Iron Claw Space Pirates: Part 3... Guest Post by Geriatricus

Modern wargamers make me vomit. Back in the good old days, when we wanted to play Warhammer 40K, we didn't use army lists or codices. Do you know what codices are? The. Plural. Of. Codex. The only codex we had was the Codex Vaticanus, and it couldn't be clearer on the topic of kids these days: "Take up a lament on the barren heights," spake the prophet Jeremiah, "for the Lord has rejected and abandoned this generation".

No, when we wanted to play 40K, all we had was a copy of Rogue Trader. You opened the cover and the spine shattered like it was held together with spittle and icing sugar, scattering loose pages across the room. Gathering them up, you were ready to assemble your army. You just looked at your collection of miniatures and that was your force: squats and marines and orks and space pirates all in one army? No problem. In the grim darkness of the future, no one will bother with homogenous armies. They're too busy rat-fucking each other!

But our games were always fair, unlike today. Nowadays, kids die of heat exhaustion as they sprint to the gaming shop for the latest army list, hoping to outdo each other in an endless arms-race. We lived in a more evenhanded time: we just eyeballed each miniature and assigned him the equipment he appeared to be carrying. If it just so happened that all my marines were carrying laser cannons, and all your guardsmen were carrying stub pistols, that was just the way it had to be. It was fair, the same way that getting t-boned by a cement truck is fair.

No one ever cried because Games Workshop stopped supporting their army of choice. Boo hoo! I can't bring my Bretonnians to tournaments anymore! Jesus Burger-Flipping Christ, we didn't have tournaments at all! It was ludicrous to imagine playing Warhammer out in the open, against strangers, in public. In the halcyon days of my youth, Warhammer was something that you were ashamed of. You hid away, in dank basements, in the dark, playing with like-minded people with whom otherwise you wouldn't be caught dead. The stigma was what made it fun.

But all that's gone now. You had to make it popular. You had to have a net flicks. And now there are no more space pirates. Yours is truly a generation of swine.

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Sorry for the guest post. That guy is a real downer. I've got to stop letting him take over the blog.

Here are the final 7 miniatures from Bob Olley's IC301 Space Pirates (1987) from the golden age of Warhammer 40K Rogue Trader. One of the (many) things I love about this range is Olley's choice to portray several old (and apparently) cranky men.

A prime example of men well past their prime is "Pop Stewart". He's balding, he's pouchy and he's ready to kick ass:

This range of space pirates is apparently led by "Captain Dunbar". He's bucktoothed and dressed in a onesie, but he is carrying a rather large gun:

The face on "Attitude Gorman" is the distilled essence of Bob Olley's sculpting style. With his beaked nose, recessed eyes, and gaping grin, he reminds me of one of Da Vinci's groteques:

"Nixan" is an equally strange miniature. We it not for the gun, he would look like a B-list superhero called Torpedo Man:

For another stumpy and bearded oldster, may I present "Little Rigo":

Another splendid example of Olley's skill at creating uniquely grotesque people, we have "Psycho". He's like what Rambo would be, if Rambo had a dyed blond perm, pimples, and a girdle. I especially enjoy the fact that, unlike almost all Citadel miniatures, he's not wearing boots, but has instead chosen a sensible pair of orthopedic sneakers.

And finally, the oldest and crustiest space pirate of them all, "Dambo Kweltz". You can almost hear the clack of his dentures, smell his eucalyptus chest ointment, and feel the tremor in his hands as he tries to aim his archaic weapons. You get 'em, gramps!

Well, my friends, I hope you've enjoyed this tour through Bob Olley's masterpieces! I certainly have!

You'll notice that I've put a link to a permanent gallery of this range on the right, under Miniature Galleries.