The gaming community often discusses the perceived divide between competitive-focused games and those meant purely for casual enjoyment (commonly referred to as “beer and pretzels” games). Alongside this division, stereotypes about gamers emerge: ultra-competitive players meticulously craft their strategies for maximum advantage, contrasted with those who select units with less consideration for their effectiveness. However, is this distinction between competitive and casual gaming truly meaningful, or does it simply reflect differing approaches to enjoying games with miniature soldiers? Are game developers responsible for shaping rulesets that favor one style of play over the other, or is player preference the driving force? And where do historical games fit into this framework?
Take, for instance, Blood and Plunder, a game deeply rooted in historical context. Does it lean more towards competitive gaming or the laid-back ‘beer and pretzels’ style? Examining these aspects not only helps us understand the game better but also sheds light on the broader dynamics of gaming culture. Let’s delve deeper into this discussion.
Competitive Game Style and the Appeal of Tabletop Games
At the heart of every game lies the fundamental expectation that players derive enjoyment from their participation. After all, why engage in a game if not for the pleasure it brings? Yet, this concept is not as simple as it may seem.
One crucial factor that can prompt someone to engage in a game, even if they don’t particularly enjoy it, is the presence of others to play with. Games function as platforms where popularity often begets more popularity, not necessarily because a game is inherently superior but because it attracts the largest pool of players. The reasons behind this phenomenon often involve persistence effects and first-movers advantage. While these dynamics warrant a discussion of their own, they are somewhat tangential to the focus of this article.
However, it’s important to note that the prevailing ‘winning above all’ mentality tends to thrive in the most popular games. These environments attract individuals who prioritize victory over enjoyment during gameplay, which can significantly impact the gaming experience.
That being said, even those who subscribe to this mindset likely still derive some level of enjoyment from playing with toy soldiers. As tabletop gamers, we occupy a niche within the vast landscape of ludic activities, spanning from board games and RPGs to video games and sports. Setting aside other potential motivations, such as innate skill that may increase the likelihood of winning, it’s reasonable to assume that tabletop miniature wargamers are drawn to this genre because of its unique appeal.
Unlike other ludic pursuits, miniature wargaming offers a tangible and model-like representation of combat scenarios. Players engage with models and units that mirror real individuals, navigating through realistic settings where movement, interaction, and spatial awareness are crucial elements. This stands in contrast to the more abstract notions of space found in board games or the largely non-existent spatial aspect of RPGs or card games, where space merely serves as a backdrop to the core mechanics of the game.
Beer and Pretzel Playstyle and the Winning Appeal
On the opposite end of the competitive spectrum, we encounter a similar scenario. The so-called “beer and pretzels” player, stereotypically unconcerned with winning, prioritizes the enjoyment of spending time with friends while engaging in tabletop wargaming. The social aspect of the game is paramount for these players, who may also ponder what draws them to a particular game. Those who relish the social aspect tend to gravitate toward mainstream games, not necessarily because they find them inherently enjoyable but because they offer ample opportunities for social interaction. An awkward corollary of this discussion is that popular mainstream guys may be the more polarized between the playstyle of their gamers.
Yet, much like their competitive counterparts, “beer and pretzel” players must still derive some level of enjoyment from the tabletop wargaming experience in itself. Otherwise, they might opt for alternative social activities where the social aspect holds greater significance. Thus, there’s an underlying appeal to the gameplay itself that attracts them to a specific ruleset.
This much seems uncontroversial. But do these individuals also find the prospect of winning appealing? I would argue that, to some extent, all players derive fulfillment from the possibility of victory. Even casual players harbor a desire to win, albeit perhaps less intensely than their competitive counterparts. While I could delve into psychological and economic research to support this assertion, I’ll refrain and instead reason from the standpoint that playing without any effort to win detracts from the overall play experience for both parties involved.
The essence of fun in gaming against an opponent lies in the mutual endeavor to overcome challenges. The dopamine rush we experience upon winning stems from the satisfaction of surmounting obstacles. It’s widely accepted that triumphing over a skilled opponent is inherently more gratifying than defeating a novice who has yet to grasp the rules or basic strategies of the game. Similarly, if an opponent makes seemingly random tactical decisions, it diminishes the experience for the other player.
Where do Historical Games Fit?
I can already anticipate some of you voicing objections to what draws tabletop wargamers to the hobby. For many, it’s the storytelling element that holds the greatest appeal, rather than solely the social aspect or the desire to emerge victorious. Historical games often occupy this seemingly distinct category, focusing on the recreation of settings with a historical backdrop. At the extreme end of this spectrum lies the concept of meticulously simulating historical battles, accurately replicating the components present at the time of the engagement. This archetype gives rise to the stereotype of historical gamers as button-counters who scrupulously adhere to historical accuracy and are quick to critique any deviation from the established historical record.
However, I would argue that even these gamers are bound by certain constraints. Ultimately, they must still find fellow players to engage with, select historical periods that they personally find enjoyable (despite the objective appeal of playing as pirates, for instance, some individuals may have personal reasons for avoiding it), and seek opponents who are equally invested in the pursuit of victory to maximize the overall gaming experience.
In essence, tabletop gamers across all genres share a common goal: to maximize their enjoyment. This enjoyment stems from various factors, including the social aspect of the game and the satisfaction derived from overcoming challenges, whether through strategic gameplay in a balanced contest or by navigating constraints imposed by scenarios based on historical or imaginative sources.
Thus, historical wargamers are fundamentally no different from players of fantasy or sci-fi genres. At the end of the day, we all engage in the shared experience of playing with toy soldiers.
Can Tabletop Wargames be Truly “Competitive”?
From our previous discussions, we can draw some tentative conclusions and explore derivative discussions in greater detail. The foremost realization is that there exists no binary distinction between playstyles in tabletop gaming. Instead, gamers occupy a continuum based on their preferences for experiencing the game and what aspects they find most enjoyable. However, it’s universally true that all players derive some level of enjoyment from winning games and engaging with a setting and ruleset that offers some inherent appeal, whether through balanced competition or the opportunity to overcome challenges through intriguing interactions.
While some may find this conclusion somewhat banal, as we often prefer to discuss polar opposites rather than nuances, I’d like to offer a personal opinion—a hill I’m willing to defend: tabletop miniature gaming cannot truly be considered a proper arena for competitive gaming.
One crucial aspect that defines competitive games is the mastery and control players have over the variables that influence the game. Chess and Go exemplify this, as they involve no random elements and boast simple yet intricately complex rules. In contrast, tabletop wargames derive their appeal from the spatial nature they recreate on the tabletop. Conversations with non-wargamers often reveal their bewilderment at the need to estimate distances and determine lines of sight between figures—a testament to the inherent complications of these games.
Competitive gamers are notorious for scrutinizing every detail, from measurements to movements, yet tabletop wargaming inherently embraces a degree of uncertainty. While precise measurements and adherence to rules are important, an excessive focus on minutiae detracts from the overall enjoyment of the game. Truly competitive activities require strict control over such aspects, as even the smallest advantages can make a difference at the highest levels of play. For example, in swimming, specialized swimsuits are crafted to enhance aquadynamics, providing a milliseconds advantage over competitors, potentially tipping the scales between victory and defeat. Small details matter.
Moreover, tabletop wargames pose unique challenges in establishing balanced initial conditions due to their inherent complexity. Warhammer 40k, the largest wargame with an active competitive scene, struggles to achieve perfect balance not despite but precisely because its vast array of factions, units, and abilities. The limited number of games per tournament and the constant influx of new content prevent the emergence of a truly converged meta, leading to what I think is a biased local optimum meta that persists until the next balancing iteration (because a new balance slate or a new faction or a new army rulebook is introduced).
In contrast, some card games like Magic: The Gathering boast clear core rulesets and fast-paced and structured gameplay, facilitating thousands of daily matches online and enabling a real competitive scene.
This is not to say that efforts should not be made to create balanced and fair game rules within tabletop miniature games. However, it underscores the fact that the tabletop wargaming community derives enjoyment from various aspects beyond competition. As we navigate the complexities of the hobby, we must recognize and appreciate the multifaceted nature of our gaming experiences.
What about Blood and Plunder?
So, where does Blood and Plunder fit into this discussion? Well, my motivation to write about competitive and casual gaming stemmed from comments I received after publishing my list creation guide for my winning list at Adepticon 2024 on this blog. Some readers felt that more attention should have been given to what made the list enjoyable, rather than solely focusing on its effectiveness in winning.
Their point is valid. I didn’t delve much into why I found it fun to play with. However, it dawned on me that one unique aspect of Blood and Plunder is the blurred line between competitive and casual styles of play. This isn’t because the game lacks imbalances (as we’ve recently seen with the problematic fire pots in the sea tournament), but rather because these imbalances don’t necessarily diminish the overall enjoyment of the game. Sure, some factions may have an edge when it comes to winning, but they still offer a fun gameplay experience. And yes, the game as any tabletop wargame has many complicated interactions that are difficult to interpret. But this, again, does not diminish the value you get from playing it.
The list-building aspect of Blood and Plunder contributes to this dynamic. It encourages players to consider historical accuracy when constructing their forces. It’s not just about adhering to point limits; players must also align their chosen faction with their preferred playstyle (be it aggressive, cautious, melee-focused, or ranged) and then fine-tune their lists for effectiveness. However, this process never adopts a “winning above all” mentality. For instance, I personally only play with the Spanish faction and have no intention of ever using the Pirates or English, even if they might excel in certain aspects of the game.
What sets Blood and Plunder apart is its emphasis on social camaraderie and historical storytelling. While winning is certainly a goal, the community surrounding the game values these additional elements just as highly. It’s this combination of competitiveness, social interaction, and historical immersion that makes Blood and Plunder such a compelling game and a great tabletop wargame.
I view the tournament scene in Blood and Plunder as a focal point where players can come together to have a good time. It’s the perfect excuse to invest time and effort into creating a good list that you enjoy playing against like-minded players. If there were thousands of players, I might not need to attend tournaments, as I could find opponents everywhere, anytime. Unfortunately, this is not the case. Tournaments serve as this focal point that attracts people to it, and that’s why I love these events.
To conclude: Yes, when I play Blood and Plunder, I play to win, but I see the experience holistically—as a process that starts with the planning of the list, the painting of the minis, taking pictures of them, and sharing them with the community online. The tournament games themselves are just the culmination of this process.
Article by Fernando Arteaga