As I find myself getting longer in the tooth, I find that my gaming habits are tending towards what I can only define as a midlife crisis. We all suffer from nostalgia every now and then and we will always remember our first love. But to me these two things have decided to combine forces in a single massive assault.
Now many people of a certain age will constantly moan at the rest of us about the 'Golden Age' of 40K. They go on about how much better Rogue Trader and Second Edition were. There are of course wrong as the overly complex rules have been improved and simplified into the game we now know. However I can understand how they feel as I find my self returning to my start point. I seem to regularly pick out my old codices looking through them dreaming wistfully of armies I have owned or have always wanted, and this is where the attack came. The usual drunken stupid idea creeps into the mind, books and miniatures are bought in secret. The heart races and the pulse quickens as you realise the Wife will come home first and find that dirty little secret lying in the letterbox and before you can spell divorce courts you have all the old Codices that were ever printed and more little soldiers than you could ever field. Of course Crooked Dice 'Time Lift Security Detachment' would make great commissars, wouldn't they?
Anything to justify the end result. But what is the end result? What you don't know? Oh well it's all gravy