Games Workshop Retro-review
Episode 1 - Oi Dat’s My Leg
Upon first opening the colourful box depicting a dismembered troll and the escapades of organ harvesting goblins; my daughter was delighted to find a riot of colour and no less than three trolls to choose from. Goblin selection was even more generous and after choosing the pink goblin for herself I was assigned the blue goblin.
To generate a suitably GrimDark atmosphere and truly immerse the player in the Battle Angel Alita style world of organ harvesting, harsh incarceration policies and a downtrodden underclass subsisting on a junk pile; Games Workshop provided a tape of thematic songs and music. Unfortunately my partner has forbidden me from playing this on pain of pain following the first sing along rendition of 'Ere We Go’ so I am unable to offer further insight into this magnetically encoded brilliance.
The objective of the game is (as your morally bankrupt goblin) to locate, steal and unearth parts of luckless trolls in an effort to build some sort of chimera and establish oneself as a demi-god on a par with Dr Frankenstein. At this point I confided in my fellow reviewer about my misgivings and the unbearable futility of existence in this dystopian world. She blew a raspberry and demanded I explain the rules.
We placed our goblins in their junk pile homestead and the selected troll in the centre of the board. Throughout the game this guardian of order would pursue us in the hope of throwing our colourful avatars in a claustrophobic and unsanitary cage. Naturally troll infrastructure leaves a lot to be desired and we enjoyed a ⅓ chance of escaping this incarceration and continuing our macabre scavenging.
Play consists of traversing the board whilst hoping one does not get trapped in the cleverly placed loop of infinite futility at the very start. Between falling back into the junk pile, returning to where we had begun our move and missing turns Games Workshop made me contemplate the cyclical nature of our endeavours and the ease with which we find ourselves back to square one regardless of our ambition. My daughter found the experience hilarious.
As our journey through the unique goblin culture progressed we began to amass an array of body parts and construct our unholy troll automata. In a thought provoking exploration of capitalism without conscience we were able to impede each others progress through the use of junk that undermined construction of a troll or theft of others hard won limbs to the cry of 'Oi Dat’s My Leg’.
Eventually my daughter emerged victorious. Having completed the two trolls required for victory she had fallen into Games Workshop's cunning trap. What benefits a goblin to create more of their oppressors? Could anyone in good conscience demand the unquestioning subservience of their perverse creation and deny them a place among trollkind? Maybe I am reading to much into it? Perhaps my daughter's elation at accomplishment is merely an illustration of the futility of our endeavours?
Daughter rates this game one hundred millionty seven. I refuse to place a quantitative value on such abstract genius in fear of cheapening the GrimDark experience.
