You approach with holy items: Lynx Africa body spray, Listerine, and the QR code for the beginners league WhatsApp.

“New rule,” you announce. “Everyone follows the hygiene policy, and we welcome all skill levels.”

The Gatekeeper recoils as if struck. “But… but… new players will ruin everything! And… this is my manly odour?”

You incant prayers in latin as you bless him with the body spray.

With a hiss like air escaping a cursed tire, he begins to deflate. “This… this isn’t… my kind of store anymore…”

He shambles toward the exit, muttering about “the good old days” and “when games were pure.” The door closes behind him, and you feel the temperature rise by five degrees as his presence fades.

Victory! The store can breathe again. But wait—what’s that sound?

“Acktuuuually…”

The word echoes through your store like nails on a chalkboard. You spin around to find him materializing from the shadows between your rulebook shelves.

The Codex Crypt Kreeper

His pallid face emerges first, followed by his pointing finger (already extended), and finally his entire form, clutching a phone displaying seventeen open forum tabs.

“I couldn’t help but notice,” he intones with the confidence of someone who’s never been contradicted, “that you were explaining the rules of 40k to yourself just now. Incorrectly, I might add.”

You weren’t playing 40k. You were performing an exorcism with deodorant.

“According to this thread from 2019, and cross-referencing with this Reddit post from a guy who once played with the cousin of a playtester, the proper way to play is using this youtube channel”

What do you do?

OPTION A: Challenge him directly. “You’re wrong, and here’s why…” You’ll match him fact for fact, rules citation for rules citation, until he admits defeat.

OPTION B: The nuclear option: Get out the rulebook and make him read it for the first item ever.