Regular readers may have seen a comment posted recently that
almost uniquely was neither from MS Foy (whose observations are of course
always both pertinent and welcome) and nor did it concern the back catalogue of
Salford songstress Elkie Brooks (who is always worth seeing; just don’t expect
too much from “Pearl’s a Singer” as she rather throws it away). Furthermore
this latest comment was a question colligating both wargaming and philosophy:
the two raisons d’etre of this blog. [The Rhetorical Pedant cannot resist
pointing out that in fact far more of the blog seems to be taken up with
poetry, ruminations on goings-on in North Korea, pictures of your bloggist
frolicking with the yummy mummies of Ilkley, and pointless interjections from
someone calling himself the Rhetorical Pedant.] And so, at last, a proper
question that not only deserves a proper answer, but is actually going to get
two. Controversially, I am going to begin from the perspective of an ordinary
wargamer rather than that of the giant of Stoic philosophy that you know me to
be. Readers of an intellectual bent will just have to wait.
| Ordinary wargamer |
So, the obvious place to start is by considering
Deconstruction, the literary theory propounded originally by Jacques Derrida. Derrida famously, though not pithily, said “Every
discourse, even a poetic or oracular sentence, carries with it a system of
rules for producing analogous things and thus an outline of methodology.” And
I’m assuming that no-one is going to argue with that. In this context
Deconstruction would lead us to focus on the word ‘ordinary’ rather than
‘wargamer’. Rest assured that I am extraordinarily ‘ordinary’ in my wargaming.
I have piles of unpainted figures, many volumes of unplayed rules, a collection
of odd shaped-dice, am a white male of a certain age with a bit of a belly, and
am rather reticent when asked by the yummies what my hobbies are. I rarely put
on my own games (although, as will be appreciated, this is not unrelated to not
actually having anywhere to live), but am always happy to turn up when anyone
else puts one on.
James ‘Olicanalad’ Roach, on the other hand, is a professional. He is an award-winning painter, a published rules author and the owner of a legendary war-games room. In fact the only thing he shares with us ‘ordinary wargamers’ is a pronounced glabrousness. Since moving to the vicinity of Ilkley – wargaming epicentre of lower Wharfedale – I have been very grateful to play in games hosted by Mark, Ken and Tim as well as, many years ago, actually hosting one myself. But I’m sure that none of the others would quibble that James’ set-up is the dog’s bollocks. That last phrase would no doubt have given Monsieur Derrida immense pleasure, but I think we can be equally clear that he would have followed it up with a question. “What” he would have pondered “has any of zis got to do with ze price of fish?”.
And the answer is plain and straightforward; qualities always much admired by French philosophers. It is such a pleasure and a privilege to be able to play wargames at James' house, with his beautifully painted figures on his equally fine terrain, that he can change the rules as often as he likes; I just don't care.