Hopefully there is a god, because if not then no-one knows why I have taken to playing with little men again so long since my childhood.
Once upon a time, small boys would play with toy soldiers. Arguments would ensue over whose toy soldier had shot/maimed/blown-up the others’, and because of a lack of clearly defined rules it was impossible to establish when the toys would shoot straight, and how much damage they’d cause if they did hit a target. In the end, certain of the boys would resort to smashing other boys’ little men with hammers, or something else equally cruel and unusual.
Jump to the future, where the little boys are now men, but still want to play with little toy-soldiers. The boy (now a man) who had all of his little men smashed all those years ago creates a game of little men, and calls it ‘Necromunda’ — although this might not be the way he spells it.
Overcompensating for the past injustices, he makes the game rules excessively complex and quantifiable. Everything is given a number. Everything is given a score. Everything must be measured. Everyone must roll dice.
Now, the little men move around the table and fight, as they did when he was a boy. Except now, everyone must measure distances and roll dice.
Want to move your man? Measure how far he can go.
Want to shoot at another little man? Measure how far he can shoot.
Roll dice to see if he hits. Roll dice to see if the hit man is wounded. Roll dice to see the nature of the wounded man’s wound. Roll to see if your man spasses-out. Roll dice to see if he runs away. Roll dice to see if his gun jams. Roll dice to see if his gun explodes. Roll dice to see if he falls off a building. Roll dice to see if he falls down. Roll dice to see if he gets up.
And modifiers. Add or subtract modifiers to the dice rolls depending on things ranging from the little man’s religious beliefs to whether the little man stepped in dog-shit that morning.
But no-one came out with hammers to contest a decision because everyone measured and rolled. And there was peace in the land (except for the ruthless violence the little mans committed upon one another).
Except, when I roll I don’t get the numbers I need. I have a gang of little men now, and they all run away or fall over without fail. That is what my dice rolls tell me. Run away! Fall over!
Three times they have been defeated in a most pathetic fashion.
little boys men that I play against have suggested that by naming my gang “The Giant Pansies” I have rattled their self-confidence. Giving each individual little man names like Binky, Fluffy and Loo-Loo may also not be helping.
In order to encourage my little men to be their best, I have bestowed upon them ego-boosting titles (with the exceptions of the Juves who have received titles, but not particularly ego-boosting ones. They must earn better names in battle).
Hence forth, the Giant Pansies will be known as:
The Giant Pansies of Destruction
And they will consist of:
Binky the Belligerent
Fluffy the Fornicator
Loo-Loo the Lumbar Puncture
Cutie the Crucifier
Giggles the Garotte
Chuckles the Chilblain
The juves will be known as:
Bobo the Bland
Squidgy the Squeamish
Jingles the Jehovah’s Witness
Now nothing can stand in their way!
2 thoughts on “The Little Giant Pansies”
The one I am most scared of has got to be Jingles the Jehova’s Witness.
Man that’s a nasty name to have to live up to.
And Squidgy the Squeamish. Do you think he’s going to have a special “vomit on opponent’s shoes in close combat” skill?