Gilgamesh, God-King of the Ancient Sumerians, had awoken too early. The world still lay encased in ice. Harsh snows occasionally reached as far south as the equatorial deserts where he had lain himself to rest in anticipation of rising to lead his people. Gilgamesh glanced at his unfathomable deific alarm clock and saw that it was, indeed, set to go off a full 14,000 years earlier than he could have sworn he had set it for. He shook his hoary head. Blasted new-fangled contraptions. But there was no use turning over now. He was awake, and the world would suffer for the temerity of that accursed clock.
Gilgamesh pushed aside the massive block protecting the door to his temple and surveyed the land. His people were crude, too crude. They wrapped themselves in uncured hides, and drank from hollowed-out gourds. They picked wild berries and ate skinny conies raw. How was even a god supposed to work with this? They did not even recognize him for his magnificence, threatening him with clubs fashioned from knobbled tree roots. As the vanguard of the attack lay smoldering in the desert sands, Gilgamesh basked in the respect he so richly deserved. Ready or not, it was time to found his empire.
But the pestilent flood plains were too rich for his primitive people. They would suffer and die, as the Mali had in so many other worlds. And, though the muck would yield stunted trees and the occasional smooth pebble, no real industry would be possible here. Gilgamesh had two real options: east to the coast or north into the mountains. The coast was promising, with fresh salt air and protein-packed seafood to keep his people healthy. But empires are built on production, not health. And besides, as glaciers melt, oceans rise. Therefore, Uruk would be founded inland:
All told, we have three "dead" plots in our capital: A desert and two mountains. But the rest of the workable area is fantastic: Wheat, Flood Plains, one of which includes a Plantation resource, Plains Hills (which hopefully hide metal), and Stone just begging to be Quarried. For good measure, there even stood an Oasis waiting to nourish our civilization until some of our other plots came online. Gilgamesh was not overjoyed, but he was surely pleased.
Our doughty Warriors (those that had survived Gilgamesh's wrath) made their way west, where they found Ancient Aliens on the coast of what was surely the Mediterranean:
These strange, grey-skinned beings pointed out how best to pen in the herds of Cows, Horses and Sheep that roamed the lands, as well as some stuff about draining their blood and, ah, "probing" them. After some "missing time," the Warriors returned to Uruk with their knowledge and promised never to speak of their experiences again.
As the Sumerians continued to study Bronze Working and continued to train a band of Workers, Gilgamesh began to meet the neighbors. Most of them were the usual meet-and-greets, the common promises of "Peace in our time," and Cautiously going on our separate ways. One fellow Ice Ager, though, was less inclined to niceties:
Admittedly, no war has been declared, and indeed our "Worst enemy" status was quickly taken over by Mansa Musa. Still, one Warrior isn't gonna cut it with Shaka on the loose, so we got to training another (this will also allow us to grow our population).
So here we stand, 900 years after rising from our grave:
We don't have Copper, and Iron is prohibitively expensive to research. We do have Copper to the north, though, and it could be corralled in by founding a city on either of those desert plots up there on that peninsula. I'm kind of partial to the one 2N of the Copper, since that would also rope in more than enough food, but that would require a Settler and a border pop. Which would, in turn, require Mysticism and a Monument (assuming we're not lucky enough to snag a religion). So what should we do? Cross our fingers and pray for Iron? Train a Settler and send them north? northwest for all those sweet, sweet resources? Or eastward into Persia? I look forward to more discussion!