On Cheating, Honor, and Competition

Mike posted about me the other day.  It went something like this:

Seth.  Hey Seth.  Seth.  Seth, hey Seth.  Seth.  Write something.  Hey Seth, hey, write something.  Write something, Seth.  Write it.  Write something.  Seth.  Thanks. (write something).

Or at least that's what I got out of it.  Unfortunately, I didn't really know what to write about.  The tournament scene for miniature wargaming is winding down in this area, and most of you tune in for those pictures.  I'd covered most of the cons that went on, and the few that I had been to did not have large scale competitions.  None of you had any good ideas, so I was sitting around until my friend Dan tossed this little gem into my lap:

"Hey, did you hear about the Feast of Blades tournament in Denver?"

Google Search.  Read read read.  ooooooOOOOOOOoooooohhhh.

Apparently the champion of the tournament was accused of cheating, and immediately disqualified himself.  The allegation came from another person, who had found one of his dice under the table and saw that the die was not fair.  The champion made a public statement where he apologizes for the mistake.  He chose to disqualify himself and bow out of the tournament, declining his prize, trophy, and recognition.  Words like "honorable" and "do the right thing" and "honest mistake" were used to describe the situation.  Huh.  Ok, we'll come back to that later.

Necromancy at the Bay Area Open 2014

Spoiler Warning: These guys win.

The first time I ever heard about Warhammer 40,000 was when my neighbor Corby came over and saw my brother and I playing Weapons & Warriors. He said it looked similar, and we thought that was cool, so he tried to teach us. We tried to get into it, but he wisely warned us not to. The cost of this particular wargame is little much for a 10 year old. We loved looking at the pictures, and my first memories of this game are pictures in a magazine and extrapolations from our imaginations. 16 years later, the hobby has changed significantly, and my understanding for the game, the lore, and the hobby have developed. The magic, the possibility, that wild, unfounded extrapolation born of inspired imagination is mostly dead. I say “mostly,” because after last Sunday, I will never say “dead” again. Well, except that I will, but I’m reminiscing here, cut me some slack.

Cut him some slack too, it's not easy being green.

I started playing Warhammer 40k when I was about 14. My friend got a bunch of models from his dad, and I bought some with my allowance, and we tried to figure out how to play. We went down to the local comic book shop on Saturdays and bit ankles until people took pity on us and let us join in. We met nerds for all walks of life, all ages, genres, and stereotypes. Goths, bikers, teachers, bouncers, software developers, insurance agents, we all had something in common and it brought us together once a week. I was raised by my parents every morning and evening, by my teachers 5 days a week, and by the foul mouthed, uncouth, irreverent, tough loving nerds of DNA cards and comics one day out of seven.