The Battle of Oltenitsa - 4th Nov 1853 - A Crimean War Batrep

Yesterday’s game in the Shed-o-War with the rest of the Posties Rejects transported us back to a part of the Crimean War that rarely gets the spotlight. While most people jump straight to the mud, mismanagement, and media circus of the later Allied campaigns, the opening phase (before the British and French fully committed) was very much a brutal, grinding contest between the Russian Empire and the Ottoman Turks.

By 1853, tensions between the Russian Empire and the Ottoman Empire had been simmering for years. Russia, keen to expand its influence southward and present itself as the protector of Orthodox Christians within Ottoman territories, pressed its claims with increasing aggression. The Ottomans, meanwhile, were determined to resist.

When diplomacy failed, Russian forces crossed into the Danubian Principalities (modern-day Romania), prompting the Ottomans to declare war in October 1853. What followed was a series of sharp, often overlooked engagements along the Danube and in the Caucasus. These early clashes set the tone: determined Ottoman resistance, often underestimated, against a numerically and logistically powerful Russian army.

One of the defining moments of this opening phase came at the Battle of Oltenița, where Ottoman forces successfully checked a Russian advance. It was an early indication that this would not be the quick, one-sided campaign many had expected. The Turks fought hard, often from prepared positions, and proved more than capable of bloodying Russian noses when the ground favoured them.

Stuart set up a scenario based on these early encounters, pitching Russian attackers against a well-entrenched Turkish force in November 1853. On paper, it looked straightforward. In practice, it was anything but. The Turks held a commanding ridge line, broken by rocky outcrops and fortified with a chain of redoubts. Ten objectives in total, each hill and redoubt worth a single point, and, at the start of the game, all firmly in Ottoman hands. The Russian objective was clear: seize at least six to claim victory. Simple, right? Well… no.

Although the Russians enjoyed a comfortable two-to-one numerical advantage, the terrain told a very different story. Assaulting uphill into prepared positions is never a pleasant experience, and the redoubts turned what might have been a straightforward advance into a grinding series of assaults. Every objective captured would have to be paid for.

One of the real highlights of the evening was seeing the Ottoman collection back on the table. This early-war period has a distinct visual character that sets it apart from the later, more familiar Crimean battles. The Turkish uniforms in particular are an absolute joy: bold colours, striking contrasts, and just enough flourish to remind you that 19th-century warfare hadn’t entirely abandoned its sense of style.

It’s a period that deserves more attention, both for its aesthetics and for the fascinating tactical challenges it presents. The asymmetry of these engagements, numerical superiority versus defensive strength, makes for exactly the kind of tense, decision-driven games that stick in the memory. Games like this are a great reminder that history doesn’t begin with the most famous moments. The early phase of the Crimean War is full of compelling scenarios, dramatic clashes, and underappreciated armies that deserve a place on the tabletop.

And from a wargaming perspective, it offers something rather special: a chance to explore a conflict where the outcome isn’t dictated by reputation, but by how well you can manage ground, timing, and sheer bloody-minded persistence.

As for the Russians’ daunting task of prising six objectives from stubborn Turkish hands? After a marathon eight-hour struggle, they fell just short—ending the day with five points apiece and a hard-fought draw. The Ottoman force was effectively shattered, but much like their historical counterparts, they had done exactly what was required: blunt the advance, buy precious time, and withdraw in good order to a new defensive line, leaving the Russians to contemplate the cost of every inch gained.

Clear vs Scenic Bases

One of the fascinating things about the tabletop wargaming hobby is how the smallest details can spark surprisingly passionate discussions. In this latest video, I take a closer look at one of those deceptively simple questions: Should we be using clear bases or scenic bases for our miniatures? 

The topic was inspired by an email from Harry, also known as the Glasgow Warhog, who asked a straightforward question that many hobbyists have probably considered at some point: Should we move to clear bases? His argument was simple and practical. Clear bases allow miniatures to blend seamlessly into any battlefield terrain, whether that’s grassy countryside, desert landscapes, urban ruins, or the interior of a factory. From a gameplay perspective, the idea makes a lot of sense. But like many aspects of miniature wargaming, the answer isn’t quite that straightforward.

In the video, I reflect on how basing has evolved over the decades, starting with the very earliest miniatures I painted more than forty years ago, when bases were often little more than a quick coat of green paint. From there, hobby techniques evolved into textured bases, flock, static grass, and eventually more elaborate scenic basing. Along the way, I even experimented with the legendary “oregano basing technique,” where dried kitchen herbs doubled as convincing dead grass for early miniature armies.

As painting skills improved, basing became an increasingly creative part of the hobby. Today, many miniature painters treat the base as a tiny diorama, adding multiple scenic elements such as rocks, tufts, debris, and vegetation to create a more natural and immersive look. In the video, I talk about the “three-element basing rule” I often follow, which helps create visually interesting bases that feel like small slices of the battlefield.

Of course, scenic bases come with their own challenges. A beautifully grassed base might look perfect in a rural battlefield, but perhaps less convincing inside a ruined building or on a paved city street. That’s where the appeal of clear acrylic bases becomes obvious. They adapt instantly to whatever terrain lies beneath the miniature. Clear bases offer flexibility and realism during gameplay, while scenic bases add character, storytelling, and a finished aesthetic that many modellers find deeply satisfying.

Ultimately, this isn’t about deciding a “right” answer. Like so many aspects of the hobby, it comes down to personal preference and what you enjoy most, gaming practicality or modelling creativity.

Can one ruleset cover 2,000 years of warfare?

Historical tabletop wargamers are always on the lookout for rule systems that strike the right balance between accessibility, historical flavour, and tactical depth. In my latest video, I take a closer look at two rulebooks from the growing On Bloody Ground series by WIP Games and Miniatures: The Wars of the Roses and The Punic Wars. Written by father-and-son design team David and Daniel Toone, the On Bloody Ground system has steadily expanded over the past few years. What began as a small set of rules covering the Norman Conquest and the Reconquista has now grown into a range of more than a dozen books covering multiple historical periods—from the American Civil War to Caesar’s campaigns and the English Civil War.

At the heart of the system is a rules engine inspired by the classic Warhammer Ancient Battles style of ranked combat, but streamlined to avoid unnecessary complexity. Instead of introducing gimmicks or novelty mechanics, the designers focus on clear, traditional tabletop wargaming principles: movement, morale, formations, and decisive combat between units. The result is a system that feels familiar to experienced wargamers while remaining accessible for newcomers.

In the video, I explore how these mechanics translate into two very different historical periods. The Wars of the Roses brings late medieval English warfare to the tabletop, where blocks of billmen, men-at-arms, and longbowmen clash in brutal infantry engagements led by ambitious nobles. The Punic Wars, on the other hand, shift the action to the ancient Mediterranean, where Roman legions face the diverse armies of Carthage, complete with Iberian warriors, Numidian cavalry, and the ever-popular war elephants.

One interesting challenge for me when reviewing these rules was scale. The system assumes individually based figures (often in 28mm scale) grouped together on movement trays. My own collections for both periods are quite different: 6mm armies that are permanently multi-based. In the video, I explore whether the system can be adapted to work with smaller-scale miniatures and alternative basing styles without losing the intended gameplay experience.

The answer, happily, is yes. With a few simple adjustments, the rules proved flexible enough to accommodate different collections while still delivering engaging and decisive tabletop battles. That adaptability is one of the strengths of the On Bloody Ground system, making it suitable for a wide range of players and miniature scales.

The Rulebook Trap: Fluff vs Substance

One of the interesting quirks of the tabletop wargaming hobby is that our rulebooks often serve two very different purposes at the same time. On the one hand, they’re instruction manuals that explain the mechanics of the game. On the other hand, they’re often part history book, part lore compendium, and sometimes even part art book designed to inspire players. That combination raises an interesting question: how much fluff should a wargame rulebook really contain

Today, my video explores the balance between background material and rules mechanics in tabletop wargaming rulebooks. Some gamers love diving into rich lore and historical explanations, while others just want to find the rules quickly and get miniatures onto the table. That tension between storytelling and practicality can shape the entire reading experience of a rulebook.

The discussion becomes even more interesting when you compare fantasy and science fiction games with historical wargames. In fictional settings, everything about the universe has been created by the authors, from the factions and technology to the basic assumptions about how the world works. Lore isn’t just decorative in those games; it helps players understand the setting itself. Without background material explaining the world, the motivations of its factions, and the nature of its technology or magic, the rules can feel disconnected from the setting.

Historical wargames approach the problem from the opposite direction. The setting already exists in the real world, and players have access to countless books, documentaries, and historical studies if they want to explore the period in more detail. That means rulebooks don’t necessarily need to carry the same burden of explaining the world. A little context can provide flavour and help explain design choices, but too much history can start to feel like unnecessary page filler when players already have other resources available.

Of course, the balance isn’t always easy to strike. Too much background material can make a rulebook difficult to navigate during a game, while too little flavour can leave the system feeling dry and mechanical. Somewhere between those extremes lies the sweet spot where rules clarity and thematic immersion support each other perfectly.

Battle Chronicle Playtesting Chat

This evening’s video is a bit of a behind-the-scenes chat, as I sit down with Ray Rousell, fellow “Reject”, and the man behind Don’t Throw a One, to talk about the playtesting process for our upcoming skirmish campaign book, Battle Chronicle: Retreat from Moscow.

As many of you already know, this project has been a collaboration with Paul over on the Pazoot Channel. Together, we’ve been developing a set of skirmish rules designed to link games into a narrative-driven campaign, all of which will eventually be pulled together into a dedicated campaign booklet. There’s no official release date just yet, and that’s very much by design. We’d rather take the time to get it right than rush something out the door and regret it later (a radical concept, I know).

Ray and I have both been involved in the playtesting side of things, and in this short discussion, we reflect on how that process has gone so far. What’s worked, what hasn’t, and, perhaps most importantly, whether we’d willingly put ourselves through it all again. Spoiler: playtesting is equal parts inspiration, frustration, and the occasional “why did we think this was a good idea?” moment.

If you’d like to follow along with the project, you can join the Battle Chronicle mailing list for updates, release news, playtest materials, and development insights. No spam, just the good stuff: https://www.pazoot.com/battle-chronicle

Legacy or Landfill?

For most tabletop wargamers, a collection of miniatures is far more than a pile of painted figures or boxes of unbuilt kits. It represents years, sometimes decades, of enthusiasm for history, gaming, modelling, and creativity. Every army tells a story. Every painted regiment represents hours of careful work. Every terrain piece, rulebook, or campaign folder carries memories of games played with friends around the table. But there is a question that many hobbyists quietly avoid thinking about. What happens to those collections when we are no longer around to look after them?

This video was prompted by a message from a viewer who recently helped the family of a friend sort through a huge model kit collection after that friend passed away. The collection contained well over a thousand kits. What began as an act of helping out quickly turned into an enormous task of sorting, valuing, organising, and deciding what should happen to a lifetime’s worth of hobby items. It is a situation that many of us could easily leave behind without realising it.

For people deeply involved in the tabletop wargaming hobby, collections tend to grow steadily over time. Armies accumulate for different periods and rulesets. Boxes of miniatures build up in cupboards and lofts. Painting projects wait patiently for their turn on the workbench. What feels like a perfectly normal hobby collection to us can look overwhelming to someone who does not share our interests.

That raises a practical and emotional question. Is it fair to leave the job of sorting through everything to family members who might not understand the value, both sentimental and financial, of what they are dealing with?

In this video, I explore the idea of legacy collections and how wargamers might start thinking about the future of their armies and hobby materials. We talk about why it is important to communicate the meaning of the collection to family members, how organisation can make a huge difference when the time eventually comes, and whether downsizing is something worth considering as we get older.

There is also a wider reflection on the role of the hobby in our lives. Historical wargaming is a mentally stimulating and socially rewarding pastime that many of us intend to enjoy for as long as possible. Planning ahead for the future does not mean giving up the hobby. It simply means recognising that the collections we build are part of a larger story.

Ultimately, this discussion is not about being morbid. It is about respect for the time, passion, and creativity that goes into building a miniature wargaming collection, and about making sure that the legacy of those collections is handled in a way that honours the hobby and the people who loved it.

Are you Laughing Enough?

One of the fascinating things about tabletop gaming is that while we spend plenty of time discussing rules, tactics, painting, and history, we rarely talk about something that appears at almost every gaming table: humour. Whether you play roleplaying games like Dungeons & Dragons or historical miniature wargames, laughter seems to creep into the hobby in ways that are difficult to plan but impossible to ignore. In this video, I explore a simple but surprisingly interesting question: how important is humour in your games?

For many gaming groups, laughter is almost constant. In roleplaying games, it often arrives in the form of dramatic speeches gone slightly wrong, characters attempting absurd plans, or someone inevitably quoting a line from a film at exactly the right moment. Even the most serious dungeon crawl can suddenly derail into comedy when a spell misfires or a stealth attempt ends with a spectacular crash through a pile of armour.

But humour isn’t limited to roleplaying games. Anyone who has played miniature wargames for long enough knows that the dice have a sense of humour all of their own. The elite troops that refuse to move, the carefully planned ambush that collapses instantly, or the heroic cavalry charge that stops halfway because the command roll failed. Those moments might be frustrating in the moment, but they often become the stories that gaming groups remember and retell for years.

In the video I talk about how humour changes the atmosphere around the table. Laughter lowers the pressure, keeps games social and relaxed, and reminds us that the hobby is ultimately about spending time with friends. Even in competitive games, the shared experience of unpredictable dice and dramatic outcomes can turn potential frustration into memorable comedy.

There’s also an interesting balance to consider. Some groups thrive on constant jokes and banter, while others prefer a more serious and immersive style of play. Neither approach is wrong. Every gaming table develops its own personality over time, and humour often becomes part of the culture of that group. Running jokes, famous disasters, and legendary quotes become part of the shared mythology of the campaign or gaming club.

Perhaps the real magic of humour in tabletop gaming is that it transforms unexpected outcomes into great stories. The most memorable moments rarely come from perfect victories or flawless tactics. They come from the unpredictable chaos that happens when players, dice, and imagination collide.

That’s exactly what this video is about: the laughter, the ridiculous moments, and the strange way humour turns ordinary gaming sessions into stories that stick with us long after the miniatures have been packed away.

Why my YouTube Channel is a no politics zone

Why is my YouTube channel a “no politics zone”? And what does that choice have to do with the mental and physical health benefits of tabletop wargaming? In my latest video, I discuss a subject I’ve deliberately avoided since launching the channel in earnest back in 2020: modern politics in hobby spaces. While historical wargaming inevitably touches on political themes of the past, I’ve made a conscious decision to keep contemporary political debate off the channel. This video explains why.

At its heart, this is a discussion about protecting the hobby as a refuge. Many tabletop wargamers and miniature painters recognise the mental health benefits of sitting down at the painting desk or gaming table. The real world quiets. Stress levels drop. Focus sharpens. Creative energy replaces anxiety. But we don’t always stop to examine just how powerful that effect can be. In this video, I share a personal discovery that brought this into sharp focus: measurable drops in blood pressure during painting and hobby sessions. For someone managing hypertension, seeing those numbers move from elevated levels into the normal range during time spent painting miniatures was eye-opening. It reinforces something many of us intuitively know: this hobby is not just entertainment; it actively supports wellbeing.

I also discuss well-respected research into arts and craft hobbies, which found that miniature painting and similar creative activities can improve fine motor skills, enhance concentration, support problem-solving ability, reduce stress, and boost mood. There is even emerging evidence suggesting cognitively engaging hobbies may help build long-term mental resilience.

This is not about ignoring history or avoiding thoughtful discussion. I consider myself to be a very political person. I try to be well-informed, I follow the news and read articles by independent experts (not some shouty bloke on Facebook), I vote, and I care about the future. But that doesn't mean I feel I need to drag politics into every forum and space I inhabit. My Channel, this blog and my hobby room are a sanctuary from the never ending and exhausting ideological trench warfare of modern politics.

And the irony is that historical wargaming often encourages deep research into political contexts of the past. This can strengthen critical thinking skills. We learn to question sources without becoming conspiracy theorists. We discover that narratives are contested and appreciate a range of opinions. We see how propaganda works and how to look past it. That kind of historical literacy is very healthy, in my humble opinion. 

So, keeping politics out of the comments here and on my channel isn't about silencing debate. Rather, it’s about recognising the value of boundaries and protecting spaces that allow the hobby’s mental and physical health benefits to flourish.