I’d like to take a moment to talk about sportsmanship. A long time ago (15 years ago) I was a very poor sport. I used to throw my dice, scream, and in reflection – had to be the least fun player to play against. I never berated my opponents, but boy did I hate the failed dice rolls that thwarted whatever devious tactical move I was unleashing. God love the guys that let me keep coming back. Then I found and fell in love with the Skaven. Discovering that if I didn’t manage to mangle about half my own army with misfires, explosions, failed castings, brazen cowardice, or other horrendous rat-splatting hijinks, I was doing something wrong and losing because I wasn’t taking the dice-dependent risks that you have to learn to do with good grace. I found the laughter I’d been missing in my intensity with other army types – every time the dice went south, rats died – often in the most eye-wateringly hilarious ways. Warpfire thrower or jezzail team explosions, poisoned wind globe scatters and doomwheel lightning frying my own units – my rats died for the glory of the Horned Rat at my own hands. But it wasn’t my fault – clearly they were untrained morons the other clans slipped into my own ranks as spies, and I was better off they paid for their stupidity in rat-gibs! The moral here is to find the laughter – and keep in mind one of the most important rules of battle: it’s better to be lucky than good. Best summarized by the amazing Field Marshal Gebhard L. von Blücher:
Alle Kunst ist umsonst Wenn ein Engel in das Zündloch prunst", which roughly translates as: "All skill is in vain when an angel pisses in the flintlock of your musket"!
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