Saturday, 28 June 2014

Rouge Trader 28mm - Shootout at Sourbridge

Another day, another Imperial proclamation.

Mhorrghan, Captain of the House Guard cleared his throat ready to address the crowd that clustered around the foot of the raised platform he and his detachment occupied. Weather-wise it was a typical day down at the bottom of the arcology near the great iron bridge that spanned the long-lost, flooded lower levels of Hive Termitius - the ancient Sourbridge. A continual drizzle fell from the rusty heights above and splattered brown tidemarks on Mhorrghan's olive green greatcoat. The stench of the The Sourbridge remained eternal - a mix of diesel fumes, fecal matter and balti pie.

This won't go down well, thought Mhorrghan to himself. By Decree of the House of Huriatat taxes were up on Soylent (all flavours/colours), Lho-Sticks, and brown ale, and the curfew was being extended to sectors 13 through 17 following a spate of thrill-kills and happy slapping, and the vandalising of the 200 metre tall bronze statue of Count Huriatat himself - an incident that had been seen a giant erect penis painted on the statue's forehead in day-glo yellow paint.

"Citizen-serfs of Termitius Hive. By Decree of the House of-"

There was one crack and sizzle, the distinctive sound of a lasgun being fired.

Mhorrghan had just enough time to recognise the las blast before the blinding white pain erupted in his right hip and he was flung to the cold, hard surface of the rusty floorplates. There was screaming from below, the sound of panicked flight and then more of the crack-sizzle as the men of the detachment fired wildly in all directions.

As he slipped into unconsciousness he heard the sound of a trooper desperately radioing on the Commvox for urgent backup.


Jhonndil Injer lowered the lasgun and cursed himself. That old knife wound in his hand playing up again - spasmed and jostled the barrel as he pulled the trigger. The hated Guard Captain was now out of sight between an length of pig iron walling.

He turned his grotesquely over-muscled body towards the waiting gangers of the Typtun Taliban hive-gang.

"Get him!" he spat. "Don't let the Housedogs recover him. We'll have his decapitation live on all vid-channels before the day is out!"

Another of our "play to make a story" Rouge Trader games. Phil as GM and chief toy-provider. The terrain is all from Mantic's Deadzone range which makes for good Necromunda proxy stuff. The forces of House Huriatat are Copplestone "Neo Sovs" and the Typtun Taliban are old Necromunda "Goliaths". You'll notice a monochrome theme to this week's AAR (or as it is sometimes known "grey").

This might be a satire upon the limited horizons and limited palette of the typical hive-dweller of of the bleak, grimdark future where there is only war, it might be a deliberate stylistic choice and nod towards German expressionist cinema of the 1930s, a veiled dig at the hordes of modern 40K players who think that a single coat of Chaos Black spraypaint constitutes "painted" figures, or might it be that Jason only had access to a black-and-white laser printer when printing out the street tiles to go on his baseboard and that Phil's plastic terrain is only at the primer spraycan stage.

The upended figure is Captain Mhorrghan "bleeding out" having been shot in the tangley. House troops panicking.

My command - that's just six gangers with assorted firearms and no armour, and a man with Heavy Stubber. We are not in list-picking mode here.

Note how pasty-skinned they are. This is because while not busy Rouge Trading, they run a secret underground shop selling Magic cards somewhere in an isolated, out of the way area of the hive. In keeping with the hipster nature of the area they neither advertise nor even bother with a sign pointing to their basement location. You've probably never heard of it. (In-jokes? Yes, we have them).

Finney's lot on the right flank. By their distinctive orange skin these can be identified as the members of the Typtun Taliban who live in Jo E'essecks hab-block - the Umpa-Lumpa chapterhouse.

House Huritat troops rushing to the rescue. Note that in the full spirit of 1987 vintage Rouge Trader, the headless figure of Dicky chose to attend the proceedings in a retro Birmingham City top. He later stabbed a Luton Town supporter on the Intercity train home.

This tunnel over the railway line (some form of coaling or watering station I guess. What do Dark Millennium trains run on anyway? Probably the crystallised essence of the crushed dreams of the quintillions of Imperial subjects, or just the rendered-down bodyfat of ginger babies drowned in a bucket at birth) which later provided a lot of cover for my gangers in Wild West "richochet" style.

Aerial shot from the passing Inquisitorial spyplane, I Know What You Did Last Wednesday (When You Thought No-one Was Watching You Dirty Fecker). Dicky's troops are using the alleyway as a field of fire, Jason's troops are hugging the chest-height ferrocrete walls and Mhorrghan is still bleeding everywhere.

Dicky had a Heavy Stubber. It fired one burst. It didn't wound so he didn't get to use the Following Fire rule which basically states that if you wound you can fire again at same target or another within 4" and keep going until you miss or fail to wound. And then he got shot and died.

Aunt Sally, gang "heavy". I had a Heavy Stubber. It fired one burst. It didn't hit so I didn't get to use the Following Fire rule which basically states that if you wound you can fire again at same target or another within 4" and keep going until you miss or fail to wound. And then he got shot and died.

Finney gets up on a rooftop across the street from the position where House Huriatat troops are defending the fallen officer. Finney later attempted to jump off into the street but this shit the bed as he rolled some 1s and two of his steroid-abusers died on the way down. I think either their shinbones couldn't take the impact of all that muscle landing on them and splintered when they hit the pavement, or their disco tits overbalanced them such that they landed head-first.

Shit. I hadn't noticed this. This remarkable LOS was being laughed about in the gangers turn and ended up being one of the few shots throughout the game that wasn't hampered by cover. I could have fired back but chose not to as I hadn't noticed it of my own accord and was only aware of it because it caused much amusement. So I roleplayed "my character wouldn't know that" and green mohawk chap fired at somebody else and didn't shoot back until he'd been shot at and missed.


Here he is drawing a bead on that Muscle Mary. Who is he anyway? Trooper Lee? Peart? Lifeson? Emerson? Lake? Palmer? Wakeman? Brock? Fripp? Gilmour? Waters? Anderson? Who cares, I fucking hate prog anyway.

Mid-game overview. My lads are in cover on the left side of the board and starting to whittle down the house troops that were originally heading towards the rooftop where the injured officer was.

Finney's heroic descent to ground level via the lamppost isn't going too well. See above.

Probably the closest in game equivalent to Jhonndil Injer's vantage point from the Sourbridge Book Depository (also functions as a combined incinerator and memory hole). House troops ready to defend the fallen Captain and await back-up.

It didn't end that well for them. In fact hidden from view in this shot is a Juve with a laspistol who calmly plugged three house troops on three consecutive turns from a range of about 4" and didn't receive a single scratch from lasgun fire coming back at it. (+2 for laspistol fire up to 8" probably helped here).

After most people were dead (helped by ignoring the unit coherency rules and ignoring morale) there were only two players left in the game and I declined to pursue the retreating troops. The survivors were dragging the wounded man at half rate and managed to retreat from view around a corner. It might have been possible to outflank them but with three players now out of stuff to command I felt that it didn't justify dragging out the end of the game.

And here's the thing that amazed me. We got about two hours gaming (i.e. not long enough to outstay it's welcome) with less than 30 figures on the board for five players, and with only two (crap) support weapons and everyone else with popguns and the house troops wearing paper mache bulletproof vests.

Wednesday, 25 June 2014

Rodney Matthews Does Car Wars

I didn't even know this was a thing. Somewhere in a parallel dimension, Rodney Matthews illustrates issues of Autoduel Quarterly.

Monday, 23 June 2014

St. Helens and Stafford Show Swag

Had a train ride up to St. Helens a couple of Saturdays ago for the Phalanx show. I did this last year as well, as it's quite an easy train journey from the West Midlands as the train stops directly opposite the leisure centre the show is held in (Glasgow train from Wolves or Brum, jump off at Warrington Bank Quay and get the commuter line train heading towards Liverpool Lime Street and all the Scouse Brows, three stops in is Lea Green, walk out of the car park and you can see the venue. All for cheaper than the petrol would cost in Barbie's Convertible at 22mpg).

Saw this big fuck off Panzer II - The Dragon plastic kit in 1:6 scale. That's basically the equivalent of twelve 1:72 scale PzIIs laid out end to end and side to side. This is a £240 kit and I suspect that larger tanks could not practically be made in this scale - build something like a King Tiger and it probably won't fit through the door.

Basically an Action Man tank.

(Those white and blue midgets are 28mm 40K Space Marines BTW.)

Last year I picked up a copy of Chainsaw Warrior here (to my eternal shame I haven't even opened the box yet - it might be full of other crap instead) and the GW printing of Cosmic Encounter, a version of the game that is entirely illustrated in wonderful Blanchitsu. This year I got a set of rulebooks for 2nd edition 40K for the grand sum of £9.

Actually play it? Don't talk nonsense.

Now 40K 2nd is a weird one. I hear a lot of yak about how this is the favourite version of many long-standing players and there seem to be groups who have never moved past this version. But I have no memory of it at all. None whatsoever. In my memories there was RT that was released in the period of time known as WD93 and then at some point (1998 I think) 3rd edition came out and I bought that and felt that it was quite a good game for which I painted up most of a Fetish Elf army, some Field Police and camo'd Marines and then flogged them when my old schoolmate who was interested in playing moved away.

Knowing that this was the 3rd edition should have tipped me off to the fact that there had been a 2nd edition at some point (1993) but.... it never crossed my mind. At no point did the existence of a successor to RT ever bubble up to the top of the mudpool that is my gaming mind and make me aware that something had happened that I should have paid attention to.

It could be that something truly terrible happened to me around this time and accordingly knowledge of 2nd is a victim of some defensive mechanism of the sub-conscious that has blanked out all memory but... fuck knows. Anyway this is a bit like owning Led Zep I, III, & IV and then twenty-odd years later going "there was another one called II!? When!?"

(This might be a result of me losing interest in 40K when the game started to drift away from being a firefight game and towards shooting guns being something that happened on the way into melee).

Not actually from Phalanx (Webb got it for me for what he paid for it - £5) was this.

Which is also weird. It's as if GW continued to produce material for their lesser known 1987 sci-fi expansion to WFB 2nd edition and later collected it in a softback anthology. Most odd.

Back to St. Helens. A good show and worth getting to as I think it's the only show in the North-West of England these days. The catering van there can fix you up with something called a "barmcake" but I never found out what that was as I didn't like to ask in case I inadvertently violated some local custom or taboo. You can't be too careful when trying not to draw attention to yourself in alien climes.

Then a weekend later (or yesterday as it is sometimes known) I jumped on the train again to go to Stafford. (Coop's "practicality of train ride" rating - Excellent - sixteen minutes from Wolves and a sub-ten minute walk makes it faster than the car - however I believe the venue is moving next year so YMMV).

This was a small show in the hall of the local Polish social club, all a bit tight and rammed on a very hot day. A few traders and a lot of tables manned by wargamers having a clear out so excellent for a rummage. I picked up these...

...and some Warmaster magazines. I recall Drachenfels as being really good BITD which probably means I should put this straight on the shelf and never open it again...

Also a proper Oldhammer score in that I got 15 Necromunda Cawdor for £25 most of which were Fairy Powersprayed back to bare metal by teatime. Now I just need to discover if I still own the Necromunda rulebook...

Stafford reminded me of the old days of wargames shows - the local club putting on a few games and the opportunity to get hold of somebody's castoffs as well as new stuff. The only downside was hearing an exuberant youth boasting about his local 40K scene with the word "and we have some of the best players in the area!".

I said nothing. Teeth were gritted.

Then the moment had passed and nobody had been slapped. I must be mellowing in my old age.

Wednesday, 18 June 2014

Action at Hark Hanoid AAR

A flying column of Marine forces have sortied out and levelled the small town of Hark Hanoid, an important supply base for one of the belligerent factions currently identified in Space Marine intelligence as "Opfor A". The small guard force have been eliminated and survivors mopped up (literally in some cases of suicidally brave attempts at tank-killing).

Suddenly, Communications-Brother Brawd Kastinhaus reports signals of large numbers of Opfor A force closing into encircle the Marines. Captain Zybil gave the order for all men to embark in their transports - a breakout attempt is to be made.

This was played with the oddly named "Bring Me My Spear"(*) scenario. The attacker has to cross the table and scores victory points only for units that escape. The defenders starts with 50% of his force deployed around the centre of the table and reinforcements will randomly arrive on the unused table edges - i.e. on the flanks of the attacker. He scores points for destroying attacking units.

(Yes, it's a breakout scenario. Yes, that's why the title is a pun)

Firstly, some yak about the rules (which are Gruntz! 15mm)

You've possibly played this before.

Each unit has two actions per turn, only one of which can be ranged action. If you move twice, you basically run at double rate and can't fire.

To hurt things roll 2d6, add SHOOT. Equal or exceed the targets GUARD to hit it. Hit it? Good, roll 2d6 and equal or exceed the targets SOAK to dish out damage - one point for equalling it, an extra point for every die score in excess. Rank and file have 1 damage point, heroes and bigger stuff have multiple damage points.

This is of course radically different to something like Hormachine in which:

Each unit has two actions per turn, only one of which can be ranged action. If you move twice, you basically run at double rate and can't fire.

To hurt things roll 2d6, add RAT. Equal or exceed the targets DEF to hit it. Hit it? Good, roll 2d6 and equal or exceed the targets ARM to dish out damage - one point for equalling it, an extra point for every die score in excess. Rank and file have 1 damage point, heroes and bigger stuff have multiple damage points.

To this add a full unit builder so that you can stat up just about anything and loads of typos and contradictory shit and you now know everything you need to know about Gruntz!

(There is a little bit of extra detailing added to reflect the fact that the game is about small squads of 15mm sci-fi soldiers rather than Warcasters and steampunk clockwork automata - "PRONE" gives +2 to RAT SHOOT and +1 TO DEF GUARD but costs an action to do/undo, Morale is interesting in that tests occur after every source of damage - not just at the end of the turn - and the penalties for dead/injured figures stay until that unit is next activated. This means that keeping a unit under fire can cause multiple forced retreats in one turn).

Photo-Intel From the Frontlines

Orbital spy cameras and stills from "beakie" helmet cams have gathered the following visual photo-intel on this action. Astropath Fift Hekay-Mohdem is currently transmitting these back to Chapter Fortress for staff-level analysis. Would you like to know more? Then read more books.

The settlement of Hark Hanoid, still smouldering from the reimposition of law and order on behalf of the benign Master of Mankind. How peaceful it looks.

A Buttfucker class tank of the "Jagerbomb" company, 8th Moninav (Armoured) Regiment leads a PDF APC, now in the service of the Blood Drinkers. (RH1NOs? In 1987? No idea what you are talking about. Piss off back to your 7th edition games.)

(Oh, and Jagerbomb? I had some Jagermeister decals left over from Scalextric cars. Used the Jagermeister logo as the unit insignia).

Another APC alongside Captain Zenn Zybil's personal transport aka "The Ice Cream Van". Glad I never got around to painting that now - oops, spoiler...

Not-Grav-Attacks. These are absolute crap - the way Gruntz stats up Light-class tanks they don't really come out fast enough to benefit from their light armour and minimal damage points. I haven't really found a battlefield role for them yet. As they are Matchbox tanks and not stick deodorants I didn't even get fragrant armpits out of the build process.

Breakout scenario? Armoured thrust? Panic-stricken sprint towards the opposite table edge? The armour moved about 7" all evening. Then the APC exploded and the tank clearly was too close to the enemy to sufficiently depress the barrel to actually hit the fuckers.

Cheating rebel bastard commander rides a bike with stabilisers like a girl.

Cheating rebel bastard laser Segway thing. (Does this remind anyone else of the vehicle from the opening sequence to the Banana Splits? Maybe you have to be at least my age to know what I'm talking about). The presence of Buddha's head shows that the Inquisition haven't been quite as forceful with their iconoclasm here as they should have. Those Taliban chappies have the right idea.

Cheating rebel bastard infantry occupying a FarmHabUnit. Cheating rebel bastards proceeded to do serious damage using Overwatch, the cheating bastard art of standing still and waiting for our brave boys to show themselves to the enemy. I can only imagine that "SHORT" is some form of seditious graffiti.

Cheating rebel bastard missile team hiding like the cowards they are in a ruined FarmHabUnit.

 Cheating rebel bastard missile team reinforcements arriving in the combat zone immediately on the flank of a Marine Not-Grav-Attack hovercraft. Fucksticks.

 Cheating rebel bastard Attack Bikes with full auto weapons. I can't recall whether it was laser or projectile, there was just too fucking much of it to pay attention to the specific calibre the incoming was comprised of.

It just crashed itself honest. Squad Octavius is making the decision that it is far, far more important to return to base and punish the heretics and traitors in the motor pool than worry about this rabble of disaffected, inbred Soylent farmers and their emplaced multi-lasers.

Cheating rebel bastard photo-manipulated black propaganda designed to suggest that cheating rebel bastard forces killed lots of Marines and made them run away across a ploughed field where many of them died in a ditch. This never happened. Inquisitor Geenunt is sanctioned to take actions against heretics who either believe this nonsense or disseminate information about these foul and slanderous lies.

Even more cheating rebel bastard black propaganda designed to suggest that the Marine rout (never happened) allowed the cheating rebel bastard infantry to actually leave their hovel in the interests of getting better shots at the fleeing red shapes. Inquisitor Geenunt is compiling a report proving that these photographs were actually faked on a holofilm sound stage many clicks behind the lines. It's all in the shadows apparently and the way the flag ripples.

I can't explain why this helmet-cam still appears to be from the vantage point of lying on the floor behind an APC. Maybe Brother Hudovmann temporarily put his helmet on the floor with the camera still running so that he could vent his rage at the enemy easier. It's difficult to spit bile at the heretic and mutant while wearing a Mk6 helmet - tends to collect in the beak.

More cheating rebel bastard laser Segway.

 Success! Brother Marines bravely died in the face of the enemy thus allowing some of our brethren the opportunity to quaff ale in the honoured presence of their ancestors in whichever post-mortem feast halls they believe in. Also a lot of cheating rebel bastards died at this point when they finally dared to show themselves outside of mere muzzle flashes from inside cover but to be honest this was utterly irrelevant to the outcome of the abortive breakout attempt. I couldn't even take my usual pleasure at seeing their tiny, fragile forms jerking and disintegrating into a pink mist under a hail of bolter shells. I think I'm suffering from ennui.

Cheating rebel bastard Attack Bike parked up behind a barricade observing some giant-sized lifeforms off beyond the misty horizon.

...and that went really, really well. One Grav-Attack got away which is probably for the best as they haven't contributed anything to any of the games they have fought in and we'd probably be better off forgetting we have had them. Captain Zybil took a nasty blow early doors allowing a six-wheel laser Segway thing to later sneak around and blow his Space Ice Cream Van up in one shot, thus killing the only named character in the campaign in campaign game one.

We decided to tone down Overwatch for future games. What happened here that didn't happen last game is that the ranges were all much shorter. Gruntz! has quite short ranges for weaponry (mostly 8"-16") but allows you to fire at up to double range for -3 on your dice. As Overwatch and Full Retard Auto both carry -1 penalties, then long range overwatch with "spray and pray" basically does fuck all - this is the problem I had in the previous game, the three-wayer. However the game appears designed that close range, in the open fire is lethal, longer range, in cover is more of an irritation. So accordingly Overwatch fire at close range is deadly, especially when Full Auto firing allows for d3+1 shots with the ability to change target after each shot.

The problem is that Overwatch never "switches off". It takes two actions to set up and then can fire at every target of opportunity. For ever. This stamps all over the idea that units can only fire once per turn and need a special rule (the "Rapid Fire" perk) to fire twice. Some of Gary's Overwatch targets were firing 3/4 times a turn. Now I don't entirely have a problem with this. It chimes in with a famous post-WW2 study by the New Zealand Army that drew the conclusion that casualties inflicted on the enemy were dependant upon the number of enemy exposed to fire and NOT the number of friendly firers - in other words the length of battles in modern warfare allowed a small number of adequately supplied men to knock out huge numbers of enemy if targets kept appearing. It's just that it did spoil our attempt at an evening's entertainment of moving little soldiers around.

Next game Overwatch will "switch off" after a shot and needs two actions to go back onto it.

(We also tripped over Gruntz! shitty proof-reading - the first paragraph of the Overwatch section says it is used when enemy activate in sight, the last paragraph amends this to move in sight. Not the same thing at all...)

Upshot for the Narrative Campaign

Miserable failure for the Blood Drinkers. Having failed to get away more than one damaged Grav-Attack, the breakout attempt failed and they remain encircled by rebel PDF of "Opfor A". Furthermore Captain Zenn Zybil was "waxed" (to use the Gruntz! parlance). What happened to him?

Well I rolled 90 on this table from the science fiction supplement for Warhammer Fantasy Battle 2nd edition.

Severe Right Leg. So this probably means that after emergency field amputation, Zybil will be shipped off to the Chapter Fortress (on planet San Guisaga I believe if Lexicanium is to believed but to be perfectly frank that "official", "Chapter Approved" fluff is such utter dogshit I wouldn't even bother reading it let allowing rolling your eyes at it) for surgery and fitting with a bionic leg. Much like this fellow on the left has.

So really the next couple of games should see a different model being used as a field commander for the Marines while Zybil recuperates. Maybe a Brother-Lieutenant takes over or I'll have a look through the unpainted pile and see what I could turn up as a temporary alter-ego. I have a few Ion Age figures that might do as an Inquisitor.

As a result of the loss I imagine that the next game will see the Marines as defenders as the rebels attempt to push their advantage.

Brother Hudovmann clung to the flank of the damaged APC as it rocked and pitched over the shellhole-blistered roadway. One hand was holding onto a hole in the armour of the machine-beast, punched there by a rebel armour multilaser shot, the other periodically slapped his helmet in an attempt to restore the enhanced vision granted by his auto-senses which were malfunctioning no doubt a result of a lasgun blast striking his head.

A loose connection somewhere surmised Hudovmann. Any more visual blackouts like this and I'll have to abandon the helmet.

It had belonged to Veteran-Brother Beayhond as well before being passed down to him upon Beayhond's noble death against the Giant White Apes of Bazoom(**). Such a shame to lose that link with the glorious past.

The retreating convoy limped through rebel settlements levelled by Hudovmann and his brothers less than twenty four hours earlier. Plumes of black smoke reached to the skies and fanned out into greasy grey clouds where the winds caught them. It reminded him of Bulbo trees lining the white gravel roads of his homeworld.

Steaming blackened skeletons lay contorted around the shattered shells of plexi-plastic hab units. The APC juddered slightly as the auto-drive continued straight on through a jumble of bones lying in the middle of the roadway bone splinters raining down on the ground.


As the crackling voice came through to Hudovmann's helmet an Imperial Shuttle flashed in from the horizon, flying dangerously low to avoid rebel radar sweeps. The long tail plume of electric-blue plasma cut off from the rear of the shuttle as the pilot killed his thrusters and skid-landed on his skids leaving a great blackened streak through the bio-cornfield to the convoys left.

Two Marines immediately leaped from the back of the APC one position ahead of Hudovmann in the convoy and reached back to pick something out. Something seven feet tall, armoured in power armour the colour of dried blood and missing a leg. Captain Zenn Zybil's helmet was removed and he was shouting out orders even as the Marines carrying him ran over to the shuttle. Hudovmann expected the wounded Captain to have felt no pain - Marines simply didn't. Amputation would have fired off all manner of pain-killers and stimulants in an attempt to keep the Captain awake, conscious and able to command.

The injured Marine was unceremoniously bundled into the cargo hold of the shuttle. The engines immediately fired causing a fire to break out amongst the bio-corn stalks behind and the craft shot forwards in a textbook emergency takeoff showering the Marine convoy with gravel and burning wheat matter. It was a take off of such violence that a lesser wounded man would surely have suffered even more grievous wounds but Zybil was a Marine, a veteran of two hundred years of continual warfare against the enemies of the Emperor.


TL;DR - It was like this

and this

(*) I know where the phrase comes from but can't see the relevance to the current situation. I was in no way attempting to build Jerusalem in England's Green and Pleasant Land.

(**) You can win OVER 9000 THE INTERNETS if you can identify that one.

Tuesday, 17 June 2014

Rouge Trooping

Just to confuse everyone amidst all this blogging about Rouge Trader here's another game with the word "rouge" in the title.

We played this tonight at the October club in Brum, part of Phil's scheme to drag out and play all of the old, old Workshop games that we own.

Game owner Phil...

...and Finney the other player. Following the death of Phil's Genetic Infantryman Finney ended up living with Phil's personality backed-up to solid state drive and stuck on the front of his helmet having been forced by the game to wander across Nu-Earth to pick him up. I can think of nothing worse.

Here's me in/on Milli-Com having exposed the Traitor General by collecting the final clue in the Milli-Com Battle Computer. A bare-knuckle fight in space followed as you aren't allowed to use weapons.


Good fun but the the end game is potentially longer than the main game. We ran out of time as Phil had to be off as he is needed to get into work early tomorrow (he is employed by a library in order to be rude to customers and fellow staff) but it was clear that the decently-paced process of collecting the set of four cards needed to allow a player to try and kill the Traitor General slows dramatically when trying to reduce the villain's four lives down to zero while the other players play cards to teleport him all around the board. That gets a bit frustrating. It did remind me of Talisman in that one player is trudging through six/seven turns of dice-rolling to finish off the game while the others are forced to carry on just in case he fails.

In fact the whole thing did remind me of Talisman - it has the same "internal story" randomly created by drawing cards from the encounter deck with a lot of random events and traditional lack of regard for anything regarding balance.

Next week - Rouge Trader in 28mm or Inq28.