Mud, Blood, and the Golden Ticket to Mars-Some thoughts on Gaslands

 Mud, Blood, and the Golden Ticket to Mars

Some thoughts on Gaslands

It won’t have escaped the regular reader of this blog, if such a thing exists, that I’ve really got into Gaslands. I’m not sure how long this obsession will last; I can already hear the roar of an engine from Dark Future calling to me, but Gaslands has quickly become the most-played tabletop game for me in a long time. I’ve managed to get in fifteen games since February, all against other people, which is a bit of a record for me, as I spend most of my time playing solo.

Why has Gaslands taken such a hold on my gaming? I think there are a few reasons why I’m really enjoying it at the moment. The first has to be the social side of it: I’ve managed to get my gaming group into the game, and there’s nothing quite like a group of mates hanging out and getting excited about the roll of a die or the choice of a template.

The second reason is the game mechanics. It’s quick and intuitive, so I can get straight into the story unfolding on the table. Some of this may be because it shares mechanics with games like Wings of Glory and X-Wing. More than one game has hinged on a single bad choice of movement template—sending cars careering into walls or barriers. The look of horror on the face of the person who picked the wrong one is priceless.

The final reason has to be the building of the cars for the game.  Each car that I have made has drawn me into the game more and more.  It is hard to express the joy that I have found from taking toy cars apart and making them my own but there it is.  Gaslands got me using a power tool for the first time in decades.  Did I feel more like a real man for taking an electric drill to a Hot Wheels car?  Probably not, but it was fun.

 After action thoughts

A few weeks ago, I was lucky enough to play a game against an opponent for the first time in a long time.  My opponent made skilful use of his light cavalry, the Burgoyne Hussars, to tie up two units of my infantry and then took apart my remaining forces piece meal.  It was a good afternoon of play, but I will not be including that battle or the results here.

Why would I ignore the results of an enjoyable game?  There could be a lot of reasons; perhaps I want to keep control of the narrative that is slowly building up here, maybe I am a sore loser, or I may not have kept good notes of what went on.  All of these could have some truth to them, but the real reason comes down to why I play games.

A lot has been written by much more eminent people than me about the joys of solo wargaming.  Donald Featherstone expounded the merits of solo wargaming as things like the freedom of ideas, and time that a solo wargamer has on their hands.  These are indeed some of the benefits, but after my game the other week I was struck by the main thing that I get from solo wargaming and wargaming itself.  

I play games to see a story unfold on the table.  This desire for narrative leads me to name units, generals, and regimental officers.  I like to see how a unit`s history develops over the course of play.  If you take away these elements then I lose interest in the game, and I may as well just play a computer game.  Here is where I saw the stark difference between myself and my opponent, for them the game was a tactical challenge.  They wanted to show their skill at out manoeuvring me and winning the game.  Whether or not a regimental officer was killed did not really interest them.  Now, I am not criticising my opponent for their reasons for playing a tabletop game, it is just not the reason that I play.

Does this mean that I won`t ever play games against other people?  Of course not, but I get the most joy out of playing games solo.  If you have not tried it before I recommend that you give it a try, you may be surprised by how much you enjoy it.