The second of three Industrial offerings summoned by my cohort had arrived, this time from Cryptozoic. If you aren’t already familiar with them, either via their incredible World of Warcraft TCG or Food Fight or their deckbuilding take on Penny Arcade, you’ll probably come around for their Walking Dead shit or their (ahem) “EPIC SPELL WARS OF THE BATTLE WIZARDS: DUEL AT MT. SKULLZFYRE.”
And now, they’ve offered up today’s strip. We’ve got something coming up with them that’s fittin’ to flip your wig. I’m not sure when it will be announced. I’d start wearing your wig upside down, just in case. I also have a Director’s Cut of the comic that is fully three times as long. Do you want it? Huh, huh? Well, do ya?
Monday nights are about to switch back to role-playing, as our recent series The Conflux attempts to chronicle. but I’ll be very sad to see the current model go, which has taken the form of a miniatures tournament.
We’re playing Warmachine or Hordes, using the Journeyman League Rules in what is termed a “slow grow” league. The reason this last part is important is because most of my prior experience with minis tournaments have been overwhelming in terms of cost or logistics. In this league, it’s part of the rules that you play with your starter box for the first five rounds, adding models at set intervals. It’s a structure that’s designed to teach you how to play. We thought we didn’t need that, because we’ve been playing for a year, but being “busted down to Private” in army terms revealed the game in a much different way. Small, fast, frankly mean games where only a single model stands upright by the end of it.
We’re all friends, there’s eight of us or so, but the structure guides the evenings much better than the prior free-for-alls. Who should you play? Look at the schedule. Man, I should get those guys painted, I get hobby points for it now. What scenario? Look at the schedule. Rigorously planning your leisure time seems counterintuitive, but I’ll be God Damned if it doesn’t make it a more efficient mechanism for the creation of joy.
You need a real motherfucker at the head of this thing, no doubt; we’re lucky to have that. He hasn’t needed to use the bullhorn yet, but it’s there on the table, and I am given to understand the batteries are “fresh.”