One of the unexpected benefits of buying a reliable 3D printer isn’t the terrain it produces.

It’s the thinking time.

Mine has been absolutely smashing through kits lately. Once it was assembled and dialled in, it simply got on with the job. Instead of constantly checking failed prints or troubleshooting problems, I found myself wandering around the hobby room while another building or piece of scenery slowly appeared on the print bed.

That quiet time led me somewhere I wasn’t expecting.

Rediscovering Old Projects

While the printer hummed away, I started opening boxes and folders that I hadn’t touched in years.

One of the first things I found was my old Mordheim campaign folder.

Inside were warband sheets, campaign notes and years of memories from one of Games Workshop’s greatest specialist games. Looking through it reminded me of the incredible community-produced hardcover edition that bundled together all of the expansions. I missed the chance to buy one when they were available, and I’ve regretted it ever since.

I actually saw one in person when Scott Reed brought his copy to PAX while Trent was visiting last year. It looked fantastic. Maybe one day I’ll replace my old folder with something a little more permanent.

Digging further uncovered another surprise: old wargaming magazines I’d almost forgotten I owned.

Issues of Miniature Maneuvers.

A battered copy of Wargamers Digest from March 1976.

Real pieces of Australian wargaming history.

I honestly can’t even remember where some of them came from.

The Problem Every Hobbyist Understands

The longer I searched through the shelves, the more I realised something.

I don’t actually have a shortage of things to do.

I have the opposite problem.

There are too many great games.

Too many miniature ranges.

Too many ideas.

Every week I watch another creator who inspires me to start something completely different.

Lately it’s been Martin from The Seventh Son. His solo narrative campaigns using Guards of Traitor’s Toll have been fantastic to watch. They’re exactly the sort of story-driven miniature gaming that reminds me why I fell in love with this hobby in the first place.

Then there’s the Wild West.

Mordheim.

Legends of the High Seas.

Dice bags I’d like to start sewing again.

Terrain projects.

Painting projects.

Historical projects.

Fantasy projects.

It’s almost impossible to focus when every direction looks like fun.

I suspect I’m not the only one with that problem.

Collecting Isn’t Always About Playing

Eventually I found the shelves full of rulebooks.

Some are current.

Many aren’t.

Old editions of Flames of War.

Dead Man’s Hand.

Empire of the Dead.

Pulp City.

Frostgrave.

The Age of Sigmar General’s Handbook I bought with every intention of jumping into the game… and never did.

A previous edition of the Middle-earth Strategy Battle Game.

The funny thing is, I probably won’t play most of these.

Some of them I’ll never play.

But I still enjoy owning them.

Rulebooks aren’t just rules. They’re artwork. Photography. Painting inspiration. World building. Ideas.

Sometimes I’ll pull one off the shelf simply to flick through it with a coffee in hand.

That alone makes them worth keeping.

So… What Do You Do?

Which brings me to the question I’ve been asking myself.

What do you do with old rulebooks?

When a new edition comes out, do you sell the previous one?

Do you donate it?

Or do you keep it because it’s part of your own hobby history?

I’m finding it surprisingly difficult to let mine go.

Maybe it’s because every shelf in this room represents a different chapter of the hobby. Every rulebook reminds me of a project I started, a game I played, or one I dreamed about playing someday.

Sometimes collecting isn’t about completing everything.

Sometimes it’s simply about remembering why you started in the first place.

I’d genuinely love to know where everyone else sits on this.

Are you ruthless when it comes to clearing old books out, or are your shelves starting to look a little like mine?