A brief annecdote on my attitude of a bad match up. You get ready to play a game. You pull out the models, place them on the table, ready to go. There’s a thrill of anticipation knowing that you’ll have a good game no matter the outcome.
Then, you glance over at your opponent’s side of the table. You eye his models and you make check marks on an imaginary list in your head. To your horror, you realize that mathematically, experientially, empirically, that on-paper, you’re about to encounter the bad match up.
Think Terminus versus Constance Blaize (Tier 4)….
You know that no matter how brilliant your strategy, how lucky your dice rolls, how epically-bad your opponent is, your army cannot in your wildest imagination beat your opponent’s. You might as well play the game with both hands tied behind your back.
But then (if you were me), you’d think to yourself: hmm…maybe, it’s possible.
Truly, you have no idea where that voice comes from, because it walks smack into the stonewall of reality. But, either stupidity or sheer need for adventure and excitement, you continue with the game without changing your army list. Obviously, you know that this-that-this-that will happen and you’ll have no control over the massive causalities your army will suffer.
Yet, you play on.
By turn 2, your opponent tries his best to hide the brilliant glow on his face. It’s the blush of victory soon-at-hand. It’s maddening. This isn’t a game. This is just a huge piling stack of poo. It stinks. Doesn’t he realize that you’re in a bad match-up?
Yet, you play anyway. For another 20 minutes, you endure. You persevere.
Then, that magical incandescent lightbulb appears above your head. Ding! There’s an opening. How it appeared, you don’t know. Did Moses actually know how the Red Sea parted? No. But, on your tabletop, there was a parting of models, nonetheless: a pathway appears before you through a valley of wreck markers.
You’re walking on clouds! Yes, clouds. This is the crest of the rolling coaster, and you’re about to go weeeee!
It’s your turn. You measure your warcaster’s control area. You can make it. No free strikes and beeline to the enemy ‘caster. You activate full of focus with a quick glance at our opponent. The glow is gone.
In melee, you have four swings to make victory in the bad match-up.
Miss, miss, no damage, oh-crap last roll.
What?! Nothing?! After all that, you fail to even paper-cut the enemy? How is that fair? That’s not normal. Come on, the models parted for you! Your opponent promptly dispatches your caster. You lose.
“Good game,” your opponent says.
Seriously? you think.
But with your final declaration, you say: “I want a re-match….same lists.”