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 5th 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 6th
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
|
