Gabe had an idea for a comic, and after a nominal attempt to make three panels out of it, it seemed to fit more naturally into the single-panel "classy comic" style found in the New Yorker or the Playboy issues which I absolutely never read as a young man.
(An anecdote: as a younger man, but not necessarily "young" by any objective standard, I had a driving phase. For some reason, I felt as though it was vitally important that I drive for hours and hours without apparent purpose. This phase was accompanied by thrice-dubbed cassettes from such youth-fuel outfits as Front 242, Pond, and Ministry. Spokane has no shortage of prairie roadway, mile upon mile of immaculate surfaces too vast for any kind of enforcement. I saw something on the road as I was driving by at perhaps sixty miles per hour, in the middle of a rainstorm, in the dead of night, and accurately identified it as pornography.)
As has probably become apparent, the arts 'n' crafts aspect of hobby gaming is a strong driver of his interest, so maybe it was only a matter of time until he found a game with a more or less compulsory "fine arts" element. I've long since sold my Necrons, I remember my games with them fondly, but I was bad at maintaining them and ultimately thought they deserved better. Warmachine fever struck the office all of a piece, Gabe's going Menite, Kiko's gone Khador, Brad's going Cryx, and I saw a set of Cygnar paints on Scott's desk, so that's probably that. Typically the accepted construction is that Gabriel arrives late, I pretend to be angry though I am secretly elated/vindicated, and then you and I share some amusement at his expense. This time, I think I got in too early.
I'll always be peeking in the window on these games, hand against the glass. At PAX, I saw the most incredible figures by a company I'd never heard of ("Soda Pop Miniatures") tied into a kind of tabletop dungeon crawler where one side plays the crypt's foul denizens. I was enraptured! And then I remembered that my hand shakes like a fall leaf, and I have no capability whatsoever to beautify figurines, and I turned away from the booth and walked away for absolutely ever in the emotionally ravaged fashion of David Banner.