Einion
New member
Thought you guys would get a giggle out of this article from the Saturday magazine from The Irish Times from a few weeks back:
The armies are plastic and the battlefields are tabletops, but wargames are serious business
\'In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war...\' It is the year 40,000AD. The setting is the battle-scarred fortress on a remote mountainside. Across a cratered landscape, through swirling mist, two mutant armies prepare to do battle. The stage is set for Armageddon.
Actually, it\'s Thursday evening and I\'m in Games Workshop on Dublin\'s Liffey Street, where about a dozen or so young men are slugging it out in tabletop sci-fi and fantasy games such as Warhammer, Lord of the Rings and World of Warcraft. The shop doesn\'t just sell the paraphernalia associated with these games - the model figurines, the terrains, the glossy character back-stories. It also provides a space in which enthusiasts can get together, paint their figurines and hang out. Some of those present have even taken the day off work to maximise their playing time.
\"These guys here are called Tyranids,\" explains Conor (21). \"They\'re this, like, alien race that comes from another galaxy. They basically land on a planet and kill every living thing on that planet. I don\'t mean just plants and animals. They eat the atmosphere. They drink the oceans. There\'s nothing left at all when these guys are done.\"
Good Lord.
\"These guys here are Space Marines. They\'re genetically engineered so that they don\'t die of old age. They\'re nine feet tall and five feet wide. And they\'re trained from the day they\'re born to do battle against the enemies of mankind.\"
Six months ago, Conor left his job with the Civil Service to accept a lower-paid position here in the Game Workshop. He is an avid fan of tabletop gaming. \"It\'s an absolutely brilliant hobby,\" he says. \"I don\'t think they\'re anything like it, to be honest. There\'s the collecting aspect, obviously, and there\'s the whole fantasy side of things. But mostly it\'s just about having your mates around and pitting your armies against each other. What could possibly be better?\"
Sex, literature, country walks, good food, fine wine, friends, family and the laughter of small children. But let\'s give this a shot all the same.
When Conor offers to play me in a game of Lord of the Rings, he assumes I\'ll be familiar with the characters (I\'m not). Since I have no idea what any of my figurines are supposed to look like, I elect to paint them all in emerald green with bright red hoops across their chests. Conor looks confused.
\"Is this some GAA [Irish sporting association] thing?\" he asks.
\"Erm, possibly,\" I concede.
Attempting to explain the rules of the game would be an exercise in futility. But suffice to say, it involves a lot of dice-rolling, a certain amount of manual-consulting and a tremendous amount of taking Conor at his word. Despite the fact that my goblins are decked out in Mayo\'s colours, they prove surprisingly deadly shots, and Conor\'s ranks quickly diminish. At every turn, Conor provides an accompanying sound effect and commentary. I roll a five. \"Five, yes! So one of the goblins lunges forward, knows out one of Gandalf\'s knees, takes the dagger and plunges it deep into his neck. Blood spurts everywhere and Gandalf is slain!\"
The inanimate figurines on the table are motionless. But Conor\'s enthusiasm is so infectious, I can almost imagine it\'s all really happening. Eventually, and much to my bewilderment, I emerge victorious in our joust and I\'m very tempted to accept his offer of a rematch. But I decide against it. When I leave he tells me to come back any time I like. You never know, I tell him. I just might.