Who is really in command?

Command and control is one of the most important (and often misunderstood) elements of WWII tabletop wargaming. It’s the invisible force that determines whether your carefully planned attack unfolds like a textbook operation… or collapses into chaos the moment the dice hit the table. In my latest video, I take a deep dive into how four popular rule sets approach this critical aspect of gameplay: Flames of War 4th Edition, Bolt Action 3rd Edition, Chain of Command 2, and Rapid Fire Reloaded.

Each of these games tackles the same historical problem (how commanders influence the battlefield), but they do so in very different ways. Flames of War emphasises formation cohesion and the gradual breakdown of organised forces under pressure. Bolt Action leans into cinematic unpredictability with its order dice system, where momentum can shift in an instant. Chain of Command focuses on the human element, placing leaders at the centre of every decision and making their positioning critical to success. Meanwhile, Rapid Fire Reloaded zooms out to a larger scale, where command becomes a question of coordination, distance, and maintaining control across an entire battlefield.

What emerges from this comparison is not a “best” system, but a set of distinct perspectives on how WWII combat functioned. Each ruleset highlights a different layer of warfare—chaos, leadership, or organisation—and in doing so, shapes the entire feel of the game. The same miniatures and the same historical scenario can feel completely different depending on how command and control are handled.

For tabletop wargamers, this is where the hobby becomes especially rewarding. Exploring different rules isn’t just about mechanics; it’s about engaging with different interpretations of history. These systems invite us to consider how real commanders coped with confusion, limited communication, and the pressure to make decisions in the heat of battle.

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.

Battle Chronicle: Playthrough

This week’s video is a full playthrough of The Barn at Dawn, the introductory scenario from Battle Chronicle: Retreat from Moscow, which is a cooperative Napoleonic skirmish game focused on survival, isolation, and hard decisions. Set during the catastrophic 1812 retreat, the game strips away grand tactics and sweeping manoeuvres. There are no lines of infantry trading volleys, no elegant battlefield choreography. Each miniature represents a single exhausted French straggler. These men are cut off, freezing, and desperately trying to escape enemy territory while Russian patrols close in.

The first scenario is played on a compact 2x2 table using six French figures and a reinforcement pool of twelve Russian line infantry. The Russians are controlled by an automated system. They do not “think” in the human sense; they follow simple behavioural rules based on distance and line of sight. Beyond that, they advance relentlessly. Reinforcements arrive twice per Russian turn, meaning the longer the French linger, the worse their situation becomes.

The tension in this game does not come from complex mechanics. It comes from decision-making under pressure. Each French character has three actions per turn: move, shoot, search, or fight. An aimed shot costs two actions. Loot can be discovered at designated points across the table, but searching takes time, and you do not have time. Food, firewood, and bandages may save a life later in the campaign, but stopping to search could mean being overrun.

This first game is intentionally simple. It introduces movement, survival, reinforcement mechanics, and the automated Russian response system. Later scenarios expand the table size, increase complexity, and introduce additional narrative twists. But even here, the pressure is palpable. Reinforcements recycle through the pool, so while only twelve Russians may be on the table at once, the French can face far more over the course of the game.

If you are interested in historical tabletop wargaming, Napoleonic miniatures, cooperative skirmish systems, or narrative campaign design, this playthrough demonstrates exactly how the rules function in practice. More importantly, it shows how a game can create tension through meaningful choices rather than mechanical complications.

Cavalier 2026 Show Report

The 2026 Cavalier Wargames Show in Tonbridge once again proved why it remains one of the most respected and enduring regional tabletop wargaming events in the UK. Held annually at the Angel Centre and hosted by the Tunbridge Wells Wargames Society, Cavalier has become a true “season opener” for many gamers across the South East, myself included.

After the long winter stretch between Warfare and February, Cavalier marks that moment when the show calendar properly comes back to life. It’s a chance to reconnect with fellow hobbyists, meet subscribers and friends, browse traders, and soak in some of the best demonstration and participation games the region has to offer. While it may not be as vast as some of the larger national conventions, Cavalier consistently delivers a high standard of presentation and organisation, making it a favourite among historical wargamers, miniature painters, and tabletop gaming enthusiasts alike.

Are you rolling your dice wrong?

Every tabletop wargamer knows the feeling: you line up the perfect attack, pick up a fistful of dice… and roll absolute disaster. Again. It’s easy to joke that our dice are cursed, disloyal, or harbouring a personal grudge against our beautifully painted troops. But what if the problem isn’t bad luck at all? What if we’ve been rolling dice “wrong” for years?

In this video, we take a cheerful deep dive into one of tabletop gaming’s most enduring bits of club folklore: the idea that how you roll dice might actually influence the outcome. It’s a topic that sits right at the intersection of probability, superstition, and the wonderfully odd culture of historical and miniature wargaming.

We explore a whole gallery of familiar techniques. There’s the dramatic flick, launching dice across the battlefield like plastic artillery. The long tumble, beloved of casino players and guaranteed to send dice rolling through terrain pieces. The chaotic high drop, which sounds like a bag of gravel hitting a tin roof. We also look at pre-roll shaking rituals, lucky (or banned) hands, and the ever-popular dice cup or tower for players who’d rather let gravity make the decisions.

Along the way, we gently untangle the myth from the maths. Dice are, after all, simple randomising tools governed by physics, not feelings. As long as they’re rolling freely and fairly, the results are effectively random. But that doesn’t mean rolling style is meaningless. Far from it. The way we roll dice affects the pace of the game, the clarity of results, and the shared drama around the table. It’s part performance, part ritual, and part social contract between players.

For historical wargamers and miniature hobbyists, these little habits are part of the wider joy of the hobby. We already spend hours painting figures, building terrain, and recreating battles from the past. A few dice-rolling superstitions fit right in with that blend of history, storytelling, and playful imagination.

This video is ultimately a celebration of those quirks. Whether you’re a careful cup-user, an enthusiastic flicker, or someone who shakes dice like you’re trying to wake them up, you’re not alone. Dice may be random, but the stories and laughs they create at the table are anything but.

More Retreat from Moscow Testing this weekend.

More playtesting has been underway this week, with even more sessions lined up for the weekend and into next week as we hammer out the final refinements to Battle Chronicle: The Retreat from Moscow.  Each game nudges the system a little closer to where we want it. Tight enough to hold together under pressure, but flexible enough to let the story breathe. 

The system will be a co-operative narrative skirmish campaign booklet, built around small groups, hard choices, and consequences that carry forward. Every playtest has thrown up something useful: a rule that needs tightening, a mechanic that sings, a moment of unexpected drama that reminds us why we’re doing this in the first place. That’s the quiet magic of playtesting, because it exposes the cracks and the gold in equal measure.

We’re keeping our powder dry on a release date for now. There’s still work to do, and we’d rather get it right than get it rushed. But with each session, we’re getting closer to a system we genuinely believe people will enjoy putting on their tables. In the meantime, here are a handful of photos from the latest playtest session—small glimpses of a project steadily taking shape.

The 5 Secret Rules of Wargaming

Every hobby has its unspoken codes of conduct, and tabletop wargaming is no different. Sit down at a games table almost anywhere in the world, and you’ll soon pick up on them — those unwritten rules of etiquette that keep play running smoothly. But here’s the question I want to explore in today’s video: do these rules make the hobby more fun, or do they sometimes act as hidden barriers that discourage newcomers from sticking around?

A couple of years ago, I made a video outlining my personal “top five rules of wargaming etiquette.” They were meant as a light-hearted guide to making sure everyone enjoys their time around the table. But on reflection, I realised I never asked whether those rules might also create pressure for new players who don’t yet know the invisible expectations. So in this new video, I go back to those same five rules and weigh up the pros and cons of each.

Courtesy, integrity, honesty, fairness, and conviviality are all good principles in life, but how do they work when applied to tabletop wargaming? Do they make a club more welcoming to outsiders, or can they sometimes feel like gatekeeping? I take a closer look, sharing my own experiences as a social historical wargamer while recognising that competitive players may have a very different perspective.

Most importantly, I want to open the floor to discussion. Do you recognise these rules in your own gaming group? Do you agree that they help the hobby, or have you seen them enforced in ways that drive people away? Whether you’re a veteran historical wargamer, a miniatures painter dipping your toe into gaming, or a complete beginner trying to learn the ropes, this is a conversation worth having.

We Broke our own Ruleset

Designing a new tabletop wargame ruleset sounds exciting, and it is, but the real magic happens during playtesting. In this video, I talk through my recent experiences helping develop The Battle Chronicle, a brand new historical skirmish system set during Napoleon’s Retreat from Moscow. Rather than focusing purely on the finished product, this discussion explores the messy, fascinating stage where ideas are tested, broken, repaired, and slowly shaped into something genuinely fun to play.

Playtesting is where theory meets tabletop reality. Mechanics that look perfectly reasonable on paper can behave very differently once players start experimenting. Balance issues appear, unexpected rule combinations crop up, and the flow of the game becomes much clearer. Some rules turn out to be more complicated than they need to be, while others don’t deliver the tension or decision-making they promised. This process isn’t about chasing perfection; it’s about making sure the game creates an enjoyable experience that feels right for the setting.

Because The Battle Chronicle is rooted in a very specific historical moment, narrative tone matters just as much as mechanics. The retreat from Moscow is defined by hardship, attrition, and desperation, and the rules need to support that atmosphere. Playtesting helps reveal whether those themes come through naturally in play or whether certain elements undermine the intended feel. A good historical game should tell stories that make sense for the period, not just produce balanced dice exchanges.

Another key part of the process is clarity. Designers often know what they meant when writing a rule, but new players only have the text in front of them. Watching others interpret the rules highlights unclear wording, inconsistent terminology, and assumptions that need to be explained. Fixing these issues early makes the finished ruleset far more welcoming and easier to learn. Beyond mechanics and wording, playtesting also reveals practical improvements: when tokens would help, where reference sheets are needed, and which parts of the game benefit from simplification. These small refinements can dramatically improve the overall experience.

In the video, I share why this stage of development is so important, what it has taught me about rules design, and why thorough playtesting builds confidence in a finished product. If you enjoy tabletop wargaming, historical settings, or thoughtful hobby discussion about how games are made, this behind-the-scenes look at the design process should be right up your street.

More Soviet Infantry, Tank Hunters and a T26/M1931

I narrowly missed last week’s submission to the Analogue Hobbies Painting Challenge, literally by a matter of hours, so this week turned into a bumper offering.  

First up is another twelve-man Light Machine Gun Squad, the nearly finished unit that never quite made it onto the blog last time. All that stood between them and glory was drying basing and a final layer of snow, but time ran out. One of my quietly declared New Year’s resolutions was to stop saying yes to every new project that wanders past. That resolution has already collapsed in a heap, leaving me busier than ever. Not necessarily a bad thing, but it does add another tick to the ever-growing “suspected ADHD” column.

Next on the bench is another tank for my Soviet forces. This time it’s a T-26 Model 1931, the distinctive twin-turret variant armed with machine guns. Unlike my previous T-26 from Rubicon, this one is a 3D print from Danger Close Studio. Aside from some minor clean-up around the tracks where the supports had been, it’s an excellent print and blends in seamlessly with my other vehicles. Historically, the T-26 Model 1931 was heavily influenced by the British Vickers 6-Ton and was intended as an infantry support tank. Its twin turrets, usually mounting DT machine guns, offered impressive firepower on paper, but in practice proved awkward to command. That complexity eventually saw the design abandoned in favour of more practical single-turret models.

Finally, there’s a Tank Hunter team. This unit consists of two men armed with the 7.62mm PPD 1934/38 submachine gun, a design based on the Bergmann MP18/1 and fed by either drum or box magazines. They’re supported by two riflemen, with the NCO hefting a Molotov cocktail. The Molotov was a small conversion, using a plastic piece from the Warlord Games Soviet infantry sprue that recently appeared as a giveaway on the cover of Wargames Illustrated, which couldn’t have been better timed. On the tabletop in Bolt Action, Tank Hunters are nasty little specialists, with rules that allow them to double their attacks in close combat against vehicles, making them a serious threat despite their size.

In short: a delayed update turned into a productive one, with a finished LMG squad, a characterful early-war Soviet tank, and a converted Tank Hunter team all joining the ranks. Progress may be chaotic, but it’s definitely moving forward.

Don't Throw That Away!

Most tabletop wargamers don’t realise they’re throwing away perfectly good terrain every week. In this week's podcast, I dive into one of the oldest and most satisfying traditions in historical wargaming: turning everyday household rubbish into terrain, scenery, and useful hobby tools. Cardboard packaging becomes ruined buildings and bunker walls. Plastic food containers turn into industrial tanks and silos. Bottle tops, jar lids, broken toys, and old electronics quietly transform into battlefield details, objectives, and atmospheric clutter that give a gaming table real character.

This isn’t just about saving money, although that’s certainly a bonus. It’s about creativity, confidence, and learning to see potential instead of products. Scratch-built terrain made from recycled materials often looks more believable than pristine kits because history itself is messy, improvised, and uneven. Real battlefields were full of reused materials, rushed construction, and expedient solutions. Exactly the qualities that rubbish-based terrain naturally captures.

Introducing Battle Chronicle: The Retreat from Moscow

 

Last weekend marked the beginning of a brand-new miniature adventure, and it feels good to finally lift the fog of war just a little.

I’ve been working with Paul from the Pazoot Channel on a project called The Battle Chronicle. Paul has been deep in rules-writing mode, while I’ve been handling playtesting, staging the games, and—alongside my mate Ray—capturing plenty of photos and footage as the project starts to take shape on the tabletop. What you’re seeing in the pictures here is our first big playtesting session, where ideas stopped being theory and started becoming desperate little struggles in the snow.

So what is a Battle Chronicle? Each one is designed as a self-contained narrative skirmish mini-campaign. Inside a single booklet, you’ll find a complete skirmish ruleset, four linked scenarios, and a tightly focused historical theme that drives the action forward. The goal is to create something that feels like a story unfolding, not just a series of disconnected games.

The first Chronicle is set during Napoleon’s retreat from Moscow. The focus is on survival: stragglers clinging together, shattered formations, collapsing morale, and constant hard choices. It’s built as a cooperative experience, with players working together against an automated enemy system. In play, that has already led to some wonderfully tense and unpredictable moments—exactly the kind of drama this period deserves.

For Ray and me, this project has also been the perfect excuse to finally put our Retreat from Moscow collection on the table in a proper, story-driven way. Instead of one-off encounters, we’re seeing units carry their scars from game to game, and decisions in one scenario ripple into the next. It feels closer to history than a casual pick-up game ever could.

If you’d like a quick glimpse of how it looked in action, I’ve posted a YouTube Short showing moments from this very session. And next week, I’ll be releasing a longer video where I talk in more detail about the playtesting process, what we learned, what broke, what surprised us, and why playtesting is such a crucial part of building any set of rules. There’s plenty more frostbite, panic, and last-stand heroics to come.

Those Wargaming Habits that Drive us Mad (and make us laugh)

Every hobby has its little irritations, and tabletop historical wargaming is no exception. In my latest video, I dive into a viewer question that’s been waiting patiently in the comments for its moment in the spotlight: “What are your pet hates in the hobby?” Now, this isn’t a rant in the angry sense. It’s more of a warm, self-aware chuckle at the small things that make us twitch across the tabletop, even while we’re enjoying the best hobby in the world. Because if we’re honest, most of these “pet hates” are things we’ve all done at some point.

I talk about the sight of unpainted miniatures on the gaming table — especially when they somehow manage to defeat a fully painted army. There’s also the familiar frustration of stunning demo games at wargames shows that have no signs, no labels, and no explanation of what battle or rules you’re looking at. For a hobby built on history and detail, that little missing bit of information can make a big difference.

Then there are the smaller visual things, like plain bases that never quite got finished, or the odd effect of scale creep when miniatures from different manufacturers end up mixed into the same unit. Individually, these are tiny issues, but once you spot them, they can be hard to ignore. Of course, not all pet hates are visual. Some happen mid-game, like players who constantly nudge and re-adjust their units, somehow gaining that mysterious “extra inch” of movement, or the enthusiastic dice throwers whose rolls resemble an artillery barrage more than a game mechanic.

Through it all, the tone stays friendly and self-deprecating. This isn’t about telling anyone they’re doing the hobby wrong. It’s about recognising shared experiences in tabletop wargaming, miniature painting, and historical gaming culture, and having a laugh about them together. If you enjoy hobby discussion, reflections on wargaming culture, and the everyday realities of life with toy soldiers, this video is for you. Watch it, see how many of these pet hates you recognise, and then join the conversation — because every wargamer has at least one!

Do House Rules Ruin Wargames?

One of the most passionate debates in tabletop wargaming isn’t about which tank was best or whether Napoleonic squares are overrated. It’s about house rules — those little tweaks, rewrites, and “we do it this way here” moments that sneak into almost every gaming group sooner or later. In this latest video, I dig into the question that every wargamer eventually faces: do house rules enhance the experience, or do they quietly undermine it?

For many of us, tinkering with rules feels completely natural. We don’t just play historical games — we study history, obsess over specific battles, and get emotionally invested in moments when everything could have gone another way. When a ruleset doesn’t quite allow for that, the temptation to adjust it is almost irresistible. Maybe a unit should be tougher, maybe morale should matter more, or maybe the official army list doesn’t quite reflect what actually fought on that day in 1942 or 1815. So we change things, often with the best of intentions.

But rules aren’t just words on a page. Underneath every good game is a web of probabilities, balance decisions, and design choices that are usually invisible to the player. When we start altering things, even in small ways, we might be tugging at threads we don’t fully understand. A tiny bonus here or a new rule there can slowly warp how a game plays, sometimes without anyone noticing until it’s too late.

The video also examines the individuals behind the rules. Designers bring their own vision of history to the table, based on research, playtesting, and compromise. Changing their work can sometimes sharpen a game, but it can also erase parts of what made it special in the first place. And, just to keep us humble, there’s always the risk that we, as players, might not understand a period quite as well as we think we do.

At the same time, house rules aren’t the villains of this story. They can be powerful tools for learning, creativity, and personalising a game to suit your group. They encourage deeper engagement with both history and game mechanics, and they let us explore those wonderful “what if?” moments that make wargaming so compelling.

This video isn’t about declaring a winner in the house rules war. It’s about exploring the tension between creativity and consistency, between personal vision and shared systems, and how that tension shapes the way we enjoy our hobby. If you’ve ever rewritten a rule, ignored an army list, or argued passionately over a single modifier, this one is for you.

Painting Challenge XVI: 2 Soviet GAZ-AAA Trucks

I have just finished building and painting these two trucks from Rubicon Models, a matched pair of GAZ-AAA 2-tonners, and like the armoured vehicles I showed last week, they are daubed in a hurried whitewash over their standard Soviet green. That slapdash winter camouflage was not about style; it was about survival. When the Red Army crossed into Finland in November 1939, it found itself fighting in a world of blinding snow, black forests and temperatures that could sink past –30°C. Against that backdrop, a green truck might as well have been waving a little flag that read “please shoot me.” The Finns, masters of camouflage and patient marksmanship, took brutal advantage of anything that stood out, so Soviet units did whatever they could with limewash, chalk or even mud to blur their outlines against the frozen landscape.

The GAZ-AAA itself was a workhorse of a very Soviet kind. Based on a Ford design built under licence and then steadily adapted by Soviet engineers, it was a six-wheeled, twin-rear-axle truck intended to haul around two tons of men, ammunition, fuel or food across the vast distances of the USSR. In peacetime, it was everywhere, delivering everything from grain to bricks, and in wartime, it became the backbone of Red Army logistics. During the Winter War, it was often pressed into service far beyond what its designers had imagined, rumbling along narrow forest roads that had been hacked through the snow or driving over frozen lakes that groaned ominously beneath their weight. They were not glamorous machines, but wars are not won by glamour; they are won by whoever can keep rifles fed and soldiers warm.

Those conditions, though, were merciless. On the pls side, the GAZ-AAA was mechanically simple and reasonably tough, which mattered when you were hundreds of kilometres from a proper workshop and your hands were too numb to feel a spanner. The extra rear axle gave it better traction than a simple two-wheel-drive truck, letting it claw its way through packed snow and icy ruts where lesser vehicles would just spin. On the other hand, it was still fundamentally a road truck, not a purpose-built winter vehicle. Deep, powdery snow could swallow it whole, its engines hated the cold, and the Soviet fuel and lubricants of the period were prone to thickening into something closer to porridge than petrol or oil. There are plenty of stories, many apocryphal but all evocative, of crews having to light fires under the engine block just to get the thing to start.

A lumbering convoy of GAZ-AAAs will be a tempting target for Ray’s Finns. Hit the first and last truck, and suddenly you have a frozen traffic jam full of trapped men. I may need more tanks. Maybe the T26 Model 1931 with twin MMG Turrets? Guess I’ll be perusing the Rubicon website again pretty soon.

Incidentally, these models, like many of the Rubicon kits, can be built in different variants. The box contains the parts needed to make the GAZ-AA 1.5Ton single axle truck, and the canvas canopy is optional. There are also components in the kit to convert the model into an Anti-Aircraft truck (with the gun sold separately). All the models come with a driver, and I was surprised to find the figures were almost complete (only the feet are missing) despite the fact that the driver's legs end up essentially invisible, hidden inside the cabin. And that, for me, sums up these models from Rubicon, attention to detail, even the bits that probably can’t be seen once assembled. 

Does accepting free products change how honest a review can be?

One of the quiet but powerful forces shaping modern hobby YouTube is the rise of free review products. Rulebooks, miniatures, paints, tools, and even entire games are regularly sent to content creators in exchange for coverage, often with the promise of an “impartial” review. On the surface, that seems harmless, even helpful. After all, it lets viewers see new products without having to buy them first. But beneath that surface sits a much more complicated question: Does accepting free products change how honest a review can be?

In this video, I explore that tension from the perspective of a historical tabletop wargamer and miniature painter. Over the last few months alone, I’ve received more than a dozen offers of free products to review, including three different 3D printers, despite never having used one on the channel. I turned them all down, not because they weren’t generous offers, but because they would have pushed the channel away from what it’s actually about. Accepting a free product doesn’t just mean opening a box; it means committing time, energy, and creative focus to something that might only be there because it costs nothing.

That’s where the real danger lies. Free products don’t automatically make someone dishonest, but they can quietly distort priorities. They can pull creators toward what is being offered rather than what they genuinely want to explore. In a hobby built on long projects, deep dives, and slow creative work, that shift can be damaging.

The video also looks at the other side of the argument: are reviews of things we buy ourselves really more objective? Paying for a product doesn’t remove bias; it just changes it. We all want our purchases to feel justified, and that can colour how we talk about them. Whether something is free or bought, what really matters is transparency, context, and a willingness to talk about both strengths and weaknesses.

Throughout the discussion, I argue that trust in the tabletop and miniature painting community doesn’t come from pretending money and freebies don’t exist. It comes from being honest about them. Viewers deserve to know whether something was bought, gifted, or part of a larger collaboration so they can judge the opinion for themselves.

If you care about historical wargaming, hobby YouTube, and the future of honest reviews in our niche, this video digs into a topic that affects us all, whether we realise it or not.

Painting Challenge XVI: Soviet BA10 Armoured Car & T26 tank

This week I present a couple of armoured vehicles for my Winter War Soviets, both finished with a rough, field-applied whitewash over the standard Soviet green. This was very much a leap of faith for me. After assembly, I got the models fully painted, decaled, and weathered to the point where they looked “done”… and then deliberately smeared white paint all over them like a vandal. 

There are plenty of established whitewash techniques out there, but I ended up bodging together my own. I mixed white acrylic paint, distilled water, and airbrush flow improver in roughly equal parts. The flow improver is the unsung hero here: it reduces surface tension and stops the paint from pooling or beading. What you get is a milky glaze that needs two or three coats, depending on how heavy you want the finish. I hand-brushed it panel by panel, deliberately avoiding raised edges and high-wear areas like hatches and crew access points. The aim was that hurried, uneven, already-wearing-off look you see in historical photos. 

 

The BA-10 armoured car was developed in 1938 and produced until 1941, making it the most numerous Soviet heavy armoured car of the pre-war period, with over 3,300 built. This is the earlier BA-10 variant, descended from the BA-3 and BA-6, using the GAZ-AAA chassis and sporting improved armour up to 15mm on the front and turret. It was meant to be replaced by the BA-11 in 1941, which would have had a diesel engine and a more advanced armour layout, but the war rather rudely intervened. The BA-10 soldiered on in Red Army service until 1945, and a number were captured and pressed into Finnish service during the Winter War (at least 24 that are known of).

The T-26light infantry tank needs little introduction. Developed from the British Vickers 6-Ton, it became one of the most prolific tank designs of the interwar years. More than 11,000 were built across an eye-watering 50-plus variants, including flamethrowers, engineering vehicles, self-propelled guns, artillery tractors, and armoured carriers. Early versions had twin turrets with machine guns in each, but this is the 1939 single-turret model with the 45mm main gun, a coaxial machine gun, and an additional rear turret MG. By 1939, its armour was already starting to look thin against modern anti-tank weapons, but sheer numbers kept it relevant and deadly through the Winter War. Once again, captured vehicles were hastily repainted and used by the Finns to defend their homeland, many in service right through to the end of WWII. 

Both models are from Rubicon, and they were a pleasure to build. The BA-10 can be assembled with or without the over-tire tracks, while the T-26 kit gives you enough parts to build one of several variants on the same chassis. The instructions for each kit are very clear, but as with any plastic kit, patience is the key to success. I enjoyed making these so much that I have now bought a couple of GAZ-AA trucks from Rubicon to carry my infantry in. Gotta give Ray’s Finns something to shoot at during his Motti attacks after all.