There is Only War
The Philly Game Shop
521 – 525 S 5th Street
Philadelphia
September 5 – 19, 2024
There Is Only War, a Fringe Festival two-hander played for an audience of four at a table in The Philly Game Shop, takes place over a few rounds of a father-son Warhammer 40K game.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many dice in one place. I was bewildered watching one player take out a tape measure to gauge the range of his laser attack, roll 23 dice at once to calculate hits and damage, and learn that ultimately, his flashy laser didn’t put a dent in his opponent’s army of semi-psychic orcs.
Despite the intrigue and absurdity of the game mechanics playing out before my eyes, what fascinated and moved me most about the play within a game was the relationship between its players. The piece, devised and performed by real-life father-son duo Sam and Max Henderson, and directed for an extremely intimate audience by MK Tuomanen, creates space for vulnerable, sobering, and heartfelt conversations that would otherwise be difficult for a parent and child to have.
While we waited for the last member of the table to arrive, Sam, the father of the pair, asked the rest of us if we were familiar with Warhammer 40K. Gazing across the dozens of partially-but-lovingly painted miniature figures positioned across the table, we all shook our heads. He assured us that was all right.
I couldn’t tell you what parts of the game were real Warhammer gameplay and what parts were exaggerated for dramatic effect. I don’t think it mattered too much; there are even a few jokes about the numerous and cumbersome rules involved. The narrative also preferred to direct our attention elsewhere.
In an early phase of the game, as one member of the pair planned and executed his attack, the other would hold up index cards to the rest of us at the table, each of which explaining why this game, and this game shop, were so meaningful to the father-son duo. Some of Sam’s cards noted that while their family never had much money, the tables at the Philly Game Shop were free to use, and the staff were always kind and helpful, even when they weren’t buying anything. Some of Max’s cards mentioned that Warhammer was one of few ways he was able to connect and have quality time with his dad. This index card exposition, while simple, quickly softened my heart and had me invested in the pair and their game.
As performers, the pair were natural in roles that I would speculate aren’t too far removed from their actual selves. Sam shined as a charming, nerdy, passionate father excited to share the game with his son, while being keenly aware and troubled by how the lore of the game reflects far too many of the dark realities of the world beyond the table. Max reminded me a bit of myself as a teenager, trying to convince us with his words that he’s just playing this silly game against his will at the behest of his dad, while frequently showing with his actions how much love he has for them both. The climax of the piece brought abundant maturity and vulnerability out of them both, as they flipped the norms of the father-son relationship on their head while using the miniature figures on the table to tell each other the things that are the hardest to say.
Throughout the piece, a few interactive moments allowed us as the audience to engage in gameplay in small ways, like counting up a dice roll here, or repositioning a unit there. These moments set the stage for my favorite part of the piece, where Sam and Max release themselves from both the standard lore and rules of the game, and instead decide, together and with us, to create an experience and future to feel joyous and hopeful about.
I squealed with joy when Sam handed me two of the miniatures and said that these soldiers had been fighting alongside one another for decades but had never kissed, and it was up to me to make them confess their love to each other at long last. Each of us at the table received a similar prompt for how to create a better world for the previously warring miniatures. It reminded me a lot of the last stage direction in James Ijames’ play Fat Ham, which says that “the play cracks open,” which it very much did at that table in The Philly Game Shop.
While the lore of Warhammer 40K may state that “In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war,” the Hendersons and Tuomanen offer hope that, together, we can find or create something else too.
Still Playing: There Is Only War runs through Sept. 19; get tickets here.
