Weekly Waffle #416 – The Grumpy, Unmovable Meatloaf

18th April 2026

The Mojo:

Welcome back to this week’s weekly waffle and amongst this weeks updates I am also trying out a little bit of a change to the flow of waffle. Trying to add a little bit of structure to help me keep things on track. But don’t worry it’s not a wholesale change to the content. Just trying to break things down into sections so that it’s easier to read, easier to find things, and easier for me not to forget things.

It’s been a good week this week even though I haven’t actually got a lot completed. Lots of travel for work has given me some time to do a bit of planning so I have now have a road map of projects for the next few months. It doesn’t mean I’m going to stick to it if I see something new and shiny. But I have a plan and I think there is enough verity in there to keep the mojo high.

I may mix and match the order depending on how much time I have and to make sure I don’t get board of one thing but I’m positive I will have something to share with you for the next few months. And I shouldn’t be scrabbling about trying to decide what to paint.

On the Workbench:

On the workbench this week I have a couple of things I want to share with you. The first is more about trying to make sure I can get the most out of any hobby time I have. I’ve been using odd bits of time what I have during the day to start to build and clean up minis that I may not be going to paint for some time. When I get five minuets here or ten their, and I think it’s going to be a game changer.

There is nothing worse than starting a new project with the mojo on top form. But instead of getting straight into putting colour on the mini you spend a whole session just clipping, gluing and sanding. You know you have to do it but it can sap the enthusiasm from a project before you have even started. So I’m starting to set myself up for success by getting this boring step done up front.

I could even go as far as multi tasking on a boring work call by cleaning up some minis ready for a future project. Taking things a little further and getting everything primed up front can really save some time. They are little things but they I’m hopping to keep this practice up and to reap the benefits in the future.

The main thing I have bee working on this week have been more Dwarf to accompany Bugman on the Blood Bowl pitch I’ve broken the work down into a few manageable chunks and they are based on the players position. Starting off with the Linemen, just because there are more of them than any other position.

On the colour front I’ve taken the same a roach as I did for Bugmen by starting from a black undercoat with an ivory dry brush to pick out the highlights. I know this is a cheats way of doing things but it really helps keep on track as to where the highlights and shadows fall.

When it came to colours I like the turquoise blue that is on the box art for the dwarves and that I had already used for Bugman. So I decide to not really change things up and stayed with that. Afterall I want Bugman to feel right at home in whatever form he joins the team. I’m not sure if I’ve go the colours exactly the same but I like them and more importantly I think it’s something I can replicate across the rest of the team. I’ve kept it simple with the turquoise for the shirt and armour and a light brown or buff colour for the trousers. Noting fancy but I think it work quite well.

To try and add some variety to the team, with the minis being quite standard, I’ve mixed up the colour that I used for the hair. So some are full on ginger whilst some have a blonder tint to them. Part of the thinking behind the blond is that I will work with a mixed team of Norse men so I’m future proofing things to some extent.

But enough of me waffling on about them. What do you thin of them.

Painted tabletop dwarf miniature in blue and gold armor, wielding twin blades, on a grassy base marked 'Thunderbraid'.

Painted miniature of a dwarf warrior in blue armor with a red beard, holding a shield, standing on a grassy base labeled 'Thrain Thrice-Cursed'.

Painted tabletop miniature: blue-armored dwarf figure on a grassy base, nameplate reads 'Ult Underfoot'.

Miniature figure of Trogan Alebrewer, a blue-skinned warrior with gold trim, standing on grassy base.

Miniature figure of a muscular armored warrior in blue and gold, crouching on a grassy base marked 'Barik Farblast'.

Miniature figure in blue and gold armor kneeling on grass, base labeled 'Grum Thunderbraid'.

Painted dwarf warrior miniature in blue armor, pointing forward with a shield, on a grassy base labeled Grim Ironjaw.

Painted dwarf warrior miniature in blue armor with an orange cape, raising a shield on a grassy rocky base labeled Thrain Thrice-Cursed.

Painted fantasy miniature of a blue-armored warrior with a brown shield, standing on a grassy base; edge text reads 'Ulli Underfoot'.

Fantasy miniature of a blue-and-gold armored fighter with a long golden cloak, standing on a grassy base; base reads 'Trogan Alebrewer'

Tabletop fantasy miniature of Barik Farblast, a dwarf in teal armor with a red beard on a grassy base with a 'Barik Farblast' banner.

Miniature of Grum Thunderbraid dwarf in blue and gold armor, crouching on a rocky base with tufts of grass.

Fantasy dwarf miniature in blue armor with yellow trim, standing on a grassy base labeled Grim Ironjaw.

You can find more images on the Blood Bowl Gallery Blood Bowl | TerminatorTids

Tactical deep dive

Now then sports fans, and welcome back to another slice of the Weekly Waffle. Take a load off, grab a cold bugman’s, and let’s settle into the dugout for a bit of a chinwag about the absolute bedrock of the Old World’s favorite pastime. Now, if you’ve spent any time at all around a Blood Bowl pitch, you’ve probably noticed that while the Wardancers are busy doing backflips and the Gutter Runners are scurrying about like caffeinated rats, there is a very specific type of player who simply… exists. They don’t move fast, they don’t jump high, and they certainly don’t care about your feelings. I am, of course, talking about the Dwarf Lineman, or as I like to call them, the “Bearded Speedbumps of Doom.”

To really understand why these stout fellows are the way they are, we have to look at the history books, specifically the ones written in stone and kept in very dusty holds. Legend has it that Dwarfs didn’t even want to play Blood Bowl at first because they couldn’t understand why you’d bother chasing a ball when there were perfectly good holes to dig and gold to count. But once they realized that Nuffle’s sacred game provided a legally sanctioned excuse to punch an Elf in the face repeatedly for ninety minutes, they were all in. The Lineman is the purest expression of that cultural shift. They aren’t there for the glory or the highlight reels. They are there because someone told them to hold a very specific patch of grass, and by Myrmidia, they are going to hold it until the heat death of the universe or the final whistle, whichever comes first.

In the grand narrative of a Blood Bowl match, the Dwarf Lineman is the ultimate blue collar worker. While the Blitzers are the flashy stars and the Troll Slayers are the lunatics looking for a glorious death, the Lineman is the guy who shows up to work with a lunch pail, a thick leather helmet, and a grudge that dates back to the War of the Beard. They represent the stubbornness of their entire race. You see, a Dwarf doesn’t view the pitch as a field of play; they view it as a fortification that happens to have a ball on it. When they line up on that center stripe, they aren’t thinking about touchdowns. They are thinking about the structural integrity of their opponent’s ribcage and how much they dislike the smell of Nurgle teams.

Let’s talk about the actual “job description” for these lads when the dice start rolling. If you’re coaching a Dwarf team, your Linemen are your meat and potatoes. Actually, they’re more like the cast-iron pot the potatoes are cooked in. Their primary role is to be utterly, infuriatingly immovable. Thanks to that glorious “Block” skill they all come pre-packaged with, they are statistically some of the most reliable players in the game from the moment they step onto the turf. Most teams have to spend games and games praying for an MVP award just to get their line fodder to learn how to throw a proper punch without falling over. Not the Dwarfs. They come out of the womb knowing how to set their feet and brace for impact. It’s why playing against them feels like trying to run through a brick wall that also happens to hate you.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “But Waffle, they’re so slow! My grandmother moves faster than a Dwarf Lineman, and she’s been dead since the Second Age!” And you’re right. They have the movement allowance of a particularly lethargic glacier. But here’s the thing about Blood Bowl: you don’t need to be fast if the other guy is lying face down in the dirt. The Dwarf Lineman’s role is to dictate the pace of the game by simply refusing to let the opponent go anywhere. They are the masters of the “tackle zone” grind. By the time an opposing coach realizes they’ve been sucked into a midfield scrap with four or five Longbeards, it’s usually too late. The Linemen lock them down with “Tackle,” ensuring that those slippery Elves and Goblins can’t just dodge away on a whim. It’s a claustrophobic way to play the game, and the Lineman is the one tightening the screws.

Behind the scenes, there’s a certain philosophy to the Lineman that gets overlooked. They are the ultimate team players because they allow the specialists to do their thing. A Runner can’t make a break for the end zone if he’s being swarmed by Orcs. A Slayer can’t go hunting for a Minotaur if he’s worried about being outflanked. The Lineman is the silent guardian who takes the hits so the stars can shine. They’ll stand there and take a beating from an Ogre for four turns straight, losing half their teeth in the process, and when they finally get back up, they’ll just spit out a bit of blood and ask if it’s their turn to hit back yet. That’s “Thick Skull” for you, it’s not just a rule on a card; it’s a lifestyle choice. It’s the physiological manifestation of being too stubborn to realize you should be unconscious.

In the locker room, I imagine the Dwarf Lineman is the one complaining about the quality of the post game ale while meticulously polishing his brass knuckles. There’s a certain dignity in their simplicity. They don’t need fancy mutations or magical boots. Give them a sturdy pair of boots and a clear directive to “stop that guy,” and they are happy. Or, well, as happy as a Dwarf gets, which is usually a sort of low level grumble that sounds like rocks grinding together. They are the players who make the “Dwarf Cage” possible, that slow-moving formation of bearded fury that moves down the pitch at the speed of a tectonic plate, crushing everything in its path. Without the Lineman, that cage falls apart. They are the corners, the sides, and the floor of that tactical nightmare.

What I find most fascinating about them is how they change the psychology of the opposing coach. When you look across the line and see a row of Dwarf Linemen, you aren’t thinking about how to outplay them. You’re thinking about how to survive them. You know that every block they throw is likely to succeed, and every block you throw against them is a gamble. They force you to play a “fair” game of Blood Bowl, which is the last thing any sane coach wants to do. They strip away the nonsense and turn the match into a contest of attrition. And in a contest of attrition, the Dwarf Linemen is king. They have the armor, they have the skills, and most importantly, they have the patience. They know that a game lasts sixteen turns, and they are perfectly happy to spend fifteen of those turns just leaning on you until something snaps.

If you’re new to the tabletop game, don’t make the mistake of ignoring your Linemen. It’s tempting to pour all your gold into the flashy positionals, but a Dwarf team lives and dies by its core. A well-placed Lineman can hold up an entire flank by himself, frustrating a much more expensive player and forcing your opponent to commit more resources than they wanted to.

They are the ultimate value for money investment in the hobby. They don’t ask for much, they don’t complain about being put in harm’s way, and they rarely let you down when the chips are down and the 1s start appearing on the dice.

So, next time you see a Dwarf Lineman on the pitch, don’t just see a slow guy with a beard. See the centuries of tradition, the mountain-sized ego, and the tactical brilliance of a player who knows exactly what he is: a roadblock with a grudge. They are the heartbeat of the team, the immovable object that the irresistible force eventually gives up on and goes home. They might not get the MVP very often, and they’ll never be the top scorers in the league, but without them, the world of Blood Bowl would be a lot less interesting, and a lot less bruised.

Here’s to the Linemen, the unsung heroes of the hold, and may their armor always hold true when a Rat Ogre comes knocking. Until next week, keep your head down and your guard up.

The Wrap Up

That’s all I have for you this week. I have lots on the workbench for you with a mix of Blood Bowl, Carnevale and Trench Crusade in the works. I may end up throwing in some random shiny things but that is what I have planned at the moment.

Work is manic so my hobby time is quite limited but I do think I will have updates each week for you. I hope you like the new format of the Weekly Waffle and the site in general. I’m aiming to keep the Chronicles in line with the Weekly Waffle updates and the Blueprints will be making its first appearance in the not too distant future.

So until next week I hope you all keep safe and that the hobby gods shine only. I’ll be back the same time next week.

Red Rose Wargaming

Trapped Under Plastic

Tabletop Dominion