Matt Ward's Descent Into Madness: Difference between revisions
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BUT THEN, [[Tzeench|someone at GW]] commissioned Matthew Ward to write the '''War of the Ring''' rulebook. Matthew Ward thought to himself, full of gleeful pride and hope, "I can do this! This will make me the big Games Workshop publisher I have always dreamed of being!" Oh how horribly right he was. He locked himself in a small study with [[Chaos|eight]] months worth of neckbeardy snacks and refused to leave until War of the Ring was finished. As the rulebook was forged, young Matthew poured his heart and soul into it, as any one of us would were we given the chance. "I want this to be perfect," he thought, "This has to be perfect!" He spent nights and days, wasting away the hours, a slave to his creation. In that room, [[Heresy|a small tinge of evil]], like a echo in the back of his mind, found its way into the deepest recesses of Matthew Ward's brain. Months later he emerged from his exile, manuscript clutched tightly to his chest, ready to face the GW execs and their publishers. By some unholy power, they accepted his creation, the evil born unto Matthew Ward swaying even the High Lords of [[Games Workshop]] | BUT THEN, [[Tzeench|someone at GW]] commissioned Matthew Ward to write the '''War of the Ring''' rulebook. Matthew Ward thought to himself, full of gleeful pride and hope, "I can do this! This will make me the big Games Workshop publisher I have always dreamed of being!" Oh how horribly right he was. He locked himself in a small study with [[Chaos|eight]] months worth of neckbeardy snacks and refused to leave until War of the Ring was finished. As the rulebook was forged, young Matthew poured his heart and soul into it, as any one of us would were we given the chance. "I want this to be perfect," he thought, "This has to be perfect!" He spent nights and days, wasting away the hours, a slave to his creation. In that room, [[Heresy|a small tinge of evil]], like a echo in the back of his mind, found its way into the deepest recesses of Matthew Ward's brain. Months later he emerged from his exile, manuscript clutched tightly to his chest, ready to face the GW execs and their publishers. By some unholy power, they accepted his creation, the evil born unto Matthew Ward swaying even the High Lords of [[Games Workshop]] | ||
When the day had come for the War of the Ring to be unveiled, all of Games Workshop and all of its neckbeards were full of anticipation, waiting for an expansion of the LotR universe that wasn't rife with | When the day had come for the War of the Ring to be unveiled, all of Games Workshop and all of its neckbeards were full of anticipation, waiting for an expansion of the LotR universe that wasn't rife with Hobbits, something many neckbeards and LotR fanboys have waited for for decades. It was to be the next big thing that Games Workshop would unveil, that thing that would reinvigorate all who saw it with a newfound love for the hobby, the answer to the prayers of the fans. Like [[Apocalypse]]. And true to Apocalypse form, when it was finally revealed to the public, everyone cheered. The applause and hopeful praise blotted out all other games for a brief time. But it was flawed and tainted, just like Apocalypse. In six months, nobody cared about it. Matthew Ward saw this, and it filled him with sadness and regret. "Why does nobody like my game?" he pined, "Why can't they see how much work I put into it, how much of myself was in that book?" It was true; Matthew Ward had put ''too'' much of himself, too much faith and hope, in that, his first and last rulebook. When it died, much of Matthew Ward died with it. And so the evil that had found its way into Matthew Ward seized the initiative, feeding off of his sorrow and doubt, [[Anal circumference|attacking Matthew Ward where he was most vulnerable, and driving itself into every part of his brain,]] becoming one with what was left of the shattered man. What arose afterwards was a new, ungodly creature, the same one we all know and fear today; and it deemed that its stolen body should have a new name: Matt Ward. | ||
Ultimately, War of the Ring had failed as a game, garnered no fans, and made Games Workshop lose money. This angered the High Lords of Games Workshop, but the seed of evil which was revealed to them when Matthew Ward first showed them War of the Ring had infected them with its taint as well. They were not angered with the game's author, their rage instead fueled a [[Slaanesh|hedonistic greed and lust for money.]] They hiked model prices, and would later create [[Finecast]] to answer the prayers of their customers and bless them with the suck of paying more for the same models. Above all, they craved more codices, for the High Lords knew that only codices would garner for them the most money. | Ultimately, War of the Ring had failed as a game, garnered no fans, and made Games Workshop lose money. This angered the High Lords of Games Workshop, but the seed of evil which was revealed to them when Matthew Ward first showed them War of the Ring had infected them with its taint as well. They were not angered with the game's author, their rage instead fueled a [[Slaanesh|hedonistic greed and lust for money.]] They hiked model prices, and would later create [[Finecast]] to answer the prayers of their customers and bless them with the suck of paying more for the same models. Above all, they craved more codices, for the High Lords knew that only codices would garner for them the most money. | ||
Revision as of 14:01, 15 February 2020
This particular article was once on the Matt Ward page. Sadly, this article contributed to making that page a horrendous, cluttered mess. So it was moved here. Enjoy.
Descent into Madness
Some have speculated as to the origins of Matt Ward. In the before time, the monster known as Matt Ward was once a simple man, Matthew Ward. He might have even been a Complete wanker, like you or me. The only things he was known for publishing were small contributions to the occasional White Dwarf issue here and there. He was only known for being a Lord of the Rings player. He wrote a couple model fluff profiles and single-handedly crafted the Lothlorian list in White Dwarf. He was unknown, and tolerable for what he did.
BUT THEN, someone at GW commissioned Matthew Ward to write the War of the Ring rulebook. Matthew Ward thought to himself, full of gleeful pride and hope, "I can do this! This will make me the big Games Workshop publisher I have always dreamed of being!" Oh how horribly right he was. He locked himself in a small study with eight months worth of neckbeardy snacks and refused to leave until War of the Ring was finished. As the rulebook was forged, young Matthew poured his heart and soul into it, as any one of us would were we given the chance. "I want this to be perfect," he thought, "This has to be perfect!" He spent nights and days, wasting away the hours, a slave to his creation. In that room, a small tinge of evil, like a echo in the back of his mind, found its way into the deepest recesses of Matthew Ward's brain. Months later he emerged from his exile, manuscript clutched tightly to his chest, ready to face the GW execs and their publishers. By some unholy power, they accepted his creation, the evil born unto Matthew Ward swaying even the High Lords of Games Workshop
When the day had come for the War of the Ring to be unveiled, all of Games Workshop and all of its neckbeards were full of anticipation, waiting for an expansion of the LotR universe that wasn't rife with Hobbits, something many neckbeards and LotR fanboys have waited for for decades. It was to be the next big thing that Games Workshop would unveil, that thing that would reinvigorate all who saw it with a newfound love for the hobby, the answer to the prayers of the fans. Like Apocalypse. And true to Apocalypse form, when it was finally revealed to the public, everyone cheered. The applause and hopeful praise blotted out all other games for a brief time. But it was flawed and tainted, just like Apocalypse. In six months, nobody cared about it. Matthew Ward saw this, and it filled him with sadness and regret. "Why does nobody like my game?" he pined, "Why can't they see how much work I put into it, how much of myself was in that book?" It was true; Matthew Ward had put too much of himself, too much faith and hope, in that, his first and last rulebook. When it died, much of Matthew Ward died with it. And so the evil that had found its way into Matthew Ward seized the initiative, feeding off of his sorrow and doubt, attacking Matthew Ward where he was most vulnerable, and driving itself into every part of his brain, becoming one with what was left of the shattered man. What arose afterwards was a new, ungodly creature, the same one we all know and fear today; and it deemed that its stolen body should have a new name: Matt Ward.
Ultimately, War of the Ring had failed as a game, garnered no fans, and made Games Workshop lose money. This angered the High Lords of Games Workshop, but the seed of evil which was revealed to them when Matthew Ward first showed them War of the Ring had infected them with its taint as well. They were not angered with the game's author, their rage instead fueled a hedonistic greed and lust for money. They hiked model prices, and would later create Finecast to answer the prayers of their customers and bless them with the suck of paying more for the same models. Above all, they craved more codices, for the High Lords knew that only codices would garner for them the most money.
To answer this call, the creature now known as Matt Ward rose up and accepted the challenge. He created the WHFB Chaos Daemons first, which ought to have been a solid enough sign of things to come. The monster created this strange and terrible Codex in order to incite the most bitter and honest rage in any loyal fans of Warhammer 40000: the rage at an inordinately bad Codex. How bad this Codex was cannot be defined in mere words; it represents a violation so whole and thorough that it is difficult to quantify without seeing it first hand. It's not simply mechanically-fucked - it also completely destroys the fluff of Warhammer's daemons, simultaneously giving the finger to both wargamers and fluff-fans alike.
Ultimately, however, this first Codex was only a sign of what was later to come: the first of a long line of mechanically-broken codices with hideously mangled and mis-handled fluff he'd write - ones so bad that people quit the hobby in disgust. This pleases Matt Ward. And the icing on this heretical cake is that the Lords of Games Workshop are now delusionally addicted to Ward's constant stream of new codices, believing that they will bring in even more money to feed their greed. Just As Planned.
But, there is a New Hope.
In Games Workshop HQ, wheels have been set in motion to destroy this monstrosity forever, as there are some neckbeards there who will not let such atrocities rest idle. Phillipus Kellius and The Hamster strive to produce good codices. Adam Troke rewrote The Lord of the Rings game and beat the Dastardly Being in the opening battle report. Jervis Johnson continues to be awesome. Games Workshop is not doomed yet, as long as these brave souls carry on their Eternal Quest to bring down the Destroyer of Versimilitude, He Who Murdered The Grey Knights and the Chairman of Rawbutt Girlyman's Fanclub, then the neckbeards may yet have armies with good fluff, rules that suit them and HQ's who don't kill Daemons on a 2+.
Alternative theory on his madness in the form of an enticing story: http://1d4chan.org/wiki/File:Slaanesh's_sacrifice.pdf