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I am a wargamer.  There, I said it.  Perhaps it would be more appropriate to say it as if I am an alcoholic.  Wait a second, let me stand up.  Okay, here goes.  My name is John, I am 43 and I am a wargamer.

So why am I admitting this in public?  Stick with me, there is a point.  However, before I get to that, I feel I should explain exactly what it is I do, so you can fully appreciate my shame. 

Actually, I guess the first things I should explain is what I don't do.  I don't dress up in any strange costumes (other than the ones that are simply my normal clothes).  I don't carry a foam sword or a fake gun.  I also don't refer to certain friends using only their gaming name.  The people that do that are “LARPERS” (Live Action Role Players).  Their job is to make the rest of us feel like we have someone to look down on. 

No.  What I do is collect very small soldiers and their vehicles.  Then I assemble and build them,  Finally I attend meets with other like minded people to fight miniature battles against their own armies of small soldiers. When I say people, I should also point out I mean men. Scruffy men.  Mostly with beards.  Mostly single.  So absolutely nothing like me then.  Honest. 

I could tell you that wargaming is an interesting and exciting way to connect with history.  I could tell you it is a way to appreciate the hard decisions of battle strategy.  I could tell you that for me the creation of the models is a relaxing way to unwind; doing something with my hands whilst my mind is left free to wonder.  Then I am sure you would remind me that I am a middle aged man playing with toy soldiers.

So, faced with the likelihood I am not going to convince you entirely (all right, at all), let me move on to why this is relevant to the blog.  Recently I went to 'Salute 2014', a huge wargaming convention at Excel London, where you cannot move more than a foot without bumping into an enthusiastic man with a beard who is buying, selling or playing something wargaming related.

I had a great day and, according to the other bearded man who was with me, actually squealed with excitement a couple of times.  I find that very hard to believe.  I hardly ever squeal, delight or otherwise.  And never before seven in the evening.  Anyway, I digress. 

During a day of chatting to the other bearded men, watching demonstration games and buying model related stuff (to aid me in my attempt at rebuilding Stalingrad in my garage), I happened across James Griffiths from Infamy Miniatures.  James is creating what looks to be a great new game, which I wish I had been able to spend more time chatting about with him (but Stalin is a hard taskmaster as are his tiny Russian friends*). 

Actually what had initially caught my eye at James' stall was the fantastic artwork that he had commissioned for his flyers and posters.  Never one to miss something that can be turned to my own advantage, I quickly got the artist's details from James.  Thanks James  - you're a generous chap!  A few days and a series of emails later, I had gotten myself a top notch artist to work with to promote “The Boy In Winter's Grasp”: Silviu Sadoschi. 

You can see some of Silviu's artwork on his own website, and below you'll see just one of his great landscape images.  He and I are starting with conceptualising the looks of the main characters.  He's already completed 'the Master', the main bad guy of the story.  I'll be getting posts up soon to start introducing the characters to you. 

Thus, my strange toy soldier playing hobby ended up being responsible for me finding an artist that I am delighted to be working with.  To celebrate I shall engage in some really intricate painting.  Woo hoo!

See?  I told you there was a point to this blog post. 

*I am referring of course to the toy soldiers here.  I am not claiming all Russians are small.  Of course some Russians are small.  A good example of a small Russian would be topless-horse-riding-gay-cowboy-icon-small-country-invading President Putin.  However, to claim they are all small would be to ignore such Russians as Nikolai Valuev.  Okay, I'll stop clarifying Russians now.  

 

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