He looks at me across the table, his right hand aligning a group of irregular cavalry into a perfectly symetrical line, his left orchestrating columns of infantry in a masterwork of choreographed manveuvre. He flips through a rule book, snapping out page numbers, and assures me that while all his troops can see their gallant general, none can see a unit of their comrade's-in panic rout over on the right flank; then he produces a brigade of light troops from a three inch circle of green felt to my flank and demands I concede. I have fallen victim to a wolf in sheep's clothing. I have become prey to that most vorocious of beasts, the competition wargamer.
Most of us have come across the character. I recall three notorious individuals, each of them a variant of the basic type. "Tom" ( the names have been changed to protect the guilty) believed that victory-by-cheating was the way to go. His troops never took terrain penalties zipping around the board at road-column speed. Glued to regiment-sized stands of 36 or 48 figures, his figures were never removed when casualties were inflicted; nor did he keep track of losses - "What's 1.8 figures on a 40 man unit?" he'd ask. Tom possessed a Napoleonic Confederation of the Rhine army that was veritable "Greatest Hits" collection - an assembly of various German elite formations - SO man bodyguards from 28 different petty provinces - with many a conscripted Bavarian or about-to-desert Nassauer in sight. It was impossible to beat him. If you spotted one of his cheats, or perhaps two, he'd apologize; "its only a friendly game" he'd say. He still had half-a-dozen up his sleeve.
"Dick" on the other hand, abided by the rules. He'd learned them by heart. He could tell you what you'd done wrong as soon as he was sure you'd done it - and were not going to change your mind. If you attacked his line he'd have tiny units of cavalry poke their heads up behind the infantry - "Surprised by new enemy, -1". His concept of hidden movement owed more to the Star Trek beam-me-up device than anything else. His model hills were designed to accommodate precisely one unit of infantry on a rear slope. If all this didn't work, he'd argue with the passion and volume of a T.V. preacher at a fundraiser. He knew what the rules didn't say, and would challenge you to find it. His smartest move made him King of the Ancient tournament; on the first turn his steel encased model general would ride out from the ranks of his Agincourt-period host to challenge his opponent to a duel. If the foe did come out, nine times out of ten, he'd he a lightly armored Roman/Persian/Greek chappie and would be instantly hewn asunder by old Ned Kelly. If he had the sense to refuse, the rules dictated that his army scorned his presence - no "+1's" for him - for the rest of the game.
"Harry" knew that all this was bunkum as far as history went. But history could go. Baby faced Harry had a mind like a Pentagon computer. He'd sneak a handful of worthless troops through enemy lines, then hole them up in a village. You could divert your reserve to attack them, or accept that your whole army was "-3: enemy to rear". If you attacked him, chances were they'd rout towards your baggage train. Harry accompanied the conduct of the game by assurances that he knew this wouldn't happen in real life, but it was, after all, only a game. That is why his Byzantine spearmen took care to have a decent sized hedge -- a model railway accessory that epitomized England -- in front of them every time they took on the might of Sassanid Persia.
Well, you say, these fellows sound well worth avoiding. Play with someone else! The problem with this kind of wargamer is that his approach affects others. I know this. When playing Harry - once, and once only - I turned, in desperation, to his methods. All of a sudden my mounted Spanish guerrillas - surly bandits on ugly nags- became Comanche Indians, riding around his rear firing their musquetoons from the saddle. Not only was this conspicuously unsuccessful, it filled me with guilt that I should compromise my sense of, well, sense in this way. I've seen others behave in much the same way. Faced with ferocious, exploitive opponents the novice learns all the tricks himself. They paint up "super-troops" - I had no Napoleonic guard cavalry until I kept being beaten by those who did.- and seek instant knowledge from the "approved" sources. Its pretty sad to see, as I did not long ago, young gamers proposing the most preposterous arguments - "my guns can fire through my skirmishers" - on the grounds that nothing in the rules expressively forbids it. Of course it doesn't; the author never thoughtanyone would be so -foolish! They've learned this, regrettably, from people who ought to know better.
Some people never change, and are best left to themselves - they're happy enough. Others have learned the no-holds-barred approach purely as a defense mechanism. With a sensitive, caring approach, these individuals will learn to trust others; given time and therapy - perhaps one-on-one counseling - they can be rehabilitated into the world of the sensible wargamers. Meanwhile, check those dice they are holding
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© Copyright 1987 Hal Thinglum
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