SPALDING WARGAMING CLUB
Nobody here is a fascist right? I thought not. Fascism is something other people get up to. But maybe we should check ourselves. We might be fascists after all. Perhaps we play fascist games. These thoughts are because of a news item about the popular (or, as subeditors would have it, 'controversial') board game Secret Hitler. The game (which Kickstarted in 2015) has been released to mainstream retail in Australia and New Zealand where it's attracted criticism. There have been 10 complaints to the Anti-Defamation Commission (ADC) in Australia after it was stocked in ordinary toy stores. Children and grandchildren of Holocaust survivors have spoken out against this crass and tasteless product. People have been triggered. The ADC has called for stores to boycott the game. Dvir Abramovich, chairman of the ADC, has this to say: This is beyond normal. What's next, a board game set in the gas chambers and ovens of Auschwitz? Ah, my old friend, the famous slippery slope argument. But let's investigate this game on its merits. Secret Hitler is produced by Goat, Wolf, & Cabbage LLC, the people who brought us Cards Against Humanity. These guys have form for skirting the edge of good taste and occasionally plunging over in a glorious splash-dive. Secret Hitler is a hidden role/social deduction card game in the same vein as The Resistance or the various Werewolf iterations. Each play takes the role of a politician in Weimar Republic Germany in the 1920/30s: most players are liberals but one or two will (unknown to the others) draw the role of fascists. The fascists know who each other are, but the liberals don't know who anyone really is. One fascist player is secretly Hitler. Each turn, the office of President moves round the group and everyone votes on legislation drawn from a deck, which is either liberal or fascist. The liberals win if 5 liberal laws get passed; the fascists win if 6 fascist laws get passed or if Hitler ever becomes president after 3 Fascist laws have been passed. But why would anyone vote for fascist laws? Well, passing fascist legislation lets you peep at other players' roles or even assassinate other players, so the liberals have an incentive to do what fascists want for their own game (for example, to identify fascists or even kill Hitler). As with most social deduction games, the drama comes from the fact that everyone is motivated to act against type. The liberals will urge fascist legislation to gain some unconstitutional benefits, whereas the fascists (including Hitler) will lie low, masquerading as liberals and reluctantly allow themselves to be persuaded of the need to vote for tough measures until they are strong enough to reveal themselves and seize power. It's a pretty neat exploration of the frailty of democracy in the face of determined insurgency. Let's be clear, the game does not flaunt Nazi iconography. There are no images of Hitler or swastikas anywhere on the box, in the rules or on the cards. The word 'Nazi' is not used. As you can see, the fascists are snakes and lizards, Hitler is some sort of dragon and the legislation is generic. Jews and the Holocaust are nowhere referenced. The game is abstract and the only concrete links to the German context are the name 'Hitler' and the convention of saying 'Nein' or 'Ja' when voting. The main designer, Max Temkin, sees the game as a tool for raising consciousness about the dangers of fascism. In a candid interview with the US news site Washington Jewish Week, Temkin (himself Jewish) explains how the idea for the game was prompted by his apprehension about the rise to power of President Trump. We came up with the idea for Secret Hitler as we were watching the Republican primaries last year. We were playing a lot of hidden identity games ... and thinking about how the mechanics of those games mirrored how authoritarians take power in a democracy through deceit and manipulation Temkin has followed through on his concerns. In 2017, he sent a copy of Secret Hitler to every US Senator - a copy each to all 100 of them. The point, Temkin explains, is that Hitler "required the cooperation of well meaning men who hoped to appease and control the Nazis" - and that Trump won the White House for similar reasons. He followed this up by releasing the 'Trump Pack' that allows you to play the game with Donald Trump and his Administration rather than the nameless fascists - and all profits go to the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU). Temkin and the guys at Goat, Wolf, & Cabbage clearly have impeccable liberal credentials. They even ran a campaign to buy some land on the Mexican border to help stymie Trump's wall. So if Secret Hitler is an educational game with pure liberal intentions, what are the Anti Defamation Commission up to? The ADC is an anti-hate charity, focusing largely (some would say, entirely) on antisemitism and drawing attention to the rise of Far Right and Neo-Nazi sentiments. Worthy stuff. Their mission statement includes
The ADC and games designers like Max Temkin should be a united front against fascism, since Secret Hitler is exactly the sort of product that 'educates the public about the dangers of anti-Semitism and racism in all its forms' and if the ADC was really 'employing the instruments of research and fact finding' then they'd discover this themselves after 5 minutes of online browsing. Instead, we get this: There is nothing funny, entertaining, laughable or enjoyable about Hitler This of course true, in a narrow and reductive sense. There's nothing funny, entertaining, laughable or enjoyable about murders in big Edwardian mansions either, but Cluedo still escapes the censorious eye. Max Temkin offers this advice to morally vexed customers on the Secret Hitler website FAQ: Temkin's cheery dismissal is surely the correct response - because it was the response of the generation that actually fought Nazism, who regarded Hitler as a preposterous figure of fun. Wartime propaganda poster, Chaplin's The Great Dictator (1940) and Bugs Bunny in Herr Meets Hare (1945) Somehow, Hitler has turned into a numinous figure of evil, too terrible to be spoken of except in hushed tones and certainly not a fit subject for games or entertainment. How different my own childhood was. Nazi Action Men!!! The classic 'Escape From Colditz' board game HAD A SWASTIKA ON IT. Notice how the modern re-issue has removed that. Escape From Colditz is a good case in point, since nothing funny, entertaining, laughable or enjoyable about being stuck in a Nazi POW camp - but that game was designed by Pat Reid who had himself been such a prisoner (and successfully escaped) and the game was first published well within the lifetime of men who experienced such imprisonment. But perhaps the past was wrong and the new sensitivity is right. The ADC justifies its stance by appealing to the hurt feelings of shoppers confronted by Secret Hitler while browsing for Buckaroo One can only imagine the pain and moral offense a Holocaust survivor would feel walking into a shop and seeing this game displayed for sale This isn't a trivial concern: 27,000 Jews emigrated to Australia after the War and many still live there. Perhaps former-POWs walked into 1970s toy shops and wept when they discovered Escape from Colditz on the shelves, trivializing their ordeals, but that's no reason why we, in 2019, should put Holocaust survivors through a shock like that. Yet that's exactly what we appear to be doing. The daughter of a Holocaust survivor stumbled across Secret Hitler in a toy store in Bright, Victoria, and complained in these terms: I started shaking, I literally saw the Holocaust flash in front of me. I felt as if there were Nazis about to storm into the store. I could barely look at the shopkeeper. I felt anti-Semitism alive. I couldn't wait to get out of there It's easy to snigger at this. The Holocaust isn't the sort of thing that can 'flash in front of you' and the idea of Nazis storming a toy store in Bright (a tiny tourist village beside the Mount Buffalo National Park) is absolutely the product of an over-active imagination. But perhaps the sheer loveliness of Bright, Victoria made finding Secret Hitler for sale there even more shocking It's tempting to accuse someone like this ('only the daughter of a Holocaust survivor,' we are quick to point out, 'not a survivor herself!') of trying to appropriate the victim-status of her parents, who bore their sufferings with greater dignity. But hold on. Just because the expression is absurd, even histrionic, it doesn't mean the sentiments aren't serious. The exact words might not be the woman's own anyway, but put into her mouth by local journalists eager to 'sex up' a silly story ("Madame, would you say you saw the Holocaust flash in front of you? Can we write that? How about feeling Nazis were about to storm the store? Just sign here!"). A bit of empathy is needed. If you're the daughter of a Holocaust survivor, you're probably a woman in her 60s or 70s, shopping for a gift for grandchildren. Your idea of a board game is Monopoly, Mousetrap or Sorry! You stumble across Secret Hitler instead. You read on the box that "one player is Secret Hitler". What do you make of this? You were raised on stories of your parents' sufferings in the camps. Your community shares these stories reverentially. Your whole life has been informed by the fear that, since it happened once, it can happen again. Only the consensus about Hitler's unique monstrosity reassures you. Now that seems to be slipping. Being 'Hitler' has turned into something you do for a party game. Your family tragedy has become a joke and, what's worse, a bulwark against history repeating itself has been slyly removed under the pretext of entertaining children. You don't know what a 'social deduction game' is. You don't really appreciate that Secret Hitler is a game for adults. You entirely miss the point that it shares your alarm about creeping fascism and cleverly challenges it. All of which is to say that septuagenarian Jewish ladies browsing in rural toy shops don't have the resources of the ADC to investigate things like this. They just get alarmed and fly off the handle. But this makes the ADC's response even more deplorable. The ADC does have the resources to look into this sort of thing (i.e. a PC, an Internet connection, an employee with ten minutes to spare) and, as noted, a mission statement to promote "the instruments of research, fact finding, education." Put it another way. On gaming forums, this news article has been greeted with great derision. As I said, it's easy to sneer at this old lady's outrage and the hapless way it is expressed. Really, though, it's not for those of us who weren't intimately connected to the Holocaust to school the Jewish community. It's for the ADC to do that, to sift rumour and hysteria from stuff that's truly dangerous or offensive. The ADC commands a position of moral responsibility and if it came down from the mountain to say, "No, actually criticisms of this game are misplaced and we support its agenda," then everyone would go home wiser and less distressed. But that's not what happens. The ADC's failure to engage with this topic is a setback for serious, politically-engaged gaming, but it has serious ramifications. It's right to fear the resurgence of fascism, but there are right and wrong ways of acting on that fear. One is to view Hitler and the Nazis as an expression of inscrutable cosmic evil - as Satan, if you like, who punishes us for sin. If you adopt this view, then the precautions we take against resurgent Nazism must be things like:
The other view is that the Nazis were ordinary human beings, produced by ordinary social, cultural and political circumstances. If you take this view, then inoculating society against Nazism involves education, since we must understand these circumstances so that we can detect and defuse them in future, and a healthy scepticism towards the powerful appeal fascism makes to our anxieties about power and identity. Humour is vital but so too is placing yourself in the position of fascists themselves, the better to understand them. The Roman writer Terence (c195-c159 BCE) expresses it like this: Words to live by and a succinct refutation of fascist thinking If we apply the Terence-test, then Secret Hitler qualifies as an anti-fascist product, but the ADC, for all its right-on mission statements, on this occasion functions with a fascist mindset:
Which isn't to say there can't be morally odious games. I'm not backing a 911-themed version of Jenga any time soon. A case could be made the Monopoly embodies laissez-faire capitalism or that Cards Against Humanity encourages cruelty, coarseness and contempt in its players. I could get behind both those criticisms. But Secret Hitler is on the side of the angels, despite its provocative concept. Perhaps there are genuinely fascist games. Diplomacy seems to advocate military expansionism through treachery and deceit. Spartacus endorses slave-trading and gladiatorial combat. Britannia exalts our island story as a rise to greatness through war and ethnic cleansing. I've discussed the dubious politics of Conan in a previous blog. And yet I can't take these critiques too seriously. There seems to me to be something about game-playing that is inherently anti-fascistic (although we can take issue with particular pieces of art, titles or topics).
At the end of the day, the Nazis were too anxious about their ideology to be happy with people playing games based on it. Maybe they realised that a game about deporting Jews allowed for the losing players not to deport Jews and for some players to play to lose. Games give players agency and foster choice and the contemplation of alternatives: not qualities fascists like to promote. In any event, the Nazis preferred to get kids out of the house, doing sporty-things in the countryside. Perhaps the ADC have similar qualms. After all, in Secret Hitler it's possible for the Fascists to play better than the Liberals and then Hitler wins. In a morally-ordered universe, that's not supposed to happen, but although games express values, they don't impose outcomes, which is what the ADC wants to see happen. But let's put all this in perspective. With antisemitic attacks on the rise, the ADC is understandably fretful. It's a mistake to jump at shadows, but (I think) a pardonable one. It's just a shame to see opportunities for education and discourse missed. Banning board games doesn't present a set-back for fascists. In any event, should Antipodean retailers follow the ADC's misguided appeal to refuse to stock Secret Hitler and "show moral responsibility when it comes to this issue and put aside the issue of profit," designer Max Temkin (truly guided by moral responsibility rather than profit) has made his game available as a free print-and-play download from the Secret Hitler website. Enjoy This just in: Am I too complacent in dismissing fascist games and the absurdity of 911-Jenga? A couple of Russian designers have put out a board game based on the Salisbury Novichok poisonings. Clearly, there's more to say about this issue in a future blog.
Soldiers trudging into position in great formations, with banners billowing in the breeze. Cavalry wheeling round the flanks, harrying the enemy. Archers letting loose a hail of death. The horn is sounded and the charge begins; the crush of combat rages as walls of shields and spears collide. Like many wargamers, the imagery above sends waves of excitement through me. And it's a feeling Warhammer Ancient Battles, a game of waging war with historical armies, stirs. TV shows and films depicting battle as it was in the 'old days', in pre-industrialised times, have held a grisly fascination for me since I was a small boy. As I made the first steps into Games Workshop's universe, I was always drawn to the fantasy armies; preferring swords and shields to the mechanical madness of the 41st millennium. This was as much inspired by the rich imaginings of Tolkien than the prospect of pre-industrial carnage on the tabletop. But even in those early days of exploring the hobby, there was always a lingering idea that, instead of orcs, elves and dwarves, what if it was 'real-world' warriors? Where every model on the tabletop represented someone that could have been an actual person, from the historically well-documented leaders down to the lowly footsoldiers? There is a certain frisson that fighting a battle with models that represent real people has. Yes, we all love a brutal orc or a power-armour-clad Space Marine, but it's the relatability of humans on the tabletop, people just like you and me, that draws me into historical-based games. Unlike a genetically-altered space warrior of the far future and the haughty elf whose psychologies are alien to ours, with armies of humans you can easily imagine what the little guys on the tabletop are thinking (or would be thinking if they were real people, of course). Maybe the leaders are focusing on the intrigues and plots that lead to the confrontation on the field and what it would mean if they were to lose. Whereas the lowly footsoldiers are missing their homelands and the loved ones they might never see again, quaking in their boots. I love imagining what might be going on inside their little plastic or metal heads; it fascinates me. There is also the thrill of changing history. In late 2018, Spalding Wargames Club re-fought the Battle of Hastings using Warhammer Ancient Battles. In that game, Duke William was not so much a conqueror but conquered. The moment the Norman warlord fell, the whoops of delight from the Saxon players and the laments from the defeated Norman side echoed through the hall. What made the moment even more amusing was that William was slain not by King Harold or even an elite huscarl warrior, but by humble ceorls: low-born farmers with only a vague idea of how to use a spear. However, you don't have to be completely historically accurate with Warhammer Ancient Battles. Want to know how late Imperial Romans would fare against the English forces that fought at Agincourt? Could a Biblical Egyptian force take on the horse warriors of the Huns and win? Get the armies together and duke it out to find out. It doesn't have to be a historical re-fight every time. Just have fun. Samurai vs Conquistadors! Wait, this actually happened: in 1582 in the Philippines.
The game's 1st print in 1998 was based heavily on Warhammer Fantasy 5th edition, just with the magic removed, but the 2nd edition (from 2010) has moved further away. The 2nd edition (right) is hardback, better laid out but slightly scales back the influence of 'special' individuals It is a game largely based on manoeuvring large formations of troops. Each represents a band of warriors in your army; whether an unruly rabble of Celtic clansmen or the disciplined ranks of Roman legionaries The way units move, wheeling and shifting frontage, gives an impression of the unwieldy nature of moving around big formations of closely formed warriors. It gives a taste of the real life challenge of positioning soldiers on a battlefield for tactical advantage. Moving troops is a crucial part of the game; it can win and lose battles 28mm is the assumed scale of miniature to be used, but slight alterations can be made to the rules to allow different size miniatures. It is deliberately ambiguous on whether one model equates to a single warrior on the battlefield. This facilitates lower model counts to be used to re-fight historical battles that involved numbers a mere mortal could not possibly collect in a lifetime (never mind have the room to play with on a regular table). But individual figures matter: standard bearers, musicians and officers have specific advantages that make them quirky and add to atmosphere. A single infantryman or cavalry model represents maybe three or four individuals on the field. The way units move on the tabletop certainly gives an impression of a more epic, larger scale. But no matter how you imagine it, there is no effect on the way the game plays. Despite units feeling big and weighty when they are moved on the tabletop, there is still a lot of sway and back-and-forth actions that happen in the game. Units are not locked in combat, grinding away at each other until one side is eventually wiped out. A group of warriors can suffer a thrashing, taking numerous casualties, and lose its nerve on a failed morale check and be forced to flee from the fight. Their enemies can then pursue, having a chance to hack the running cowards down. If the fleeing troops manage to outrun their pursuers, they can form up again, ready to step back into the fight There are situations where a unit can be utterly crushed in combat, yet miraculously pass its morale test and stand firm in the face of astounding odds. It's moments like these that really stand out in the game. So a cavalry unit could make a sweeping charge and wipe out a group of troops to then thunder on and clash with the heart of an army's formation. Or it could collide with a wall of shields and spears that proves unmovable and find themselves being repelled. Astute tactics and taking the right risks pays off here. But sometimes you are just subject to the luck the dice gods gift you (just as in many wargames). It keeps the game exciting, as not even the most experienced tabletop general can be entirely sure of the outcome of any assault Although choosing the right units to take on all opponents is a part of the game, it's more about having the right balance of troop type. There are no intrinsically over-powered 'races' – everyone's a human, no matter who you are fighting (apart from perhaps horses and war elephants of course) There are no massively powerful individual models either, there are no 'bring this model if you want to win the game' options. No one in history had the strength to tear through iron armour like butter! Even the strongest and greatest warriors were merely flesh and blood, with the real world limitations that go with that. The focus really is on tactics on the tabletop, rather than choices made before the battle even begins. Sourcebooks help you recreate particular armies or historic conflicts Unlike its sister game, Warhammer Fantasy Battles, Warhammer Ancient Battles pays greater attention to weapons and their effects on the field. There are no game changing magic weapons. Warhammer Ancient Battles also runs a bit quicker than the fantasy equivalent as it forgoes that game's Magic phase, for obvious reasons. This means the turnover from one player to another is so much quicker.
Are board games boring? When someone gets the Monopoly, Cluedo or Trivial Pursuit out, do you die a little bit inside? Oooh, a VINTAGE Monopoly set depicted on Vine's Facebook page. It's 'Britain's favourite boardgame' according to a pre-show survey... Channel 5 then conceded that board games might have some merit, y'know, for the kids? isn't anything that gets kids away from playing Fortnite or Minecraft and spending more time with family and friends actually a good thing all round? If you're not too Vine-averse you can watch the show yourself: Jeremy Vine and guests chat about board games at 45:00 (skip the stuff on Brexit and Dry January!) until 56:00 Didn't fancy it? OK, I'll tell you what went down... Jeremy Vine introduces the topic by describing those dreadful social predicaments where your host hauls out Monopoly or Cluedo and you "die a bit inside". I can't really believe this goes on at the sort of dinner parties Jezzer attends in his gentrified W6 postcode. I suspect Jez is just reading off the autocue (the same line is on the Facebook page), so I'm guessing some hapless Channel 5 script-monkey 's desperate social milieu is being referenced here. Straight over to Vine's elegant but strangely-monickered co-host, Storm Huntley, perched on a high chair, who is quick to point out that she loves Monopoly. And Snakes & Ladders. Snakes & Ladders, Storm? Really? You're 31 years old with a degree in Politics & Economics from Glasgow University but you've got a passion for Snakes & Ladders? It's not unusual to see clever, successful women putting on this "I'm just a widdle girl" routine, so maybe she's just treading carefully round Jeremy's ego with self-denigrating silliness like this - but there's more to come, so hold that thought. Jezzer is back behind his desk. He's got a stack of games and my heart lifts: there's Vlaada Chvátil's excellent Codenames - the prince of intelligent party games - and Ticket To Ride, which I don't rate personally but it's got chops, and Sushi Go which is delightful little card drafting game, like 7 Wonders but for people with only 20 minutes left to live. Someone's been doing their research! Is there a Secret Gaming Nerd in the studio? The Secret Gaming Nerd is revealed. He's a spotty ginger youth sitting in the audience. He's 22 and he 'works on the show' (intern? mailboy? Scooter from The Muppets?) and, despite his fashion disaster jumper, he's confident and articulate and he might just save this whole segment for shame and ignominy. Jez and his three guests are going to play a game and Scooter is going to talk them through the rules. Everyone looks thoroughly uncomfortable. The game is Say Anything, which is one of those party games you bring along instead of Cards Against Humanity if the host is your boss or a born-again Christian. Jeremy Vine is the games master and offers his guests a coy question: "What's the worst question to ask on a first date?" Guests James Haskell (man-mountain, rugby player), Dawn Neesom (peroxide bob, middle-aged journo) and Dr Bull (no idea) have to jot down a witty answer. They were tipped to the question earlier, because they all seem to have answers ready-made. James Hagrid asks about shaving his body hair after the couple marry, Dawn alludes to a worrying rash, Dr Bull comes right out with it and inquires about chlamydia. It isn't redefining comedy, but this is 10 o'clock in the morning on terrestrial TV, what do you want? Things start to come unstuck the moment that actual 'game' element surfaces. You see, Jezzer has to decide on a winning response and the players have to guess whom he's going to choose: they have little coloured tokens to do this. Scooter tries to explain but he's hampered by three things:
No one can understand what to do. Here's a group of people who've made it onto a flagship daytime TV chat show because of their wit, charm and general social aplomb, but Scooter might as well be instructing them on how to deliver a baby. Let's be clear, Hagrid might look like beef brisket on legs, but he's written cookbooks and fitness guides. He can handle complicated ideas, like slow braising in a barbecue sauce. Dawn Neesom was editor of the Daily Star (which presumably doesn't edit itself) and Dr B is a doctor and probably can deliver actual babies. (To be fair to the good doctor, he's the only one asking pertinent questions and trying to clarify Scooter's garbled instructions). I'm left wondering whether this faux-idiocy is a sort of pantomime of contempt, whereby the guests (and Storm Huntley) think that board games are so stupid the only legitimate response is to act as if you yourself are even more stupid, or is it a genuine confusion arising from people being placed outside their comfort zone? Or an odd aspect of British culture where we all try to project an image of ourselves as dull but salt-of-the-earth proles whenever anything inter-ter-leck-tual is put our way. Jeremy abandons the game and goes to talk to Scooter, who is so charming and sensible you rather wish he was presenting. Scooter shows off his stack of games, admits that this is where most of his paycheck goes (I hear you, brother!) and mentions a board game cafe he frequents and how these places are popping up everywhere. He presents Jezzer with Magic Maze, a sweet co-op game where fantasy heroes raid a magical shopping mall but the players can't talk while making their moves. Scooter's a nice guy. I'm going to stop calling him Scooter. His real name is Ash. Jezzer furrows his brow. He's a man on the horns of a dilemma. Should he pursue this line of questioning, ask about board game cafes, explore this post-modern notion of 'cooperative games' ... But that would involve dropping his 'I'm-just-a-simple-working-bloke' persona. What to do, what to do... Simple-working-bloke persona wins out! "No one wants to learn all these rules!" Vine declares, waving the rather flimsy rule book for Magic Maze at the camera. "I mean, look at this!" he gasps, showing off p4 with its clear diagrams and photographs of components. "Once the instructions are more than 4 pages, I'm 'gone'" he confides. The rules for Magic Maze take up 5 pages. Jeremy Vine has a degree in English Literature from the University of Durham. Think about that. Over to Storm. She has viewers phoning in. I hope, for one mad moment, that Basement Guy is watching this and is phoning to set the record straight, sing the praises of Dominion or Five Tribes or Shadows Over Camelot, tell everyone there's been a renaissance in gaming brought on by crowdfunding, 3D printers and cheap Chinese manufacturing and leave Jezzer and his chucklehead guests hanging their heads like bloody penitents. But it's daytime TV isn't it? So here's Christine from Staffordshire who loves playing Snap! with her 5-year-old daughter. Even Jeremy Vine seems to think this is a bit of a slap in the face. So Jez makes a striking confession. He took a game home last week and played it with his family. The game was Mysterium. Mysterium is the real deal. It's a reworking of a Ukrainian game called Tajemnicze Domostwo, in which the players are psychics trying to solve the mystery of an ancient murder and another is the Ghost who can only communicate by handing out cryptic vision cards. Have you payed Dixit? It's like that, but cooperative and set in a haunted house. I'm really excited to think Jeremy Vine sat his family down (wife Rachel, pre-teen daughters Martha and Anna) and played Mysterium. Why isn't that a Channel 5 TV show in its own right??? I really wanted to hear Vine say something about this. Maybe about the fun of getting the family working together to solve a puzzle. Or the challenge of providing clues based on how you know someone's imagination works. Or just the lovely art. Vine complains that it took them 45 minutes to work out the rules and it nearly led to his wife divorcing him (as if anything could separate those two love-birds, ho-ho!). But then he seems to sense he's being churlish and muses about the odd concept of a 'cooperative game': "I have to get my head around that slightly," he concludes, sounding lost and tragic, like a man out of time. But that's the nearest we get to analysis, because here's Storm again to introduce Sue from Lancashire. Sue is 70 and plays games with her son and grandson and loves it. She agrees that board games are boring, but only the old-fashioned sort, like Cluedo. Jeremy, still stupefied by the idea of cooperative games, clutches this like a drowning man. "No one understands Cluedo!" he exclaims with feeling. A degree from University of Durham, remember? In English Literature! I'm just saying... Another caller sings the praises of Monopoly, but only the Friends version, which her daughter adores. Jeremy moves to salvage things. Can Ash recommend something for any viewers motivated by this shambles to experiment with board games? The camera pans back to Ash who, quick as as flash, says "Carcassonne" and sticks two thumbs up in a desperate parody of Paul McCartney. The thing is, Ash isn't wrong about Carcassonne, which is a fantastic entry-level game: it can be played idly, to build a pretty map, but players with more shark-like instincts will identify placing farmers as the winning strategy and they'll ride roughshod over everyone else then grow a taste for more exciting fare. But the other thing is, what the hell is going on here? I get that this is daytime TV and there's a picture of Jeremy Vine in the encyclopaedia if you look up "banal nonsense" but this seems exceptionally confused. Clearly no one, not Lord Jezzer or the fragrant Storm or any of his guests, was prepared to acknowledge for a moment that a grown up might want to waste an evening with a board game. There were a vague concessions that it's nice for the children, family time, get them away from their damned iPads, etc etc. But adults? So here's Ash with his horrid jumper and a lot of proper board games, trying to evangelize, and Jez took Mysterium home to play with his family - even though he can't understand Cluedo. Twenty minutes previously, he'd been discussing Article 50, but he didn't reveal back then that he couldn't read anything with more than four pages in it, did he? So why the sudden pretense of being incredibly dim? Perhaps it's a sort of inverse snobbery. Jeremy is fundamentally an effete talk show metrosexual, but the one place he can burnish his macho credentials in the the presence of a dork like Ash - which is why he suddenly starts posing as a testosteronal illiterate who's just too damn manly to sit down at a table and learn how to play Cluedo. Maybe, but that doesn't explain his female co-host and guest, who seem to be reading from the same neanderthal script. Maybe it's our culture? Is some strange fracture in the British psyche on show here? Is it because, on a subconscious level, we despise childhood? Here's a thought: we bury our childhoods pretty deep here in the UK and we roll a big rock on top of the grave. That's how we grow up: by turning our backs on our younger selves. For most boys, only football is allowed to function as a conduit between childhood and adulthood. If you're lucky and your parents made you learn an instrument, then music can bridge that divide. But few people have hobbies that they can trace right back to childhood. For most people, the golden thread is broken. Lost in the maze of career and family and mortgages, they settle down in front of the TV or the work email server. Childhood is reduced to a meme that you share online about stuff "only '90s kids will remember". But childhood is the well of life, isn't it? You have to keep going back to it to drink and be renewed. Yes, but the well is fenced around by vast multinationals who sell us the life-giving water in plastic bottles, branded with superheroes, Star Wars and Harry Potter. As adults, we're reassured because this bottled water is expensive and dignified by state-of-the-art technology and celebrity endorsement, so that we don't feel too ashamed while we consume it, usually in a very passive way. Is this why intelligent grown-ups in this country can't engage with the institutions of childhood, with play and singing and dancing and telling stories, without getting drunk first or regressing entirely (like Storm and her Snakes & Ladders)? Faced with childhood activities, they profess themselves baffled, as if forced to speak an unknown language or pick up and play a strange musical instrument. But you know how to do this, I want to tell them: You used to find it easy and fun, but you've made yourself forget. A colleague from Austria recognises this peculiar pathology in the British. Childhood isn't shameful or despicable in Northern Europe. They love games there, and the folk literature we call 'fairy tales' and the immemorial music we call 'nursery rhymes'. "It's because, in Britain, you don't really have childhood," she tells me: "You end it too soon. At age 4 or 5, they start school, doing tests, learning Maths and Science and writing. In Austria, we don't start till later. Children carry on playing. We let them be children." I'm left wondering by this. Is there something wrong with us? The sight of Vine and his guests cheerfully representing themselves as idiots rather than tapping into their childhood delight in play is deeply dispiriting. I don't think I could watch daytime TV every day.
Members of Spalding Wargames Club reflect on 2019 and their resolutions for gaming: New Year, New Gaming You - Chris Peat
But this year, once you've got past the flurry of torn wrapping paper and exploded with glee at the latest expansion set for your favourite system, maybe you should look back at 2018 and take stock of your gaming life. It's time to make some New Year's gaming resolutions. Conquer the miniature mountain So, you've got those fabulous new figures and you can't wait to get them painted and added to your army. But will you? Or will they just be dumped on to that ever growing miniatures mountain we are all guilty of owning; that stack of plastic, lead and resin we promise to get round to painting one of these days. Maybe it's time to actually crack out the paints and, at last, get scaling that mountain. Perhaps take it steady, don't rush in and aim to paint the whole lot in a weekend. You just won't. Allocate a unit to paint and stick with it until it's finished. You might not reach the summit, but even if you make it just past 'miniatures mountain base camp' and finish just a single unit or character model, that may well give you immense fulfilment and pride; maybe even a renewed love for the hobby. You might also find yourself hankering for a game to use your freshly painted minis in. And therein lies another potential New Years' gaming resolution: get more games in. That's one we can all make. Get gaming Sometimes real life can get in the way of our gaming lives and more pressing commitments mean we cannot play as much as we would like. That's unavoidable. But let's be honest, sometimes we're just a little too lazy to get a game organised. We all love the thrill of tabletop action, but the lure of video gaming may be a quick fix for our hunger for excitement. Or even the sedateness of binge watching a box set can be too much of a temptation for some. It's all too easy to fall into that trap. But what is it that makes wargames, and tabletop games in general, so much more rewarding? Books could be written about this, but in short, one factor is the human element. The fact you are playing with a living, breathing gamer. Being able to shake their hand, watch their puzzled brow as they decide their next move or slap their back as they make a joke. It's so much more social and that can only be good for you. So, maybe make a resolution to get out there and get gaming. If you're not a member of Spalding Wargames Club, get yourself down. Even if you don't have a game organised, come on down and have a chat with some of the members. You will soon be embroiled in a game the following week, or even that night. And you know you will love it. But maybe you're a Club stalwart and are more weeks than not down there playing. In that case, maybe your New Years' resolution should be to become one of those friendly souls who gets games sorted for people. As the clock strikes midnight on 1 January, make a vow to get the community spirit going and help out fellow gamers. Aid others in arranging games, demo your favourite system and maybe even put on big multi-player battles. Get others involved and give something back to the local gaming community. You might also want to be a better gamer. Perhaps make 2019 the year you finally get your head around those complex rules you previously just winged. Learn your army inside out. What is it good at? What are its weak points? Perhaps you could look at it from a practical stand point too. Vow to be an organised gamer in 2019. Maybe store those tokens you keep losing or misplacing in little bags. Make sure you have something to put your objective cards in too. Invest in some decent storage devices for miniatures and accessories. These precious models and gaming products are not cheap, so keep them safe. New Year, new game Maybe the New Year is a good time to try out a new game. Like the look of that new rulebook that's ready for pre-orders? Fancy dabbling in wargaming feudal Japan, Dark Ages England or a whole host of other historical settings? Maybe you just have the desire to make the jump to fantasy gaming from sci-fi, or vice versa. You never know, it might turn into your new favourite. Whatever system it is you choose, you have to be dedicated to it. Read the rulebook, try a few practice games on your own, collect and paint an army. You might have to collect a couple of armies if no one else plays it in order to entice someone to join you in a game. Don't get the rulebook and let it gather dust on the bookshelf. We know there are some of you reading this that are guilty of doing just that (you know who you are). The New Year might even mean a new army. Again, make a vow of dedication if this is your chosen path for the next 12 months. But let's not forget, are you sure you want to be adding to that miniatures mountain? Whatever your New Year's gaming resolution is, let's hope it goes well and lasts out the ensuing year. Happy gaming in 2019. Get yourself painted - Martin Jackson
The slog began. Thanks to the utterly brilliant week away we had all pushed our painting schedules to breaking point. For the rest of the year only new models and a small collection of fantasy miniatures remained on the 'to-do list'. The painting fatigue was strong after such an ambitious undertaking, but, as the festive season drew near, I was confident I could achieve 100% painting completion before the lure of new miniatures became unbearable. Of course Christmas came and, to my surprise, my Dark Angel army grew exponentially. Fully painted was a little further away but still achievable. Then came March. More specifically March 5th. Birthday gifts arrived and among them was a large number of Bolt Action Soviet Troops. In the world of any wargamer, new always correlates to interesting in terms of miniatures, so of course I started adding to the collection. As the Spalding Wargames Club really hit its stride I was drawn into more and more exciting new gaming systems. Board games, war games, skirmish games, fantasy, sci-fi, alternate history, legendary movie settings..... Christmas 2018 is fast approaching. I was so close. Barely a couple of hours from completion. Maybe this year will be the year I stick to the resolution. Curating my Collection - Jonathan Rowe A games collection is like any hobby collection, like collecting records or books or cactuses. Your collection grows to a satisfying size, then bulges, then sprawls. My games collection climbs a wall in my living room, lurks under tables and in cupboards and stacks up the corner of my spare bedroom. And still the parcels arrive from Amazon, from eBay, from The Works, from various Kickstarter projects... Something must be done. Before my partner Christine snaps and makes a vast bonfire out of the lot. There's no question of selling on games or (shudder) giving them away. We're not reduced to that yet. We haven't lost a war or anything. No, new shelves are required, upstairs, in my little study. Strong shelves and deep ones, right up to the ceiling. Plans have been drawn: a carpenter appointed: Christine is calmed. But where do we go from here? Do I keep adding to this vast library? Surely enough is enough... Well, it's never enough, now is it? Realistically, I'm going to keep on buying games, but maybe 2019 should be characterised by a new spirit of discernment. Even in late 2018, I was starting to hold fire on big Kickstarter investments. I've got a lot of monsters-on-a-map games: beautiful skirmish or campaign games like Gloomhaven, Fireteam Zero, Order of Vampire Hunters, Myth, Conan... So I froze my finger above the mouse-click that would have added Everrain, Tainted Grail and Monumental. I did right, didn't I? Didn't I...? Then there are the games that don't get the time and love they deserve. Gloomhaven was Crackhaven for a long time, then it stalled. It's a beautiful, brilliant campaign project and if I don't move it onwards in 2019 (I won't say "complete it" - I'm not a dreamer) then I won't be able to look myself in the mirror in 2020. Fireteam Zero is an exhilarating campaign game and simple to boot. That has to see the table in 2019, complete a few story arcs, take down a few bosses... There are also some deep strategy games that need mastering. Nine Worlds has sat on a shelf for months now. It looks lovely. The gameplay is deep. What's the problem? Well, it's a bit fiddly to get your head round. It really needs two people to sit down, master it, then sell it to other people. The catch is, it's not that great as a two-player game; it's really about getting 4-6 people to compete in an insane, world-hopping kaleidoscope of Norse myth and madness. But 4-6 people won't be able to get their head round it. So I'll keep dusting that one but I can't quite see how a New Year's Resolution is going to bring it to life. So New Year Resolutions don't solve every problem. You can't just 'resolve' a game like Nine Worlds onto the table. And even if I resolve to refrain from Kickstarter projects, how can I avoid the months of regret and self-blame afterwards? I mean, look at Western Legends... If only I'd resolved to get that in 2018 ::sob:: Bring colour to Blackstone - Tom Hopkins
My additional resolution is to unload a lot of my pre-existing armies/half completed projects. Some of you may be delighted to know that I’ve already sold 4 of my Imperial Knights on eBay, in an effort to diminish my collection before the move out to China! I’m probably going to need the extra money anyway. Getting the fix I need - Ian Davison
I need to get my Gobo's painted for the Bloodbowl League in January, as looking good while getting smashed is what's it all about. I want to spread the love of Keyforge - really enjoyable card game with next to no buy-in and great playability. Thankfully lacking the 'addiction' of your regular CCG as each deck is unique and self-contained. Isaac's at an age now where he wants to be playing more games so I want 2019 to be a year where he gets the chance to play as much X-Wing, Bloodbowl and board games as possible (even when that means I have to drag myself from the comfort of the couch to do so). And finally I'm going to get to the Wednesday Club as much as possible to have a go at whatever and not be so hung up on just one system in 2019. Farewell to Greenskins - by Alec Bell
After that, to devote more time to the gaming systems i was introduced to in 2018, specifically Bolt Action and Test of Honor, and to get the respective armies for both painted. I'd like to get to grips with more skirmish-type games. I have loved playing Mordheim in the past and it has been too long... and i would also like to have a crack at Necromunda as i have never played and it looks right up my alley. I want to get the board game Scythe out and have a first run-through see what's what (though am a little daunted by it). And last, but by no means least, I'm looking to invest in a co-op table top game. I'm currently torn between Mage Knight and Gloomhaven but have yet to make a decision! The case against New Year resolutions - Karl McMichael
I would advocate that being less stringently goal-focused on a grand scale is beneficial for you and your personal hobby. This doesn't mean goals are a bad thing in the short term, but keep them manageable to motivate you.
Although this doesn't mean I don't wish to improve in my hobby, but instead of being goal oriented I’m going to endeavour to make the time I do get to spend on my hobby is quality time. I implore you all to do the same. Happy New year. |
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