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Showing posts from July, 2012

Man in Tights

Last Christmas (I think) Jen enhanced my festiveness by buying me this dude:

Ohmygod, pretty. He’s one of the Empire duellists. It’s an absolutely beautiful sculpt. I mean seriously.
Now technically, you can’t use this guy as an Empire captain, because captains can’t take a brace of pistols, but I loved the idea of a young, smug prettyboy as the obvious counterfoil to my general, Erhard von RĂ¼diger – a grizzled Templar Grand Master. Moreover, most Empire captains, like Captain Stefan Rainer, who I painted for my Nordlanders, are big, barrel-chested bastards. This guy would be a refreshing change.
So, what to do with the rules? Other members of the Beard Bunker probably would’ve been cool with me just paying more points for the extra pistol, but I thought, screw it, why not go one step further?

There was just one fly in the ointment. Apparently, Oskar wears tights:

Ok, it’s not that I’d feel self-conscious spending time lavishly painting a dude’s posterior, but seriously, why tights? No-one…

Nick da Boss Bus!

Mark, Maisey and I have been getting to grips with the 6th edition of Warhammer 40,000 lately by playing small games of 750-1000 points. I feel like I’ve still got a lot to learn. Generally speaking, though, I’m really enjoying the new rules (which I started to read after I stopped dribbling all over the paintings of Holy Terra and the Space Marine Monastery, which NEED to be released as posters).
The last such game was between Mark’s Deathskulls and my Evil Sunz, and was a variation on The Relic (Mission 6, p.131). Rather than having a small relic that could be picked up, we took the mission as inspiration for a scenario in which my warboss (Grimtoof Boomshanka) had left his beloved Boss Bus in the mek’s garage so it could be, er, rebuilt after that git Tycho punched the snot out of it (thanks for that post-Nerd Thunder 3 revenge pasting, Jeff). What with Mark’s mek Tekkwotts being a filthy, swindling Deathskull, he turned up with a bunch of his mates to nick it whilst Grimtoof was …

In the Garage of the Mountain Mek

Many years ago, as a spotty teenage gamer, I felt blessed to be able to play games on my parents’ ping pong table in the garage. Ping pong was fun, but what was even more fun was fighting my friend Ali’s Orks for dominance over a battlefield of empty food tins, stacks of CDs, and rubbish bunkers made out of the polystyrene packing in which Citadel Miniatures used to come. I didn’t even paint the polystyrene; I just stuck cocktail sticks into it because I thought that sharp wooden sticks would look EXACTLY like the exposed bars in broken reinforced concrete. Particularly when they weren’t painted. Man, I could’ve entered that bunker into Golden Damon, which is like Golden Daemon, but for people who can’t be bothered to paint.*
I used to look in the pages of White Dwarf and practically dribble over the GW studio's scenery. The very concept of having a decent board, never mind stuff to go on it, was very much a pipe dream. I could’ve done something about it, of course, and actually ap…

Between a Rok and an 'Ard Place

In the wake of the positive reactions to my first battle report, and as promised in my last post, I have here the tale of Nerd Thunder III. To the wild and reckless joy of my inner nerd,* photos of this game have already been featured on Games Workshop’s official blog, for which I must thank Mr Dan Harden, who dropped by our table armed only with a camera and an excellent sense of humour. 

A quick recap: our 8.5k-a-side game was set in the opening weeks of the Third War for Armageddon, on the outskirts of Helsreach Hive. The pugilists? Maisey and Jeff as the Imperial forces, with Mark and myself as little green space fungi.

To find out just how messy it got, hit the jump.