cpu088 wrote:Clanak koji ovde post-ujem izasao je u online casopisu Total Power br.7 iz juna 2000. godine. U njemu je sadrzan stav jednog igraca koji u potpunosti odgovara mome. U pitanju je famozni "power play"! Koga ne bude mrzelo da ga citavog procita, nadam se da ce biti dovoljno vredan da prokomentarise.
PROFILE
Jon Cleaves is from the USA — South Portland, Maine, to be precise although he's now living in Lansing, Kansas. he's a Major in the US Army and has been playing wargames since 1972, so yes, there are people older than Conrad out there!
All the stuff about 'beardiness' a few months ago in White Dwarf stirred me to write my first letter to the editor Paul Sawyer. He graciously wrote back to me and said that my letter would appear in WD #229. It didn't. When I asked him about it, he suggested I write a fully-fledged article instead. I did. He didn't publish that either. However, Total Power will, so here it is!
One of the best features of Games Workshop games is that they contain something for everyone. Renowned artists emerge bleary-eyed from back rooms with masterpieces, mad doctors chuckle cruelly over their latest conversions, renowned storytellers hold the faithful spellbound with their tales of grandeur and doom. And then there are those of us for whom the enjoyment of the game comes in the attainment of a glorious victory, hard won over a capable and dangerous opponent. We have been getting some bad press lately, and I intend to set the record straight and show that it is possible to seek victory without also being a scurrilous knave.
First off, there is no room in our hobby for cheaters. Many times in the articles and letters contained in recent White Dwarfs and Citadel Journals the phrase 'win at all costs' has been used. If it is meant to imply there are those who would violate the rules or the trust of their opponents to achieve hollow victory, then they truly are sad gits who have no place among us. If, however, that phrase is used to denigrate a general who would use his forces and resources in an optimal and legal manner, then I submit to you such 'name-calling' is also unworthy of our brother and sister-hood. Such a manner of play is as valid and enjoyable as any other, which I intend to show here, and deriding it can only serve to chase away those who might otherwise be valued members of our group.
We share a great hobby. Our common interest spans all age groups and cultures. We are above virtually any type of discrimination, yet we persist in publicly decrying those whose enjoyment comes principally from a hard won victory. Certainly the term 'power gamer' (now more commonly 'beardy' in these pages) has been around for some time, as have many other unpleasant labels applied to those who are different from us. Lately however, such derision has found its way into the pens of writers in our favourite magazines. Why is this so? Why are mysel f and other Warhammer generals like me so misunderstood? What is so wrong with winning? After all, it is a game. There are victory conditions. We are representing troops locked in battle for whom the outcome determines their very survival. Why can't I enjoy winning as much as my fellow hobbyists enjoy painting, converting, or sharing in the rich Warhammer background? To find the answers to these sticky questions, let us look at the common complaints of those with clean-shaven faces.
Those who use the appellation 'beardy' often ask me why players like me care about winning. The answer is simple. Behind each battle, much resides. Before I begin setting up a Warhammer game, my opponent and I have spent hundreds of hours, not to mention dollars (or pounds!), preparing for battle. Models are carefully selected, built and painted, background read, army lists pored over. With such an investment, I like my games to mean something. If, after all that, I play someone who has no desire to learn basic tactics and who shoves his troops haphazardly forward into the killing fields with no regard to their survival or the tale of glory (or woe!) that brought them there, it means very little to me to vanquish him. On the other hand, if my opponent's forces arrive with dangerous troops arrayed according to a cunning plan covered in the badges and scars of many hard-fought battles, the song of such a game will be told around the table of heroes for many years to come. Not only do I try to win, I want my opponent to be striving for victory as well. Should I win, glory is mine for the achievement is great. Should I lose, there will be another day, the great book of tales has been added to and I am highly motivated to buy, craft, paint and research the next generation of my army.
A common complaint of the beardless is that those of us with facial hair pay no attention to the background of the game and that somehow we are able to select armies that are in contrast to that background. I am not sure how this is possible. Take, for example, the High Elves. It must be that many High Elven generals have had forces composed of significant numbers of repeater bolt throwers. If, in thousands of years of High Elven history, no Elven general had more than one or two available to him, then the list would have read 0-2 Repeater Bolt Throwers. We know, for example, that no general ever took the field with more than one unit of the vaunted Dragon Princes, thus the restriction. In fact, the use of bolt throwers was so common among the armies of Ulthuan; fully one quarter of the firepower of a High Elven army may be such. I often picture myself high in a spire of Naggaroth, the light of violet lantern flames dancing across a map of the Old World. My evil lieutenants gather round as we discuss the number of Witch Elves available to our campaign and in which of the enemy's units our Assassins will conceal themselves.
Constructing one's force is one of the keys to good generalship and a major attraction of GW games. Like the Dark Elf prince planning a raid on the shores of Ulthuan, I will choose those forces that best serve to defeat the armies of our goody-two-shoes cousins from amongst those available. Similarly, if I am headed for the borders of the Empire, I must determine my plan for destroying or neutralizing Steam Tanks. As the Empire has eight of the infernal devices, (and certainly no kingdom with a feudal/medieval technology base can keep eight or more armies in the field), I am sure to face Steam Tanks in the majority of my engagements with Empire forces. I do not complain when my opponent takes the field with one, I expect him to: it is consistent with the background and a sign that he knows what he is doing. Tournament play highlights this type of challenge. Not only must my army be able to deal with Steam Tanks, it must also be prepared for Greater Daemons, Doomwheels, Stegadons, Giants, Wardancers, Gyrocopters, Assassins, Necromancy, High Magic, Bretonnian Kings and Bull Tauruses. Generals from all over the Old World will be matching their wits and their best troops against mine, so I must find a way to defeat a myriad of dangerous opponents with just the one army list. A formidable but extremely satisfying task. Lately, the trend at major tournaments includes an army list judgement as acompon ent of generalship. Unfortunately in some rare cases this has been used as a method by which the less competitive and creative among us can force political correctness on otherwise victorious generals. For the most part, however, this recognizes the importance of army design in the play of GW games.
Like real war, Warhammer is a contest of measure and countermeasure. Devious tactics and cunning plans bring victory in one battle, only to be outmatched the next. Once bested by such, some of the more knavely among us whinge and complain, while the true general puts brainpower to work to overcome the machinations of the enemy. If the enemy uses a hero clad in the Cloak of Mist and Shadows to defeat my Night Goblin Fanatics, I can mewl like a kitten or I can seek a response to such a clever move (which is out there for even a gobbo to surmise). Of course my opponent will have the Heart of Woe, Ruby Chalice and The Black Gem amongst his leaders. Why wouldn't he? My job is to counter them, not bemoan them. A good friend and Warhammer rival came to battle one day with his Undead Army. His dread and evil leader possessed the fabled Book of Secrets and the mysterious Potion of Knowledge. A dangerous combination to be sure, and a well-thought out scheme - for the use of his Necromantic magic coupled with these items seemed to spell doom for my courageous band of High Elves. I suppose I could have ranted on and referred to him as possessing facial follicles (which he does not). Instead, I concocted a plan that eventually defeated him by the narrowest of margins. It was an extremely satisfying game that I shall always remember and a song of battle that would not be sung had I childishly refused to play someone whose only offense was a desire to win in a contest of skill and intelligence. Afterward, we considered the combination the minimum standard for Undead Wizards, but have long since found ways to defeat it. Our knowledge of Old World tactics grows because of our competitiveness and any effort to quench our thirst for v i c tory would seem to be counterproductive to adding to that knowledge. the hands we are dealt When I opened my box containing the current edition of the Warhammer game (a delightful moment for all of us, yes?) I quickly discovered that the latest research into the Old World's arcana had produced a powerful new item, the Forbidden Rod. What an incredible feat of sorcery must have been performed to produce such an item. No wizard of the Old World would take the field without one, if such were available. Soon after, however, I began to see references to the use of the item being somehow 'unfair' or 'unsportsmanlike'. How can that be, I asked. Surely all the boxes of Warhammer contained the same set of magic items? Surely those included represented our best understanding of the magical constructs of the Old World? Try as I might, however, I could find no reference in the rules or army lists or background to indicate any restriction on the use of an obviously powerful and utilitarian item. I fully expected all of my nonstunty opponents to have one, and my battle plans always included methods for dealing with the Forbidden Rod sure to be carried by the enemy spellcaster. Neither I nor any of my opponents cried foul at its use, and I remember enjoying all of the games I have played that contained one. Now, of course, further research has revealed that use of the Forbidden Rod poses great risk to the owner, and I expect to see it far less frequently.
The same research has revealed that the Executioner's Axe was never possessed by a non-Dark Elf general, but up until then it was commonly found in the hands of Warhammer leaders across the continents. And well it should be. Why would someone forego its use? Is chopping off the enemy general's head somehow less honourable than turning him into Chaos Spawn? Blasting him on a pillar of fire? Riding him down on an armoured horse? Stuffing him into a bag? Making such distinctions makes no sense; after all it is a fantasy game. Good generals make use of the resources available. And the idea of a craven rat-man or a hideous daemon somehow getting squeamish over rather effortlessly removing an enemy head is downright silly. And for those Dark Elf generals who are quite intelligently still carrying one, I say "Carry on, old bean!" After all, any Warhammer general worth his salt has a plan for them, too. friendly games I have often heard the term 'friendly game' used as an antonym for a tournament or other game where the outcome matters to the players. This is also something I do not understand. I, quite unabashedly as you can tell, intend to win every game I play. While that is not always the outcome, I don't go around throwing fits when I lose, and neither do the fine gentlemen I have had the opportunity to play. In fact, my friends are my most dangerous and cunning opponents. When one of us loses, rest assured the week will be spent conjuring a new army list and ever more deadly tactics until the chance for revenge presents itself. The games themselves are all wonderfully hard-fought contests often decided by the slimmest margins as we vie for the right to brag until we meet again. Players who 'don't care about winning' offer no challenge, no glorious struggle. They pay no attention to proper tactics and formations. They make unsupported charges and disperse the efforts of their missile troops. The games are short and unsatisfying. However, I must note that although I do not understand how anyone can invest so much time and effort in a game about combat and have no desire to be victorious, I certainly would not stoop to calling them names. I do try, however, to teach them a little about war and combat, so that possibly their play will improve and the troops on which they lavished so much attention will spend more time on the playing surface.
Ah, you say, Jon you devious old coot, you know what we mean by 'friendly games': those where there are no rules disputes. Now I suppose there is some
danger that the rules are unclear to some and that they might choose to enter their opinion into a game in an argumentative fashion. This is difficult to understand given that our friends at Games Workshop have contrived the near-brilliant 'roll a die when you don't agree' rule. I have used it many times to solve the numerous unpredictable interactions possible amongst Warhammer troops, spells and items. It is possible that some are not satisfied with the 'roll a die' rule, especially if they are convinced their interpretation is both correct and obvious. This is why it is always best to discuss potentially controversial rules with your opponent beforehand. But why all this worry about rules in the first place, you ask. Can't two friends just play on without such tedious considerations? Certainly they can, in fact, they can pretty much do whatever they want. They can even make up their own rules, it is their game and their figures, after all. This freedom, however, does not address a very important aspect of GW games: they are played all over the world. Not only have I found myself playing Warhammer on different continents than the one I grew up on, I might not even share a common language with my opponent! (He may be British, for example). Rules and standardisation are critical to play between players who have just met. That is what makes the refinements and errata found in White Dwarf so important. It is no fun to join in a game in another state, province or country and discover an entirely different brand of Warhammer than the one you came to play. The player with a rules question isn't being unfriendly, he just wants to make sure the two of you are playing the same game. Help him out. hair on the chin One fine Saturday, I see an announcement of a tournament on the bulletin board of my local game store. I return to my home and begin planning my quest for victory amongst my friends and other local gamers. I decide to use my Dark Elf army and settle down to write my army list, being careful to ensure that I know how I am going to deal with the more threatening situations I am sure to encounter. Dark Magic and bolt throwers for the larger things and flyers, Sea Dragon cloaks to reduce the impact of the enemy's shooting, repeater crossbows to mow down his line troops, Cold Ones to crush his elites and scouts and an Assassin to throw his plan off balance. I paint the few troops that I do not already have and await the day of battle. Now let us observe two possible outcomes for the tournament.
version 1
Battle is joined. My opponents have carefully crafted their armies and honed them to perfection over many games. Black Gems, Boar Boyz and Bloodthirsters are all present, as are many new and well-thought out tactics. The games are close, contested by champions who give and expect no quarter. The tournament proclaims a winner and his prize is much valued because of the quality of the struggle that produced it. Win or lose, all fought valiantly and the recounting of the tales of combat continues long into the night at the local pub.
version 2
The first game is marred by the fact that my opponent cares not for victory. His army is pretty, but ineffective, and his knowledge of tactics is poor. All of his troops are gone by the end of the second turn. He has entered a tournament, by definition a contest of skill and cunning to determine a single overall victor, yet he complains of some unspecified unfairness simply because I took the time to carefully consider my army and create a plan of battle.
In the second game, my opponent whines at my use of an Executioner's Axe when his general is killed. Somehow my selection of that item is beardy and unfair, but his Plaque of Dominion and Stegadons are not. He makes vague reference to some Warhammer player's agreement in his hometown that they never take the item. I point out that the Magic Revisited rules we are using, announced as part of the tournament design, restrict the item to Dark Elves, the race I am playing, and reduce the effectiveness of the item somewhat from the original printing, but that it is hardly illegal or unfair to employ one. He stomps away in a childish huff. In the end I am victorious, but I do not achieve the top prize. The tournament is not solely based on the skill of the general in battle, but also on an arbitrary judgment of army selection. Though my army is quite in line with both the written background for the Dark Elves and the design parameters, the judge has a grudge against repeater bolt throwers and considers the four I possess to be somehow 'against the spirit' of the game. I can find no reference to this spirit in my Dark Elf army book. Call me what you will, but I prefer the former scenario.
I have trained dozens of Warhammer players, loaning them one or more of my seven armies until they decide which of the many and fascinating choices best suits their style and which background holds their interest. As they are learning, the games grow closer and closer until the inevitable day when the student defeats the teacher. At that point, each game becomes a life-or-death struggle to the final die roll of the final turn. The enjoyment of our time spent over the table is only matched by the promise of even more glorious battles to come. I, for one, want this to go on. One of my more capable recruits recently asked me about the new tone of derision levelled at players like us. What do I tell him? Why should we seek to learn which troop types and magic items are currently out of favor, even if it were possible to keep track of such bizarre political correctness? What do I tell the new player when someone calls him a name or chastises him for enjoying the thrill of victory? Are we going to raise an entire generation of new Warhammer players in such an environment? I suggest to you that competitiveness is just as valid a reason to play Warhammer as any other. Great generals do not whine about Vermin Lords and War Altars, they destroy them. So, strap on your Armour of Brilliance, raise your Ruby Chalice and join me in a new era of Warhammer, where modeller and writer and general coexist without discord. More than just friends, we can be brothers in arms!
