Friday 16 April 2021

The Ion Age, Patrol Angis: Stalking through the woods, (warning: may not contain much woodland)

 

After much anticipation, I played my first solo game of Patrol Angis by Alternative Armies. I had spent a lot of time painting my starter set models and very little time throwing a table together using a battle systems game mat, some trees made by my good friend and part-time lover Robbie Grant and the original 15mm Critical Mass terrain that the great men themselves used in their fantastic and fondly remembered demonstration tables, (courtesy of my beloved friend Adam Davies).

This scenario is called ‘Stalking in the Forest’, but my decision to play this solo game was fairly last-minute and I hadn’t prepared enough trees, so opted to use my lovely new/old and much loved critical mass buildings instead.

The scenarios in the Patrol Angis book are set on the world of Dando III where the Prydian Army are fighting a hit-and-run war against the League of Yordan forces who have laid claim to the mineral rich world by means of a bloody and very un-knightly, (word) coup.

This scenario sees the dashing Baron Balthazar and his adjutant Jerome, (whose name I remember by thinking of Robson and Jerome. Spare me your judgement) leading their Lance, (the Prydian name for a platoon) of Retained Knights through a densely wooded area while trying to evade or destroy, (but ideally evade) a trio of Retained Yordish Knights each piloting a deadly Duxis battlesuit.

I opted to play the Prydians because Balthazar is just awesome in the background and the Yordists are classic villains, (and dicks) in the true sense of every great space opera setting. In this scenario, the silent player is aggressive meaning that the Yordist player will make every effort to close with the enemy foregoing actions like overwatch, self-preservation, precise shot and anything else that gets in the way of getting right up in the Prydians’ grille and giving them a bloody good kicking! Another feature of this mission is that troop-specific special rules are disabled, so no jump jets, Cybernue enhancements for Balthazar, etc… but being a veteran wargamer, I decided to use them.

 Deployment

Both forces were set up within 5cm of opposite table edges in accordance with the scenario rules. I opted to keep the Duxis battlesuits in a single post of three models to make them more survivable. I split the Prydian post up into Demis, (4 man fireteams) and Minas, (2 man fireteams) to offer me greater flexibility and also just because I wanted to learn about how the action point allocation works by having lots of options to play with. For other beginners, I recommend that you leave the Prydians in their 10 man posts for your first game and run the Duxis as three individuals.

I rolled initiative and the Yordists won with 7 to the Prydians’ 6, meaning that both sides would receive 7 activation tokens plus an extra 1 for the Yordists as they were the initiative player.

I continued the phase by allocating tokens to the Yordists, (they allocate first, being the initiative player) then to one of the troop elements of the Prydians. Having only a single troop element on the Yordist side, I allocated their 8 tokens in one go and split the tokens between my Prydian troop elements. Without an understanding of how the game worked in practice, I just wanted to ensure that every troop element could do something, but – in theory – I could have loaded a few elements with lots of tokens.

Now let’s get to the bit that everybody wants to see: photos of wee men killing each other on a grown man’s dining room table.

Game Objectives:


Prydian Army - Exit the board via the enemy deployment zone with as many troop elements as possible or destroy all enemy troop elements

League of Yordan - Kill all Prydians


The Yordists begin the festivities by unloading a blistering barrage of railgun, laser and howitzer fire at the Prydian lines to no effect.



The Prydian Anvil 888 team respond with a precise shot action scoring 1 out of 2 possible hits which is multiplied by the weapon's AOE rule, (If I had thought ahead, I would have placed an additional activation token on the Anvil 888 team. Usually, a support weapon can only fire once a turn, but there was a loader in the same Mina which would have allowed a second shot in the same turn).

The initiative player allocates damage from combat. I decided that if it were me, I'd have spread the damage across my troop element, so they received one DMR each having failed all three armour saves!



The Yordists return fire following the Silent Player guidance of targeting priority. Robson and Jerome, (don't judge me) take cover and Jerome snap fires back scoring a lucky hit.


Robson and Jerome are out of range for the Baron's deadly Carnwennan pistol to be brought into play, so opt to order another round of fire from the Anvil 888 team. I am now painfully aware that my army is sitting in the open relying on a combination of Chameleon circuits and rubbish Yordish marksmanship to remain alive. The order goes through without issue and the Anvil 888 team unload to devastating effect. I decided that the Yordists would allocate the damage to their least useful - in this particular engagement - battlesuit. The Duxis wielding a Fretan Railgun collapses to its knees in a burning heap. The Yordists receive a re-motivate token which they immediately remove by spending a vital activation token. They have plenty left...

The leader of the Yordist troop element - the Harlequin - swears revenge on Baron Balthazar and unleashes yet another deadly salvo. This time, Robson and Jerome have sung their last. Without an activation token to spend on removing DMR, the pair are hurled into the air in a cloud of dust and ravaged soil. I neglected to use Balthazar's 'Baron' special rule to cheat death, (because I forgot) so I decided that he and Jerome were dragged from the field and restored to health post-battle. The Demi to the left of the hapless comman Mina open up with their Angis AP MK7 rifles and the Minstrel Taser to no effect. The Taser's shocker effect also fails to disorient the battlesuits.



The Yordists take aim at the Demi with the hated Anvil 888 team, but fail to hit.
The Prydian Demi on the right flank use their jump jets to blast off behind the Duxis battlesuits and pester them with fire from their Angis MK7 rifles causing a point of damage. This also grants me the possibility of outpacing the Duxis and reaching their table edge should they mop up the rest of my army.



The Retained Knights hold their ground and receive a punishing charge from the Duxis battlesuits who tear them apart with their Impact Fists before the brave knights even have a chance to respond.





The Mina on the back line open up on the battlesuits with their Angis AP MK7 rifles and a multi-launcher further reducing the Duxis' armour integrity, though not by enough to prevent their wholesale slaughter as the Yordists stomp them into piles of bloody froth and broken Alwhite armour. 





The Sniper Mina on the far left of the Prydian flank make a desperate jumpjet exfiltration to the Yordist rear and open fire with their Angis AP MK7 rifles scoring two hits which the enemy fail to save. Both suits explode in gouts of flame and roiling clouds of black smoke. 

A Pyrrhic victory for the brave knights of Prydia, but a victory nonetheless. I was amazed to realise that this entire game constituted only a SINGLE ROUND of brutal gameplay. I was already in love with the background of this game before I played it, so finding that the game is intense, tactical, cinematic and just generally quite wonderful was something of a relief to me. I hadn't even finished reading Patrol Angis before I dropped another few hundred pounds on the Alternative Armies website, so beware!


Many people looking into the Ion Age have the same questions, so I'll try to answer the ones that I had prior to taking the plunge:

  • The rules strike a fine balance between complexity and fast, fluid play. I recommend reading the rules through at least three times before trying it; especially if you're bolting on the solo play mechanics. Bookmark the page with weapons and armour tables and download the reference sheet which - like much of the material - is free.
  • This game rewards tactical play. You aren't likely to win it at the point of army creation which is another thing that appeals to me. I think it would make an EXCELLENT tournament game; a fact which has been proven by the brilliant Aris Kohlemainen's Arcticon event!
  • You can play 1 platoon a side with the first book, but I see no reason why it can't scale up to at least two a side, even with multiple players. The system is very flexible. 
  • This is the starter set that I bought: 

    https://www.alternative-armies.com/collections/15mm-ion-age-miniature-range/products/patrol-angis-15mm-skirmish-wargame-game-pack
At the time of writing, there's a discount on this pack as well as an extra 20% off any purchases at checkout for the month of April 2021, although I've yet to see a month where Gavin DOESN'T run a special offer or discount of some kind.

  • The starter set is a complete no-brainer. Combined with the robust solo rules, you can have lots of fun by yourself until lockdown is but a distant memory.

I'm looking forward to my next training scenario, but I'll probably replay this one with a forest and with the lessons learned from my first outing.

Thanks for reading,

Tom

Monday 25 January 2021

Solo gaming: The most fun a grown man can have by himself

 

Solo war gaming, (the 2nd most fun thing a man can do by himself): Hardwired

 I’ve recently bought into the Hardwired ruleset by the very talented Patrick Todoroff of Stalker 7 fame. 

Because I don’t have enough minis already, I like to make my own on the resin printer. To that end, I bought some of the amazing cyberpunk STL files from Unit 9 on myminifactory:


https://www.myminifactory.com/users/UNIT9


To my mind, there are no figures that embody the cyberpunk style and ethos more than Unit 9. They have the added bonus of - unlike many other 3D model producers - showing a fine appreciation for posing their models in a natural way. 


I slapped some paint on my first batch, the deadly Yakuza! 





I’ve a few more models to paint and some battle systems terrain to finish building before my first battle report. 


Watch this space. 


Sunday 19 July 2020

HP Lovecraft never visited Saltcoats

An exciting new discovery by History graduates that haven't ended up working in a call centre or entering the teaching profession has revealed that American-born reclusive horror fiction writer H.P Lovecraft has never visited the town of Saltcoats on the West Coast of Scotland.

                                                                     West of Scotland


Lovecraft is famous for his many stories of horrors from beyond time and space warping the fabric of  Euclidean geometry, pushing human sanity beyond its furthest breaking points and for being a big, huge racist. 

                                                                     Big, Huge Racist


One of his most famous stories, the Shadow over Innsmouth features one man's horrifying ordeal in the aforementioned town which is populated by sullen, isolationist, inbred mutants suspected of having copulated with an undersea race of fish-people known as 'The Deep Ones'. The story has sparked many comparisons to the seaside town which was once a popular holiday destination for tens of people.

                                                                        Amusements


"It's patent nonsense! Said Bob Fishman, MSP for Saltcoats and the surrounding towns of Ardrossan and Stevenson. "Innsmouth is a forlorn waterside hovel; riddled with unemployment, drug abuse, alcoholism, incest and a record-breaking level of teenage pregnancies. Saltcoats, by contrast is situated on the West Coast of Scotland."

Innsmouth, yesterday

Saltcoats

Contrary to popular belief, the reclusive Lovecraft who is officially recorded as never having left the Unites States of America over the course of his life is now suspected to have never played Street Fighter II Turbo at the Windmill amusements on Saltcoats' main thoroughfare.


Lovecraft was unavailable for comment as he is dead.

Thursday 16 July 2020

Father of 2 goes for s**** and returns to find new edition of 40K




It has been confirmed that a father of 2 has gone for a big Tom-Tit and returned to find that yet another edition of Warhammer 40K has been produced.

Father of 2 Barry Kelly, (26) went to drop the kids off at the pool at approximately 18:00 on 26th February, 2020. He returned 5 months later to find that the ruleset for the popular tabletop wargame had been completely revised.

"I was just wiping my arse when the phone pinged and there was a notification saying there was new stuff. I thought, blimey, that's quick. I only just finished writing my army list before I nipped in to launch a brown canoe. Now all my cards and books and that are out of date!"

The update comes in the wake of people getting used to and enjoying the previous edition of the game and having bought almost all the stuff for their respective armies.

"Basically, we thought it wasn't fair on our customers to be stuck with all that boring 'current' stuff they had bought, often on impulse." said Jervis Johnson, (3) "We know our demographic and these cunts REALLY like buying stuff. Isolated deviants among our customer base will actually build, paint and game with our models. The sick fucking weirdos." said Johnson, non-judgementally.

"It's pure easy doing a new edition!" said Max Bottrill, (73) Games Workshop head of design, manufacture and bonsai trees shaped like knobs. "It's like with teachers when they write your child's report by changing the names on the reports of different children with similar traits. Sometimes we don't even change anything just to see if any cunt notices. We're like the 'Stephen King' of tabletop gaming."

"I'm not liking the look of this psychic maelstrom pish." remarked Kelly. "If things don't improve, then I'm heading in for another Eartha Kitt and like Captain Oates, I may be some time..."

Man goes into Games Workshop and leaves with what he went in for


 




It has been reported that a man has gone into the Glasgow branch of Warhammer and left without purchasing something other than what he went in for in the first place. 


Barry Kelly, (31) from Glasgow is alleged to have entered the store on his way home from work and ‘popped in’ for a pot of Black Templar contrast paint.  Staff and eye-wtinesses have confirmed, however, that Kelly broke with firmly established Warhammer store visiting conventions by walking directly to the paint rack, selecting his chosen item, taking it to the counter and purchasing it before leaving without so much as a glance to either side.   


“It was fucking weird.” said store manager, Steve Bloke. “He walked straight in, right past the guy that I’ve positioned at the front door who says ‘hi’ to everybody without even nodding in a non-committal manner. It would have been ok if he'd engaged in half-hearted banter regarding armies that he has no intention of painting, ever, but I genuinely got the feeling... the horrible feeling... that he was going to... to PAINT something!” 


“Yes.” says Martin Guy, store front door cunt, “My main job is to pretend that I’m glad to see the sad, pre-pubescent loners when they come in and to pounce on the weak-looking, indecisive grandparents who walk through the doors at Christmas like timid deer. I’m fucking good at saying ‘hi’ to cunts. It’s basically what I do. This weirdo didn’t bite! It’s almost as though he had a planned purchase in mind, but that can’t happen. Can it?”  


“IT’S UNPRECEDENTED!” shouts Stuart Fellow, loud shop-person. “IT’S ALMOST AS FUCKED UP AS THAT TIME A BIRD CAME IN! FAIR PLAY THOUGH. SHE WAS WITH HER BOYFRIEND!” 


“What? Oh. No. I had my headphones on.” said Kelly. 

Monday 16 February 2015

Hour of the Wolf - A Space Marine Battles Novel

Hi everyone.

Dark end of the Street have been incredibly fortunate recently, managing to procure a preview copy of the new Black Library novel by acclaimed hack fiction writer Laurie Goldring, so without further ado, we are proud to present:

Hour of the Wolf
By Laurie Goldring

Wind howled with reckless abandon over the razor sharp peaks above setting up a dirge like unto a thousand wailing ghosts. Icicles hung from outcrops, some playing host to the frozen, lifeless bodies of failed aspirants who had been left on the face as a stark warning against weakness and failure. Snow and shards of ice billowed in deadly gusts of slicing, biting wind from a leaden, murky sky overhead. This was Fenris, land of eternal winter and shifting ice, home to the legendary Adeptus Astartes Chapter, The Space Wolves. It was pure fucking cold.

“It is pure fucking cold today!” growled Skulfi Beardhammer from behind his thick, manly beard. He was a wolf of a bear of a man encased in ancient ceramite covered with intricate gilt-work and runes that burned with a crisp, blue light that hurt the eyes to linger on.

“Bah, this is not cold.” Spat the grizzled Longfang Growly Old-Beard, grizzledly “Why I remember one felwinter when...”

“Yes, that’s great brother.” Interrupted Skulfi, tactfully “Anyway, what about all these chaos cunts cutting about down the bottom of our mountain? They’re Khornate ones, so they’re a bit angry and that.”

“Our situation is dire brothers.” mumbled Olaf Threebeardson “Most of the Great Companies are on the great hunt and the Fang is besieged. We must consider all possible strategies to secure the sanctity of our sacred home. The Fang must stand!”

“I could do a mass?” suggested Wolf Priest Magnus Magnussonson.

“And my axe!” added Gimli, irrelevantly.

“I could do a prank call!” suggested Lukas the Trickster.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. That’d be great. Thanks.” replied Skulfi.

“Right then. I can pretend that I’m a Chinese takeaway – I can do the voice and everything, (bit racist) – and tell them that they’ve phoned in an order for delivery and they have to come and collect it!”

“Wow, that’s brilliant that is. Isn’t it lads?” asked Skulfi, smiling encouragingly. There was a mumbled assent from the assembled Space Wolves.

“Right, so, which one should I phone then?” asked Lukas.

“Phone?” asked Skulfi, peering uncertainly over the edge at the milling Chaos Legions below “Oh yeah, phone Khorne. That’ll be good.”

“Erm... the Blood God? That one?”

“Yeah, phone him mate. That’ll be brilliant.” There was a chorus of quiet agreement from the Space Wolves in attendance. Lukas smiled at them uncertainly.

“Anyone got his number?”

“No, but I think it’s somewhere in the hall of records at the very, very bottom of the Fang. Or you could just ask one of the Chaos marines outside for it.”

“Ah. Righto.” Said Lukas “I’ll just erm... go and get it then. Right. See you later for a bit of feasting and saga telling and that then brothers.” He walked through his brothers and into the great portal cut into the living rock. They watched him until he was lost to shadow, each quietly honouring the blood claw’s dedication to the chapter .

“Cunt.” Said Skulfi.

“Aye!” agreed  Threebeardson “And what’s that all about replacing one of your hearts with a stasis grenade? That’s not a trick, it’s just fucking stupid!” There was agreement and a great stroking of beards before a reverential hush fell upon the brotherhood. A great shadow was cast from within the door to the fang soon followed by the enormous forms of two giant wolves pulling in their wake the Grav Sled of Logan Grimnar, the Great Wolf himself.

“Ho, ho hooooooo....” growled Grimnar in a totally un-santa like manner. All bowed their heads and fought a curious, subconscious impulse to ask for an eagle-eyes action man. “Well met brothers of the wolf. Dire is our situation. Never have we faced such peril!”

“What about the Armageddon war?” asked one of the Wolves, helpfully.

“Well, yes. That was a bit hairy.” agreed Grimnar.

“And the Horus Heresy my lord.” said another “By all accounts that one was a bit of a shiter!”

“Aye, true enough.” Said Grimnar, nodding his venerable head “But in this instance our numbers are dangerously depleted. Where are the great heroes, the notables of our chapter in this, our time of greatest need? Where is the venerable Bjorn, the fell-handed?”

“He can’t be here my lord.” said Skulfi.

“Why not? asked the Great Wolf “Does he yet slumber in the great wolf-dream?”

“No lord. His hands fell off.”

“Balls.” growled Grimnar, enigmatically. “Well, where are the others then?”

“My lord.” said Threebeardson “Lukas the Trickster has left to set in motion a cunning stratagem involving a teeny, tiny wee bit of ‘dudebro’ type racism.”

“Who?” asked Grimnar, his venerable eyebrows rising oldly above his venerable eyes which were old.

“My lord, he’s the one with the stasis grenade for a heart.”

“Bah, cunt!” said Grimnar “I mean how’s that even a trick? It’s just fucking stupid if you ask me!” There was a loud murmur of agreement and a great nodding of beards “surely there must be others. What about Chuck Norris? Where’s he?”

“My lord?” asked Skulfi “Chuck Norris is not a Space Wolf.”

“Has he got a beard?” asked Grimnar.

“Erm... yes my lord?”

“Then he’s a fucking Space Wolf.” Said Grimnar, Chuck Norrisly.
At that moment, a chainaxe cleared the edge and locked in place followed swiftly by a hellish giant in brazen, scarlet armour.
The Khornate lord was stooped low, ready to pounce.  His deadly chainaxe revved of its own volition as though hungry to gore itself on the blood of the loyal Space Wolves. He locked eyes with the mighty Logan Grimnar and spoke; his words issuing forth as little more than phlegmatic growls through his warped vox-grille “GGGNNNNNARRRRGHGGHHHG!!! WEAKLING LAPDOGS OF THE FALSE CORPSE EMPEROR (etc)!!! GGGNNNNNNNGGGGRRRRRGGGHHHH Can I have a Scalextric please?” The venerable Grimnar narrowed his lupine eyes and growled in reply.

“Have you been a good boy?” he asked in his gravelly voice which was fitting because he was a old man.

“GGGNNGGNGNNGNGGRRRRNNOT REALLY!!! I WAS TALKING ON MY PHONE QUITE LOUDLY ON THE TRAIN THE OTHER MORNING!!! GRLLLLLGGNNRHAARRRDEHARHAARRRGGHH!!! FOR THE BLOOD GOD!!!”
Grimnar reached back into his ornate grav-sled and hurled a rectangular box at his hated foe. The traitor marine glared down at the container, then reached down and lifted it over the tall crests of his helmet, brandishing the Scalextric set at the uncaring heavens “GGGNGNNGNGNGNGNNNNNGGGNAAARRRGGGHHHH!!! IT’S GOT A CHICANE!!! BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOOOOOD!!!”

“Batteries are not included, heretic.” Growled Logan Grimnar, Grimnarly.

“GNOWRGLLEEEEEEEARRGGHH (etc) I’LL JUST TAKE BATTERIES OUT THE DREADNOUGHT!!! THEY’RE MORE OR LESS REDUNDANT SINCE THE HELLFIEND PLASTIC KIT WAS RELEASED!!!” There was a confused and embarrassed silence as the Berserker’s mobile phone began to ring.

“Ha!” barked Skulfi “His ringtone is a Brotherhood of Man song!” Grimnar spat in disgust.

“Truly are the slaves of the dark gods beyond redemption."

“GGRRRGGNNNNHELLO? YES, THIS IS IRONHAKK THE SKULL-COLLECTOR. AN ORDER FOR COLLECTION? WHAT LUNACY IS THIS? I PLACED NO SUCH ORDER!!! WEAKLING LACKEY OF THE CORPSE-GOD, YOU HAVE SEALED YOUR FATE!!! I WILL BATHE IN YOUR ENTRAILS AND PLACE YOUR POLISHED SKULL AT THE FEET OF MY MASTER, (BUT TOTALLY NOT IN A RACIST WAY. IT’S PURELY BASED ON HOMICIDAL TENDENCIES GNRRRGLLLLLEEE!!!). WHERE DID YOU SAY THE TAKEAWAY WAS? CALIBAN? WE’LL SEE YOU IN ABOUT 10 MINUTES. THANKS.” He placed his phone carefully back into his belt pouch and growled menacingly at his hated foes. “ GGNNNRRGRARRGLLEE!!! THANK YOU SANTA!!! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!!!” and with that parting sacrilegious oath, he turned and leapt from the precipice; his bulky form soon swallowed by the swirling snow and hail.

“Crom!” said Skulfi, pop-referencingly.

“Enough of these copyright infringing references my brothers. I have to travel round every planet in the Imperium before morning!” shouted Logan Grimnar, fucking off majestically in anti-gravity Santa’s sleigh.

“Well brothers.” said Skulfi “The Fang is saved thanks to our bravery and quick thinking. Truly, we have honoured primarch and chapter by our deeds this day. Now let us all go and get stasis grenades in place of our secondary hearts, then do a bit of feasting and that.”

“Huzzah!” roared the assembled wolves, their voices soon lost to the howling winds of Fenris.


THE END

Thursday 31 July 2014

It's been a while

I've been busy, but that's no excuse for letting my blog fade away for more than a year. I suppose it comes down to a mixture of factors.

Last week I became a father for the first time and am not particularly interested in anything other than my family at present, but another constituent element over a longer period of time was my involvement in developing the brilliant sci-fi skirmish game, THON.

I was lucky enough to interview the game's creator, J R Vosovic as part of my regular writing duties for the excellent Australian gaming magazine, 'The Campaigner'. We got talking afterwards and I asked if I could contribute a short story idea set in what little I knew of the THON universe. Jon agreed and thinking nothing more of it, I sent him the opening scene to what is now - technically speaking - my first novella, (short of a novel by about 7000 words) 'Sparks'.

It was an incredibly difficult, but rewarding experience that made my revisit the way that I have subjectively criticised some of the Games Workshop writers out there. I had no idea how hard it was to write good fiction within the limited framework of an existing intellectual property, (and JR held a pretty loose leash) but now that I have, it's time to extend a heartfelt apology to Anthony Reynolds whose Word Bearers novels received some particularly unfair criticisms on this blog.

Anthony, the truth is that I wolfed your novels down whole over the space of 2 days during a trip to London. The Genestealer story arc was particularly chilling and you deserve better than the hater nonsense that I excreted here. It wasn't until I read the Grail Knight stories again that I remembered just how good a storyteller you are.

I suppose that the primary reason for stopping this blog is that I'm really, really happy with everything that Games Workshop have done since 6th edition and don't have anything to moan about or take the piss out of even if I had an inclination to do so. The next time you read this blog, (If I choose to continue it) it will be hobby based material alone. I won't be ranting, or taking the piss out of people for doing their job, but the old material will remain here to remind me about past mistakes.


Should I piss off then?
No Jervis. You're doing fine mate. You're back at the top of my favourite gaming people list where you should always have been. Sorry for being such a dick to you for years.

Well you piss off then.
 Righto! Off I piss.

Good night and God bless,

Uncle Truth x