Desperation Morale Website Update

I have been getting a lot of questions recently about the status of the update of the World of ASL Compendium on the Desperation Morale website.  I suppose an explanation is in order.

I am almost through with the update.  I finished taking all the pictures and cropping and resizing them during the holiday weekend and today.  I now have to insert the pictures into the new entries, go over all the entries for final revisions, do an entry for late arrival Winpack 2, upload them, and link check.

I have spent a number of weekends and several vacation days to do all this.  The amount of ASL products released since September was just tremendous and it imposed a huge workload on me.  Doing the update deprived me of a lot of time I could have used for playing, designing, or even (gasp) chores.

I may be able to have the update posted by Monday or Tuesday evening, assuming real life does not intervene.

However, I must say that I am at a crossroads regarding the World of ASL compendium.  The flood of ASL products right now is such that maintaining the site as is represents a major burden for me.  I don't know how long I could continue to do it without experiencing burnout.

As a result, I may have to revert to much shorter write-ups for the products than I have typically engaged in over the past five years.  Some people may not care about this, but I know others will be disappointed.  It's hard to see what else I can do.  I haven't made any final decision now--that will probably come when the time comes for me to do another update.  It is altogether strange to me that I am beginning to wish fewer products would come out.

Anyway, that's the latest.  My best wishes to all of you for the new year.

Update: 12/27/2011:  The Compendium is now updated.

The Phase Before Christmas

‘Twas the phase before Christmas, when all through the house,

Not a leader was stirring, not even the Youse.

The PIATS were hung by the chimney up high,

In hopes that a Panther might come lumbering by.

The half-squads were nestled all snug in their trenches,

With visions of ASLOK and wine and some wenches.

And Bret in his camo and I in my greys

Had just settled down for a nice Rally Phase.

When just one hex over there arose such a clatter

I quickly Self-Rallied to see what was the matter.

Down to Ground Level I flew like a flash,

Declared Wall Advantage and readied a Dash.

The Full Moon on the breast of the new-fallen Snow

Gave a Night Vision Range of at least 4 or so.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But an ungainly Sledge that was drawn by reindeer,

With an inherent driver, so likely and limber,

I knew in a moment it must be Saint Kibler.

More rapid than Marders his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

“Now, Sisler!  Now, Pleva!  Now Rönnblom and Perry!

On, Argent!  On, Grofaz!  On, Siddhu and Sherry!

To the Czerniakow Bridgehead!  To Aachen’s Pall! 

Now Rout away!  Rout away!  Rout away all!

As small Flames that into wild Blazes turn

When they meet with a Gust in a frenzy to burn,

So up to the Rooftop the reindeer they flew,

With the sledge of support weapons, and ol’ Charlie, too.

And then I sniffed something that wasn’t quite coffee

But rather the smell of a Nahverteidigungswaffe.

As I Advanced in the building to check out the smell

I saw Charlie Kibler on the Inherent Stairwell.

He was dressed in Winter Camo from his head to his foot,

And his garb was blackened with Dispersed Smoke and some soot.

A bundle of Panzerfausts he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a Hero preparing to attack.

His boards, how they glittered!   His SASLs how shiny!

His Red Oktober campaign game makes Barricades look tiny!

His droll little mouth was drawn up with conviction,

And the beard of his chin was as white as Mark Nixon.

A set of nice tweezers he held tight in his teeth,

And he sucked at the Handy-tak’ed tip for relief.

He had a dice cup and a nice little tower

That shook all his dice for at least half an hour.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf;

If he were a Commissar, he wouldn’t shoot you himself.

A glance at the ASOP and a check of VCs

Soon gave me to know I could now be at ease.

He spoke not a word, but soon went Berserk,

And dropped excess Portage Points, then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger on his CMG,

And giving a nod, he declared ESB.

He sprang to his Sledge, to his team gave a cry

And away they all flew like a Stuka up high.

But I heard him exclaim, ere I lost LOS,

“Happy Christmas to all, and all gamers God bless.”