Saturday morning. Man, these mornings are getting earlier and earlier. I got up, ran, got cleaned up. Today, my roomies and I were all playing in a Mordheim tourney. Mordheim was a game that GW made sometime during the 90s. It's a gang fight game, in the GW fantasy setting. You make a gang, they fight (using something fairly similar to the GW ruleset, with some modifications to make it more of a skirmish game), and they advance or die, as the dice decide.
We get over there, and bump a few hopefuls. The event is full, and we have tickets. They want to play, but have generics. Now, knowing now what I did then, I might have been tempted to give one of them my spot, but that's neither here nor there.
We get a quick overview of the gangs, dice off, and start to choose. I make my choice - a rather inspired one, if I may say so.
In the front, Inky, Clyde, Pinky and Binky.
This choice annoyed one of my friends. He wanted them too, and I beat him in the dice off. As luck would have it, we squared off in the first game. Now, Mordheim is largely a scenario-driven game. Sometimes, the scenario is in your favor, and sometimes, it isn't. The scenario in this case seems fairly even - both sides are searching the buildings on the table for a treasure chest. Once you find it, you have to take it back to your table edge. We can't search the first row of building closest to us, but can start searching the next row. Roll boxcars, and you find it. If it isn't found beforehand, it will be found in the last building.
I win the roll, run forward, search one building. On the opposite side of the table, Phil runs forward, searches a building, and rolls boxcars. Game over. He can't fail to get the chest to his table edge before I can get there. We call it, shake hands, take care of the aftermath (gaining experience, treasure, etc). The GM tells us that we can wander for a bit - our game is over in five minutes, more or less, and the others are just getting started. I head for the consignment store.
Where there is a line. Remember when I said that some of the Saturday deals were phenomenal? I obviously wasn't the only one to think so. By the time I get in, almost all of it is gone. I pick up a few pieces, but nothing as nice as I had been hoping to grab. Still, I can't argue with $7 (or so) for a NIB Centurion.
I head back, kill some time before the next round. It's not a repeat of the first - it's a different situation. Both armies, his and mine, have no problems hitting each other. We just can't hurt each other. It's getting funny, but finally I decide to bottle (read: run) before things get worse. He fares a little better than I do in the aftermath, but it was a good decision for a campaign game. I lose a couple of minor grunts, but make enough to replace them, and add another model.
Last game is a rematch against Phil. The scenario frankly favors me, but I ask if he just wants to duke it out in the middle. We agree, and have a cracking good time - his Pit Fighters mow through my Orcs like a plasma cutter through warm butter.
This will not end well for me.
I lose, but we both have a lot of fun. Phil gets to release some seriously pent-up aggression - his gang had barely made an attack roll prior to this point in either game. He makes a lot of them over the course of a couple of minutes, and we both enjoy the scene immensely.
After the battle, I head over to my next game, only a few rows of tables over. I have had a copy of Warlands for several years, but never played it. It's kind of a Mad Max game, where you have Hot Wheels cars (repainted and modified, of course), and drive around, shooting each other. It's far more cinematic than real - destroyed cars can easily blow up, fly through the air, and come down a full turns move away.
The upside-down buggy was mine. It started 11" away.
I just missed landing on him. Rats!
I scored the first kill, but was also the first to be completely eliminated. Since the prizes were in descending order, I scored third place (out of three), and got a small prize. Still, a great time and a bonus prize is better than nothing. Looks like I need to find some Hot Wheels or Matchbox cars at garage sales this fall. It's a fun little pickup kind of game, and good for a change of scenery and mood.
Hey, a balloon dragon. He's done!
Saturday night was the press gang party. Apparently, the press gang party is like Vegas - what happens there, stays there. 'Nuff said. Good times, good times.
After the party, I went back, hung around Iron Arena for a while, and took a few pics.
Someone has been busy.
He wasn't the only one.
That bridge looks pretty congested.
The Commodore will fix that problem.