It’s all about me!

Enough about wargames. Let’s talk about me. No, seriously. Wargames and me.

It’s quite usual to come to the hobby early in life. I did. Not as one of the present-day Games Workshop generation. Unlike these fantasy enthusiasts, I began with historical miniature re-enactments. Not to say that the Games Workshop generation do occasionally go over to the historical camp from the fantasy grotto. However, they don’t lose their loyalty to slotta bases! Nor am I a veteran of the Britains generation who first wargamed with shiny 54mm toy soldiers – and who still nostalgically gloss varnish their wargames figures! No. I’m a member of the Airfix generation. Those who came to wargaming through the celebrated boxed 20mm plastic. Not that Britains didn’t stir the general in me. But 54mm was for regimental marching bands, cowboys and Indians, and – I’ll stop myself before I enthuse over knights in armour. But unlike the Britains generation, we – now ex-lovers of the plastic – prefer our wargames figures matt varnished. But like the Britains generation, we were there at the birth of the first pseudo 20mm metal figure and witnessed its rise – and rise – both in stature and to wargames market leader. Rather predictably – given the technical differences between casting plastic and metal models – metal 20mm became 25mm, became 28mm. Will this relentless growth ever end, I hear you ask? Not before 28mm becomes 30mm, then 40, then 42 – and then back to 54mm again. Whatever.

As a boy of little pocket money, the eventual invention – by genius abstract figure designer Peter Laing – of the cheaper 15mm metal blob-figure was a godsend. These little fellers could be acquired in large quantities together with their more expensive MiniFigs brethern. However with multiple figure poses a thing of the future, repetitive strain disorder was quickly acquired by repeatedly painting the same figure pose over and over again. Anyway, large armies could be fielded without spending a fortune (5p for one 25mm figure was a lot of money in those days, I’ll have you know) and fear of painted uniforms flaking off, like the repeatedly photographed figures in the Airfix catalogues.

After a religiously historical upbringing, with as much as I could read on the maestro-general Napoleon, my road to Rivendell moment came rather predictably while reading Lord of the Rings. As I was the last person to read what I had formally thought would just be silly hobbit musings (actually, come to think of it... ) there were plenty 15mm metal fantasy figures around to satisfy my new-found enthusiasm.

With my own rise in stature and pocket money, I was able to dabble once more in 25mm figure collecting in the days before computer games when role-playing was all the rage. Unfortunately, role-playing can be interpreted as a lot of work for one person – as the player gamers sit back and sneer at your games masterly inability to produce a suitable figure for a randomly created never-to-be-seen-again character. That’s why, like me, games masters (GMs) – and games mistresses, also GMs – all over the world threw away their large library of weighty role-playing tome-like rulebooks and scenario booklets and began to play computer games as soon as they could afford to. Computer games had the added advantage of not needing to be fed and watered.

For me, playing computer games led to making computer games. But just as a hobby, though. I soon realised that creating a custom-built world is more fun than wandering around in someone else’s blood-splattered corridors. However, I have an ongoing relationship with Lara Croft, and still play computer games as a one-week annual indulgence.

And I happily returned to the tabletop over a decade ago, and indulge in fantasy and history equally, and am very happy to bring one down to earth and what-if the other.

Michael Scott


Wargaming is an indulgence – not just for Christmas