A TRUE AND FAITHFUL RENDITION OF AN INCIDENT DURING AN GAMING CONVENTION IN ONE ACT

A busy Distelfink Room at the old Lancaster Host during Cold Wars 2017

Greetings, fellow shut ins!  In this report, we meander into nonsense.  At various times, I've been the officer responsible for producing our club's newsletter (The Cipher) .  Lacking anything more substantial to offer, hobby-wise, for the moment, I thought I'd convey a bit of frippery that I did for the newsletter a few years ago.  It is in the form of a one-act play, and is based on something that actually happened to me early on a Saturday Morning in the above-pictured Distlefink room at an HMGS convention (it was nearly empty then, being early on Saturday, mind you).  I should add that I go by "William Ferris Hearst" (it's an inside joke) when acting as publisher for our club newsletter (hence the byline in the below). Without further ado, therefore, let the overture fade and curtain rise on our one-act play...

THE PLACE AND TIME:  An HMGS Cold War Convention, Lancaster, Pennsylvania, sometime in the first decade of the new millennium.

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THE CHARACTERS:  

YHC: Your Humble Correspondent, Game Master 

Pater: Convention Attendee, Father of Childe

Childe: 9-11ish boy-childe, offspring of Pater

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THE SCENE: A corner of the Distelfink Room in the Lancaster Host hotel, early Saturday morning, about 45 minutes before games are scheduled to start.  YHC has driven up early from his (then) abode in the DC Metro area and set up his game so that it is ready to go and on display well ahead of start time: a Nine Years War battle done in glorious 6mm. As is his tradition, he sits quietly at an adjacent table enjoying a small repast before the first game session, eavesdropping on comments of passers-bye as they check out his seemingly unattended table.

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[Enter Pater and Childe: Pater wandering distractedly with Childe toddling about in a wobbly orbit around Pater.  YHC notes Pater and Childe approaching]

YHC (Aside): Oh brave sight: father and son taking in the games first thing on a Saturday morning.  "Graying of the hobby" phooey!  Continue, my friends, and you shall have a treat, anon.

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 [Pater glides past YHC's table without so much as a look]

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YHC (Aside): What? Nary a glance? [casting glance about] Can there be another 6mm League of Augsburg game worthy of note in the room? 

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[Childe stops abruptly at YHC's table and stares, mouth open]

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YHC (Aside): But wait. See! He pauses: most excellent boye!

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Childe: Whoa! Dad, look at this! What is it?

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YHC (Aside): Superior imp! Most intelligent boye!

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Pater: Hmmm?  [Walks back and bends down to survey YHC's table]

Pater:  Oh, thats...an age of Marlborough game.  Before Napoleon and all that.

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YHC (Aside): Age of Marl...? Certainly not!  Still, one must make allowances for those not familiar with the Sun King's Wars of the late 17th Century, incredible as that may seem.     I shall therefore be generous. I shall continue to abide.  Ho! The childe speakes again...

 .

Childe:  They're so small!

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YHC (Aside):  Marvelous cherub; so young, so discerning.  Clearly the product of superior upbringing.  Yes, 6mm is God's own scale; astonishing to behold.  You lucky lad!

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Pater:  Yes, son.  Those are 10mm figures.  Much cheaper than real figures, so people just put scads of them on the table.

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YHC (Aside) "10?"..."Scads"..."'Real'?" 

 [chokes on mouthful of scrambled eggs, eyes cross in apoplexy]

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Childe: That's what I mean.  What's the big deal?  You spray paint them and that's it. Why do they let them in here?

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YHC (Aside): Oh, un-natural! Changeling! Spawn of tartars! 

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Pater: Now son...

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YHC (Aside): Yes, speake, dear sir...on behalf of all that is good and true in the hobby, on behalf of game masters all, restrain, nay, instruct, nay cuff yon unruly cub!

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Pater:...there's much more to it than that. You see? Look closer... [Leans into YHC's game table]

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YHC (Aside): Oh, true hearted man. All is forgiven. Continue, do...

Pater (continuing): ...yes, much more to it. You see, after you spray paint them, there's still some work to be done [bending even closer].  You dip them and then add dots for faces.  See here? It takes a knack, I suppose.

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YHC (Aside): Oh, most vile! Wounded, pierced to the heart! Would that we still had cossack retainers to chasten such serfs!

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[Pater and Childe stroll off contentedly, followed by smoldering gaze of YHC]

--FIN--