I take my role as Uncle very, very seriously, and that means making sure my socially-constructed nephews know that their Uncle-in-name-and-spirit thinks they are cool. Thinks they're doing okay. If the younger one should leap from the shadows, striking with paired blades, with my dying breath I make sure he knows the smaller of the two is called a wakizashi. Then - darkness.
The idea that the older of the two - sometimes referred to with these phosphors as Gabriel the Younger - has pulled his father into the deepest, darkest hobby imaginable means (among other things) that my success is now total. Dungeons and Dragons, Board Games, and now Wargames, once a frontier I thought I'd never see him back in, how now clamped him utterly in its strongest, most durable clamps. The reason I know my victory is complete, that I may now walk away without looking back at the explosion, is that he's reading Horus Heresy novels. My friend Omar in high school once told me that, if you actually read the Quran, really read it and try to understand it, you are inexorably drawn to the faith. Obviously it's at a different scale but if you read Horus Rising I think you're gonna have a real hard time not playing with these fuckin' cool toys.
And since my nephew Gabriel is drawn to the same faction I play in Warhammer 40k, the ancient Necrons, I think I can give his army a real boost. It is not because - I can't stress this enough - it is not because I want to start playing Aeldari, that noble but diminished race of space elves. I don't know where you heard that but it is a hateful lie.
As soon as I'm done writing with Mi-hael, The Art-Bringer, I'll be jumping back into our full Sniper Elite 5 playthrough with Dabe as close to 10am as I can. We've been off for a bit, enough time for a Nazi scrotum to become ripe and bulbous, and I'm here to tell ya: we've got just the thing.