But there are some gamers who seem to feel that a gaming room is in fact a lecture room, where they can corner their captive audience and then disgorge (unasked, mind you) a veritable smorgasbord of mind-numbing trivia about the troops you have displayed on the field.
So you are gathered around the table trying to focus on your next move when - unbidden and unwelcome - the Expert appears. This sometimes involves the Expert hovering over your shoulder for a while and then (usually just after you've failed a crucial morale test) he will begin.
He will explain what your troops would have done historically, why your paint scheme is wrong, where you went wrong tactically on that move and what he would have done differently. Then we move to what they typically had for breakfast, how much the equipment they carried actually weighed and the outcome of the battle you're playing out (with a slide show and PA system if they could get away with it).
But this is not to impart information really. Oh no, this is to belittle you for your ignorance of not knowing (among other things) the colour of buttons sported by the 14th Hussars of the French army of 1812 or the insignia and colour of mudguards of the truck towing a Pak 75 into battle on the Eastern Front in 1943. The Expert automatically claims a form of superiority over you because they know something that you don't. In fact, several hundred things that you don't.
These guys have an encyclopedic knowledge of (it appears) every period in history. I say appears because you don't really know if they are actually telling the truth or just making it up as they go along. So if he says that the Carthaginian African Spears had gold trim on their jockstraps, then I have to admit that I wouldn't have a clue if that was BS or not.
And it is the level of detail that appalls me. The piffling nonsense that a certain type of nut was used to hold the turret together on a Cromwell tank, or that French cannon were made from bronze supplied by Pierre L'escargot of Dieppe. And its imparted in a way that suggests that you should bow and scrape in supplication to his genius as he has just explained the meaning to life, the universe and everything (rather than just bored you rigid with some turgid fact that no-one apart from the Expert cares about).
And that is the issue really. For me, it doesn't matter if my shade of green on my Russian tanks isn't 'quite right'. I know they're Russian - so it doesn't matter. Nor do I care if my Republican Romans sport the wrong colour shield. It doesn't matter. No-one will die if I paint a Parthian horse archer the wrong colour. The world will not end if I paint a unit of British Line infantry the wrong shade of red. Indeed, it can be fun getting something spectacularly wrong just to see their eyes light up in anticipation of giving you the equivalent of a kick in the seat of your pants for your schoolboy error ("So Tiger tanks weren't painted bright pink? Are you sure?")
As most gamers, I'll just smile, nod and try to block out the droning. After all, you can't walk away from the table (although claiming an urgent toilet break is a polite way of getting out of the line of fire but this is a one-shot option. After all, he'll probably still be there when you get back - then you have no more cards to play).
But there is one bright spot - when two 'Experts' clash and try to find each other out in a duel of military trivia, scoring points off each other in a battle of obscure knowledge every bit as ferocious as two lions fighting over a dead gazelle in a fight to the death. A fight which no-one else is remotely interested in as they finally have some peace and quiet to get on with the fun bit of gaming - namely swearing at terrible dice rolls.