SPALDING WARGAMING CLUB
For as long as I can remember, I have been in love with miniatures: truly, madly and deeply. The first set I remember comprised 12 cowboys in 6 poses, all six guns and 10-gallon hats in a kind of brown resin. From the pictures, I must have been about 6 (for I was so obsessed, I must have demanded a picture) At 7, I put together my first kit with my father, a rather snazzy looking Panther tank in 1:48. This was also the first time I’d picked up a brush. I wish I could tell you it was beautiful, but I can't. I painted it a nickel colour with deep green and black patches with a generous daubing of claret around the hull in a crude representation of gore. I was a macabre child. It would take pride of place among my 8th Army plastic soldiers: as an adult I lament that I put a late war German tank next to mid war British soldiers, but what absolutely filled me with irritation when playing with toy soldiers with other children was the lack of rules or structure. The outcome of an engagement was down to your force of personality, manipulation, domineering attitude or petty threats; to my mind at the time tantamount to barbarism. So, when I discovered Warhammer 40k, it was heaven-sent. It was 2001, I had just turned 9. It had been a very difficult summer full of problems a child doesn't fully comprehend but feels keenly. It was at this point, at the start of a new academic year, that two of my friends came in excitedly chatting about a new game they had started playing over the summer. A game full of elves, orks, soldiers, space marines and, most importantly, machine guns. I listened enraptured, desperately trying to wrap my head around the concepts of dice, tape measures, rulebooks and models. I'd rushed home that day and when my mother arrived, asked if I could go over on the weekend. Parents were liaised with and a date was set. When I arrived, it was a spectacle never before seen. There was no playing on the floor (as I had expected); the dining table had been cleared and a green felt mat covered in hills, ruins and trees took the place of a table cloth. Two forces mirrored each other: one in the resplendent blue of the Ultramarines; the other in red, green, white and blue, the colours of the Eldar. I was utterly blown away. The entire day was spent with my best friend and his dad soaking the battlefield in the blood of grizzly conflict. That night we poured over the artwork and pictures of that rather hefty 3rd edition rulebook. That was that, I had to get an army. My birthday had just been, so no chance of an army until Christmas, 3 long months away. I mewled, whined and grizzled my way into a starter paint set with 5 space marines, a brush and a paperback catalogue from Mason’s Models. My mother was appalled at the price, which only galvanised my resolve. I carefully and painstakingly painted those 5 chaps in one morning, with more effort and enthusiasm than I had ever applied to anything before. Christmas finally came and I got the 3rd edition starter set. I would have assembled them in record time had I received any glue with my present. Instead, I buried myself in the rulebook, reading it cover to cover. To the delight of my mother, as I was a good, but idle, reader. My other present was a house key. It felt like a perfect Christmas. I was a latchkey kid now, and there was no finer hobby to be found. I'd build and paint models, construct scenery and read rulebooks and lore to my heart's content. Weekends were reserved for fighting epic conflicts, pulling off daring raids and sundering lesser forces with chitinous claw or beneath crushing hoof However, what came next was to revolutionise my hobby. The release of the magazine series Battle Games in Middle Earth in 2002. This is without doubt the finest wargaming publication that has been, and will ever be, made. It was a fortnightly release complete with miniatures every issue; all this for the princely sum of £3.99 (contrast this with White Dwarf retailing at £3.50 at the time). Each magazine was incrementally teaching you the rules in piece meal, gradually advancing your painting skill with guides, scenarios, battle reports, tactics, lore and scenery building. After a dozen issues you had a great collection of fully painted miniatures, a solid knowledge of the rules, the tactical know-how and a table full of scenery to play on I had been a fan of Tolkien before Peter Jackson's trilogy, I listened to the BBC radio productions of both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings regularly on tape (kingly gifts indeed for the time). My copy of The Hobbit was very dog eared and well worn (that's the edition, below), my LotR books less so and The Silmarillion practically unread. I was primed and ready to submerge myself in a miniatures game set in this world. Living in a rural area, this gave my hobby structure, provided me with achievable goals and the skills and motivation to complete them. Sadly, none of my gaming friends at that time were as taken with it, preferring the galactic conflict only the 41st millennium could provide So I squirreled away alone in my fantasy world until I hit secondary school and found a few others who had been doing exactly the same. This created a community that I'll never see again in my life. A group of players that had flawless knowledge of the rules, fully painted armies, loads of scenery, similar levels of skill and, perhaps most importantly, the time and motivation to play. I feel utterly spoilt to have had this experience of the hobby for a few years. It was a period of time for which I will be eternally grateful. A high that I will always chase, an unachievable dream for an adult to pursue. Thus began a fraught love affair with my hobby, the flame may have at times guttered through the years but it has always remained lit
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