BigLee's 'Miniature Adventures'

Yesterday’s game in the Shed-o-War with the rest of the Posties Rejects transported us back to a part of the Crimean War that rarely gets the spotlight. While most people jump straight to the mud, mismanagement, and media circus of the later Allied campaigns, the opening phase (before the British and French fully committed) was very much a brutal, grinding contest between the Russian Empire and the Ottoman Turks.

By 1853, tensions between the Russian Empire and the Ottoman Empire had been simmering for years. Russia, keen to expand its influence southward and present itself as the protector of Orthodox Christians within Ottoman territories, pressed its claims with increasing aggression. The Ottomans, meanwhile, were determined to resist.

When diplomacy failed, Russian forces crossed into the Danubian Principalities (modern-day Romania), prompting the Ottomans to declare war in October 1853. What followed was a series of sharp, often overlooked engagements along the Danube and in the Caucasus. These early clashes set the tone: determined Ottoman resistance, often underestimated, against a numerically and logistically powerful Russian army.

One of the defining moments of this opening phase came at the Battle of Oltenița, where Ottoman forces successfully checked a Russian advance. It was an early indication that this would not be the quick, one-sided campaign many had expected. The Turks fought hard, often from prepared positions, and proved more than capable of bloodying Russian noses when the ground favoured them.

Stuart set up a scenario based on these early encounters, pitching Russian attackers against a well-entrenched Turkish force in November 1853. On paper, it looked straightforward. In practice, it was anything but. The Turks held a commanding ridge line, broken by rocky outcrops and fortified with a chain of redoubts. Ten objectives in total, each hill and redoubt worth a single point, and, at the start of the game, all firmly in Ottoman hands. The Russian objective was clear: seize at least six to claim victory. Simple, right? Well… no.

Although the Russians enjoyed a comfortable two-to-one numerical advantage, the terrain told a very different story. Assaulting uphill into prepared positions is never a pleasant experience, and the redoubts turned what might have been a straightforward advance into a grinding series of assaults. Every objective captured would have to be paid for.

One of the real highlights of the evening was seeing the Ottoman collection back on the table. This early-war period has a distinct visual character that sets it apart from the later, more familiar Crimean battles. The Turkish uniforms in particular are an absolute joy: bold colours, striking contrasts, and just enough flourish to remind you that 19th-century warfare hadn’t entirely abandoned its sense of style.

It’s a period that deserves more attention, both for its aesthetics and for the fascinating tactical challenges it presents. The asymmetry of these engagements, numerical superiority versus defensive strength, makes for exactly the kind of tense, decision-driven games that stick in the memory. Games like this are a great reminder that history doesn’t begin with the most famous moments. The early phase of the Crimean War is full of compelling scenarios, dramatic clashes, and underappreciated armies that deserve a place on the tabletop.

And from a wargaming perspective, it offers something rather special: a chance to explore a conflict where the outcome isn’t dictated by reputation, but by how well you can manage ground, timing, and sheer bloody-minded persistence.

As for the Russians’ daunting task of prising six objectives from stubborn Turkish hands? After a marathon eight-hour struggle, they fell just short—ending the day with five points apiece and a hard-fought draw. The Ottoman force was effectively shattered, but much like their historical counterparts, they had done exactly what was required: blunt the advance, buy precious time, and withdraw in good order to a new defensive line, leaving the Russians to contemplate the cost of every inch gained.

One of the fascinating things about the tabletop wargaming hobby is how the smallest details can spark surprisingly passionate discussions. In this latest video, I take a closer look at one of those deceptively simple questions: Should we be using clear bases or scenic bases for our miniatures? 

The topic was inspired by an email from Harry, also known as the Glasgow Warhog, who asked a straightforward question that many hobbyists have probably considered at some point: Should we move to clear bases? His argument was simple and practical. Clear bases allow miniatures to blend seamlessly into any battlefield terrain, whether that’s grassy countryside, desert landscapes, urban ruins, or the interior of a factory. From a gameplay perspective, the idea makes a lot of sense. But like many aspects of miniature wargaming, the answer isn’t quite that straightforward.

In the video, I reflect on how basing has evolved over the decades, starting with the very earliest miniatures I painted more than forty years ago, when bases were often little more than a quick coat of green paint. From there, hobby techniques evolved into textured bases, flock, static grass, and eventually more elaborate scenic basing. Along the way, I even experimented with the legendary “oregano basing technique,” where dried kitchen herbs doubled as convincing dead grass for early miniature armies.

As painting skills improved, basing became an increasingly creative part of the hobby. Today, many miniature painters treat the base as a tiny diorama, adding multiple scenic elements such as rocks, tufts, debris, and vegetation to create a more natural and immersive look. In the video, I talk about the “three-element basing rule” I often follow, which helps create visually interesting bases that feel like small slices of the battlefield.

Of course, scenic bases come with their own challenges. A beautifully grassed base might look perfect in a rural battlefield, but perhaps less convincing inside a ruined building or on a paved city street. That’s where the appeal of clear acrylic bases becomes obvious. They adapt instantly to whatever terrain lies beneath the miniature. Clear bases offer flexibility and realism during gameplay, while scenic bases add character, storytelling, and a finished aesthetic that many modellers find deeply satisfying.

Ultimately, this isn’t about deciding a “right” answer. Like so many aspects of the hobby, it comes down to personal preference and what you enjoy most, gaming practicality or modelling creativity.

Historical tabletop wargamers are always on the lookout for rule systems that strike the right balance between accessibility, historical flavour, and tactical depth. In my latest video, I take a closer look at two rulebooks from the growing On Bloody Ground series by WIP Games and Miniatures: The Wars of the Roses and The Punic Wars. Written by father-and-son design team David and Daniel Toone, the On Bloody Ground system has steadily expanded over the past few years. What began as a small set of rules covering the Norman Conquest and the Reconquista has now grown into a range of more than a dozen books covering multiple historical periods—from the American Civil War to Caesar’s campaigns and the English Civil War.

At the heart of the system is a rules engine inspired by the classic Warhammer Ancient Battles style of ranked combat, but streamlined to avoid unnecessary complexity. Instead of introducing gimmicks or novelty mechanics, the designers focus on clear, traditional tabletop wargaming principles: movement, morale, formations, and decisive combat between units. The result is a system that feels familiar to experienced wargamers while remaining accessible for newcomers.

In the video, I explore how these mechanics translate into two very different historical periods. The Wars of the Roses brings late medieval English warfare to the tabletop, where blocks of billmen, men-at-arms, and longbowmen clash in brutal infantry engagements led by ambitious nobles. The Punic Wars, on the other hand, shift the action to the ancient Mediterranean, where Roman legions face the diverse armies of Carthage, complete with Iberian warriors, Numidian cavalry, and the ever-popular war elephants.

One interesting challenge for me when reviewing these rules was scale. The system assumes individually based figures (often in 28mm scale) grouped together on movement trays. My own collections for both periods are quite different: 6mm armies that are permanently multi-based. In the video, I explore whether the system can be adapted to work with smaller-scale miniatures and alternative basing styles without losing the intended gameplay experience.

The answer, happily, is yes. With a few simple adjustments, the rules proved flexible enough to accommodate different collections while still delivering engaging and decisive tabletop battles. That adaptability is one of the strengths of the On Bloody Ground system, making it suitable for a wide range of players and miniature scales.

One of the interesting quirks of the tabletop wargaming hobby is that our rulebooks often serve two very different purposes at the same time. On the one hand, they’re instruction manuals that explain the mechanics of the game. On the other hand, they’re often part history book, part lore compendium, and sometimes even part art book designed to inspire players. That combination raises an interesting question: how much fluff should a wargame rulebook really contain

Today, my video explores the balance between background material and rules mechanics in tabletop wargaming rulebooks. Some gamers love diving into rich lore and historical explanations, while others just want to find the rules quickly and get miniatures onto the table. That tension between storytelling and practicality can shape the entire reading experience of a rulebook.

The discussion becomes even more interesting when you compare fantasy and science fiction games with historical wargames. In fictional settings, everything about the universe has been created by the authors, from the factions and technology to the basic assumptions about how the world works. Lore isn’t just decorative in those games; it helps players understand the setting itself. Without background material explaining the world, the motivations of its factions, and the nature of its technology or magic, the rules can feel disconnected from the setting.

Historical wargames approach the problem from the opposite direction. The setting already exists in the real world, and players have access to countless books, documentaries, and historical studies if they want to explore the period in more detail. That means rulebooks don’t necessarily need to carry the same burden of explaining the world. A little context can provide flavour and help explain design choices, but too much history can start to feel like unnecessary page filler when players already have other resources available.

Of course, the balance isn’t always easy to strike. Too much background material can make a rulebook difficult to navigate during a game, while too little flavour can leave the system feeling dry and mechanical. Somewhere between those extremes lies the sweet spot where rules clarity and thematic immersion support each other perfectly.