Newt (CSM) vs Leo (Tau), 02/08/12

As anyone who knows me will know  - and without wanting to sound like a self obsessed, boorish narcissist (stick with this) -  my default setting for most things involves a grim cocktail of bitter cynicism, deliberately over exaggerated hyper-criticism and cruel, bleak negativity. Games Workshop is obviously no exception from this, as something which usually dominates my waking hours with financial planning for buying the plastic crack, colour schemes, how to use transports properly, all the usual. The modern GW business model can wear you down. Fear the annual price hike! Why are Grey Knights so hideously overpowered? The fluff isn’t as good as it used to be. White Dwarf is lame. Etc. Obviously, an unconditional love for the fluff and models in general lets you see past these poisonous barbs, and the romantic side of the hobby easily smoothes over the (relatively minor) gripes. Its still awesome, it just still has some existing issues.

However, sometimes, something happens which makes it all beyond worthwhile, something that makes you whoop and holler and spasm and convulse. That happened to me last night. A game which literally grabbed me by the balls and wouldn’t let go. An absolute motherfucker.

Obviously, most games of 40k are awesome, and are dead exciting, as much for cursing your own inept stupidity and inability to roll anything which isn’t a 1 as it is for hilariously decimating a unit of terminators with fleeing cowards. But this game was one of the ones which you remember, like the first time you had an incredible battle when you were a kid and thought “this is for me”. 

Let me explain.

Leo and I were to fight, my leprous Chaos warband facing up to his elegantly presented Tau. I’d played him before, and had edged him out in a grinding war of attrition with 5^th ed, if memory serves me correctly. I looked forward to the rematch, as it seemed a good collision of styles between his brutal mid-range firepower and my limb-tearing lust for close combat. We rolled for the set up; a 6, “The Relic”, on that diagonal style deployment. I was a little wary about this mission – I’d played it in the shop against the legendary Phil Rimmer and lost by a Daemonette’s pink pubic hair, the 2 Bezerkers left in Phil’s force waving the relic about, mooning my chasing Keeper of Secrets, which was obviously wailing and licking its own tits in frustration. The relic was placed inside a building, which looked a little like a pub. A warp infused lager barrel.“No pissing about” was my tentative battle plan. Charge the fucking relic. Lets get fucking trollied on the warp-brew. Shoot any motherfuckers around it with the Obliterators. Pray the Dark Gods were watching. The game began.

A very dark, poor photograph of the Obliterator’s view of the battlefield. “Night Fighting”, etc. The relic was in that pub in the middle, there.

I had cannily (!) left a number of units in reserve in order to swamp the relic at the closing stages of the game…the Slaanesh Chaos Space Marines in the Rhino to razz around, the Berzerkers to smash some fucking skulls, the Termicide squad to terrify units for no reason, and of course my main entity, the Keeper of Secrets, the killiest, pinkiest, kinkiest, stompiest badass in the whole galaxy. The rest (4 x Obliterators, 2 squads of plagues, and the winged lash Prince) were basically cowering in cover, as I was convinced they would be eating railgun death straight from the start. Obviously, I wasn’t wrong there.

Holy shit.

Night fighting was in play on turn 1, which was some consolation for my immediate disadvantage of being way too far away to mount a meaningful assault at the start, as is right and proper. I creeped a unit of Plagues into the woods next to the pub, thinking maybe a cheeky steal on the relic. Then basically the Tau shot shit out of me. They zoomed about in a big teal and orange grav-wave and burned my scarred ass with plasma and missile pods and gun drones and all those other terrifying AP2 weapons they have. Thank fuck for “Feel No Pain”, but more of that later.

The Plague Marines desperately search for magic mushrooms. They find 5.

As Turn 2 rolled around, I though I’d lost. My forces looked pitiful, the Keeper had turned up way too early and Leo had grabbed the relic with a detached gun drone. Everything in his force blasted away relentlessly, then seemingly immediately jumped away with those jet pack assault moves. A very powerful attribute of the Tau, that – really hard to get hold of the fish things. My marines had turned up and had rapid fired his annoyingly useful pathfinders away, only to be absolutely butchered by massed Kroot fire combined with Crisis Suit missile pod salvoes. A lone Chaos-warped Emperor’s Child remained, waving the Slaanesh icon about, which might as well have had “PLEASE SHOOT ME” in neon writing on it. He probably would have enjoyed it too, etc.

Pathfinders – they’re quite good, them. About as resilient as a soggy cake, but good before they’re shot at.

Things started to turn around, though. I’d limped the remaining Plagues and the Keeper out of the woods and managed to grab the relic off the drone, and had supported that charge with the hidden unit of Plagues and Daemon prince coming with them. The plan was a reckless charge with these while the Plagues scampered off. And this would be the story of the game – me desperately hanging on to this frigging thing whilst Leo poured shot, after shot, after shot into me. The Keeper, Slaanesh love him, withstood a whole turn of the entire Tau force targeting his pink tits. Toughness 6 combined with a 2+ basic save and a 4+ invulnerable and then 4 wounds makes this one insane hardcase. But you don’t need me to tell you that. All for 100 points – utterly broken. The new codex will see that gone, as it will have to be allied in the future (245 points, I think). I’ll be doing that anyway, obviously. Anyway, him and the Daemon Prince ate several things to distract half of the Tau army from the beer keg vanishing into the distance. When they finally succumbed to 1000 missiles and plasma rifle fire shots, the end game was well and truly in sight. The berzerkers had ran on, ran towards the Crisis Suits and commander, and had been turned into a red mist. Thanks for using up some Tau ammunition, guys. You fucking bad tits. It's a shame Berzerkers have been effectively nerfed in 6^th due to the new transport rules. No assault moves at all after disembarkation? Even if the frigging thing doesn’t move? Insanity. No insertion method for close combat troops remain apart from the hideously overpriced Land Raider. What is a horned one to do?

“Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Thr” BOOOOM ZZZAAPPPP *silence*

So I was left with 2 Obliterators rendered relatively impotent shouting in one corner of the battlefield, and 3 Plague Marines sweating in the woods, carrying a boozy relic as the Teal, shooty horde closed in. I shared their sweating trepidation. Every dice roll Leo made, I was convinced it would wipe out my pustulent green dudes. Unbelievably, every shot he made I either saved or rolled a majestic 5+ on feel no pain. I had an incredibly lucky break earlier on by the Daemon Prince wiping out the Broadsides in close combat and then pinning the Crisis Suits with the Lash of Submission meaning they couldn’t move to draw a bead on my boys in the woods in this final turn. In the end, he’d shot with everything. My fellas were still there. 

Lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky, mucky, lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky.

I had accidentally won. Neither of us could believe it. Blind luck. It can’t carry on for much longer – the Eye of Terror will abandon me at some point. But Christ, that was an absolute rush.

We all went for a drink afterwards. Warp Brew.

Name	Played	Won	Drawn	Lost	Points
Newt	2	2	0	0	6
Neil	2	2	0	0	6
Leo	3	1	0	2	3
Andy	1	1	0	0	3
Phil	3	0	0	3	0
Kev	1	0	0	1	0