My relationship with certain media franchises can best be described as a romantic one. Certain things I just fall in love with: Godzilla, the undead, Klingons, Fallout, the Diskworld, Ancient Egypt, Cthulhu, Wing Commander, and many others. Some stay. Godzilla, for example, is something I can return to many times a year with complete enjoyment.
Every now and then, however, I fall out of love. Something switches, either in me, or the franchise, and it loses its luster. It happened a few years ago with Chelsea Quinn Yarbro's Le Comte Saint Germain, I'm sad to say. I'll always look back on those books with fondness, but I don't think I'll ever read a new one. It's kind of sad, because it's a part of my life that I enjoyed, and now am leaving behind me.
Over the last two months, I've fallen out of love with Warmachine. Which is a pity. I played the game pretty much on a weekly basis for two years, and spent a lot of time painting up my little miniature army. I like the painting, but the game has evolved into something that is unbalanced. It has become frustrating to play. Much as I hoped Mark 2 would fix the problems that annoyed me, the game still had problems which made it unplayable for me.
The sad part is, the loss of me has resulted in the implosion of Warmachine in Bennington. I was the guy who started off Warmachine, and it appears that without me, there isn't enough interest to sustain itself. Partially I feel guilty because this means the store has a lot of stock that is going to just sit on its shelves. And I don't get to socialize with some of the Warmachine players anymore. I've started a mini painting night, and that's providing me with a good hour and a half of serenity, the aspect of the hobby I enjoyed most.
What am I painting, you ask? Tyranids from Warhammer 40K. And yes, I can already see the signs of love. I bought the older Tyranid books in order to have a sense of their history. I've even bought a novel that involves them, but in my defense, I know the author.