Boerogg Blackrime

This is the original resin version of Boerogg Blackrime from Reaper. I painted him over several months in starting in the spring of 2012 and stretching into the summer. I worked nearly exclusively on him for that period, putting in a couple hours of work each night. I normally paint fairly slowly, but this was an exceptional amount of time to put into a single mini even for me, but the crazy amount of detail on this figure pretty much necessitated it.


Reaper has gone on to change the look of their frost giants starting with the Bones 3 kickstarter, going from the more Pathfinder-esque style epitomized with Boerogg to the more traditional “giant vikings” look typically seen in earlier versions of D&D. Ironically, even though Pathfinder’s versions of frost giants is more stylized and monstrous-looking, they’re probably proportioned more realistically because humanoid creatures of that size would need stockier limbs in order to support their weight — square-cube law and all that.

My painting ability has not dramatically improved in the 5+ years since completing this mini, but there I a few things I could improve. The thing that sticks out to me as the biggest sore spot is the lackluster base. I barely had any experience modeling snow at that time, and I would do much better with it now. Plus, I’d switch him to a round base since I find them to be much more visually appealing than squares.


Rounding out the collection

Nearly 10 years ago, during the early stages of running what grew into an epic, 4-year D&D campaign that I ran for my friends, we faced a crucial decision. I had been running what I had envisioned as a narrative miniatures campaign using a very light set of rules (along with the setting) adapted from Reaper’s miniature game, Warlord. However, a few games in, because of the strong storytelling aspect of the games, as my players naturally started approaching the scenarios with more of an RPG mindset rather than one geared for a miniatures game, I realized it made more sense to transition to a bona-fide RPG rather than continuing to wing it using the rules-light system that I had cobbled together. The question was, which system to use?

Interestingly enough, the timing of this transition coincided with the end of 3.5, and the impending arrival of 4e. Pathfinder was also in its nascent, pre-published form, having recently been announced as well. Other than my wife and myself, everyone involved in that campaign had little experience with tabletop gaming, and none at all when it came to D&D, so I had the luxury and privilege of deciding essentially on my own which system our group would use. I decided relatively early on that it would be between 3.5 or 4e. Pathfinder looked interesting, but I wanted to go with something that was already (or about to be) published rather than waiting another year before being able to get my hands on printed versions of the core books (I did ultimately adopt a few of Pathfinder’s mechanics for sorcerers into the campaign, however).

Like many other gamers, some of the things I had seen in previews for 4e had me concerned, but overall, I thought it looked promising, so I kept an open mind before its release. I was eager to try it out and got to play in a demo game with my wife and one of our friends shortly after its release. My response at the time was that I thought it was ok. We had fun with the demo and had a couple of memorable story moments, but it felt like too much of the focus of gameplay was on the mechanics themselves rather than having the mechanics facilitate the gameplay experience that is unique to tabletop RPGs.

Another 4e demo game sometime later, plus some forays as an observer in the edition wars confirmed my initial thoughts. I’m not offering any new insights here, but for the record, my thoughts about 4e can be summed up this way: it was a radical departure from previous versions of D&D. This didn’t make it a bad game, but one could arguably say that this did make made it a bad D&D game. I think the description of it being essentially a tabletop version of an MMORPG, with its emphasis on powers, even for things like basic melee attacks, and the frequency at which they could be used, is a fair one. That being said, while it may have been a bad D&D game, it excelled at what it was designed for: gameplay that focused on small-scale, tactical combat.

Had it been marketed as something other than the next edition of D&D (or possibly even as a spin-off game based on D&D), there would probably have been little controversy. Of course, the trade-off would’ve been not being able to lean on the D&D brand to help market the game and boost sales — not to mention the logistics and potential problems involved in supporting multiple product lines (which TSR had already experienced previously in its history). Then again, while WOTC/Hasbro were able to leverage the D&D brand to boost sales, it’s reasonable to question whether or not the resulting damage to the brand from the controversy surrounding 4th Edition was worth it.

I decided to go with 3.5 for the campaign. It had officially come to the end of its life cycle, but it was a new system for me and and my gaming group. My friends and I switched the campaign over to the new rules. It successfully ran its course over the next several years, with the PCs going from low-level fledglings to 15th-level heroes by the end. At the same time, I saw my collection of 3.5 books fill out from the three core books to taking up a decent amount of space on my shelf. Since that time, 4e also ran its course, and we’ve seen the advent of 5e. I’ve picked up many of the 5e books and even added a smattering of 4th edition books to my collection — but not the core books themselves.

A year or two ago, I decided that although I’m not terribly fond of 4th edition, given that D&D has been a part of my life for so long, I wanted have at least the core books as part of my collection. to own a copy of every edition of the game. I would occasionally search online and at Half Price Books, but I was never thrilled with the prices I saw for the condition that the books were in — for a relatively unpopular edition, the books still seem to be steadily climbing in price as time goes on.

I actually hadn’t thought much about them in a while, but as luck would have it, I recently came across someone selling a brand-new set online for a steal, and I jumped on it without any hesitation. The books have since arrived and found a new home on my shelf, and I now own a set of core books for every edition of the game.

4e core books.jpg
Anyone else just realize that the dragon on the cover of the DMG is scrying on the heroes on the cover of the Player’s Handbook?



Well, complete except for the 2nd Edition Monstrous Manual that I lent out to some old friends over a decade ago… And everything starting from AD&D 1st Edition, anyway; I’ve never actually owned a Basic set – Red Box, White Box, original, reprint, or otherwise. Not yet, at least.

#100: Sir Conlan

For my 100th post I thought I’d wax nostalgic for a bit about one of my all-time favorite miniatures: Sir Conlan, from Reaper’s tabletop miniatures game, Warlord. The game itself has been dead for some time now, but they still sell the miniatures. Most of the sculpts are fairly high quality, and there are some standouts, but to be honest, most of it is the standard stuff that you’d expect to find in a range of fantasy minis. All of that aside, Sir Conlan holds a special place in my gaming history.

In the fall of 2004, I found myself at a Hobbytown USA in Pittsburgh, PA. At that point, I had been away from any serious tabletop gaming for several years. I was staring at a display wall of metal minis, many of which were part of something called “Warlord.” The blister packs contained not only the minis, but colorful cards with an image of a painted version of each miniature as well, and on the back was a a list of the figure’s stats and abilities. While I had painted plenty, I had only dabbled in miniatures games before, but I was genuinely intrigued by the Warlord minis, and I chose Sir Conlan as my first purchase.


Sir Conlan 2004 (metal version)

I painted Sir Conlan over the course of the next week or two, at the same time trying to find out more about Warlord. I was already familiar with Reaper, but I didn’t know that they were making a fantasy miniatures game. I soon acquired the core rulebook for Warlord and, over the next several months, got a few games in with my wife and some of our friends. Sir Conlan was from the Crusaders faction, so that’s what I started collecting and painting. I didn’t have many official Warlord minis yet, so we proxied about 90% of our armies.

I also got back into playing D&D with a short-lived campaign that one of my friends ran during this time, and I liked the Sir Conlan miniature so much that I used him to represent my character, a half-elf fighter/mage. It wasn’t a perfect match, but it was close enough to work.

Today, while I still have a good portion of my collection of Warlord minis, it’s considerably smaller than it once was, and I haven’t actually played Warlord in several years. It’s a fine game, and I’m sure I’d enjoy it if I played it again; but the reality is that gaming is a social hobby, and it’s much easier to play games that already have an existing player base and not one that you have to build yourself.

Although it’s in my past now, I owe a debt of gratitude to WarlordLooking back, I can pinpoint the exact moment of my serious return to gaming; it took me several years to get as deep into tabletop gaming as I am now, but getting into Warlord, beginning with Sir Conlan, is where it started.


The plastic Bones version, painted in 2016

Hirst Arts Chess Set: Crusaders vs. Overlords

This is my build of the Hirst Arts chess set. I started casting the blocks for it in October 2009 and worked on it fairly steadily over the next four months, finishing it in early 2010. It’s hard to believe that I finished this beast of a project nearly seven years ago.

The miniatures are from Reaper’s Warlord line and were added a couple of years later. For those of you keeping score, it’s primarily the Crusaders (white) led by Duke Gerard vs. the Overlords (black) led by General Matisse, but there are a few characters from other factions thrown into the mix.


One thing that I was having a hard time with was figuring out how to mount the minis onto the Hirst Arts blocks that are used for decorative bases because Warlord minis use slotted bases. I could have cut off the tabs and used pins to attach them, but painting them was tedious enough; I really didn’t relish the thought of having to pin a pile of 32 miniatures (that is, 64 feet). I experimented  with using some of Reaper’s round bases, but they weren’t the right size.

It dawned on me one night while trying to go to sleep that GW bases might be just the right size to fit on the blocks. I jumped out of bed to check, and it turned out that they were! Once the entire base assembly is painted, it all looks like it belongs together. The size is a little off on the knights and bishops, but they work pretty well over all.


Crusaders & Orks Group Shots

I had had some fun tonight playing around with minis, terrain, photography, and editing. The first photo is a group of stalwart Crusaders from Reaper’s Warlord line, led by Lord Ironraven.




The wife gets photography credit for this one.  🙂


And one of Duke Gerard. Because, Duke Gerard.



In the grim, dark future of the 41st millennium, there is only war. And photo ops.



Meaningful Choice in Game Design

I still haven’t played Frostgrave yet because I’ve been more of a poser than an actual gamer lately, trying to keep abreast of what’s happening in the industry, putting in time on this blog, but not getting to actually play many games. (In fairness, I’m also spending as much time as I can on a gaming-related side project… coming SOON). Frostgrave is definitely near the top of the list of new games I want to try.

I’ve read the rules, and they seem pretty solid, and I definitely dig the D&D vibe it has going on. One thing that raises a flag in my mind, however, is allowing apprentices to be optional. The rules pretty much say that taking an apprentice is always the optimal choice over spending an equivalent amount of gold on soldiers. Given that the optimal choice clear, it seems pointless to make it a choice at all. However, since I haven’t actually played the game yet, I’ll refrain from taking a definitive stance on this point, but it does lead to a broader topic.


Meaningful Choice in Game Design

Choices are what makes a game a game. This is such a defining feature that games such as Candyland, “War” (that silly card game we all played as kids), and BINGO are not really games at all; rather they are programmed systems that you run to find out what the outcome is. In all three examples, the programming is the order that that the cards end up in after shuffling or the order that the BINGO numbers are called. Ask yourself: is there anything that the player can do in any of these games that will have an effect on the outcome? (I suppose if you introduce the element of gambling into BINGO, then it qualifies as a game since you have to decide how much to wager or how many boards to play, but, not being a blue-haired old lady, my experience of playing BINGO competitively is nonexistent. Also, I don’t intend to diminish the value of Candyland for teaching kids some of the basic structures of games and preparing them for better games down the road.)

An essential feature of good game design is meaningful choices. Choices are what makes a game, but interesting choices that have a meaningful impact on the outcome of the game are part of what makes a good game. One obscure example that stands out to me (and here, I will draw on my experience of a game that I have actually played to make my point!) was a piece of equipment from an early version of Reaper’s tabletop miniatures game, Warlord. Whether or not you’ve ever heard of this game isn’t really important – but props to you if you have heard of it, and more still if you’ve ever played this fun game which never became as popular as it deserved to be!

In Warlord, there was a 10-point piece of equipment known as “Divine Favor.” To give you a sense of what 10 points in this game means, 1,000  – 1,500 points were the most common game sizes during this time (meaning that Divine Favor would account for 1% of your army’s value, at most). There was a spell called “Bandage” which also cost 10 points. Using Divine Favor or Bandage resulted in similar outcomes, which on the surface made their identical point costs seem to make sense, but here are a few other facts:

  • Divine Favor was a one-shot item that automatically negated (negated, not healed) the first point of damage the model equipped with it took, after which it was used up.
  • Bandage would heal a point of damage to one friendly unit, but required a spellcaster to successfully make a casting roll. This also incurred the opportunity cost of using an action to cast it.
  • Divine Favor could be equipped on any model, chosen before the game started.
  • Bandage could be cast on any model, as long as it was within range of the spellcaster.
  • Divine Favor was unique (only one per army).
  • Multiple copies of Bandage could be purchased by the same army.

The details for successfully casting a Bandage spell made it an interesting part of army-building – a meaningful choice about how to spend your points. Perhaps those points you’re thinking of spending on casters and Bandage spells would be better spent on making your units harder to damage rather than healing them afterwards, or on offensive capabilities so they have a better chance of killing enemy units before being damaged themselves?

Rather than buying a Bandage spell, you could spend the same amount of points on an item that would accomplish the same thing, only better –no action or casting roll required! Divine Favor was clearly the optimal choice for your first 10 points, and a decision where the optimal choice is clear is not a meaningful one.

The only question was on which model to equip Divine Favor, but it would invariably be an important, powerful model; 10 points spent on making your warlord or hero that much tougher to kill was a much better use than giving it to a lowly foot soldier. For example, an average Warlord might cost 160 points and be able to take four points of damage before being killed, which works out to 40 points per damage track (Warlord’s term for “hit points,” basically). Why would you not spend 10 points to essentially add another DT to one of your most important units? One fairly unique aspect of Warlord that makes those 10 points even more valuable is that models’ stats degrade as they take damage; so keeping a model damage-free a little bit longer, as Divine Favor does, is much more valuable than merely keeping it alive but with lots of damage.

In order for the question of whether or not to take Divine Favor to be a meaningful choice, it should probably have cost somewhere between 25-35 points – more than Bandage, but still cheap enough to always be tempting; probably a worthwhile choice in most situations, but not clearly the optimal one. Alternatively, another solution would have been to make it a “free” piece of equipment that everyone got, skipping the first no-brainer decision and going right to determining how best to use it. I think the best solution is what Reaper ultimately decided to do, which was to remove Divine Favor from later editions of Warlord.

One of my favorite examples of tightening of game design based on the elimination of sub-optimal choices is from Warcraft 2. In the early release of the game, most custom scenarios for online matches started you with a set amount of gold and a single peasant with which to construct your base. Given that a town hall was required in order to recruit more peasants to collect more gold to ultimately build the rest of your town and recruit your army, the town hall was the optimal choice for the first building constructed. This meant that the first two minutes of every match were spent sitting around waiting for your town hall to finish building. It appears that Blizzard realized this, as in later releases of the game , you would start online matches with your town hall already built. This was standard procedure by the time Warcraft 3 was released, and in that game, every race started with their version of the town hall and five workers. (Undead were the exception, starting with three cultists and a ghoul. This resulted both from and in other interesting game mechanics, but that’s going too far down the rabbit hole for this post.)

To reference an oft-used quote from Antoione de Saint-Exupéry: “Perfection is finally attained not when there is no longer anything to add, but when there is no longer anything to take away.” Meaningful choices make games fun; forcing a player to make a “choice” where the optimal decision is clear is tedious and unnecessary – a chore, not something fun. A great game must have interesting, meaningful choices at the core of its mechanics, and paring down unnecessary decisions certainly helps towards this end.  But there is more to creating a great game than solid, streamlined mechanics.