A is for Alphabetised wargame, sim, and site news. Once a month, assuming I can persuade Austerity’s Blackburn Cirrus Bombardier engine to perform the miracle of internal combustion, I spend a day or two scouring Simulatia and Grognardia for stories with the potential to fascinate, startle, cheer, dismay or amuse. Those stories are then dehydrated, alphabetised and delivered, via articles like this one, to people who’ve got better things to do than plough through puff and platitudes.
Every Friday at 1300 hours, Tally-Ho Corner’s cleverest clogs come together to solve a ‘foxer’ handcrafted by my sadistic chum and colleague, Roman. A complete ‘defoxing’ sometimes takes several days and usually involves the little grey cells of many readers. Don’t be shy. All are welcome to participate.
We’re halfway through THC’s second play-by-comment Combat Mission marathon. Having eliminated the majority of the Pod mechanized infantry units occupying Strupnic, the Comment Commanders are about to take on a much more formidable enemy force. The odds of a purloined T-72, two TOW Mutts, a TOW team, and an assortment of mortarmen, grenadiers and LAW toters, stopping around thirty MBTs aren’t great, but if the ambushers fail it won’t be from lack of courage, belief, or effort.
The dragon’s share of today’s solo brainteaser is the work of guest foxer setter Electric Dragon. The scaly one earns a fox tile for helping out hardworking Roman.
Second Front’s five-scenario playtest build has what it takes to divert, surprise, and charm a discerning digital wargamer on the lookout for the Next Big Thing, but what happens when that discerning wargamer swaps his smoking jacket for a lab coat, and his (rose-tinted?) spectacles for a microscope? This week, with the help of the bundled map and scenario editors, I train a forensic eye on the AI in Jo Bader’s eagerly awaited Steel Panthers-like.
Every Friday at 1300 hours, Tally-Ho Corner’s cleverest clogs come together to solve a ‘foxer’ handcrafted by my sadistic chum and colleague, Roman. A complete ‘defoxing’ sometimes takes several days and usually involves the little grey cells of many readers. Don’t be shy. All are welcome to participate.
Zen sharpshooter Otto Pinkas is an incorrigible optimist, but the sight of seven T-62s rolling towards Strupnic from the east drives a sliver of ice into his breast. The Pod caravan seems to be expecting trouble. Disappointingly, every hatch is closed, every TC safe inside a dome of steel.
Ivan, the MT-LB commander, and Yuri, the MT-LB driver, fall out during this sixty second slice of action. Ivan wants an opportunity to riddle a skedaddling TOW Mutt with his turret-mounted 7.62mm Pulemyot Kalashnikova MG. Yuri wants to put a Zendoran highway embankment between himself and possible immolation.