It’s been quite some time since I last wrote an article for The Dispatch. I can only attribute this to a profound laziness on my part, and the creeping intrusion of job and family-related responsibilities. You would think that at my age I could get my priorities in order.
About a week or so ago, I received my 201st issue of Wargames Illustrated, the cover headline trumpeting “Now Full Colour Throughout!” Understandably, the majority of the color was in the form of advertisements, which arguably is a good thing, as it allows potential buyers to view well-painted samples from a manufacturer’s catalog. However, I noticed that once again the magazine included an article on painting Games Workshop’s Lord of the Ring miniatures by Kevin Dallimore. As Alice cried as she made her way through the looking glass, (this is) “curiouser and curiouser.”
Why so? Because I have to wonder why Wargames Illustrated would include an article on Games Workshop figures, which to me, would be much more at home in White Dwarf, that company’s flagship magazine. Perhaps it’s because Kevin Dallimore isn’t a part of Games Workshop’s ‘Eavy Metal painting team, and seems to have earned his fame as a miniatures painter working with the dying (if not already dead) Wargames Foundry. Indeed, in the Wargames Illustrated article, Dallimore admits to not using Games Workshop’s brand of paint on the figures (which is heresy enough to ban him from the pages of White Dwarf) but instead instructs the reader in Wargames Foundry’s “Three-Colour Paint System.”
Not that Games Workshop would actually care. I suppose that I am one of the four or five hobbyists that actually went to the financial results section of the Games Workshop website. Quite frankly, I wasn’t really prepared for what I read. For the first six-months of the company’s current fiscal year (which ended in June), it made a profit before taxes of £7,300,000. Given today’s exchange rate, that’s roughly $11,680,000 for only six month’s of operations! That’s not sales folks; that’s pre-tax profits.
Rather makes one wonder why people make historical miniatures at all. However, I suppose that since Games Workshop has such an overwhelming share of the fantasy and sci-fi market, new companies entering that arena would find themselves in the role of David facing a new and improved Goliath. And that caveat needn’t be limited to just new companies. Just ask the folks at Wargames Foundry. Brian Ansell bet the farm on Renaissance orcs, and vampiric elves, perhaps meaning to go head-to-head with Games Workshop, his old company. He lost. And what was once one of the premier manufacturers of historical miniatures in the world is but a shadow of its former self, reduced to peddling overpriced paints and books, and repackaging older miniature lines into “deals.” It’s sculptors and designers – the backbone of any figure manufacturer – have left, and have either formed their own companies (the Perry twins and Mark Copplestone) or now work for other manufacturers (Mark Sims for Crusader Miniatures and Mike Owens for Artizan Designs).
What is becoming more and more of a trend in wargaming, however, is a blurring of the lines between historical and fantasy gaming. I am not sure exactly who to credit for this innovation, but somebody who has certainly fed the flames is Mark Copplestone with his excellent “Back of Beyond” and “High Adventure” ranges. Gamers who previously had limited their activities to tossing hordes of barbarians at a Roman shieldwall or defending Little Round Top, or driving panzers mercilessly through the Russian Steppes can now chase yetis through the Himalayas or elude dinosaurs and cannibals while searching for King Solomon’s Mines; all in all, not a bad turn of events. A champion of this style of gaming is Howard Whitehouse, to whom the mists and fogs of gaslight London have always called. His innovative games and rule sets have introduced many gamers to this increasingly popular style of play. Companies such as the Honourable Lead Boiler Suit Company and West Wind Productions (to name but a few) have done an impressive job in providing the dinosaurs and various “ghosties and ghoulies” needed to facilitate this genre of game.
Of course, even straight historical gamers have been known to veer into the realm of fantasy. In WRG tournament play, it’s not altogether unusual to see ancient Germans facing an opposing army made up of Han Chinese. In other games, Napoleonic Prussians have fought for and against Wellington’s redcoats in the Spanish Peninsular. (Ever wonder what disciplined English volleys would do to a horde of rampaging orcs?) And heaven forbid, Hitler’s legions have actually invaded the United States on more than one wargaming table. This latter example is called my some “alternative history.” But what is alternative history other than fantasy with a “historical bent.” Could Britain’s entry into the American Civil War really have altered the eventual outcome? That question has been decided in many a wonderful and fun-filled game even though the inevitable arguments have arisen. The Iron Brigade could have smoked the Black Watch, right?
So what makes up fantasy? Is it the presence of orcs and elves? Or is it the presence of two opposing historical forces facing one another that were in reality separated by hundreds if not thousands of years? Before you answer that (I know that you are thinking of some of those unusual WRG tournament pairings), consider those stalwart English redcoats firing volley after volley into an oncoming swarm of ravenous velociraptors. Historical? Well, both existed at one point in time or another. Fantastic? Well, of course it is, unless you are Steven Spielberg. But is it any more or less fantastic than Nikephorian Byzantines assaulting a lager of Hussite war-wagons?
What makes fantasy so alluring to many gamers, especially younger ones? I don’t have a clue, but I do have my suspicions. I may be wrong (my wife generally assumes that I am) but I think that it resonates with our desire to be creative. Historical wargaming, as wonderful as it is, establishes limits to how creative we can be. Yes, we can alter a figure’s pose, or give it trousers instead of breeches and gaiters, but at the end of the day, we are limited in our creativity by the unalterable, ironclad precedents of history. We cannot put picklehaubes on Napoleon’s Old Guard Grenadiers. History dictates a relatively small selection of acceptable headgear for those stalwart old warriors. However, if you want to plop those same picklehaubes on your orcs, then you earn kudos for creativity. With fantasy, you are only limited by your imagination. And who has the best imaginations? Why children, of course. And to finally connect the circle, that is why (in my humble opinion) fantasy wargaming appeals to younger gamers. It feeds their desire – their need – to be creative in a way historical gaming cannot. I imagine that many readers will disagree with this conclusion, which is fine. Mine is just one person’s opinion. But I remember a chance meeting I had in an Atlanta hobby shop one time with an individual that won a gold medal in one of Games Workshop’s “Golden Demon” painting competitions. I asked him where he got the inspiration for some of his amazing conversions. He replied, “From my six-year old son.”
In the past, I have fought the invasion of fantasy into mainline historical gaming. In previous issues of Wargames Illustrated, I have actually sat down and counted the number of orcs, dwarves, and elves that have graced its pages. I felt that the initial incursion of a few was but the harbinger of a vast invasion force, and soon fully half the articles and advertisements in heretofore historical wargaming magazines would be of fantasy subjects.
Well, no more.
In truth, I have had an epiphany of sorts and now understand that fantasy and historical wargaming is more a sliding scale than completely different genres altogether. At one end, you find orcs and goblins; At the other, you find a strict interpretation of history. Somewhere in between roams the dinosaurs, the yetis, and stalwart adventurers searching for those fabled diamond mines in Sub-Sahara Africa, or tracking Jack the Ripper through the mist-shrouded London sewers. Do I want to lead a mystical band of elves against the undead legions of the Witch King? No, not really. I’ll let others do that. But would I like to play in a game where I am asked to defend the shores of New Jersey in 1946 against the Grossdeutchland Division’s amphibious assault? Count me in, boys. The Philly cheesesteaks are on me.
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