Hi All,
Think it's about time I add another post to this blog, I can't let Medge and Neil do all the hard work!
Necromunda is a game I'd long been looking to get involved with; However with the rules spread out over 5 different books, each with a rather hefty price tag attached, I've been struggling to justify actually taking the leap and buying in. How fortunate I was then that at the end of last year not only did Games Workshop at last bless us with a full rules compendium but my club also decided to organise a Turf War campaign in honour of the occasion. It seemed that there were many people like me just waiting to get involved once the rule books arrived. So with this I decided to jump in and join a gang.
And I immediately encountered my first problem.
Which one do I choose?
Initially I was drawn to the Van Saar. I loved the futuristic look they had and the idea of a group of well armed commandos taking on the worst the Underhive could throw at them really appealed to me. It seemed however that other people thought the same and very quickly we had 2 Van Saar gangs registered in the campaign. Because I'm one of those gamers that has to be playing something unique this meant Van Saar were out. I felt the pull of Chaos too, inspiring me to paint up my Traitor Guard from Blackstone Fortress (a game I'm really hoping to get a proper narrative run through of at some point for the blog) as a Chaos Cult, however my lack of familiarity with the rules meant I wasn't really sure how to build them.
As gang lists kept coming in I noticed one noble House was still missing. Orlock. Having been a fan of the models since they were released and, after doing a bit of reading up on their fluff, I ended up hooked on the idea of a bunch of admittedly average Joe's taking on the world with nothing but their well forged guns and a will of iron. After more hours than I care to mention deliberating lists I finally settled on one I was happy with and then I got to building.
One of the things I wanted to avoid with this little project was gluing everything together and then trying to awkwardly get the brush into those hard to reach spots (we've all been there) so I decided to first of all paint my bases before sticking any models down. After a bit of testing I ended up with a scheme that I was happy with.
With the bases done I moved on to the boys and their toys. With a quick bit of (extremely crude) conversion work I'd made my weapons (because the Orlock sprue doesn't contain a single regular shotgun. Come on Gw!).
There's still Blu-Tac holding most of the guys together until I get to painting them. First up will be the two Juves just to test my paint scheme and then I'm hoping to have the whole gang done in a month, despite the glacial speed that I paint at.
After a few test games I'm really enjoying myself. The game plays well and has enough tactical depth to be a really engaging experience. Playing on a Sector Mechanicus board is an awesome experience too as it really captures that claustrophobic feel of the Underhive, with the multi tier combat really adding another level (no pun intended) to the game.
As Necromunda is such a narrative game as well I wanted to put some time into my gangs back story and why they're fighting in the Turf War. If that's something you're interested in then please read on.
The Wolves Gather
Six seconds. Six goddamn seconds was all it took for the situation to go from shit to a sump croc eyeing you up as a next meal kind of shit.
The deal was simple, we bring the ore, hand it over and take the creds. Quick, clean, easy you could even say. "Ha, easy. Can't remember the last time something was easy" Ekko thought to himself. The young Juve had been called upon to help escort the delivery to the trade point and ensure that everything went nice and smoothly. House Ulanti didn't wait for their product and the House of Iron wouldn't be found wanting.
Things had been going well for the most part. No disturbances outside of the usual slum dog or idiot desperate enough to try his luck. The meeting point had been pre-arranged, a nice open area not too far from Theta hab zone. The whole place was controlled by House Orlock, which meant the risk of anything going wrong was minimal.
Minimal, not impossible.
Just as the hand off was about to begin the whole place erupted in promethium and shrapnel. The usual relentless machine drone of the twilight levels was replaced by the screaming of metal and ferrocrete being blasted to pieces, whole hab blocks collapsing down as ganger and worker alike scrambled for safety. The already musty and recycled air was now filled with the smell of smoke and charred flesh. After enduring what seemed like the whole damn hive collapsing around their heads the explosions died, the screaming stopped and maybe they could work out what the hell had just happened.
The Ulanti representatives were dead, the initial blast had wiped most of them out. The few that had managed to dart out the way had met a grisly end at the hands of falling debris, the smashed and broken corpses a testament to that. Most of the Orlocks had suffered a similar fate, shrapnel had done a lot of them in. The whole hab zone was either on fire or crumbling to bits, with workers scrambling to save what meager possessions they owned from their nearby homes. Worst of all the entire ore supply had been annihilated and with it every last cred the House would have made. Lord Morrow was not going to let this go. When the remnants of the gang were called before the Iron Council they were handed a simple decree - bring us our money. It didn't matter how, but a debt was now owed and a price to be paid.
And so here they were, gathered in the decaying remains of one of the old manufactories, trying to work out how they were going to pay everything back. For now it was their base of operations, another consequence of their failure. Glowglobes hovered above, casting a sickly artificial light across what little remnants of a once great industrial machine remained. It wasn't a glorious hideout but it would have to do.
Ekko gazed around the room again, checking for even the slightest movement. The usual caution required to survive on Necromunda had been replaced with a feeling of perpetual unease. Once he was certain that nothing had skulked it's way into the shadows he went back again to polishing his stub guns. Orlocks maintained their weapons well, it was the only advantage they had in the Hive. No stim-grown brutes like the Goliath, no exotic poisons or tricks like those of House Escher and Delaque. Only weapons pressed in the Orlock foundries and the Code of the Iron Brotherhood - my gang before my House, my House before the rest - kept them alive.
"Would you cut that out kid, you'll be putting holes in the shadows before long"
The statement broke Ekko out of his mindless state of cleaning, realising he'd been wiping the same spot for minutes now. Curious who'd been the one to reprimand him he looked up to meet the gaze of Corvo. The veteran ganger was an oddity by Necromundan standards. He was full of the joys of life, never one to sit for too long without laughing or breaking into song. Even now after all that had happened still he sat there with a smile on his face. Out of the near 20 of them that had been part of the job only 5 were left. Himself and Corvo were sat near a burning pile of old rags, the warm glow a small comfort in the otherwise bleak environ. Vel, the other Juve who'd signed up for the job, had turned in for the night. The strain of the days events having clearly gotten to him. Jarro had chosen to go off to check the area, clearly he felt the same unease that had gripped Ekko. He was a tough old dog though, and only an idiot tries to take on an Orlock with a Boltgun. He'd be fine. Finally off to one corner, slaving over a pile of old dataslates, was Felwinter. The leader of the Wolves. Small flecks of grey were beginning to show through in his hair, a testament to his older age. This feat eluded most ganger's in the Hive. Old age wasn't ever something you planned to reach.
Felwinter was the one who had lifted Ekko out of the life of a serf and into something bigger. It was often said that the nod of a ganger could raise you up from the endless toil and work. For Ekko however it had been a stubborn refusal to yield to an electro-goad and the ensuing brawl with the Overseers that had gained Felwinters attention. He valued determination over everything else. "A ganger's no use to me pissing himself in a corner. You keep your head level and we'll keep you alive". A statement he'd been living by ever since.
"What d'ya think he'll come up with? The plan I mean. He's got to be working on something right?" It had been bothering Ekko ever since the Iron council had given their order. Felwinter hadn't put up a fight. Just stood silent and accepted what he'd been ordered to do. Gone was the silver tongued leader who could talk his way out of anything, something seemed off.
"Kid, why do you think we got put in front of that council?" The answer to the question seemed too obvious.
"Council blames us for letting the shipment get destroyed and losing the House creds, so we got to find a way to pay it all back." At that Corvo laughed, frustrating Ekko to no end.
"Ahh, the innocence of youth. It's got nothing to do with creds. Hell Ulanti'll already have a replacement convoy full of ore, just means the Overseers work their electro-goads overtime to get it." That thought sent a shiver down the Juve's spine. Surf work was already dangerous, and an Overseer with no compunction about over use of a goad was never going to end well. However what then was the reason. The confusion on Ekko's face was evident as Corvo answered before the boy even had a chance to ask the question.
"Reputation."
"Reputation?"
"That's what I said ain't it. The gangs survive based on their reputation. One house appears weak from the outside, it's pretty much ready to collapse on the inside. Orlock knows this better than anyone, remember." Ekko was reminded then of the stories he'd been told as a child. The Crucible Schism, where the surf caste rose up and almost toppled the entirety of House Orlock. It was from that event that the original gangs were formed as a means of keeping all the workers in line. Never again would the House allow complacency to weaken it. Things were beginning to make sense.
"So our convoy gets attacked and we look weak, which leads to more gangs starting to think we can't protect ourselves. More convoys get attacked and eventually word gets back to the serfs that we can't keep what they mine."
"See he's getting it now" the veteran remarked, the beginning of a proud smile etching it's way onto his face.
"So they begin questioning why they're slaving away in the first place, insurrection spreads and eventually we end up with an army of serfs killing us on one side and every other gang looking for their pound of flesh on the other. Shit."
Now bearing a wide smirk Corvo couldn't help but joke with the boy. "We'll make a wolf out of you yet." But then there was still one question remaining to Ekko.
"Why send us out to get all those creds if the House doesn't care about them?"
"And there was me thinking you'd learned something. The council knows there's only one way we get those creds and that's through claiming more turf. By pushing our reach out further we remind everyone House Orlock is still to be feared, and hey, at the same time we make a nice amount of money for them too."
And with that everything added up. Why the council had been so quick to make their demand and why Felwinter hadn't even tried to argue. He already knew what needed to be done, no point arguing against it. They sat then in silence, staring blankly at the fire, coming to terms with the task ahead. There would be bloodshed. Lots of it. And it was more than likely not all of them would be here when it was done. But that was life on Necromunda. Never easy, never simple.
Eventually Jarro returned and joined them, content that no threats had found them regrouping in the ruins. They would need to get recruiting. 5 men wasn't enough to win a bar room brawl, let a lone a damn Turf War. That wouldn't be hard, there were plenty of men willing to bleed for the House. Most just wanted someone to watch their backs so they didn't have to sleep with a stub gun in hand. The minutes turned to hours and finally a sound broke them all from their thoughts. Felwinter had left the table and stood behind them now. He'd made his plan, time to get to work.
"Right then boys, here's what we're gonna do...."
So there it is. My ridiculously long intro post to my Necromunda gang. I must admit I didn't intend to spend this much time writing this post and before I knew it I'd ended up with all of the above. Doing this has reminded me how much I enjoy a god narrative to back up a campaign.
Ideally I'll look to make a post every week summarising the games I've played and adding a bit more to the Wolves story.
Until next time,
James
There's still Blu-Tac holding most of the guys together until I get to painting them. First up will be the two Juves just to test my paint scheme and then I'm hoping to have the whole gang done in a month, despite the glacial speed that I paint at.
After a few test games I'm really enjoying myself. The game plays well and has enough tactical depth to be a really engaging experience. Playing on a Sector Mechanicus board is an awesome experience too as it really captures that claustrophobic feel of the Underhive, with the multi tier combat really adding another level (no pun intended) to the game.
As Necromunda is such a narrative game as well I wanted to put some time into my gangs back story and why they're fighting in the Turf War. If that's something you're interested in then please read on.
The Wolves Gather
Six seconds. Six goddamn seconds was all it took for the situation to go from shit to a sump croc eyeing you up as a next meal kind of shit.
The deal was simple, we bring the ore, hand it over and take the creds. Quick, clean, easy you could even say. "Ha, easy. Can't remember the last time something was easy" Ekko thought to himself. The young Juve had been called upon to help escort the delivery to the trade point and ensure that everything went nice and smoothly. House Ulanti didn't wait for their product and the House of Iron wouldn't be found wanting.
Things had been going well for the most part. No disturbances outside of the usual slum dog or idiot desperate enough to try his luck. The meeting point had been pre-arranged, a nice open area not too far from Theta hab zone. The whole place was controlled by House Orlock, which meant the risk of anything going wrong was minimal.
Minimal, not impossible.
Just as the hand off was about to begin the whole place erupted in promethium and shrapnel. The usual relentless machine drone of the twilight levels was replaced by the screaming of metal and ferrocrete being blasted to pieces, whole hab blocks collapsing down as ganger and worker alike scrambled for safety. The already musty and recycled air was now filled with the smell of smoke and charred flesh. After enduring what seemed like the whole damn hive collapsing around their heads the explosions died, the screaming stopped and maybe they could work out what the hell had just happened.
The Ulanti representatives were dead, the initial blast had wiped most of them out. The few that had managed to dart out the way had met a grisly end at the hands of falling debris, the smashed and broken corpses a testament to that. Most of the Orlocks had suffered a similar fate, shrapnel had done a lot of them in. The whole hab zone was either on fire or crumbling to bits, with workers scrambling to save what meager possessions they owned from their nearby homes. Worst of all the entire ore supply had been annihilated and with it every last cred the House would have made. Lord Morrow was not going to let this go. When the remnants of the gang were called before the Iron Council they were handed a simple decree - bring us our money. It didn't matter how, but a debt was now owed and a price to be paid.
And so here they were, gathered in the decaying remains of one of the old manufactories, trying to work out how they were going to pay everything back. For now it was their base of operations, another consequence of their failure. Glowglobes hovered above, casting a sickly artificial light across what little remnants of a once great industrial machine remained. It wasn't a glorious hideout but it would have to do.
Ekko gazed around the room again, checking for even the slightest movement. The usual caution required to survive on Necromunda had been replaced with a feeling of perpetual unease. Once he was certain that nothing had skulked it's way into the shadows he went back again to polishing his stub guns. Orlocks maintained their weapons well, it was the only advantage they had in the Hive. No stim-grown brutes like the Goliath, no exotic poisons or tricks like those of House Escher and Delaque. Only weapons pressed in the Orlock foundries and the Code of the Iron Brotherhood - my gang before my House, my House before the rest - kept them alive.
"Would you cut that out kid, you'll be putting holes in the shadows before long"
The statement broke Ekko out of his mindless state of cleaning, realising he'd been wiping the same spot for minutes now. Curious who'd been the one to reprimand him he looked up to meet the gaze of Corvo. The veteran ganger was an oddity by Necromundan standards. He was full of the joys of life, never one to sit for too long without laughing or breaking into song. Even now after all that had happened still he sat there with a smile on his face. Out of the near 20 of them that had been part of the job only 5 were left. Himself and Corvo were sat near a burning pile of old rags, the warm glow a small comfort in the otherwise bleak environ. Vel, the other Juve who'd signed up for the job, had turned in for the night. The strain of the days events having clearly gotten to him. Jarro had chosen to go off to check the area, clearly he felt the same unease that had gripped Ekko. He was a tough old dog though, and only an idiot tries to take on an Orlock with a Boltgun. He'd be fine. Finally off to one corner, slaving over a pile of old dataslates, was Felwinter. The leader of the Wolves. Small flecks of grey were beginning to show through in his hair, a testament to his older age. This feat eluded most ganger's in the Hive. Old age wasn't ever something you planned to reach.
Felwinter was the one who had lifted Ekko out of the life of a serf and into something bigger. It was often said that the nod of a ganger could raise you up from the endless toil and work. For Ekko however it had been a stubborn refusal to yield to an electro-goad and the ensuing brawl with the Overseers that had gained Felwinters attention. He valued determination over everything else. "A ganger's no use to me pissing himself in a corner. You keep your head level and we'll keep you alive". A statement he'd been living by ever since.
"What d'ya think he'll come up with? The plan I mean. He's got to be working on something right?" It had been bothering Ekko ever since the Iron council had given their order. Felwinter hadn't put up a fight. Just stood silent and accepted what he'd been ordered to do. Gone was the silver tongued leader who could talk his way out of anything, something seemed off.
"Kid, why do you think we got put in front of that council?" The answer to the question seemed too obvious.
"Council blames us for letting the shipment get destroyed and losing the House creds, so we got to find a way to pay it all back." At that Corvo laughed, frustrating Ekko to no end.
"Ahh, the innocence of youth. It's got nothing to do with creds. Hell Ulanti'll already have a replacement convoy full of ore, just means the Overseers work their electro-goads overtime to get it." That thought sent a shiver down the Juve's spine. Surf work was already dangerous, and an Overseer with no compunction about over use of a goad was never going to end well. However what then was the reason. The confusion on Ekko's face was evident as Corvo answered before the boy even had a chance to ask the question.
"Reputation."
"Reputation?"
"That's what I said ain't it. The gangs survive based on their reputation. One house appears weak from the outside, it's pretty much ready to collapse on the inside. Orlock knows this better than anyone, remember." Ekko was reminded then of the stories he'd been told as a child. The Crucible Schism, where the surf caste rose up and almost toppled the entirety of House Orlock. It was from that event that the original gangs were formed as a means of keeping all the workers in line. Never again would the House allow complacency to weaken it. Things were beginning to make sense.
"So our convoy gets attacked and we look weak, which leads to more gangs starting to think we can't protect ourselves. More convoys get attacked and eventually word gets back to the serfs that we can't keep what they mine."
"See he's getting it now" the veteran remarked, the beginning of a proud smile etching it's way onto his face.
"So they begin questioning why they're slaving away in the first place, insurrection spreads and eventually we end up with an army of serfs killing us on one side and every other gang looking for their pound of flesh on the other. Shit."
Now bearing a wide smirk Corvo couldn't help but joke with the boy. "We'll make a wolf out of you yet." But then there was still one question remaining to Ekko.
"Why send us out to get all those creds if the House doesn't care about them?"
"And there was me thinking you'd learned something. The council knows there's only one way we get those creds and that's through claiming more turf. By pushing our reach out further we remind everyone House Orlock is still to be feared, and hey, at the same time we make a nice amount of money for them too."
And with that everything added up. Why the council had been so quick to make their demand and why Felwinter hadn't even tried to argue. He already knew what needed to be done, no point arguing against it. They sat then in silence, staring blankly at the fire, coming to terms with the task ahead. There would be bloodshed. Lots of it. And it was more than likely not all of them would be here when it was done. But that was life on Necromunda. Never easy, never simple.
Eventually Jarro returned and joined them, content that no threats had found them regrouping in the ruins. They would need to get recruiting. 5 men wasn't enough to win a bar room brawl, let a lone a damn Turf War. That wouldn't be hard, there were plenty of men willing to bleed for the House. Most just wanted someone to watch their backs so they didn't have to sleep with a stub gun in hand. The minutes turned to hours and finally a sound broke them all from their thoughts. Felwinter had left the table and stood behind them now. He'd made his plan, time to get to work.
"Right then boys, here's what we're gonna do...."
So there it is. My ridiculously long intro post to my Necromunda gang. I must admit I didn't intend to spend this much time writing this post and before I knew it I'd ended up with all of the above. Doing this has reminded me how much I enjoy a god narrative to back up a campaign.
Ideally I'll look to make a post every week summarising the games I've played and adding a bit more to the Wolves story.
Until next time,
James
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