It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; or, Dave's Big Birthday Bash

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...

ok, bit too dramatic maybe. But picture the scene. No, not the jolly scene pictured above. A different scene the night before. It's 3am on a Friday night and I'm painting bases goblin green. Hundreds of bases.

I'm on my way down to Snicket's (or Dave's, to use his real name) 40th birthday bash at the Foundry. It's a massive game of Empire vs Orcs and like the eejit I am, having neither army, I volunteer a 3000 point Empire army to be painted from scratch. A project that seemed a good idea months away from the game gradually turns into a nightmare as the deadline looms. Months turn to weeks. Weeks turn to days. Thursday night I stay up in my office painting, trying to finish the promised units. It's the day before the game, I'm already sleep deprived and still nothing's based.

And so then on Friday night I'm en route to Newark. I've now taken the train as far South as I could, so I can get to Newark in time for the game, and so I'm sitting at a wonky table in the shittiest accommodation in Newcastle. The place stinks of weed and there a bottle of Buckfast Tonic Wine ("Bucky" as it's affectionately known) by the entrance of the building. Realising I don't have a pot for water to wash my brushes in, I seriously consider using the bottle, before thinking NO, for fucks sake, that would be mad and unhygeinic, we're in a time of coronavirus after all. Instead, I use the cap off a can of air freshener I find around the place.

Outside someone starts screaming "I JUST WANT TO GO HOME". I drop the brush and run out, thinking someone's being raped or somehow held in this shithole against their will, but the poor lass seems to be freaking out due to some combination of drink or drugs. Anyway, I wait outside the building until she's in a taxi.

At 4am I am back in the room and gluing flock onto bases. This is the second night I'm going without sleep, and at this stage I'm seriously considering my life choices.

ok I realise this is more of a tripadivsor review than a battle report but what I'm trying to capture for posterity is that feeling of a hobby that's turned into a source of misery, just sitting cold and fed up, wanting to go home and sleep. And the question that I kept asking myself: how can you turn something that's supposed to be your means of relaxation into a source of stress?

Saturday, I get to the Foundry and have probably the most fun I've had so far this year.


So was it worth it? Well, the answer has to be a resounding YES... up to a point. Was great to have a weekend with so many of the people that I've made friends with through the Oldhammer movement. Two days gaming, a curry and some beers, what more can you ask for? The battle itself was an awesome sight, and while we could maybe have got through a couple more turns (I have some thoughts about the nuts and bolts of how to make big games of this type work), it was definitely good fun.

Here's my battle line, with my steam tank and my crazy wizard and his familiar advancing...


Here's my halflings running away after their soup got upended...


But although I should have the satisfaction of a completed 3000 point army, the truth is much of the army itself is a bit so-so, inevitable after having rushed it... all that work and then the feeling that a lot of it would need redone or at the very least more time to finish it properly is a bit of a sinking feeling.

And I'm left wondering, why do I find ways of making my hobby into a chore? To be honest, blogging can have that effect too, having to find the energy to type stuff. No wonder the blog descends into silence punctuated by an annual apology for not having blogged.

But then the game finishes and you want to do it all over again.

Just next time, not leaving it until 4am in a shithole in Newcastle to stick flock on a 3000 point army.