"you don't know what you've got till it's gone."

              Have you ever had one of those moments that forces you to fundamentally reconsider your goals?  I had such a moment last week.  It was a sad and joyful realization—the kind that makes you happy you have found the truth but sad it took you so long to get there.

              I have spent the last 5 years seeking group wargaming opportunities—mostly through war machine and Warhammer 40k.  I caught the original bug at a hole-in-the wall gaming store 16 years ago.  I loved learning every aspect of the game from the challenge of matching wits with my opponent to the hobbying side to the world lore.  That initial foray into competitive wargaming grew into a thirst for high-level play that I have sought to slake ever since.

I should point out here that wanting something doesn’t make the desire reasonable, actionable, or achievable.  It is all-too easy to rationalize our goals based on the outcome rather than critically looking at what it will take to bring the dream to fruition.  I dropped 40k back in 2012.  I bounced around war machine and FOW with a smattering of magic after that—hoping against hope that I could find that lost mantle of competitive play—the perfect alchemy of fight, friendship, and fun.  The seed did not grow.  All my attempts were thwarted.

              Stores closed; leagues ended; jobs changed; and the empty recreational hole in my life remained unfilled.  Then last year GW brought out a new edition.  Desperate for a competitive outlet, I researched my prospects and found an undiscovered local 40k community, a worthy army, and a painter/assembler to take my cash.  That was all it took to drop me back into GW’s clutches.  To their credit, they’ve embraced their customers, built a great rule set, and really turned the company around.  I dropped my tax return into an adeptus custodes army, shipped it to a painter ‘R’ recommended, and started listening to podcasts.  I was going to do it!  I was going to triumphantly reenter the arena after 7 long years.  I was finally going to step into the squared circle again.

              Then reality started to pick away at my carefully constructed dreams.  Further inquiries revealed that the local store only took event registration through face book—a company I swore off using years ago.  I got the custodes back and they were shattered—requiring a return to the assembler and a significant re-build.  Some of that was due to a bad packing job but most of it was due to far more delicate design than I had been led to believe.  I got the rebuilt models back last week.  After a solid re-working, 30% of the figures were broken or damaged despite the use of magnets, custom cut foam, and an excellent packing job.  I looked at a couple thousand dollars in parts and labor, hundreds of hours of research, a dream long denied and wondered how I got to this point.  All my problems could have been avoided if I had researched more.  If I had stepped back and really done my homework, I could have saved myself 9 months of disappointment let alone the material costs.

              First, let’s talk about what I need to play any wargame competitively in open play.  I’m blind so my needs are similar to most players’ requirements but very particular in some aspects.

·       I need a game with quality accessible rules that I can practice and consume.  This means I need a rule system I like, that is available in an accessible electronic format (usually PDF or word), and an update/FAQ vector that is also accessible.

·       My models need to be able to take some ruff handling in transport and on the table—preferably with as little conversion as possible.  Since I can’t see, I interact with the game on a purely tactile level.  Easily broken bits, week joints, and poorly balanced models are guaranteed to suffer constant mishaps as I move them around and find them through the course of setting up, playing, and putting them in the case again.

·       I need a somewhat local gaming community that I can regularly access for games and league/scenario play.  That community needs to be friendly enough that my particular issues are not a deal breaker.

·       If the game requires it, I need a dependable painter/assembler that fits my budget and grasps my particular needs (strong assembly and affordable fee structure holding the top spots in that list.)

·        I have to have a competitive format that is forgiving of my fumble-fingered play.  War machine in its current form (steam roller…masters…etc.…) is a good example of a game I’d love to play but that is too unforgiving in its precision.

·       I have to be able to use a model roster of manageable size—usually 50 models or less.  This keeps the variables and turn length down to a workable complexity. 

A close reading of those requirements shows my needs have not changed over the years.  What has changed are my standards and my access to certain resources—especially local painters/assemblers and a regular gaming group.  As I have gotten older, I have grown to want the best in life such as a professional paint job, quality opponents, and a place to fit in—a community to join if you will.  I want to be able to relive my glory days with ‘R’ and the crew traveling over the weekend to kick ass and take names or nurse my wounds over an adult beverage.

That last bit is the most important.  I want to be part of a community of friends where I am a member in good standing.  I want that sense of fraternity and camaraderie back.  I think in this instance I let those hopes and dreams push me to a rushed decision.  I am not lonely—far from it.  I have fewer close friends than I used to though.  I have changed; our friends have changed; and our friends’ group has evolved as careers and family units have reconfigured themselves.  I used to game every week—in person—at least twice.  I used to spend at least 2 hours a day talking about gaming or actively researching game related material when I couldn’t actually sling card stock or put little dudes on the table.  At one time it was 40k.  Then it was dragon storm.  Then it was dragon dice.  Gaming used to be my social outlet, my creative wellspring, and my reaffirmation…and then it wasn’t.  People moved.  My work schedule changed.  A couple of my usual compatriots just cut ties without notice.  All of the sudden gaming was a once or twice a month kind of thing.  My circle of friends got smaller—better—but smaller.

              How does that song go?  “don’t it always seem to go; you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”  Yeh, that feels about right.

              After a couple days moping around the house brooding, I see where the mischief happened.  I predicated my happiness on other people and material things over which I had no control.  I valued competitive play over social interaction and a creative outlet.  While the lesson was expensive in terms of time and money, I think I got off easy.  I am going to seek out some gaming and creative outlets that are not dependent on others.  I have been looking at doing a podcast for a while.  I have been thinking about running an online gaming group using the dungeon world system.  These are within my power.  These are things I can do on my own terms.  I am going to stop thinking about the way things were and start focusing on how I can make better use of the way things are.