he wants. Ideal! For you, Mr Von Bloodskullspikenstein, one groat. Each month, and every month thereafter, one single groat!" So broad was the grin on Walther's face that his ears disappeared around the back of his head. 


Hans was shocked. "One groat? An Imperial groat, you mean? One of these?" He produced a battered coin from his pocket. 


Walther nodded. "Correct! One of those, every month, for as long as you wish to stay! But don't decide now." He opened the front door and bundled Hans inside. "Let's first make sure the place meets your requirements!"


***






***


"So that's the place, Hans. May I call you Hans? I'm never sure where we are in this friendship of ours?"


Friendship of ours, or friendship of hours? Hans wondered. He grimaced and nodded. 


Walther jangled the keys. "You could move in tonight - as you can see, there are no occupants."


"Actually, I have some questions, if I may?"


Walther bowed, bending so far over that Hans thought for an instance he might topple over. "Of course, of course! I shall travel to the farthest corner of the world to discover the answers for you, if I don't already know them!"


"It seems awfully - cheap, for such a large place." Hans couldn't profess to be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he'd done his time. He'd kept his bakery afloat during the yeast crisis of '36. When the millers went on strike in '41, he'd negotiated with elven merchants to ship flour from their own distant lands. He'd kept the mayor's sausage roll surprise fetish a close secret for many years now. Property wasn't his game, but something just didn't feel right.


"It is, it is. A very good deal, no?"


"But why is it so cheap?"


Walther's grin stalled, his face becoming expressionless. "Ah. The cost again. A man who-"


"Walther," Hans growled. 


"Yes, yes, okay. Are you a superstitious man, Mr Von Bloodskullspikenestein?"


Hans reflected on the question briefly. "No, I wouldn't say that I am. Why?"


"Well, the previous occupants have all been having problems with supernatural events, you see. Pure poppycock, of course, but that's just the sort of thing we enterprising gentlemen could capitalise on, isn't it? One man's ghost is another man's ...er..."


"Toast?" Hans suggested. 


"Yeah. Toast. That's it. Apparently, that old grade two listed building down the bottom of the garden there? The previous resident was Mrs Bluddenskulls. Have you met her before? She claimed that was a temple to the damnable gods of chaos. She claimed that one of her children went to play on the stones, was possessed by a giant daemon, and his head exploded. 


"Oh?" Hans raised an eyebrow. He knew that Mrs Bluddenskulls used to have four children. Now she had none. "So I presume that killed the child, then?"


Walther turned sombre. "Apparently, yes. Unfortuntely, when the doctor came to help, he stepped onto the stones as well, and was also possessed by a daemon. He, too, lost his head."


"Was that Dr Bloodhackenslash?" He had been missing for weeks now. 


"Again, apparently so. Of course, its complete nonsense - look at the thing. It's so small and harmless, I don't know where all these daemons would hide. If all of these people kept blowing their heads up on the thing, you wouldn't be able to see if for all the bone and brains and whatnot. Utter twaddle, if you ask me."


"Can we go and have a look?"


Walther gulped. "Er..."


He watched in horror as Hans walked towards the stone structure. Scuttling up behind him, he blurted, "What about a quick spin of the rest of the area instead? Look, there is a beautiful river, with a lovely quaint bridge. See?" Walther jabbed his finger at the dilapidated bridge. "And - there's a lovely dwarf brewery just on the other side, Let's do that instead."


Hans shrugged. "Okay."


***


"Okay, now the thing with the bridge is that we should only approach from this side," Walther whispered. 


"Why are you whispering?" Hans asked.


"SHHH! Shut up! Keep it down! Er... Just in case, is all," Walther forced a nervous grin. 


Hans raised an eyebrow. "Just in case of..."


"Well again, I'm sure it's completely fabricated, but you remember Mrs Bluddenskulls we were talking about earlier? Apparently - and you know her, so you know how she can make up all sorts of faerie tales - apparently, her second eldest was consumed by a huge troll that lives under the bridge." 


Walther elbowed Hans in the ribs. "I don't know where she comes up with these things! Still - let's be quiet, just in case."


"So, hang on - you're saying there're daemons in there," he pointed back to the old temple, "and trolls under that? I confess, Mr Dragonskullsplitter, I am beginning to think one groat is a little expensive..."


"Nonsense, nonsense," Walther said, patting Hans on the arm. I'm saying that Mrs Bluddenskulls is saying there are daemons in there," he pointed to the pile of rubble, "and trolls under there. Look, see how close we are to the bridge and the temple? Have any of our heads exploded? Seen any daemons? Or trolls? Utter poppycock. Not to be taken seriously. One groat is a steal!"


Hans nodded. The man had a point - both of their brains were still comfortably ensconced in their heads and no troll had yet materialised to gobble them up. 


"Let's go and look at this brewery, shall we?" Perhaps a sample of the local produce will help to convince you," Walther said, directing Hans towards the bridge. 


***






***


"Look, there's the brewery just there," Walther said with a grandiose gesture.


"Excellent!" Hans was parched. The walk had been longer than he'd anticipated. "I hope they're still op-"


"Wait!" Walther barked. "We, er...have to say a little rhyme in order to proceed. I almost forgot." He grinned sheepishly.


"We have to say a rhyme?" Hans said, his expression blank. "Let me guess, if we don't say a rhyme, then that old statue there will shoot a fireball at us, consuming our souls and damning them to hell?"


"Ah, so you've spoken to Mrs Bluddenskulls already, have you? That's what happened to her third."


Hans stared at Walther. 


"...Apparently," Walther added quickly. 


"Fine. Whatever. Say the rhyme."


Walther rummaged through his papers. "Here it is. This is what we say:


"As I was coming down the stair, I met a man who wasn't there. He wasn't there again today - I wish that man would go away!"


He looked expectantly at Hans. 


Hans shook his head. "I'm not saying that."


"Hans. Mr Von Bloodskullspikenstein. Come now. Let us respect the local custom? Such a harmless phrase as that? Why, it makes me smile whenever I think of it. Are you planning to have kids one day? Imagine living just around the corner. One day, you can bring little Hans around here, telling him of the first time you heard that rhyme, and how you dodged daemons and trolls to hear it. It makes a wonderful story!"


Hans snorted. "Sure. Okay." He said the rhyme, glaring at the mossy statue, daring it to shoot so much as a sideways glance at him.


"There," Walther said cheerfully. "On we go!"


***

The brewery looked a little worse for wear, Hans thought. It was surrounded by low walls, which were probably higher at one point, but has since been robbed of their stones for various other purposes. The structure itself was windowless, made of a combination of timber and stone. The roof tiles were broken and the place generally carried a sense of forlornness about it. The remains of a sign ('rewe') dangled from a rusty chain, swaying gently in the breeze. 


"I dunno, Walther. That kinda looks abandoned to me?" Hans mumbled, frowning. He'd been looking forward to the beer. He moved to lean on the wall. 


Walther ran up to him, gesticulating wildly.


"No, no, no! Don't do that! Not on the walls like that!"


Hans stopped and sighed. He looked sideways at the little estate agent. "What's wrong with the brewery?"


Walther giggled nervously. "Nothing, nothing at all. Its just that - well, rumour has it that the walls are haunted. Apparently, a mischievous wizard bound the souls of any dwarf who got drunk during the working day to one hundred and one years of service. They may not leave the boundaries of the walls. They tend to get quite cross about that sort of thing.


"You remember Mrs Bluddenskulls? Lovely lady, Mrs Bluddenskulls, but boy-oh-boy can she make stories up. Her fourth child once came here for a drink. The story goes that he, also, leaned up against the walls, whereupon an angry dwarf ghost materialised out of nowhere, and gobbled up the boys hands!"


"Just his hands?"


"If Mrs Bluddenskulls is to be believed, yes. The poor boy, distressed as he was at the loss of the hands, staggered back home, but in so doing, forgot to say the rhyme we discussed earlier. Wouldn't you know it, that same statue that we ambled passed on our lovely country walk? That statue shot all manner of violent spells at the unlucky bugger. It put both his eyes out!"


Hans raised an eyebrow. "You don't say?"


"That's not all. Blinded, he knew not which way to approach the bridge, so of course, he enraged the troll that we clearly saw didn't live there when we crossed the bridge earlier today. Mrs Bluddenskulls tells me that the troll gripped the boy, bit off both his legs, and tossed the rest into the distance."


Hans' voice was deadpan. "Poor kid."


"Indeed, but his misfortune didn't end there. It just so happened that the followers of chaos had just at that moment summoned forth a hideous daemon at the ruined temple back at the house. The thing caught sight of Mrs Bluddenskulls' screaming child flying through the air, plucked him from the sky and swallowed him in one gulp, thus banishing him to one thousand and one years of the most mind tearing agony one could possibly imagine on the seventh level of hell."


Hans shrugged. "Just when it couldn't get any worse, eh?'


Walther grinned. "Exactly! Oh, I do enjoy talking to Mrs Bluddenskulls, even if she is barking mad. Anyway, that's the surrounding area. Shall we return to the house?"


***


"So, as you can see, what we have here is a lovely country manor, with a beautiful location on some of the most characterful countryside we have. Double garage, south facing, brass knocker, the whole shebang. All for one groat a month, available immediately, no deposit. What do you say?"


Hans looked up at the old house. There was something unsettling about it, but, come-on - one groat? It'd have to be pretty unsettling to beat that. And besides, Mrs Bluddenskulls was renowned for her delusional ranting. Come to think about it - how would she have had any kids anyway? Who the hell would have married her?


Walther smiled at Hans. He held out an open hand. 


"Um..." Hans said. 


"I'll throw in the doormat?"


Hand looked at the doormat. It had 'Hi. I'm Mat' emblazoned across its surface. He sniggered. "Okay, okay. I'll take it!"


Walther beamed up at Hans as he passed the keys over.


"You won't regret it, Mr Bloodskullspikenstein! An excellent choice indeed..."


***


"You know, I just don't know how that Walther does it," Pattrik Swae-See the ghost said, watching Hans accept the keys from the shadow of the ruin. 


"I know. It's a thing of beauty, isn't it?" agreed Choppychoppyfukemupbludanskullsanshitforthebludgodde the bloodthirster. "That man could sell ice to an eskimo. We ought to send him a ham or something, don't you think?"


The bloodthirster nudged Twinky the troll. Twinky was intent on biting her toenail, and didn't appear to have an opinion one way or the other. 


"Yeah," Pattrik said, "Let's send a ham..."

Tuesday, 13 March 2012

Warhammer 2nd ed (40k, they think) in the news...Good Work, BBC

This is a very interesting article. Go and read it now. 

Top element of this was the fact that the first mention of an individual actually related to GW in any way is Gary Chalk and a reference to the 80's and Orc's Drift. That's not a problem, Gary's great and represents a wonderful era of the company. This is what was said about him:
Gary Chalk, a 59-year-old fantasy game creator and illustrator, knows all about its Britishness. He used to design Warhammer and Warhammer 40K games in the 1980s and 90s. His trademark wit is evident in Bloodbath at Orc's Drift (an elvish version of the Michael Caine film Zulu) and a naval ship battle he called "All the Dwarves Love a Sailor". Still an enthusiastic table-top gamer, he does, however, believe Games Workshop uses its monopoly on the products to target and exploit increasingly younger fans. 
The prices for essential models, paints and books are "eyewatering", he says.
Cheers to you, Mr Chalk! And thanks for Orc's Drift. And all the other stuff you've done. Even if that didn't really have anything to do with 40k.

The article continues:
And Chalk claims the game is now less interesting. "The original rules were about fantasy combat and creating character. Now the rules only work within their imaginary world, with their figures and it cuts out all the other influences."
GW did offer some sort of defence:
Games Workshop's executives say they don't do media interviews, preferring to focus on their hobbyists. But chief executive officer Mark Wells emails me about the claim of price exploitation. "That would go against everything we stand for. It's just not in our nature," he writes.
The sentence that I'm really interested in is this one '...preferring to focus on their hobbyists' - I can't imagine they focus so thoroughly that they can't do a media interview? Don't they have a PR department?

Anyway, credit where credit is due, well done to GW: it is still better that you don't go out of business, actually. I just wish you were nicer to us, is all. 

And listen to Gary - make your games more interesting.



Monday, 23 January 2012

Warhammer for Children

We're nearly almost about to be on the brink of possibly considering the eventuality of completing turn 1 of the Battle of Koles Lorr. Patience, my pretties... patience. We've had a bit of a learning curve considering the long distances this game must pass, as well as some of the idiosyncrasies of the armies in play. We move ever onwards.

But in the meantime, I've been chatting on and off with Chris, of Chris's Gaming Journal. In our myriad of discussions about various different elements of Warhammer, he got me thinking about other editions of the game and its development.

That, in turn, got me to thinking about what I meant when I titled the blog 'Warhammer For Adults'. Of course, I have a whole page on that, but I guess the thing is still focussed on 3rd edition and was written when I was experiencing some ...frustration.

I guess I needed a hug.

Does somebody   need a hug?

Anyway, I thought I'd go into a more analytical look at what I mean when I refer to Warhammer For Adults. I can think of three points to make:

The first thing that got me onto this blog was simply my interpretation of the Warhammer 8 rules. Fundamentally, I felt that they were a dumbing down of the fine institution of Warhammer. I know there were a lot of problems with army books and game balance in the 6th and 7th edition, but I still felt the core ruleset was pretty solid. Warhammer 8 was generally a poor follow up from 6th and 7th.

I don't think that because I found I had a killer army that suddenly became ineffective. I've never played a tournament winning army (which is not to say I haven't won tournaments). I genuinely think that Warhammer 8 has been written first and foremost to sell figures, and to do that, it has been written to be accessible to anyone. Anyone. Not too sure how to tie you shoelaces? That's okay, we know that's complicated, but fortunately you can still play Warhammer. Still wondering who that person who lives on the other side of the silver window in your bathroom is and why they keep doing everything you do when you're in there? That's deep, but fortunately, you can still play Warhammer.

I'm not trying to make Warhammer exclusive, but one should assume that there is some sort of mental commitment required by those aspiring to play the game. One assumes football requires a basic level of fitness and hand-eye co-ordination, but they don't change the rules to say that players should only walk in order to make it more accessible.

I feel that the Warhammer 8 rule set has just crossed this 'simplicity' line. Chances are, if I was new, I wouldn't know the difference, but in my case, I've seen better, more engaging rules (not just 3rd ed, now, I mean 6th and 7th), so I know GW are capable of more.

This brings me to my second point. The Warhammer rule set is now developed with tournament play as its priority. True, in Warhammer 8, they've included a whole battle report in which a GM is used to help run the game. There are sections at the back looking at narrative and special scenarios looking at some non-standard scenarios. These are not present in older versions of Warhammer. My question, then, is why the hell have I not seen them in play? Ever?*

*I'm not saying they aren't played - but I confess, in the year or so that I've had a go at Warhammer 8, I never got to play them. And that's not for a lack of trying.

Simply, I think that people are so taken with the 'ease' of relying on the rules to direct how they should interact with each other (often in a situation where they don't really know each other, such as tournaments) that they just don't explore the possibilities. This leads to a situation where the rule set becomes a limiter, not an enabler. There is a small, but important difference between the questions 'My rule set seems to suggest we have this option, how do you feel about that?' and 'My rule set seems to suggest that we have this option, why are you deviating from it?'

This expectation that players have of each other to limit themselves to the rules, which are then supposed to have a common interpretation. Did you laugh just then? When I said common interpretation? Of course its impossible. The vast bulk of Warhammer forums on the internet exist to facilitate rules discussion between anonymous people, who appear to be hell bent on ensuring that everyone out there agrees with their interpretation of the rules. Some of these discussions take on court-case like proportions, where people submit precedents set by other rules and quote battle reports from White Dwarf as evidence of their understanding and why their position should be 'judged' the correct one.

Note that I've not discussed behaviour at actual tournaments - I'm just talking about the tournament-like or tournament-ready usage of the rules in supposedly friendly games where the players have control over the entire scope of the game. Whilst I'm not prepared to excuse tournaments (don't get me started on tournaments and the 'have fun or else' attitude that seems to permeate them, that's for another day), I can still understand that players might get a bit more competitive if they have something to win. I'm much less clear on why you have to win by quoting rules when its a friendly game between two supposed adults with nothing other than fun as the motivation.

Consider this example I've lifted recently from the forums. Bear in mind that I am aware of the dangers of just using internet forum examples, because I don't know the whole context of the discussion, and I will most likely never actually know the people or the circumstances. Also, I have no ill will to any of the people involved. I just feel sorry for them. In this case, one player succumbed to the deployment rules and tried his level best to meet their requirements. His opponent just let him. It is my assertion that two adults would have looked at the situation and said something like 'its a bit silly to deploy this way, what would it actually look like?' or 'I wonder if I can construct some sort of narrative that might explain why they would deploy this way.' I was pleased to note that the first response suggested as much, but the fact that the post exists at all is testament to the problem with tournament systems and thinking. That same forum is rammed full of questions about what happens when rule A meets rule B and ways of either getting around the limitation or deriving the most extreme exploitation of that rule combination, again, with the express intention of winning.

My third point takes a comparative look at Warhammer 3. Taking a look at the books of the time - Warhammer 3, The Realms of Chaos books and Rogue Trader, one would be hard pressed to get any coherent rules out of them. Simply put, the rules are terribly written. I'm talking plain, bad english, which is ambiguous and in some cases, incomplete. In spite of these limitations, every single rule is pregnant with possibility, simply because it is ambiguous. Players have no choice but to stop and consider what the hell the designer was trying to say. In the end, most players of this time ended up looking at narrative to get through.

And lets not kid ourselves - there is no rule set in the Warhammer stable that could be exploited more than Warhammer 3. Check it out - you can have a magic sword that automatically hits, automatically wounds, denies your opponent any armour save, and will kill him outright if a wound is scored. A level 25 wizard can summon an elemental onto the table. Do you know an elemental's stat line when it arrives? Put 10 in each column. That's right - it moves 10", has a Toughness of 10 and has 10 wounds. You don't pay points for these things - a wizard just summons one.

Even Warhammer 3 cheese is for adults.



My point is that because the rule set depends on player co-operation (as opposed to player competition) and was designed with the idea of having a GM in place to help, players are immediately less likely to get stuck on rules, because they need to resort to something other than just the rule definition in order to explain what is happening. Most players of the era would be more comfortable having an elemental on the table than any Warhammer 8 player (using that rule set means you don't even have to be afraid of it because you always wound on a 6 now anyway). They would find a good narrative reason to have such a thing on the table, and then, as if by magic, would be able to include in that narrative a hero, or villian, or some other similar fantastic creature in order to counter it. Or it would only be available for a random number of turns. Players would resort to narrative to sort out the evident power problem.

That said, you don't need the Warhammer 3 rule set to do that. It's just that its most evident in players who hold to Warhammer 3 standards, because the rule set is so badly written. Take note of what I say - the players use narrative in order to compensate for the rules. Do you play Warhammer 6? You could use narrative to compensate for the rules. Do you play Warhammer 8? You can use narrative.

Think about the forum post mentioned above, where the poor bastard had to deploy his whole army in between the imaginary lines on the field. Could they not have re-arranged the scenery to suggest that there was only a narrow defile in which the army ended up entering the field? The narrative would simply be the opposing force knew that was a bottle neck and had set up in expectation of their arrival. I haven't even written a line of fiction to explain that. That's not even narrative.

Consider this for a parting shot: in the Realms of Chaos books, the points cost for greater daemons (you know, bloodthirsters, keepers of secrets - that sort of thing) are listed for a sense of completeness. One doesn't pay points for them - you simply agree with your opponent how many you will have. If your head just exploded, that's because you're still playing Warhammer for Children.



For more on Warhammer for Adults, check out The Oldhammer Contract and these comments on the 40K OSR over at Tales from the Maelstrom.

Monday, 28 November 2011

Turning lead into bold...

Back in the saddle. Real Life has finished punching me in the nuts and I appear to have paid whatever dues were required.

Good news - I've managed to paint a figure in this crazy November! Bad news, is that its not going to be posted tonight because I thought of something I need to do to it quickly and the OCD perfectionist in me decided that I could wait. And by 'I', I mean you.

So I thought I'd draw your attention to this instead:


...and this...


I'd have thought the chap would have thrown the postage in for free. You know - because £419 is a shit-ton of money for 3 grams of lead. Maybe it can cure cancer if you eat it. A bold price in this time of austerity and strife. If only the greeks had a few, their economy would be now stable.

I thought Terror of the Lichemaster was going to be an expensive exercise. Thank heavens I didn't pick Orc's Drift.

Tuesday, 19 July 2011

Storm of Magic: Magic the Gathering for Morons

Storm of Magic has arrived. You know that already, because you're interested in Warhammer. And, being interested in Warhammer, you are acquianted with one of those GW enthusiasts. You know, the deranged preachers so excited by the whole thing, that they have basically ejaculated the barking madness of SoM straight into your unsuspecting face.

I know some people like that, so, whether I liked it or not, I came to learn about the subtle nuances of SoM:



It's a spinner.

It's about as subtle as a brick going through a window. It's like Games Workshop saying to me, "ooh - watch out now, you don't want to be working carelessly with those D8s. Have you ever stood on one of those little buggers? We chose the spinner so that you wouldn't hurt yourself on that nasty, pointy D8. Don't laugh, son - this is no joking matter. Remember when Seb had that nasty fall back in '92? That was a D8. Poor bastard stood right on it. It made the sole of his foot go all red and everything. It took him several minutes to recover. Bad business, that was. Bad business...so don't be messing about with them D8s, okay?"

Lets see if we can think of any other games that have spinners.

Well, obviously, there's Twister:



...and The Game of Life:



I couldn't think of any others, so I consulted the oracle. This revealed other high quality offerings, like The Happy Little Train Game:

 And its spinner:



Is this your market, Games Workshop? Perhaps, for Warhammer 9, we can implement a system where we can sell army-themed straws (The shaft of Teclis, anybody? Only £6.99). Then, using the True Line of Sight rules, players can line their straws up to 'take a shot', where they can try to shoot frozen peas magic missiles at each others figures. Of course, we'd need safety goggles techmarine visors (£6.99), to make sure that little Johnny doesn't experience a miscast.

The thing is, I actually quite like the idea of Storm of Magic. I love the notion of ultra powerful wizards using the very elements and foundations of the world to battle against each other in epic, continent altering contests of will. Sorcerers who summon any creature from anywhere and bind it to their will, obliging it to do as its told. Creatures with whom unmentionable pacts must be made in order to glean some extra influence over unknowable elements and probabilities. All of that is pure fantasy and makes for a great game...of cards.

I refer to Magic the Gathering. It's a collectible card game that is, well, representative of wizards having a magical duel. The key difference between MtG and Warhammer for me is that MtG is about the wizard - the player's persona, if you will. Whereas Warhammer - well, certainly from 3rd edition onwards, is really about the army. Sure, most players will inject their persona into one of the characters, but the army as a whole has a part in telling the story.

Interestingly enough, from what I can gather, a lot of people are concerned about the extreme power of the spells available in Storm of Magic. They are right to be concerned, but in a gesture of objectivity and fairness, I can admit that sometimes Warhammer 3 had some of that crazy shit too. Take Wind of Death. It is a spell that simply causes 1 strength 3 hit on every living thing on the table with no armour saves. Casting cost? 25 Magic points. Not childs play, but accessible.

But, if you consider that Warhammer 3 was also meant to include a games master, at least there was some sort of mechanism to include a spell like that in an objective fashion and narrative. I think it would be a great way to start a game - before deployment, resolve the spell - then deploy the surviving elements of both armies, together with the now severely depleted necromancer, and start turn 1. See how easy that was to narrate?

Just another reason why I refer to Warhammer 3 as Warhammer for Adults. Because spinners are for children. 

Wednesday, 22 June 2011

Monday, 7 March 2011

I am not alone

So this is the post that actually got me started on this blog. For a while now, I've been watching various other gaming systems (Dungeons and Dragons most notably) start to experience 'old school' movements.

Whilst I hardly have enough evidence, the general feel I get from people that I chat to (and observe on the internet) is that Warhammer 8 has forced people to choose. Warhammer 6 & 7 were OK - they were playable, people could still enjoy those. They weren't different enough to make people think there was a need to change. They were...tolerable. But Warhammer 8 is either brilliant, or crap. You have to choose.

For me, Warhammer 8 is a piss-poor clone of Warhammer 3. I get the impression that the design team had a bit of a read through the book, spotted two or three things they could understand (Fire causes fear in animals? Hmm...that's true...I'll bring that across to Warhammer 8 and everyone will praise me for my original thinking and tactical depth I will be introducing...), ignored the rest, and vomited out Warhammer 8. Everything Coop says in his post is true - the background is bland and expendable; the sense of humour has gone.

I wonder how many High Elf power gamers would cringe knowing that the jewel of their 8th edition crown, those serious and brooding 50 Lothern Sea Guard-in-a-horde-formation, were originally a regiment of renown whose leader ate small toads and bathed in goat offal, and whose unit champion was a notorious rake disowned from his family because of that 'dwarf incident'?

Anyway, as Coop mentioned in his post, the cost of the new Orcs & Goblins book is £22.50. So, in my first act of open rebellion, I hit eBay to see what I could find - the intention being to find £22.50 worth of old classic OOP Orc & Goblin stuff, whose worth would prove to many more times that amount in the pleasure they brought to me.

Imagine my surprise when I came across, and won, Eeza Ugezods Mother Crushers, a Regiment of Renown from the 80s? Not only that, I then managed to discover on the same night, a later version of this regiment - the Mighty Ugezod's Death Commandos Box Set, missing only the hobgoblin berserker. All of that totaling...£23.00. That's 19 classic OOP metal Orc warriors, for the same price as the book. Also, it compares quite favourably to the new price for 10 plastic Orc Boys - £18.00!

Gaj: 1. Games Workshop: 0.

Sunday, 6 March 2011

I've had it...

Enough is enough.

I imagine that the way I feel now is the very much the same way a young man might feel when he goes home to his father, knowing that when he gets there, on that very night, he will 'come out of the closet'. He will explain to his father that is is men he loves, not women. He expects shouting, weeping and manly pats on the back. He doesn't know how it will happen yet, he just knows that he cannot bear it any longer - he must act.

Now I'm not telling anyone I'm gay, because I'm not. This site is not about closets, or the getting into or out of them. Perhaps that's what you're looking for, and that sort of thing is OK now - it's the 21st century and you can love who you want, but I can't help you with that. Good luck with that. This is not that sort of site. Ostensibly, I do love men, but they are little lead men, who always listen when I talk to them, and never feel the need to offer their own opinions. Actually, now that  think about it, I'm surprised my wife doesn't like them more - they sound bloody ideal!

But I digress. The young man must act, we say, so act he will!

Games Workshop...I just don't love you any more. It's not you...it's me. Actually, no. It is you. We've had some good times along the way, but...you've just changed so much. I still remember how we would laugh and play, rolling dice and looking up rules. We had something special...but it's gone now. You don't see the gamer in me any more...and it hurts. I'm not just a wallet, you know. I'm not one of the brainless teenagers you're always hanging out with these days. My needs have changed.

I guess what I'm saying is...well, I just think we should see other people.

There. I've acted.

But hang on a sec, you say. The page is called Warhammer For Adults - that's still pretty Games Workshop-ey, isn't it? Yes, it is. Whilst I don't want to have anything further to do with Games Workshop, I still have plans regarding Warhammer. Not the later editions, though. I'm talking about that poor, abused and abandoned 3rd edition no one likes to talk about anymore. I very much have plans for that.

This has led me to research. Having spent a weekend of both delightful and frustrating research trying to find out all of the best resources on 3rd edition on the internet. Delightful in that there are...some. Frustrating in that many sites that claim some sort of 3rd edition content have either disappeared, or are just whispers of a game played before the shrouds of memory...nothing concrete or useful.

So I've made a blog. My first intention here is to collect and discuss all the relevant information on this archaic games system so that people whose love for fantasy wargaming need not be embarrassed, shamed and abused by the latest Warhammer editions - those pretenders to the throne; those false, poor clones of the once proud system that I'm hoping will have led you to this page.

My second intention is to play it - and play it the way it was meant to be played. That means two things:
  1. Try to get my hands on some of those lovely old miniatures Citadel used to produce.
  2. Find people to play this ancient and wonderful system with.
Thirdly, I suppose, like many other blogs about wargaming, I guess this will be an opportunity for me to try and encourage myself to paint more, by providing myself with a soapbox upon which stuff must be presented - hopefully beautifully and lovingly painted rare Warhammer 3rd edition figures.

So, if you know anything about 3rd edition, or are indeed a player of this system, or are interested in it, or have lovely old miniatures that you put to shame in a box in the back of your basement, get in touch.