Showing posts with label 25mm. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 25mm. Show all posts

Friday, May 18, 2018

Goldfinching

One of the interesting aspects of wargaming is that it allows one to examine history from different perspectives. These perspectives are frequently a-historical since in our games we do not want to contemplate the savage realities of combat with sword and spear and we focus on some units hard fought last stands while ignoring their previous war crimes. Colonial wargaming in particular tends to focus on the thin red line of civilization facing off against the Native masses with some rules giving control of the natives to to a referee or a set of tables and dice. VSF takes this further, literally dehumanizing the natives by putting them on another planet.

All this philosophising is a little heavy for what is just a game of toy soldiers, but for me at least, it is possible to mix a little unpleasant history into table top amusement. Blackbirding was, and sadly still is, the practice of recruiting native workers through deceit, impressment or outright slavery; "blackbird" referring to the colour of the unfortunate natives' skin. As the fluff for Space 1889 makes clear, what happened in Earth history, also happens in alt-history on Mars.

Some where outside the Coprates Valley, a village swelters under the Martian sun. Close by, silted water flows slowly through an ancient canal.
 
Table setup 
A river boat chugs up the canal and a few armed figures debark, and saunter into the village.   Korvetkapitein Rom of the Force Publique Martienne watched the mercenary recruiters depart. He kept his men on deck - they were there for security, not to get their hands dirty.


The river vessel Kurtz

5 barrel Nordenfeldt and 12 pounder on the fore deck
With no trouble expected, the gun crews waited under cover - and in  the shade.

Corralling the "Goldfinches"
The "recruiters" gather up a flock of "volunteers", their rifles proving more persuasive than the meagre pay promised.

But news of the riverboat and the sorrow it brings spreads quickly up the canal.


The Copratic rescue force.
The table was setup to be interesting. I made some allowances for fields of fire from the artillery.

The three recruiters are armed with magazine rifles and are well experienced in their field. They are rated  V3S

The Force Marines are armed with single shot breech loaders, Being posted to a backwater on Mars, they are not the best of their corps and are rated T1.

The two gun crews are rated T0, the 0 being important later in the game.

On the Martian side, t
he villagers are un-armed and will generally seek to move away from any firing or conflict. When being "escorted" by the recruiters, they will move reluctantly, slowing things down for the recruiters.

The Copratic states infantry are Veterans, half muzzle loading musket, half spear rated V2. and the cavalry are heavy lancers
(because I wanted to see what they could do) rated V0H
On the move
The capture team begins to move the villagers out to the waiting river boat, while a dark and ancient stone god watches in silence from a nearby ceremonial mound.



Years ago, I was given a bag of large and small Cthulhu figures so I have to use them when I can.


Here comes the cavalry!
In the distance, the Martian relief rides and runs hell for leather to save the villagers from a short and brutal life in the gumme fields.

All hands on deck!
Alerted by the shouts from shore, the gun crews saunter to their positions.
"No targets", muttered the master gunner to no-one in particular, "It's likely just some dirt digger on his way home from digging dirt." He spat into the slow flowing silt laden water below.

Advance!
Winning the initiative, the relief force moves forward. Generally I don't worry too much about movement costs for formation changes out of direct combat.



Get moving you yellow dogs!
The recruiting team manages to chivy along their volunteers, out of the village,

Faster! Faster!
...and into the open. The reluctance of the natives slows progress considerably. I rolled for movement normally then rolled another dice for direction and a third for revised distance creating a wandering path for the group. In the end the effect was not really worth it. Next time, I'll just knock a dice or two off the regular move.

There they are - get the Earthers!
I'm still using the stock initiative system meaning the passive player doesn't have much to do if they can't shoot.


Chaaaarge!
Gashant paws thunder making the parched sand tremble ... shots ring out from the enemy but all go wide.  Closer to the canal bank, the shooters and cutters fan out and begin creeping through the brush.

Hold the Line!
The Earthers hold their ground while the villagers flee in terror - or is it relief.

Hold your fire you fools!
Hearing the lever on the Nordenfeldt rack back, the master gunner shouts; "Hold your fire you fools! You'll hit our own people"

In fact, there is nothing the the Soldier's Companion rules to prevent firing in this case, I just wanted to see what would happen when a heavy lancer charge goes in.  Call me a cheater if you will, it's my table ;)

Meanwhile....
The foot component of the rescue force works its way up to the edge of the brush line - unseen in all the commotion.

Again in the rules as written, moving forces cannot be concealed, but we are talking natives here so I gave them a pass, like the scene in Zulu where the impi advances and disappears into the grass.

OoooooLaaaaahhhh.....
The charge goes in and magazine rifles crash a mad minute wreaking slaughter in the ranks of the oncoming Gashants. 2d6 per rifle instead of the normal 1d6 for breechloaders.

Revenge!
But to no avail, the cavalry pass their morale check and the charge goes in sticking the experts like pigs.

Freedom!
The cavalry reform while the villagers keep running for cover. On the bloody ground, not all the Earthers are dead. Wounded left on the field in the face of the enemy results in a hefty hit to future human morale checks.
Clear lanes of fire.


The master gunner looked over the carnage - the men were dead or close enough to it that his guns would just hasten them on their way. "Target, massed horse, all guns - Fire!"



Boom! - R-r-r-r-rip!
And the big guns let fly!

Crump!

And more gashants go down under a hail of lead and fire.

Vengeance grows from the barrel of a gun...
And the rescuers are defeated....

Checking for the dead....
With the obvious threat eliminated, the Force Marines double time out to see if anyone is left alive and round up the volunteers.

Two survivors are helped along with the terrified natives following behind.
Two men are detailed off to carry the wounded back to the Kurtz while the rest of the marines round up the villagers.

OOOLLLLAAHHH!
The Marines, carrying the wounded are just about back on board when from their hidden position in the bush the Cutters charge the boat and the Shooters charge the Marines. And thereby gaining initiative. The charge move roll was  an amazing 26" for the cutters and "enough" for the shooter. This time I did allow defensive fire.



Crash!
Some cutters and shooters go down, but their morale holds and they charge home!

Repel Boarders!
The Cutters get in amongst the gun crew on the lower deck while the shooters overwhelm the marines and wounded.

Abandon ship!
The gun crews hold for a while but fail their morale - thanks to the Marines leaving wounded with the natives and decide to jump for it before they are cut up for bait. The Captain orders the hatches closed and dogged, sealing his crew into an armoured citadel away from the ravaging natives. I was not surprised to read that this was a common practice on riverboats, including those on the Missisippi - lose the cargo, save the crew. It has come back into use as a counter to modern day pirates.

Ils ont le bateau!
The remaining Marines fire ... to no great effect.

Attack!
Grasping the nettle, the cutters charge in, screening the shooters as they go.
Crash!  Crash
Volleys are exchanged...


Sauve qui peut!
Casualties are light but the Marines already fragile morale snaps and they break and run.

Catching a breath....
Past the village and over a small rise - they think they are safe.

No rest for the weary....
Bu the natives catch up and the Marines are scattered to the desert to be rounded up later - if they survive....

Time to depart

The Kurtz retrieves her soaked gunners, and seeing no further chance to intervene, departs. Reports will be written, accounts will be settled.

At the end of the game, I rolled for Martian casualties and the dead were rather less than expected which bodes well for future Copratic-Belgian encounters.

It was an interesting scenario to game out, in reality some communities fought very hard to save their members from this ugly aspect of colonialism. It gave me a chance to try out artillery on the table and I was pleased to see how effective the heavy lancers were. Their close combat dice modifiers are impressive. Magazine rifles were proven again to be over powered en mass, but are a useful balancing item when fielding small heroic forces.

Overall an enjoyable game in my new space.





Wednesday, August 30, 2017

Foot notes and a brief hiatus....



Despite the horrific dice rolling in the last game, I was very happy with the results. As a way to explore the rules, it was a success and I thought that the gatling did exactly what it was supposed to do. However, I now have to pack everything away for a while because we are moving house.  We have been planning on downsizing for a couple of years now and after a brief conversation with relatives, we decided to put the house on the market and see what would happened. In short, within the course of a very busy week, we had sold our old house and purchased a new one with that holy grail for all likely readers of this blog - a dedicated wargaming space.

While the move means no more games until at least the end of October, it near guarantees that I will be able to play more often and post more often. Where my current space requires a lot of faffing around in the garage, the new space will allow me to leave the table set up free from interference from camping trailers or cats.

More to follow


Wednesday, August 9, 2017

Kas'trum Campaign Pre-Season Game Two - Into the Valley of Death?

The Hereford's adjutant was back at his desk. This time it was the reconciliation of the Mess accounts. No matter how he worked the figures he always came up two bottles of claret short - and then there was that troublesome rumour that porter had been seen at table. Most distressing...

A loud cough came from the door behind him - the the endless knocking of junior officers and senior NCOs who needed his help to sort out one minor problem or another had threatened to bring down the whole structure thus a change to a less violent announcement was required.

"Enter  - What is it?" the major snapped, his eyes still focused on the mess accounts - where were those d---ed bottles of claret?
"Burning party ready to depart sir!" replied the Sergeant Major pushing aside the tattered "door" as he entered.
"What's going out Sar'n't Major?"
"One company of regulars, a section of Trucial Scouts and a Gatling gun..."
"A what!?"
"A Gatling gun sir, a type of small bore revolving cannon from America. It's said to have firepower the equivalent to a company of rifles. The Royal Navy swears by them, sir and we 've been ordered to field test one and report back on the results.  Begging your pardon sir, I see the written order from Battalion there on your desk, just under those two bottles of claret..."
"Yes, yes, very good..." was the waspish reply as the Major tucked the offending bottles out of sight beneath the desk,  "Who's leading this little scientific gun testing party then?"
 "Captain Cybbel sir, late of India I believe. Fancies himself a bit of a writer."
"Ah yes him. Do you know if he fancies porter?  No never mind that, he has his orders, tell him to get on with it, I have to get back to more pressing matters."
The Major turned back to his accounts, oblivious to the smart salute rendered by his most senior NCO who depart with all the briskness appropriate to his rank.

The Sergeant Major strode over to the waiting column ending his march with a crashed of highly polished black leather on dusty Martian sand next to a ragged looking horse and a rather less ragged looking rider. He followed with a mathematically precise salute.
"Begging your pardon Captain Cybbel, the Major says you're to head out sir."
The rider  was staring fixedly at the two reptilian gashants packing the mechanical gun,
"What rhymes with 'dinosauria,'" he thought to himself, "Sorry Sergeant Major, what was that?"
"The Major says you are to head out now"
"No words of encouragement to the men from him then?"
"No sir, he just made reference to your written orders...."
"Hrrmm," Cybbel replied looking concerned, "that's a touch cold given what happened to Puller's lot. I'll have to come up with something myself then. Thank you Sergeant Major, you are dismissed."
The NCO saluted smartly, the Captain returned the salute equally smartly and returned briefly to his previous thoughts.
"'In memoria', yes that might work it wasn't perfect - but then it didn't really have the tone he needed to elevate the men's spirits."
Cybbel shook way that particular remembrance  and turned to the men and Martians of the little column arrayed before him.
"Now listen up men, we have a job to do and I know you are the right men for it...." his voice was swallowed by the morning mist as he he did his best to instil some pride and honour in these men, no his men that he was about to lead into battle.


The Valley of Death

Once more unto the breech
On the Earth side we have:
Captain Cybbel commanding
Second Company,  Earl of Hereford's Regiment of Foot Regular V1, Single Shot Breech Loaders
Special Detachment 1st Askari Rifles Regular X3S Muzzle Loader Rifles
No. 7 Experimental Battery Regular V0 Gatling Gun.

The Martian forces are:Har'd'tak commanding
Har'd'tak's Hellions (Num'da's Raiders) Irregular V2, ½ Musket, ½ Bow armed
First Band Kas'trum Marines Regular V2S Rifled Musket



Har'd'tak looked down the narrow valley.  Loyalists in the Earther occupied village off the main canal had sent word that a column was on the move, undoubtedly to seek revenge for the massacre at the temple ruins. The prizes, both in loot and hostages were significant, but some of the tribe felt that they were not worth attracting the attention of the invader. The riders had long since passed through carrying with them the booty of rifles, loot and, it was said, a prisoner or two.

The decoy.
Har'd'tak's job was to slow down any incursions by the red men. His band was split between those armed with bows and those with muskets.  Given the reports of the blundering nature of the Earthers, he put his bows behind a protective row of thorn tress felled for just this purpose. With any luck, the red men would stumble into the bows, allowing these short ranged weapons to have some effect on the battle.

The ambush.
He placed his musket armed troops along one of the ridges defining the valley. They were to hold in place and in cover until the Earthers were occupied with the bows and then sweep in from the flank.

The reserve.
On it's way was platoon of Kas'trum Marines whether or not they would arrive in time to be useful was the question.


Cybbel looked down again at his printed orders. Yhey read in summary and decreasing order of importance:
  1. Locate and recover any breech loading weapons and if possible ammunition.
  2. Locate and recover any officers or gentlemen held by the enemy.
  3. Regardless of the outcomes of items 1 and 2, burn any buildings and confiscate any live-stock or portable goods. 
  4. Locate and recover any other imperial property such as uniforms, helmets, belting etc and liberate any enlisted men.
  5. (in a different hand that looked suspiciously like that of a certain senior NCO) Assess the utility of the attached Gatling Gun in field operations, compile a report of strengths and weaknesses, and include a list of recommendations in favour or against.
At the bottom inked in large letters was the admonition:
Under no circumstances are wells or other water sources to be interfered with!  

The army had its priorities one supposed but at least that last bit made some sort of sense.

Scouts out and into battle!


An odd array of thorns trees blocks blocks progress.
The glass beads mark the limits at which the Trucial Scouts will uncover the two ambush parties. 


The Scouts press forward - Alert to danger.

Back out of sight behind the ridge line
Concerned that the Scouts were getting too close, Har'd'tak pulled his men back off the ridge.

The Martian view
Looking up the valley as the red tide approaches.
Discovered!
The orange bead shows the limit of bow range.

The Redmen pull up behind the scouts

Skirmishers to the ridge!

The Trucial Scouts open fire!

One hit!
A quick note: In the Soldier's Companion rules, the base number to hit is a 6 on a d6. This base number can be modified up or down by various factors - usually up. For hit numbers greater than 6, a 6 still counts as a hit but the defending player has a chance to "save" the hit by rolling under the difference.  However, saved hits still count towards the morale check. See below.

But it's saved.

Open order skirmishers behind cover get a healthy defensive bonus.

The morale roll...
The bowmen hold.

The ambush team fires....
Only half of the figures count as firing because they are using muzzle loaders then factor in long range and nothing much happens.  Afghanis with jezzails these are not.

What's that odd machine?  The Gatling deploys.

Fancy Footwork
All those years in the grammar school marching band finally pay off as the second rank pivots to face the new threat.



"Give me an L!"
Though not in the letter of the rules, what's the point of having two rank regulars if you can't do fancy marching about things with them?

Hellions Fire!

No hits on the red men.

One hit on the traitorous Scouts!

Easily saved

Gatling test script Item 2: Open fire at the enemy


Har'd'tak watched a small red coated figure as it did something at the side of the odd looking gun. little flashes of light flickered from it and for a moment the Hellions watched unconcerned. Then a sandstorm of bullets kicked up the sand up and down their position. Khaki clad figures could be seen  running between the gashants and the gun, bringing ammunition to feed this terrifying beast.


Two hits!

Doubled thanks to Yankee technological know how 
MGs double all hits. This didn't help here and both were saved.

Morale Failure!
However as noted above, all four hits still modify the morale roll and the skirmishers run away in terror - but still intact.

Run Away!


Har'd'tak's men squatted nervously on the other side of the ridge. They would not face this new terror for treasure or glory and wishing to live another day, they quietly withdrew.


The Scouts Make another ineffectual effort
Under less than withering fire, the bows continue to hold.

Scouts Withdraw!
Time for the regulars to have a go!

The Red Tide approaches!

Martinis Thunder!

Begging your pardon sir....
No hits?!

There seems to be something wrong with our bloody Martinis today
No hits again?!

The bows execute a tactical retreat

The Earthers advance

The bows keep running

Another shot
No hits?! What madness is this?

The Bows saunter away

Fer C___t's sake - Hit something, anything - even the bl__dy dirt!

And the game ends as the last bowman walks calmly out of sight.


Cybbel looked down from his mount.
"So what was the problem Sergeant?"
The NCO held out a handful of shiny gold metal fragments.
"Old ammunition sir - the wound brass type case. It's been in storage so long it's starting to fall apart.  The men are cleaning their rifles now and I have the platoon NCOs taking stock of the drawn case ammunition and redistributing that. We should have enough for another engagement without haveing to draw on the old stuff"
"Thank you Sergeant, carry on."

With things well in hand, Cybbel turned back to his poetry.
"When you lie bleeding on the red Martian Plain...."
No that wasn't right...

In a simple mud hut, in a simple mud village, two dishevelled figures listened expectantly to the sounds of battle in the nearby valley. One sat listlessly, the other searched the ground behind him with his finger tips and having found a not quite blunt bit of rock, began sawing at the thongs that bound his wrists.  Help was coming.