SRM’s Roundabout to the NOVA Open 2024: Wherein I, Like Icarus, Fly Too Close to the Sun

What Up

I unfortunately wasn’t able to write up a “Roundabout To…” article for my time at the Storm of Silence GT in Spokane, WA, back in May. With Goonhammer becoming a full time job and my UI/UX coursework ramping up significantly, I didn’t have the time to write an additional novella about my experience there. In short: It fucking rocked and I’m adding it to my list of annual “must attend” events, even with the strain it’ll add to my calendar. The most you’ll likely see from that event is a writeup in a Competitive Innovations article and some B-roll gingerly sprinkled around our video content. I came in eighth at that event, with my only loss being against Kasra Houshidar and his beautiful Ultramarines. That game was one of the best I’ve ever played, and I talk about it and the rest of my misadventures there in our Badcast recap of the event.

The aforementioned UI/UX coursework was a six month sprint, with 10-20 hours of every week being taken up by my continuing education. It has ultimately been a good thing, but as a result the practice games I would usually get in before an event like NOVA eluded me. My thought was this: By sticking with a list archetype I know inside and out, I should do better than if I attempted to reinvent the wheel.

So I went about reinventing that wheel.

Plans and Prep

Here at NOVA, I would be entering into the 40k Grand Tournament, a nine-round endurance test over the course of three days. The first five games would be random based on win path, and after that, players would be sorted into brackets, depending on how well they had done. After becoming the Tacoma Rat King of the 1-3 bracket in 2023, being the middlest of men by going 2-2 in the 2-2 bracket at NOVA last year, my intention was to get into the 4-1 bracket.

Any listener of the Badcast will likely be familiar with my general list and its catchphrase: Lethal Sussy Five Plussy. Essentially, this list is built around getting as many Lethal Hits and Sustained Hits as possible, ideally on a 5+. I played a few practice games with this list, making tweaks and changes where I could, and stressing hard about where to spend my points. I played a newer, dumber than ever version of this list which was a pair of Crusader squads with character support in Land Raiders, a 10-man Sword Brethren squad with Helbrecht in a Land Raider Redeemer, and only a Storm Speeder Thunderstrike and a pair of Scout units for any sort of objective play. I played two games with this list.

In the first game against Spencer, I was so concerned with shaking the rust off my long-dormant competitive instincts that I was too focused on how to play my own army rules to pay as much attention to the missions as I should have. Despite making a whole dang video about them, I was woefully inexperienced with Pariah Nexus. In this game I rolled over his dudes pretty hard, but found that 10 Sword Brethren was absolutely overkill against anything short of a Hekaton Land Fortress. Astute players may realize that most units in this game are not Fortresses, of the Hekaton Land variety or any other.

In my second game against my buddy Kriegsie’s Iron Warriors I confirmed this theory, never finding an appropriate time to commit my 500something point melee unit and its nearly 300 point ride to any given target. Resultantly, over a third of my army didn’t do anything for most of the game, biding its time until it was forcibly disembarked from its T12 shoebox. At this point I had a huge squad out in the open, forced to just kinda sit around because nothing was close enough to kill and I didn’t have the utility units to grab objectives or do activities. His list was a rough mirror of mine, which meant there were five Lands Raider full of choppy dudes on the table. His version had more small squads where he could react to smaller threats with an appropriate amount of force, while I could either not commit or overcommit, and nothing in between. After standing there flummoxed on the third turn, I saw a new opportunity for this list and went back to the drawing board.

This next iteration was focused on more small, elite melee units like Sword Brethren and Bladeguard with Judiciar and Chaplain support. Helbrecht and Crusaders frankly do enough damage and kill most targets in a single round, and those ten Sword Bros were too many eggs in one basket. I still wanted the Land Raider party bus aspect, so a pair of those factored in, with Scouts and Intercessors of varying flavors for objective play. I was concerned with how this would do against a vehicle-heavy list, so my buddy Joel stepped up with his Knights. Again, I struggled, not bringing enough anti-tank and finding myself back in the woes of the Tacoma Open when it was still called the Seattle Open: Not enough firepower to deal with Knights, and not enough mobility to focus on objectives. I lost this game as well, and my anxious, finally-free-from-classes brain put together a final list.

The only other bit of prep I had to do for NOVA was for our live show. We had our first-ever live show the year before, and would be replicating that event once more. The show had sold out immediately, and we’d encouraged our listeners to show up anyway, as tickets were free. I’ll admit I had some anxiety about this, even though it went well the year before. I had to pick a suitable banger of a fanfiction submission for our Fact or Fanfiction contest, and had to stew over the thought that my choice might be too inside baseball. Even now, my heart’s up thinking about this, probably because I have the vibrating nervous heart of a Pomeranian.

What I’m Bringing

My strategy and approach to list building is unsubtle, as I have mistakenly backed up into doing rather well with it. That said, I spent entirely too much of the last days before my trip fretting about my list, how to use every single point effectively, and deal with any given army. It took three cases to fit my army now, but that’s fine – just means I can put one in my checked bag and cross my fingers. If the worst happened and my bag disappeared, I’d be able to cobble together a less effective list from the stuff already in my carry on cases. This cruel calculus brought me little comfort, but with lists due all of thirty seconds before the first round, it would not prove a problem. This list is somewhat different from the list I had planned to bring, but an explanation is fast approaching, dear reader.

SRM's NOVA Black Templars

Day 0 – Coast to Coast, Host to Host

I got up at 3:30am on a 37 degree night to catch my pre-booked Lyft ride, only for it not to show. My wife hung out with me and our cats while I waited for a second, newly booked Uber to show up at 4:15 and whisk me away towards my local podunk airport. The driver mostly talked about real estate and my sleep deprived brain had to try and do the mental dance of explaining what Warhammer was without dumping about this hobby which consumes an awful lot of my life. It took no time at all to get through to my gate, and I munched on a gluten-free Nature’s Bakery bar while I waited to board. It’s the closest thing to a Fig Newton I can eat. I got a text letting me know that our ever-anxious little black cat, Esmeralda, had thrown up on the bed. She does this often.

I’m gifted with the ability to sleep on planes and I was out before the plane even took off. I shot awake when my subconscious decided to go over the event checklist one more time, and I realized I’d left my Gladiator Lancer at home. Before the dumber, more anxiety-ridden parts of my brain could send me into a spiral, I calmed myself down with the reminder that I have a Ballistus Dreadnought in my case to serve a similar role, and the remaining 30 points could be distributed easily enough.

The flight was pleasant, save for that mental hiccup, and I had about an hour layover in Salt Lake City airport. I’d done my homework ahead of time to find places I could eat at (for the uninitiated: I’m allergic to officially Too Much Shit) and found my way to Vessel Kitchen. I ordered their Mountain Bowl, a hearty and genuinely tasty combo of braised beef, sweet potato hash, scrambled eggs, pickled onions, and chimichurri. It’s salty, savory, and has a variety of textures, all at a reasonable price and portion for airport food. I grabbed a cold brew at Hugo instead since an iced coffee from Vessel was an eye-watering $8.50. I downed it before boarding without much of a thought.

Boarding the plane, the same ad for Delta’s Spotify playlists was playing between what I can only describe as secular Christian contemporary. Based on the music I heard while I was boarding, I do not think I want to find Delta’s playlists on Spotify. I do not need to replicate the experience of being in a flying waiting room. I finished eating my bowl on the plane while my neighbor shopped for golf balls. He was asking ChatGPT for investment advice and I got bad news for your money, friendo.

My nosiness sated, I broke out my iPad and watched Michael Mann’s 2006 adaptation of Miami Vice. There’s a digital harshness to its aesthetic, and it clearly informed Max Payne 3 and the Kane and Lynch games. The contrast is so high, the blacks are so deep and the color grading is so blue. It has one too many plots that don’t really get resolved amongst the boxy blazers and gunfights, but oh what boxy blazers there are. It’s no Heat, but it’s a pretty good one. The real question is if it’s a worse haircut/facial hair situation for Colin Farrell than Daredevil. [Watch Blackhat next flight, if and only if you can find the Director’s Cut. –Ed.]

I landed in DC a little after 4pm, and waited for my podcast cohost Dan to pick me up. Stepping outside into the pickup area, a physical wall of heat and humidity slowed my advance, reminding me of why I moved to the Western high desert to begin with. We got to the Washington Hilton without incident, took seemingly the last spot available, and unloaded our stuff. In the process of getting our accoutrements to the room we rapidly encountered old NOVA friends, our friends in the Maine Gang (a recurring cast of sweet goobers who I will refer to collectively more often than not), and Andrew and Tony from the Dice Like Ice podcast. One of my favorite things about NOVA is that I know seemingly everyone there, and I can’t turn a corner without running into another pal, buddy, comrade, or what have you. The next of these wandering monsters was Austin, who I probably hadn’t seen since 2009. We were among the younger kids in our local(ish) gaming club in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, and the intervening years had been kind to the ginger goofball. He brought me a few cans of Eureka! from Treehouse Brewing, a genuinely delightful golden ale from one of the East Coast’s best breweries. We caught up while Dan set up for our live Badcast and I made motions towards moving a speaker or two at best.

With everything set up, Dan and I got dinner at the hotel sports bar, which I can only remember as McBennigan’s. I had a dependably smooth Guinness and a turkey club on gluten free bread. It was pretty good; nothing special but if I don’t get sick I’m a fan. Our old NOVA buddy (and dependable spot of sunshine) Greggles joined us and we talked Orks, with Dan mostly singing the praises of Mike Brooks’ Ufthak Blackhawk novels. I got a message from Craig letting us know he saved us a seat at the preview show, so we headed on down. 

You can hear our extended riffing on the preview show during our live Badcast, but if you want me to save you a funny, thought-provoking, and (dare I say) life changing two hours of audio entertainment: the preview show wasn’t very good. I’m a pretty positive guy, but it was mostly 45 minutes of guys patting themselves on the back and saying they’ll make new stuff eventually, without much to show for it. I’m guessing the Kill Team: Hivestorm reveal a week before was a response to a leak and was meant to be shown at NOVA instead, but c’est la vie.

The live show, however, was an absolute blast. There were new faces, familiar ones, and folks I’d only ever met online in attendance. The jokes were rolling, the live Q&A had a ton of great questions to answer, and the audience seemed to have a very good time. This 10pm event was heralded by our listener Bob’s Brandybuck Bitter, an easy drinking, light, yet malty English-style ale he had brewed specially for the event. Of course, we also had to have our show begin on a giant grip n’ rip, where I had one of the Kerplunk! blueberry sours Will had given me from Maine Beer Company. It’s a good as hell sour that isn’t too tart or acidic, and is definitely on the lighter side. Years have made those funkier sours a source of heartburn and allergies have similarly made many a minefield, but we’ve got some extremely thoughtful listeners who do their homework. We were also un-gifted a Havin A Blast from Mast Landing Brewing, and let me tell you – this Baja Blast-inspired beer looks like antifreeze and tastes about as good. Novelty is its own reward, I suppose. Another anti-gift was an autographed copy of the Ctrl+Alt+Del animated series by one Tim Buckley. This cursed relic was bequeathed upon me by longtime con pal Alex, and I will seal it away at a later date, preferably in concrete. This is not a place of honor, gamers.

After the show we hung out talking with listeners, friends who showed up late, and other con pals. I answered a few questions from people who didn’t want to ask them loudly in front of a loud room, and I cracked into a toothachingly sweet Octorock cider from Starcut Ciders. It tasted like entirely too sweet apple juice, and was decidedly not for me. Naturally, Dan was cleaning up while I was yukking it up with our extended running crew, but it felt good to get the live show out of the way and finally arrive at NOVA. I’m something of an anxious individual, so I’d been worrying a smidge about performing before flying out. Our show wrapped around midnight, and I went to bed around 1:30AM after calling my wife.

DAY 1 – A Leisurely Preamble

I was up at the crack of 8 with a clear path set to Jolt N’ Bolt, a local coffee shop. I ordered a better than good iced black coffee and an ancient grain oatmeal bowl. It was on the sweet side, but reasonably filling, and anything containing fruits and/or vegetables is more than welcome at a con. The Maine gang showed up with Austin and Texas Will in tow, and while I wasn’t exactly in socialization mode, it was good to see that crew of goobers.

This was my one day without much going on, so I took it at a leisurely pace. I hung out in the room while Dan edited the show, then headed down to the Capital Palette area with my case of models. I figured I’d just drop off some stuff that’s not in my list, but Ken and Maine Gang Will informed me that not only would I need to make an account on this newfangled Emperor app, but I’d also need some sort of plinth or tray for any squad-sized submissions to keep them together. I understand how both of these are easier on the staff, but that was two more steps than I was expecting. My studies in UX have made it pretty clear that the more steps there are between a user and their intended destination the more likely they are to abandon it, and abandon it I did.

I walked a circuit through the vendor areas, running into Jake near the Modiphius booth, only to be informed they were sold out of Mothmans/Mothsman/Mothmen for Fallout. I headed to the GW booth and picked out the only other model I came to NOVA looking for, the Steel Rook, this year’s event exclusive Age of Sigmar model. I’m going to break chronology for a moment and let you know I painted him within mere days of touching down back home in Oregon. It’s a delightfully simple model, with sparse but characterful detail reinforcing the corvidae aesthetic (corvidaesthetic? Whatever.) and I painted him start to finish in under four hours, so excited was I by this simple beplatemailed jobber.

I had a game on the books today with my good friend Peter and his Tyranids. It was about lunchtime though, so we headed across the street to Generator, a café attached to a much cooler hotel. I grabbed another cold brew – smoother and less roasty than the one at Jolt N’ Bolt – and a plate of chicken tacos. They were smoky, sweet, a smidge spicy, and tender as could be. Chicken tacos often end up fairly dry in my experience, so this was a welcome surprise. Their blue corn tortillas deteriorated with the moisture of the sundry taco juices, but even if I had to finish my structurally unsound tacos by scooping them up with the included tortilla chips, they were good as hell. We talked X-Wing, Peter’s Star Wars Necromunda mod, and some general ham stuff.

Game 0 – Vs. Peter’s Crusher Stampede Tyranids

Peter and I hadn’t played a game of 40k together since the Indexhammer days of 8th edition, where some yabbo with a mining laser in his Genestealer Cult army killed my Emperor’s Champion on overwatch. Some time later, he mailed me a package which contained an overwatch token, on the back of which was scribbled “RIP EC”. Today, my now-Primaris-sized Emperor’s Champion would avenge himself and/or die in the process.

A few things pushed this game hard in the direction of me getting my ass kicked – first was a lucky 12″ charge with his Carnifex and Old One Eye into the midfield, capping the central objective and becoming an enormous problem for me. Second was my own heady cocktail of bloodthirst and hubris, something which has never, not once happened before, and will never, not once, happen again. I figured I could take out Old One Eye and his Swarmlord in the same turn, with the Emperor’s Champion and Sword Brethren taking on the Swarmlord and Helbrecht with a Crusader squad to take on Old One Eye. After clearing out the Swarmlord’s Tyrant Guard and failing to kill the actual big boy himself, Peter spent the Command Points to interrupt and precision strike Helbrecht out of my Crusader squad, hugely defanging them in the process. When I sent my second Crusader squad into Old One Eye to try and finish the job, I meant to use the Crusader’s Wrath stratagem for an additional point of Strength and AP, but as usual, I forgot this crucial tool in my toolbox. Our game was neck and neck until turn 4 when it only just turned over in my favor. We were laughing throughout this entire big dumb game and it was a delight to actually get a real deal game of 40k in with my pal again. He also gave me a room temperature Jack’s Abbey Kogarashi Rice Lager. While it would have been better in the 38° – 45° F range, it was still a smooth and easy drinking beverage. Rice doesn’t tend to add huge taste to a beer but it’s a good adjunct if you want a higher ABV without affecting the taste or body too strongly. It’s also generally a pretty safe style for someone like me who is allergic to wheat, that most accursed of adjuncts.

Result: 75-59 Victory

As we were cleaning up, a small group came up and said some very kind things about our armies, and recognized my Templars from this very website. One of them asked my opinion on “competitive drift”, how I feel about the 40k community’s apparent push towards competitive play, and Goonhammer’s part in that. This question, loaded like a T.G.I. Friday’s potato skin, wasn’t one I was exactly prepared for, but I pointed them towards my genuinely fluffy army which also does rather well in competitive play, my narrative-gaming opponent who nearly won our game, and my own journey from the NOVA Narrative to the Grand Tournament. I’ve talked about this a few times on the Badcast (and will again soon!) but the consistent expectations of competitive play are what draw me to it, while I’ve grown weary of the bookkeeping and inconsistency of narrative gaming. At a narrative table I might roll up against someone who has never played 40k before that I have to teach how to play, or someone who just wants to roll dice and bust out their cool little dudes, or someone who has reams of lore written for each squad, or someone running a wackadoo skew list, or someone who thinks a narrative is simply a tournament for less skilled players and is showing up with the intent to kick some puppies. To channel the Ultramarines for a moment, these are not theoreticals: these are practicals, and I have played against all of them. I’d rather just know I’m going up against folks who want to play as well as they can, where there won’t be any bad feels for bringing a decent list or playing a rule to the letter.

Anyway those guys seemed nice.

I had no major obligations and Dan was still playing A Song of Ice and Fire, so I hit the gym for a bit. I stuck to strength/rowing machines as I was spending enough time on my feet as-is (never forget to wear comfortable shoes to events, if you take nothing else from this screed let it be that) and I listened to a a few recent releases from HEALTH I hadn’t heard. On-brand as could be, Blood for the Blood God absolutely bangs. V.A.N goes hard as hell, and Isn’t Everyone is the best Nine Inch Nails song since Trent Reznor kicked heroin.

Dan, Scott, and myself met Greggles at Golden Age for dinner and drinks. The bartender, Haytham, recognized us from last year, and I genuinely think he’s the best bartender I’ve had the good fortune to encounter. Dude remembered my allergies a year on which is wild. I’ve also seen the dude stir three drinks at once with one hand and shake a fourth in his other, and the Black Manhattan (rye, amaro standing in for vermouth, and bitters) was every bit as good as I remembered. The classic Sazerac I followed that up with was even better. The charcuterie plate we shared was bedecked in all the salty, sweet, and savory flavors one could ask for, and the impossibly tender lamb kebabs are a foodstuff I will covet until I return. Maybe if I’m nice they’ll give me the recipe. The hang was good, even if Dan had to split to set up for his wizard poker event. Scott and I walked through a sudden thunderstorm and got back to the hotel, where Dan’s Magic: the Gathering event was already going. I’d talked with Austin ahead of time to try and set up a learning game of Fallout Factions, so we headed to the Star Wars ghost town to get going.

Have you ever tried to learn a new miniatures game after 9pm? Have you also tried to learn it half in the bag? What about when your opponent is also at least one sheet to the wind? It’s not conducive to learning, but we play the hands we’ve dealt ourselves. I could tell we got a lot wrong and were missing even more, but I gleaned enough to learn how Factions is different from James Hewitt’s other sci-fi skirmish game, Necromunda 2017. It was still enjoyable and I like how it incorporates the classic Fallout S.P.E.C.I.A.L. system into a skirmish game. It gave me enough of a taste that I absolutely want to play it more, even if I don’t care for the Nuka-World gangs. Once it gets a standalone release or box with warbands that appeal to me more, I’ll bust out my Brotherhood of Steel and NCR guys and make them shoot each other. It was still great to roll dice with Austin again for the first time in nearly two decades, and the Eureka! I enjoyed during said game was just icing on the cake.

I got back to the room after hitting a bunch of Austin’s guys with sledgehammer and was in bed by 11. Hell yeah, I’m smart.

DAY 2 – Ascension

The line at Jolt N’ Bolt was nearly out the door. A man at the front was arguing with the barista about an online order he had placed, and she informed him that they don’t do online orders on busy days. She said he could order those items again, but he protested that he didn’t have his wallet on him. I cannot imagine leaving the house to go further than my mailbox without a wallet, but I’m not this guy. This took long enough that I only had time to grab another iced coffee and a banana and I bounced, supplementing my breakfast fruit with a Bobo’s Oat Bite in the hotel room. Dan, Scott and I grabbed our stuff and headed down for the first game of the Grand Tournament.

Game 1 – Vs. Michael’s Skitarii Hunter Cohort Adeptus Mechanicus

I drew Bring it Down on turn 1, expecting to drop a single walker and score two points then bin the card. However, Michael informed me it scored on the unit, not the model, so I would have to bring down an entire squadron of his chicken walkers to get any points. Cue turn 2, where my Eradicators arrived and actually did their job, joining up with my Land Raiders and Stormspeeder to make for a 12 point score on that card. I think I did around 40 wounds to vehicles that round, and while that may be more granular than I tend to go when writing about individual games, “40 wound turn” feels very good to write out. This wallop of a round set me up for victory, and I was able to press that advantage and hurl my hordes of Templars into his lines. He had a Skitarii Marshal with a squad that could shoot and jump back in their transport, and the one turn he left them out, my Techmarine dutifully sniped the character out of the squad with 4 Devastating Wounds. Here I will remind you that Witchseeker Bolts are the funniest 10 points you can spend in the entire game right now. I had effectively taken out all of Michael’s assets by the bottom of 3, and was able to carry out a pretty resounding win. Michael was a good player, and one happy to explain what all the various Adeptus Mechanicus doodads in his list could do. I’d gladly play him again.

Result: 95-72 Victory

Dan and I headed to Generator for lunch, as time between rounds was short, it was close, and also very good. The barista liked Dan’s “I’m Thrilled About These Ribs” T-shirt and they talked about barbecuing for a minute. When I said I designed that shirt, she asked for a business card, which I, in a moment of unprofessional ignorance, had forgotten at home. I had the same chicken tacos and coldbrew lunch as the day before, and lest you think me dull for ordering the same thing two days running, the tacos are that good, and my allergies are that irritating to navigate. Dan and I had both won our first games and were in good spirits while we ate those well-deserved tacos.

Game 2 – Vs. Ted’s Cult of Magic Thousand Sons

I had only faced Thousand Sons once before in 10th edition, and I do not think I would like to again. Note this has nothing to do with Ted, his drinking horn, or his very cool battle vest – the army is simply tedious to navigate around, with their masses of AP-1 (sometimes AP-2!) flamers, automatic die rolls, Devastating Wounds, Mortal Wound shooting attacks that aren’t shooting attacks, and preponderance of invulnerable saves. For the only time all event, I would stray from my Suffer Not the Unclean to Live vow (the Lethal Hits one) and would instead take Abhor the Witch, Destroy the Witch, granting my entire army anti-psyker 4+ in melee and a 4+ invulnerable save from psychic attacks. I had first turn, and while I would later hear the term “the ‘go’ turn” where one’s army really pops off, if I don’t go for it from round 1 onwards with this list, I’ll get stuck in my deployment zone – and my Land Raiders. I rolled up my Impulsor full of Sword Brethren up only for him to zap it with one mind bullet or another, wrecking the vehicle and leaving my Sword Bros and the Emperor’s Champion stranded in the midfield, a little too far from Magnus for comfort. That said, they still made a longbomb charge and got into combat with the big guy, dropping him down to just 5 wounds. Ted hemmed and hawed on his turn and asked aloud what kind of primarch Magnus was. He settled on “a wussy” and fell back, hiding the giant wizard in his backfield. While I was sad I didn’t quite one-round him with my little cruise missile squad, with Magnus in the back corner of the field, he was effectively out of the game for the following few turns. I got some lucky shots off with my Techmarine, dropping the Exalted Sorcerers out of his squads of Rubricae, and when Ted finally did bring Magnus back into the fight, I let him know I was firing overwatch with said Techmarine. I could see Ted’s slightly frustrated sigh as I rolled those dice (with full rerolls under my vow) and that Techmarine did a further 2 Devastating Wounds to Magnus. It wasn’t enough to kill him, but the psychological damage those stupid Witchseeker Bolts do are worth their weight in gold, or at least Retributor Armour spraycans, which are about as expensive. Keeping Magnus back and putting his army on the backfoot gave me the advantage, and while I was nearly out of models by game’s end – just some Scouts locked with Tzaangors and some Jump Intercessors hanging on an objective – I had come out ahead on points.

Result: 76-59 Victory

At the end of our game, I complimented Ted’s Iron Maiden patches and mentioned that I saw them in 2005, with Bruce Dickinson fronting and a setlist consisting entirely of material off their first four albums. His eyes lit up and my previously softspoken opponent started gushing about their recent releases, shows he’d gone to, and others to come. I don’t think The Writing on the Wall is any Aces High, but I was happy to bond with my erstwhile opponent over what is still a foundational and perennial metal band.

Game 3 – Vs. John’s Pactbound Zealots Chaos Space Marines

This was my first time encountering a “Jail” list. The whole point of this army archetype is to trap you in your deployment zone with fast, durable units and score objectives while you’re mired in these tarpits. This particular version ran all the Accursed Cultists in the world, with attached Dark Communes. These frustratingly durable mobs of idiots would also move closer if you shot them – into combat even – so the challenge was to always stay at least 7.0000001″ away when shooting to avoid such a fate. That was a great opportunity for playing by intent, where I could measure a unit a smidge over 7″ away and say the intent is to be just out of 7″, avoiding any potential gotchas or arguments over distance. I had to play very, very cagey here (no pun intended but you can have it if you want) and keep my distance, only engaging if I knew for absolute certain I could kill a unit outright. The exception here was, of course, my Techmarine sniping characters out of these squads with Witchseeker Bolts, which never stopped being funny. I got lucky early on, knocking out his Predators with my embarrassment of Lascannons, and luckier still when he tried to tie up my Land Raider Redeemer with a Rhino, only for me to shoot it, cause it to explode, and kill a bunch of his dudes, keeping them out of charge range. I was able to chew through two of his three huge cultist mobs, usually taking a Crusader Squad or my Sword Brethren and the benefits of Oaths of Moment to fully mulch the unit. On the last turn, he had to kill my Storm Speeder and Ballistus to score a few points, but bounced off both of them, and they casually strolled away, denying him a few points and giving me the game. John was a great opponent and a deft pilot of his extremely oppressive list, and was gracious as could be when the dice decided to fall where they fell. This game really came down to a handful of dierolls that pushed things over the edge in my favor, and I think we both played an excellent game.

Result: 78-72 Victory

I was riding high after that last game, and felt great going 3-0. Dan was 2-1 so the pressure was off, and we’d been invited to a content creator meetup on the 10th floor. Our friend and NOVA core staff member Bridget handed me a Radapils from Väsen Brewing, an unremarkable but not at all unpleasant pilsner. I feel that pilsners from more mountainous regions (see: near the Cascades here in Oregon, or Germany, or the mountain ranges around Pilsen, where the style comes from) tend to be crisper and more flavorful. Richmond’s a good 600 miles from the Blue Ridge Mountains and a good deal flatter, but I don’t mean to drag this strictly okay beer too much or besmirch this kindly presented beverage. I sipped on that beverage while I chatted with Goonhammer’s own Garret “John Condit” Severson, mostly sharing pet pictures and talking about the places we live. He showed me a video from a local baseball park that had “dog days” where each team brings a dog to fetch bats and such. This video had a dog fail to pick up a bat twice, then poop on the field, also twice, in rapid succession. America’s pastime rules.

We also hung out with Brent from Goobertown Hobbies, who knew me and Dan from listening to the Badcast. I met him at Adepticon back in 2023, and this was his first time at NOVA. He was just there to vibe and check out the Capitol Palette, and we invited him to come to dinner with us. Dan, Garret, Brent, Scott (who was also 3-0 at this point) and myself went to La Tomate, the Italian joint Dan and I went to last year. We were immediately seated in what looked like someone’s home dining room, and had a good goddamn meal. We started with some imported prosciutto with pesto and fig jam. Fig really is underutilized; its sweet and earthy flavor compliments the salty taste of prosciutto wonderfully. I couldn’t enjoy the warm little loafs of Italian bread going around the table, but I would have double fisted them if I could. While I coveted those wee breads, I enjoyed their L’estivo cocktail, a sweet and refreshing concoction of Hendricks gin, elderflower liqueur, lemon juice, simple syrup, and apple puree, served chilled. It was goddamn delightful, and it even had a little slice of dried pear in it. Absolutely perfect warm weather summertime drink. I followed that with an alarmingly strong rye and amaretto which was, by necessity, a slow sipping drink. The best pairing for rye is red meat (and heart disease, but I digress) so I had the Filetto Steccato; a beef tenderloin wrapped in pancetta with potato confit and carrots. I checked with the server as I was concerned about the pan sauce being thickened with my dreaded enemy, wheat flour, and he had the kitchen make it for me with corn starch instead. He ruled and I really appreciate it when places can accommodate all my stupid tummy troubles – becoming a whole new kind of Annoying Guy against my own wishes in the last few years was not on my wishlist. Said server also gave us a bottle of white wine on the house, which was on the dry champagne side. I genuinely don’t remember what the five of us talked about at this dinner, just that the hangs were good and the food might have been better.

On our walk back we pointed and laughed at a Cybertruck, then our group went their separate ways. I checked in with the narrative crew for a bit, saying hi to Evan, “From the Shire” Dan, and Spencer Connell, who was in his element effectively co-running the narrative this year. I sipped at an entirely too sweet Blackberry Cider from Austin Cider, which I regret to inform the kind nerd who gifted it to me, I dumped in the hotel room. Part of growing up is realizing that a “no pint left unfinished” mindset leads to a “no morning left unhungover” conclusion, and those mornings get harder and harder north of 30. I FaceTimed my wife and cats, Dan joined in, and my wife gave a virtual tour of our house. Dan liked the wallpaper we’d put up, which despite my initial protests, does add a certain panache to the rooms where we’ve installed it. She was the architect of those decisions, I was merely an at-first reluctant pair of hands, happy to eat my words and admit that yes, wallpaper can look nice sometimes.

DAY 3 – In Which Brackets Are Finalized

I was up at 7:30 after a bad night’s sleep. Despite the good times and better vibes, every night I was here I had stress nightmares and woke up in a cold sweat. I can only imagine it was ol’ uncle Ronnie rising up from hell to get revenge on me for making so many jokes at his expense. Try as you might, ghost of Ronald Reagan, I will not stop, for you are dead as hell and I am not. For breakfast I had a $10 plastic cup of yogurt and granola and a nitro cold brew from the hotel cafe. It was Starbucks so it’s not like it was bad, but it was certainly not exceptional, and the yogurt was cloyingly sweet. I’m starting to think my sweet tooth has met its match.

Game 4 vs. Tony’s Bringers of the Flame Sisters of Battle

Somehow, this game was more oppressive than my battle against a literal jail list the day before. Tony could tell I was getting a little down in the dumps about our game and was exceptionally generous with his offers for takebacks, clarifications, and so on, but I wasn’t going to let my souring mood affect the outcome of our game – if I put that tank in a bad position where you can still shoot it, then that’s where it is. That’s on me for not checking all the angles and underestimating how maneuverable an all-singing, all-dancing, all-assaulting Sisters army can be. And boy howdy, was that army maneuverable. Where he wasn’t hemming me in with a porcupine of melta fire, Tony expertly blocked my movement with his Novitiate and Seraphim squads. This was also the game where I realized Sisters just have more rules than I do, and more overlapping buffs, debuffs, auras, and safety nets than I can sufficiently plan around. After the second turn I was ready to throw in the towel, and it only became clearer that I was not going to leave my deployment zone. Instead I just hung around while Tony rolled dice at me, as there genuinely was not much I could honestly do.

Result: 31-100 Defeat

When I talked with Tony afterwards, he mentioned he had been running this exact list for at least 30 games before this, and he was clearly very, very well practiced with it. Despite not really having a good time with our game, I complimented his generalship because it’s rare that I get trounced that soundly. He would go on to get second place in the GT, and friends of mine back East let me know he was the fifth ranked player in New England that year. I can’t really feel bad about getting my ass kicked by someone who is clearly so good at the game, but I wish I could have given him a better fight to get there. Still, Tony is a lovely guy, and I learned a lot from our game when I wasn’t just flubbing saves left and right.

I had a sad Boy Lunch after our game, as the massacre left insufficient space for lunch. Last year I’d gotten wicked sick from Sidecar, the closer hotel restaurant to the game hall, and absolutely didn’t have time to order anything there anyway. I went to the hotel café again and checked their little cheese and meat packs and they all had one allergen or another of mine, so those were a no-go as well. I had a banana, a Bobo’s oat bite I brought with me from home, and a granola bar from the flight over. It was not especially satisfying.

Game 5 vs. Travis’ Shield Host Adeptus Custodes

My opponent and I immediately hit it off when we brought our armies to the table. Travis’ army was, bar none, the prettiest army I played against at this event. His Custodes were packed with loving conversions, some of the lushest bases I’ve ever seen, and deft brushwork on each and every model. Later in the showcase I saw his display board and it only enhanced his army’s aesthetic and narrative.

I regret to inform you that our game mostly consisted of said beautiful Custodes being placed gingerly back on their army tray. Even with the dense terrain layout we were playing on, I was able to pull some trickshots from across the board and bring down his jetbikes early, and on his turn one of his squads ate an especially spicy salvo of Land Raider Redeemer overwatch, all but clearing out the squad. His dice were absolutely beefing it and mine were red hot, which certainly didn’t help the situation. A sprawling melee broke out in the center of the table where I played into one of his traps, with Helbrecht and his Crusader squad dead center on the board. Travis used Rapid Ingress and brought down a unit of Custodians with his (again, beautifully converted and painted) warlord on my turn, bringing them in dangerously close to Helbrecht’s charge target. When it was Helbrecht’s Crusaders’ turn to fight, I said are you sure you want those Custodes there, as Helbrecht can absolutely pile in 3″ and hit that freshly arrived squad. He said that would be a risky play, knowing full well it was part of his trap to split one of my main hammer units. I did it anyway, and Helbrecht summarily wiped the squad of Custodes, leaving only the warlord, who didn’t do all too much in response. I effectively cleared the table by the bottom of the second turn, and that was that.

Travis was such a lovely dude, and he said he regretted that we didn’t have time to rerack as he had such a good time hanging out. I echoed the sentiment – I don’t mean to sound conceited, but I really wish our game could have gone on longer since it was a high quality hang around two lovingly painted armies.

Result: 100-19 Victory

I had plenty of time before the next round, so I took advantage of that time gap and hit the gym. I was pretty pumped after that game, but my body clearly didn’t get that same memo, and wasn’t up to the task. I clearly needed real food – which was in short supply – so all I could really do is scarf another pair of oat bites back in my hotel room. On my way there I ran into Will from Texas, one of my listeners and regular folks in my orbit during this particular NOVA. On his request, I signed the back of one of my very good commemorative stickers for this particular gaming venue.

Game 6 vs. Josh’s Hypercrypt Necrons

Josh’s last name was Campbell, so we immediately had common ground. He brought a silly, chaotic energy to the first turn that quickly turned to cold calculation once the game started in earnest on round two. I played sloppy out the gate, trying my damnedest to get into chopping range as Hypercrypt is an especially hard matchup for my melee-focused Templars. Stupidly, I used my Land Raider Redeemer to Establish Locus in the center of the board, which was essentially an open killing field. He focused down my Land Raiders, even going so far as to Tank Shock my Redeemer on the central objective with his Monolith. I’ve never seen such a brazen move from this living metal pyramid, and while it was unsuccessful in shifting my own heavy metal shoebox from the objective, it can’t be denied that it was funny as hell. This game was an exercise in trying to screen him out with my rapidly dwindling resources, as a brick of 20 Warriors with character support would use the Nothin’ Personnel, Kid special rule and teleport behind one unsuspecting unit or another each turn before gunning them down. I pulled Assassination and tried a desperate snipe with my Techmarine on said Warriors’ attached cyberwizard, but only put 2 Devastating Wounds on them before they teleported away. Instead, stranded, Helbrecht had to roll boxcars to make a charge into Imotekh the Stormlord, who was camping on Josh’s home objective.

I rolled those boxcars.

I spun 180 degrees on the spot, fist pumped, and could not contain the “Fuck yeah!” that spilled out before rapidly apologizing for what could be seen as gloating. Josh graciously said he celebrates his opponents’ victories too, and our warlords duked it out. My dice were lukewarm and his saves were on so it took two rounds for Helbrecht to finish that fight, but it was still a cool as hell moment. Unfortunately it was a smidge too little a smidge too late, and when the dust cleared on this rough matchup, I was down all of 4 points. Amazing game, and as I said to Josh at the end – a Campbell won, so I can’t complain.

Result: 75-79 Defeat

During the game, I likely had my brow furrowed as I summoned every available braincell to channel towards strategy, and Scott brought me a Ponzi IPA from Atlas Brew Works. This DC take on a West Coast IPA was serviceable, all hop bitterness without much of the piney or citrusy notes that make for the best iterations of the style. Still, a beer from a friend tastes better than a beer from oneself, and I was happy to drink it while Josh and I wrapped up our game. I ran into Peter in the Narrative area and he gave me a Bell’s Two Hearted IPA; a classic “dad beer” that I can appreciate as a foundational craft brew. It’s got a little bit of that citrus and grapefruit flavor profile some American IPAs have, without going as hard into it as some of the more gimmicky beers that would follow in its wake.

Dan, Patrick and I had dinner at Vagabond, which was weirdly dead for a Saturday night.  It’s absolutely a bar for pretty people on dates, but its menu hides some of the best food in that part of town. Their quesabirria appetizer redefines the word “savory” and I will covet it until I return next year when I will order two of those for myself and call it a meal. The yucca fries too were solid, and as someone allergic to wheat and soy, a fryer uncontaminated by either is rare and must be treasured. For a main I had the Chili Relleno, a poblano stuffed with skirt steak and Oaxaca cheese, coated in egg and topped with ancho chile sauce. The sauce was sweet and smoky, complementing the rich savory flavors of the egg and steak. I can’t say it was terribly spicy, but if you think poblano peppers are hot, there’s a good chance you think buying Sriracha requires signing a waiver. As any bar worth their salted rim, Vagabond has a list of bespoke cocktails that are largely worth exploring. I fear I misfired with Cerritos Beach, however, which I ordered based on just how novel its ingredients were. Mezcal and grapefruit overwhelmed this drink with bitter and smoky flavors the likes of which its inclusion of coconut milk was not able to offset. Point Reyes was more my speed, aiming for the combination of bitter and sweet that makes for my preferred cocktails. Berry-infused rye, sake vermouth, benedictine, and sugar made for a combination of herbal, sweet, and bitter flavors that contributed to a wonderfully rounded out cocktail. The hangs were chill, and it was more relaxed than some of the other excursions we’d made. A fairly quiet restaurant makes for a welcome reprieve from the constant din of the gaming hall. Dan and Patrick mostly talked about Blood Bowl while I just kinda vibed after having my brain fire on all cylinders for the day.

We headed back to the hotel – slowly as I felt like I’d yartz if I put any more food or liquid in my body – and came across Ken running his game of Full Tilt in the board game area. This game first dropped in White Dwarf #215, a 1997 issue heralding the then-new and still-current Falcon Grav Tank. For a magazine pack-in game it has had a remarkably long life, likely due in part to the visual impact of Dave Andrews’ Full Tilt diorama that you can still see at Warhammer World. Ken had scratchbuilt and transported a delightful tilting yard, and a number of familiar faces from the Badcast Discord were hanging out and slamming their knights together in joust after joust. Each round was announced by the collective cheer of “Let’s! Get! Tilted!” before players revealed their maneuvers and rolled their dice. I jumped in for one round and took someone’s Goblin knight for a spin. I aimed for the head every time and didn’t dismount my opponent, but still got more points than they did and helped my team towards victory. The highlight was when Will (Texas) and Will (Maine) faced off, and the opening shout was revised to “Let’s Get Wilted!” for this literal battle of wills. It’s a beer and pretzels game that is more firmly devoted to the pairing of beverage and snack than it is to being particularly deep or nuanced (same, tbh), and one could honestly play it without miniatures at all. That said, it’s exactly the kind of simple party game you want to see at this hour during a con, and makes for an easy game to drop in and out of.

I had been invited to the 40k GT showcase earlier that day, and I went down to the judging area to collect my army, check out the rest, and see who was down there. I found my crew and looked over all the boards and armies. Critiquing models with other painters is always illuminating, and can give you a peek into their preferences and own painting style. Doing that with the Goonhammer team is still one of my favorite parts of the deeply cursed trip to the New Mexico Grand Narrative in 2022. Andrew Nguyen was one of the judges of the event, and he gave me some detailed feedback on my own army that I genuinely appreciated. I was saddened when he said my vehicles weren’t quite up to the same standard as my infantry, as the woefully forgotten Gladiator in my closet might disagree, but considering one of the Land Raiders in my army dates back to 2017, I get it. Going forward I’m going to want some more consistent theming with my basing and display board, if I ever get around to updating that relic.

Meandering over to the Narrative area, some night fights and Kill Team games were blazing away. I met Michael, a listener who was running the AoS Narrative. He shared his frankly genius Ork ethos: once he kills something in a game, he can loot it. Now this may seem obvious in-universe, but this lets him as a converter go hog wild after a game, and gives him a personal objective the likes of which no Crusade book could ever muster. This meant that in a game where his opponent brought a Warhound Titan, he lost but still managed to bring the superheavy down. This in itself was a victory, as he could now loot his own – which he promptly showed me on his phone. It was cool as hell, and exactly the kind of madcap converter’s spirit I want to see from an Ork player. Hell of a nice guy.

Just typing this day out made me tired, so you can imagine how beat I was when I turned in around midnight. My contemporaneous note says “Not drunk, just eepy” and I am inclined to believe this previous version of myself.

DAY 4 – The Only Thing Sadder Than My Record Is Boy Lunch

Generator had sprung a leak, so regrettably it was hotel breakfast time. I needed protein something fierce, so grabbed the sad little bowl containing one ladleful of scrambled eggs and two strips of bacon, a 10oz cup of fruit, and bad coffee from a spigot. When I walked it up to the register, they said that would be $40. This bears repeating – that is forty American dollars. I said I would not be paying $40 for this. I can only assume I passed some kind of real-life intimidation check, because they quickly apologized, changed it to $15, and hurried me along. The eggs were rubbery, obviously of the powdered instant variety, the bacon was undercooked, the coffee was burnt, and the fruit cup was mostly honeydew melon, the sawdust filler of the fruit world.

Somehow, this would not be the saddest thing I ate this day.

Game 7 vs. Jeff’s Hallowed Martyrs Sisters of Battle

I immediately knew this would be an uphill battle. Sisters aren’t necessarily a hard counter to my army, but they’re certainly a challenge. Jeff gave me the spiel about his force, with the advice that it’s like Crusher Stampede – kill units one at a time, and don’t let them become wounded, because they get better once they’ve taken some damage. I immediately internalized this, rotated it in my mind, then promptly threw it out the fucking window as I proceeded to split fire, leave units at half strength, or shoot piddly little small arms to cause chip damage on vehicles and resultantly power them up. I was stuck in a situation where my troops were forcibly disembarked from their transports in my deployment zone, and seemingly the only time I could roll a 6 was to see if one of my vehicles exploded – which they did – frequently punching holes in my own lines while Sisters miraculously stood 6.5″ or more away. This combination of poor target prioritization, messy unit placement, tough matchup, and iffy dierolls came into friction with Jeff’s generally pretty good command of his own army, and the toolbox of toys at Sisters’ disposal. Some little Palatine can do like 35 mortal wounds in one round on her own, and boy howdy did she. The biggest brain moments of this game involved finding the correct sequence to kill his characters in to prevent them from resurrection. I was lucky when my Land Raider ran over a Battleshocked Canoness, but Morvenn Vahl, a second Canoness, that Palatine, and Junia almost all died – twice. I was able to bounce back to some degree with some good plays, but it wasn’t quite enough, and this ended up being the only game all event where I got tabled, with my Intercessor sergeant getting hunted down on turn 5.

Result: 70-87 Defeat

Again, a Sisters game lasted longer than it frankly needed to, and I didn’t have sufficient time to get anything reasonable for lunch. This time was cut a smidge shorter when Dan and I ran into our ever-delightful ham godfather Carl Tuttle, his wife Chelle, and Carl’s original Independent Characters co-host, Geoff. We chatted for a bit about the previous night’s Full Tilt games, NOVA, fatherhood, and what have you. I wish we could have hung out longer, but lunch was calling, and the options were dire. What was available to me can only be described as deeply tragic: a small salad cup (no dressing) and a bag of Utz barbecue chips. I feel like I’m going insane.

Game 8 vs. Andrew’s Retaliation Cadre T’au

After breathlessly pounding my sad 10oz cup of leafs for my moufmouf and bag of chips decorated with the Nancy we Have at Home, I pulled up Best Coast Pairings to see my round 8 opponent was… no one. I was likely sitting near the bottom of the 4-1 bracket, so I was getting a bye this round. I came here to roll dice though, and Andrew Nguyen stepped up to ring. This GT judge, Badcast listener, regular orbiter in my social circles, and occasional Goonhammer writer had been wanting a game with me, and I was more than happy to deliver. This game was regrettably a bit one sided, as he was still actively judging at the time. While he only got pulled away to make a call or two, every time someone yelled “JUDGE!” he’d spin on the spot to make sure someone was taking care of it. As a result he missed a few of his big plays, getting interrupted by a player in need when he was trying to pull off his “go” turn. His dice also did not help, with failed Battleshock tests, an alarming number of failed Hazardous tests, and some above average saves on my part definitely snubbing his T’au strategy.

This game did ultimately end in a duel between Commander Farsight and High Marshal Helbrecht though, which was cool as hell. Echoing the rest of the table, it didn’t end especially well for the famed T’au battlesuit pilot, but it was still a blast to play a game with Andrew and hang out for a few hours. I hope we can play again with fewer distractions. I can tell he’s good at this game and is a genuine delight to hang out with.

Result: 98-46 Victory

Around this time I was also given a little silver medal for my army. I didn’t make the very top cut for my army, but still got that recognition which I was happy to see. I figured I wouldn’t be winning best painted in all of the GT and though I’m confident in my abilities, I know there’s always a bigger fish. There were a few displays I scrutinized the night before where the boards were huge and impressive but the armies were maybe a bit unfinished or underdeveloped, but there was definitely one or two where I audibly said “oh fuck off” at how impressive the display was. Making a big ol’ display board is all well and good, and I hugely appreciate the model railroad/military modeler aspect some of them take, but if the models aren’t to the same standard, it’s not going to hold up to any sort of scrutiny. This is where I’ll say my board is good but not exceptional; made for a NOVA I couldn’t attend due to a death in the family several years ago, and one that doesn’t tell any sort of particular Templar-specific story. My biggest problem with display boards (both personally and as a concept) is storage and transport, and only then do I consider the undue effect they have on judging. A well-seasoned judge (like this NOVA crew) will be able to see the trees for the forest and look closely, while a more impressionable critic will stop at “wow, big board!” and call it a day.

Game 9 vs. Nick’s Champions of Russ Space Wolves

Frankly, I had been wanting a game against Wolf Jail. As mentioned earlier in this article, I had limited exposure to “Jail” style lists before, and I know this one was one of the boogeymen people were worried about. This particular list ran a trio of six-strong Thunderwolf Cavalry units with a pair of attached characters each, a couple small squads of Wulfen for actual killing power, and a smattering of small units for objective play. Nick also baffled me out the gate, with a printout of the exact deployment he wanted to put his units into. I feel that if you can deploy an army the exact same way irrespective of your opponent, that’s probably a bad sign for the health of the game. I deployed somewhat conservatively, as I didn’t want to get charged right out the gate. I had a solid first turn, dropping one of his squads by half with some longbomb Lascannon shots, and much like my game against John’s cultists, I rarely engaged unless I could fully send one of his units of pups back to the pound. The problems came quickly, as this mission was The Ritual, which is perfectly suited to his army, trapping my dudes in their deployment zone while he plops out objectives in the midfield. I also got four consecutive turns of bum draws on my secondary objectives, while his were giving him layup after layup. Despite this run of bad luck, I was playing a decent game and my army was doing rather well, with any trades being largely in my favor and the dice being pretty dependable. I noticed at one point that I was behind on score and having a tough time with the primary mission, which I had scored 30 points on. I thought that this would be a great time to utilize one of the secret missions. Only then did I realize that it was the bottom of the fourth turn, the game was essentially over, and I was too late. Nine previous games of 40k all caught up with whatever was left of my brain at this point, and I realized I was going to lose. I had only engaged with Helbrecht on the final turn of the game, and while I had killed every Wulfen, Thunderwolf, Wolf Guard, Wolfwolf, Wulf, Doggo, and other fur-clad four-legged weirdo on the table, I was behind on points and had played right into Nick’s hands.

I do not respect the lupine criminal justice system.

Result: 63-79 Defeat

I didn’t hang around for the awards ceremony, but checking Best Coast Pairings I saw I had come in 49th out of 406 people in this event, and I’ve gotta say, that’s not bad at all. I was under no illusion I’d win the event, and if you are thinking of attending a GT (you should!), you should disabuse yourself of that particular notion. Mathematically, it is unlikely, and unless you’ve been grinding away on the tournament circuit and getting oodles of reps in with the same list, it’s not liable to happen. Instead, just go and see how well you do, enjoy your games, and maybe make some friends. Getting into the 4-1 bracket was a first for me at an event this size, and even if I went 1-3 in said bracket, I got there. I’ve taken my lumps, and I’m hoping next time I can not only get into the 4-1 bracket, but improve my record and maybe even come out as a bracket champion. If I ever get into the NOVA 5-0 bracket I will likely be sent directly to hell, but the 4-1 zone just might be fertile ground to grow as a player.

Dan had left at this point, dropping after his eighth game with a respectable 4-4 overall record, and leaving early to go see his wife and kiddo. Scott and I got invited to a dinner with a group of our friends at some joint I hadn’t heard of, but when I couldn’t find allergy information online and the phrase “we can cram you in” was written and sent to me via Discord direct message, I figured it would be better to keep things a bit more quiet. Instead, Scott and I dropped off our armies and had a bro date back at Golden Age. Our favorite bartender, Haytham, had gone to an Avril Lavigne concert the previous night and was stoked as hell about it. Between mixing half a dozen concurrent drinks he’d chime in on our conversations, bringing up a couple that had made the decision to play a Civilization V campaign together, only to run into tension when they realized there could be only one winner. This is not a cold war I would wish on my own relationship. Scott asked me what aliens I’d eat, and frankly I think I’d eat a Gungan, certain strains of Tyranid, Kroot, E.T., or really most non-humanoid looking critters. If it’s not Dude Shaped, my conscience is fairly clear. Ripper Swarms weren’t on the menu though, so instead I ordered some lamb kebabs which are usually served on farro, but they were more than happy to replace them with roasted vegetables. I can’t really sing the praises of this place enough, and at the risk of sounding boring, I do appreciate a place that is safe, accommodating, and also genuinely great. I don’t right remember the exact mix of cocktails I had here, but I’m confident in saying they were to the high standard I had come to enjoy here. Scott and I talked about a smidge of real life stuff between all the Age of Empires nostalgia and general Warhammer and sci-fi fluff. As much as I love wargaming, science fiction, and other nerd shit, behind each of us is an actual factual person with a real-ass life they’re living, and it’s an honor to be let in past the façade of plastic and paint. Haytham invited us to an afterparty for a bartender he knew which we politely declined, and we said we’d see him next year. He said he’d be here, and I hope he is. That dude rules.

Arriving back at the hotel, a crew of the usual suspects ranging from old Something Awful heads to newer faces was hanging at one of the unattended tables in front of the closed Sidecar bar. I sipped some McAllen 12 with Ken and talked about old cartoons, our games at NOVA, and early Internet minutiae. It was a chill comedown after the marathon of the past few days, and a reminder of what NOVA is and was – a collection of friends and acquaintances from around the world, all brought together to play these stupid games and make memories with each other. It’s why this event, some 2,600 miles from my house in Central Oregon, still feels like home.

DAY 5 – In Which We Do a Tourism

I had only gotten around six hours of sleep, once again wracked with stress nightmares brought upon me by a heady cocktail of alcohol, nitrates, and the ghost of Ronald Reagan. These dreams included, but were not limited to:

• My army doesn’t fit on my display board, and excess models need to be thrown into the trash. For one reason or another, this is in the Winter Hill apartment I lived in from 2012-2016
• I’ve snapped my phone in half and need to hide it from my wife
• As I back away, someone is slashing at my fingers with a knife over and over again

Maybe I’ll sage the room next year. That can’t possibly be against the rules, can it?

I caught breakfast at Generator with Ken and Andrew Mitchell, co-host of the Dice Like Ice podcast. He’s the skinny east coast transplant living in the Pacific Northwest with a beard, thinning hair, glasses, and a Warhammer podcast. No, the other skinny east coast transplant living in the Pacific Northwest with a beard, thinning hair, glasses, and a Warhammer podcast. I had a coldbrew and a mushroom omelet, savory and earthy but desperately needing hot sauce or some kind of condiment. The star of the show was the salad which had strawberries, feta, and Mandarin orange mixed in amongst the greens. The lot of us talked about Venture Bros, gaming, general PNW and podcast shit, work; the general light morning conversation that makes for a pleasant start of the day.

Bonus Round – The Tourism Bit

This was maybe the first day all con that wasn’t raining or nearly 100 degrees, and Andrew and I had several hours before our flights back West. As we were in the capitol of our nation and among its embarrassment of sights to experience, we decided to journey outwards and actually see something beyond the confines of the Washington Hilton hotel. We took the subway to Metro Center, one of the closer stops on the Red Line to where we wanted to go. While the stations still look an awful lot more like Fallout 3 than anticipated, DC’s infrastructure doesn’t suffer from the same rot as some other old cities like New York do. Shining City Upon a Hill it may or may not be, they at least keep their subway stations pretty clean. We stopped into Kramer’s Cafe and book store for a coffee, which marked the first time I ever had a nitro coffee out of a tulip, a glass typically reserved for things like imperial stouts and the like. It was the smoothest coffee I’d had all week, and a welcome respite from the sun outside.

We walked to the Washington Monument, braving the beating sun until we could finally stand in the shade of our favorite local obelisk. The place was chockablock full of tourists – of which we technically were – and people just happy to be out and about. I was tempted by the ice cream trucks on every corner. Something about a modestly deformed Sonic the Hedgehog frozen treat (one look at the ingredients list will tell you this is not, nor has it ever been, ice cream) felt like it would really hit the spot on this increasingly warm day, but alas, I resisted. We walked from there to the Lincoln Memorial, commemorating a president who, let’s be honest, was one of the good ones, and stood in that atrium for a while. They really do say the quiet part out loud on the inscription:

“IN THIS TEMPLE AS IN THE HEARTS OF THE PEOPLE FOR WHOM HE SAVED THE UNION THE MEMORY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN IS ENSHRINED FOREVER.”

Temples are by definition places of worship, and smarter writers than I (or dumber ones in the case of Bioshock Infinite) have criticized this sort of national ancestor worship before. I guess if you’re going to deify any figure from American history, Lincoln’s one of the better ones, but he was still Just a Dude. It brings to mind the far more recent Benjamin Franklin museum in Philadelphia, where they implicitly credit him with everything from electricity to the iPhone. I’ve been in cathedrals that make less of a big deal out of Christ. Philly’s basically got him, Rocky, and the Liberty Bell though, so they’ll take it where they can get it.

These are essentially paraphrased and condensed versions of the conversations Andrew and I had walking around the monuments of our nation’s capitol. It’s hard not to get up close and personal with history and not have at least some sort of conversations on the nature of patriotism and what it means to live in this giant, diverse, fractured, brilliant, beautiful, stupid, ugly, rich, messy country of ours. I think it’s fine to like this place; I’m just suspect of anyone who doesn’t have any notes, and even more suspect of anyone who doesn’t look outward to see what the rest of the world can offer.

We stopped at a 7/11 and had some very not good store-brand Gatorade that tasted like pure aspartame, but hydration is hydration. Returning to the hotel, we hung out for a minute with Carl, Chelle, Eric Lofgren, and Dan Osborne before heading to the airport. Andrew and I took an Uber over there, and while security and baggage took an awful long time, it was pretty uneventful. I got a steak mezzo salad at Cava, a Mediterranean fast casual joint I had researched beforehand. It was filling, hearty, and real damn good for airport food, and exactly what I needed after walking 16,000 steps in the beating sun around DC. A gremlin dog wanted my salad, and when its owner said it couldn’t have any, it peed on one of the boarding zone signs.

Andrew and I were both pretty beat at this point, so talked about some nerd shit until we went our separate ways. Delta flights have free WiFi that actually works now, so I listened to HEALTH’s Disco IV::Part II album while waiting for the plane to take off. That album owns, even if some of the collabs are by their nature uneven.

I queued up Logan Lucky once we were in the air. It’s kind of a perfect airplane movie – full of charismatic actors, lightweight, and PG-13 so you don’t have to white knuckle it through any exploding heads or graphic sex scenes in public. I thought it was alright, and only the third-best movie I’ve seen where Daniel Craig does an exaggerated Southern accent. Seth MacFarlane gets punched in the face though, and that’s pretty good. I followed that up with the first half of The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, a western anthology movie from the Coen brothers featuring one of the worst titles of all time and one of the finest collections of “oh, that guy!” actors you’ll find on a single poster. It’s a film I really wish I was watching on a larger screen – the Coens know how to make a good western, and part of that is capturing just how gorgeous the American west really is. Those huge panoramic shots lose something on a little iPad screen, though the performances and general cinematography absolutely shine through. I’d finish this film over the course of the evening, its bite-size vignettes suited well to how broken up the following few hours would be. Like any anthology film, the segments are kind of all over the place, ranging from broad singing cowboy black comedy to the genuinely tragic, but I’d absolutely recommend this movie to anyone who’d slept on it.

I had a few hours to kill in the Salt Lake City airport, and found my way towards Rooster’s Brewing for tacos and beer. Another subject of my homework, I’d scoped out the malt bills and menu items here and already identified what wouldn’t give me the ol’ Tummy Troubles. I started with a Black Widow amber ale, a smidge more bitter than expected but malty and subtle with the slightest caramel finish. When my chicken tacos came out, I paired them with an El Doce Mexican Lager, which was essentially a Modelo with more body. It was confusingly served in a tulip when it should be served in a pint glass, rhyming with this morning’s nitro coffee and its peculiar choice of glassware. Like splitting fire in 40k, I have to tell myself that airport tacos are usually a bad idea, but occasionally the results are positive. The tacos, house made chips, beans and salsa were all solid, if not exactly anything to write home about. I believe I got some cross contamination from the kitchen here, but it wasn’t anything too bad.

Lastly, I hit up Rockwell ice cream. Rare is it to find an airport with a straight-up scoop shop in it, and still pining for that Sonic frozen treat, I took advantage of this novelty. Despite the caution that it would be saltier than expected, I ordered the salted caramel ice cream. The first few bites were wonderful, hitting that balance of sweet, salty, and creamy you’d want in that perfect salted caramel scoop. Around the fourth bite though, I realized that they weren’t kidding, and I wished I’d cut it with another flavor, as the salt was getting overwhelming. I sadly deposited my half-finished cup of ice cream in a trash can before boarding my flight.

The flight was uneventful, save for an especially rough landing on the rarely wet runway in Redmond, Oregon. I finished Buster Scruggs before dozing off, and landed in my home state around midnight. My wife was waiting for me outside and I was back home and in bed, my clothes in the wash and bags mostly unpacked by 2am.

Brevity Be Damned, I’m Wrapping This Up Now

NOVA is, and will continue to be, home to me. Birthplace of the Badcast and my very first big US Warhammer event, it’s an annual reminder of who my people are. It has been to my continued delight, year after year, that those people are a growing number, and one year’s new faces become the next year’s inner circle. The joy of rolling dice and pushing toys around a table is great fun in its own right, but gives way to getting to know those players as real human beings, finding out who they are, what makes them tick, and what makes their hearts beat. No small amount of these deepening friendships are eased with alcohol and expensive appetizers, and they make the following years that much richer and give me even more to look forward to.

As for next year? We’ll see what things look like for my Black Templars. I love this army, I’m still enjoying playing with it, and the Space Marine bench is deep enough to keep this faction interesting. I’ve already got another dumb list penned up (3 Raid 3 Crusade) that I’ll need to paint some stuff up for, but the future might have other plans for my zealous idiots in power armor. I think a new display board is in the cards, provided I can find an easy to transport solution. The 40k GT will likely be the plan next year, but seeing all my friends chilling out, playing a variety of games, and enjoying the breadth of events around NOVA did make me a smidge jealous.

If you’re thinking of whether or not you personally should go to NOVA, I’ll give it my annual recommendation, metaphorically shouted from the top of the Washington Monument. Also, while I absolutely enjoy drinking and writing up the sundry beers, spirits, cocktails and other such delights, I would like to clarify that you absolutely do not need to be a lush to enjoy NOVA. I hung with folks at NOVA who straight up don’t drink and they were having just as much fun as I was. As for me, I’ve had to leave behind consecutive nights of drinking til 3am as my body’s tolerance for that, as well as the cartilage in my knees, decided to depart once I hit my 30s. I’ll keep getting older as long as I’m allowed to, and hopefully NOVA will continue to be there as a celebration of another calendar year gone by. Hopefully I’ll see you at the next one.

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