Apocalyptic Sunday

What $1800 of Realm of Battle boards looks like.

This past Sunday, the league I've been playing in for the past couple of months came to an end.  The league organizer is still tabulating the results, but to celebrate making it to the end, he gave us the choice of running a tournament or putting together a big Apocalypse game.  After discussing it with the rest of the guys, I voted for an Apocalypse game.  I was the "new guy" at the start of the season, and I felt like I had really managed to plug in over the course of the dozen or so games I had played in the last months, so I reasoned that blowing up a few things with some new friends would be a fitting way to end the league.

It didn't quite go the way I thought it would.  This was my first game of Apocalypse, and my expectations were for a fluffy, amicable game in which all kinds of random things happened and cool ruled all.  It's always interesting to play in multi-player games because of the way it stretches the social contract.  With two players, a game is fairly straightforward.  Their are basic cues that usually dictate what is what, and the chances of those being misread are slimmer, assuming a few basic social skills.  Adding players adds to the complexity and it's interesting to see that the tension builds not only between opponents, but between teammates as well.  When one person wants to play with their toys and another wants to wipe out the enemy, the latter ends up somewhere between Lord-High General and tyrant or an oppressive attitude and "That Guy" depending on which side you're on.  And when it happens in the ridiculous venue that is Apocalypse, the chances for that become more pronounced.

I think it's fair to say that I didn't have the best time.  Honestly, I'd describe it as the worst 40K experience I've had in quite some time.  I attribute this to the fact that not everyone was on the same page, but also the unbalanced nature of big games.  That said there were still a few really cool moments.

Hugs!

One of the players on the opposition brought a half-dozen Ork Warbosses that he ran as a single mob.  Meanwhile, I had a pair of Wolf Lords with either a Power Fist or a Thunder Hammer.  Seeing this, we both went all, "Come at me, bro!" on each other.  I had the chance to assault and took it.  Both my guys died horribly, as the Lord with Saga of the Bear was already carrying two wounds, while the other was doubled out, but before they got taken off, they each got to swing, netting at least two wounds on each Warboss.  Each was doubled out, except for one, who managed to make both of his 5+ cybork body saves.  So close...  That bosses power field must have been on point, because he later saved two of two wounds from my Librarian's force weapon.  Sometimes the dice just don't cooperate.

On the other hand...

Yes, I flank marched my Wolf Lords...

Logan and company rolled on and popped their shots at a nearby Stompa.  Arjac knocked him down to his last structure point, but I couldn't quite finish him off.  In response, a ton of fire gathered around them for retribution.  The chances of survival from all the lances and rail guns were reasonably close to nil.  As everyone around the table began firing, the Ork player stepped up and said, "OK, I'm gonna fire my Shokk Attack gun at you.  Here's my roll for the strength."  Much to my chagrin, he rolled up a ten.  But it was double five's and we knew that did something.  We checked the book, and sure enough, the Mek had shot himself into close combat with Logan.  There would be no more shooting at them this turn.  It was absolutely priceless to see the reaction of the guy who was so dead set on winning when he found out all his careful planning had gone awry for the quirks of the dice.


Anyway, the game trickled to a half after three and a half turns.  The victors were obvious at this point and I was more than happy to go home.  I may return to Apocalypse at some point, but hopefully under more clear circumstances.  For now, my votes will be for tournaments when the option arises.

Clubbing Baby Seals Sustainably

First game while fully based and fully painted.

This past Thursday, my army was volunteered to play the youngest member of the league and his Orks.  To clarify, we're talking about someone who's voice hasn't quite changed yet.  This posed a question that I don't think I've ever had to answer in war gaming.    How do you play a kid?

My opponent had an OK grasp on the basic rules, but it was certainly not complete and tended towards giving him an advantage.  For example, he assaulted out of his Trukk after moving it, then informed me in the next round that it had an 'Ard Case so it wasn't open-topped and I wouldn't add one to my damage roll (sidenote: turns out Trukks can't even have 'Ard Cases).  Movement was spotty, with models starting behind the tape and ending pretty clearly past six inches.  Rulings on cocked dice seemed based around whether they might fall on success or failure.      

I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt because he's young.  This is especially the case when recalling myself at that age.  I suppose the question posed is how best to respond.  If I let things slide, it'll reinforce mistaken notions about rules.  If I correct him too often, I might come off as nitpicking or exploiting his lack of knowledge, and ending up only discouraging him.  I ended up taking a middle road, letting the dice and movement slide, but reminding him about things like assaulting closest models to closest, and then showing him the best way to position his models in the movement phase to get the match-ups he wanted.

The beautiful city board.

Tactically, I played a little looser than normal.  I committed Logan's unit early, allowing him a chance to counter charge with multiple mobs.  Unfortunately, he didn't capitalize on my "mistakes", choosing instead to bring his reserves in on the other side of the board.  For the most part, his units were falling off the board on their own as non-horde Orks tend to do.  I did walk a unit of Nobz off the board by leaving a unit just within six inches of them.  Honestly, I felt like a heel doing it, but I tried to make it a point of learning, telling him to remember how to do it for when he played his dad's Marines.  That didn't make me feel better.  At the same time, I've never been a fan of "letting them win."  I've always tried to get better by playing against people that are better than me.

The game turned out to be one-sided, and my opponent was visibly frustrated.  I tried to make a few suggestions regarding wargear (power klaws over big choppas) and tactics (using bait units and how to bring numbers to bear), and told him to stay positive, but I can't help but worry I had a negative impact on his hobby.  Obviously, it's important to me for opponents to enjoy themselves, even when they're having a rough game.  In this case though, what's the most sporting way to play someone so young?  How do you help them along while not taking it overly easy on them?  And how do you ensure that they have a good time, so they'll stick around to become full grown seals?

No Contest

I got in a game this week.  I have to say it was an odd one.

We got kicked off a little late.  The local league was getting started and to say that we were lucky to find a table is an understatement.  There is a wait list to join both the Fantasy and 40K leagues.  There are thirteen tables and 26 people in the league, so I'm sure you can do the math.  Gaming involves a steady string of excusing yourself to slide past the guy at the next table, interspersed with jokes about buying them dinner after bumping into their backside.  It may not be the most comfortable environment, but it is pretty cool to see the community's intensity.

The horde approaches

With two folks no-showing, we grabbed the lone empty table in one of the back corners and set up.  I was running a pretty standard 2000 point list.  Basically, it takes a Land Raider to get me up to that point level.  My opponent pulled out a list he touted as one he found on the internet to beat my kind of army.  What he came up with was a massed Shoota Boyz list supported by some Killa Kanz, Lootas, a Deff Dread, and a pair of Meks.  He also had some outflanking Kommandos and Storm Boyz to deep strike.  I could see the theory, but I didn't see anything in the list that could reliably handle the Land Raider.

We rolled Capture and Control with a Spearhead deployment.  I gave my opponent the first turn, and I think the reality of the game set in for him.  We had a couple large buildings in the middle and the only way to get to my end was to split his boyz up, meaning he wouldn't be able to bring his massed fire to bear.  Not only that, but his Shokk Attack Gun had no line of sight to the building with my objective in it. 

Six vs. 80?  Yeah, I'll take my chances...

My turn one saw me deep strike in my now typical aggressive manner.  In comes the Logan pod and the Dreadnought.  Away goes a bunch of Lootas.  I hated to put them out there by themselves, but it was on a flank, so they were protected from some of the fire.  They promptly ate a whole bunch of shoota fire, I ended up failing four saves, which is a little more than average, but two of them were on Logan and one on Arjac which made me sweat.  They took a charge from Snikrot and his Kommandoz and saw them off.  Next turn, the Dreadnought finished the Lootas, while Logan and company took out a Shoota squad with a couple more losses.

It went like this until turn four.  I was down to just Logan and the Dread from the original deep strike, plus the next pod and the Land Raider with its cargo.  He had nothing within 24" of my objective until he tried to deep strike the Storm Boyz in and had a mishap.  My opponents frustration was pretty palpable, and I had taken my foot off the gas in the previous turn.  I started skipping attacks and failing an extra save here or there.  Nobody likes to be on the wrong end of a one sided game, and I thought I could give him something positive to walk away from the table with.  And then things went sideways.

Logan wades through yet another squad

We were running out of time.  It takes a while to move an Ork horde, which is understandable.  So when he said we should call it, I agreed.  It made sense.  We wouldn't finish.  He was obviously not having fun.  I knew how this was going to end.  So it surprised me when he said, "It's a draw."  Umm... what?  I own mine.  You're down to one scoring unit that could get to yours.  I have a full squad with a Wolf Priest, a second partial squad with Assault Terminators, Logan, a Dreadnought, and a Land Raider all converging on one location.  The prospect of a draw hadn't even entered my mind.  Yet he persisted and we now definitely didn't have time to finish it out.

It was really disappointing because the last hour of the game had been a rough one.  He had essentially disengaged, which sucked the fun out of it for me.  The insistence for a draw, followed by the demand that I say it was, left a horrible taste in my mouth on top of that.


It wasn't a pleasant way to begin 2012.  Where do I go from here?  What's the sportsmanlike way to go forward?  Do I squeeze the next time I have a death grip, even if it means my opponent has a terrible time?  Winning isn't the only thing, but it's not like we play to lose.  I've never run into something like this before.