StockNES

The UC provides permission and whatever assistance it can to connect democratic governments from across the Atlantic, and to facilitate attendance of Californian representatives to the European democratic conference, even if the UC itself is not permitted to attend the conference.
 
The English Trade Federation will facilitate the transport of North American delegates from London to Berlin.
 
The Californian Republic thank the UC and English Federation for their assistance in our attendance to the Congress of Berlin.
 
On the War Front

The base commander was just sitting down for lunch in the mess hall for the higher up officers when a messenger ran right up to him and saluted.

“Sir, we just got a message over the radio from headquarters to delay our offensive campaign towards the Panama Canal until further notice. The generals would like to speak to you directly in more detail as soon as possible.”

The commander was intrigued by this new development but was disappointed that this interruption had to happen during pasta day which was by far his favorite meal that was served here. He looked down glumly at the untouched food wishing he had time to finish it before heading off to the communications building to contact the generals, but he knew that when they said ‘as soon as possible’ that they meant it. As he stood up to get ready to head out he caught the messenger eyeing his noodles enviously; from what the commander had heard the lower-level soldiers usually didn’t get served anything as good.

“Thanks Private for bringing me the news, please inform the lieutenants as well.”

The messenger nodded, saluted, and then ran back off to complete this task. The commander exited the mess hall into the sweltering sunlight to head over to the radio building, at the same time wondering what the generals were planning. A muddy swamp stretched the entire length between the two buildings, caused by the ceaseless marching of boots, the almost as common crossings of the Calvary brigades, and a fair amount of rainfall. Both the building he had just exited and the one he was heading to still looked more like the Venezuelan office buildings they had been before being captured, repurposed, and modified as a temporary base of operations for the Army. In fact most of the base was a repurposed small-town that had been captured only two weeks ago which explained its makeshift nature. The Mexican army was making steady progress through Panama which was why the commander was eager to find out why the plan had changed from continuing to push the offensive. According to the intelligence the commander had seen the next line of defense the Venezuelan army had taken was vulnerable to a siege of artillery and Calvary forces so the reason had to lie somewhere outside of tactical planning, but he guessed he was just about to find out why anyway…
 
Hello everyone, I'm posting to indicate that, though progress on the update is good (and it's looking like a very fun turn) I will have to finish it after a significant work deadline on the 11th. So I'm estimating the update will be posted this weekend or a day or two afterwards, a bit of a longer wait than usual. I'd also like to say I'm enjoying the stories and world building.

Anyway, today I was able to finish some communications maps to give players an idea of the distance they can easily communicate and conduct diplomacy in a given turn.

Everything unshaded I would consider sufficiently close for easy and clear communications for the countries listed. The shaded area represents regions countries can reach with some effort, but could still maintain a conversation over a single turn. Everything in black would require an explicit order to reach and begin contact with - so a deal or a negotiation can't happen within a single year.

While there isn't any technical limit on the distance countries can trade and travel (any coastal country could send a boat to any other coastal country if they wanted) this is the usually travelled distance of your merchants/military. If an NPC received a message beyond in the black area, they'd respond by asking who the hell you are, for example, as information about your country would be more limited for them (and likewise for you). None of these maps necessarily indicate whether you get news updates from other parts of the world though, it's merely day-to-day communication.

The maps were made based off my memory of my trade notes and my knowledge of terrain and related factors in communication, so consider these a rough estimate that you can use to base conceptions of distance (I already feel I've underrepresented Arctic communications b/c I'm Mollweide-biased). Maps are organized by region, though some countries at the bottom have particularly unique distances of communication:

European Fog (all European states except Turkey, Russia and England):
Spoiler :


East Coast Fog (Canada, UC, WU, Mississippi, Mexico)
Spoiler :


West Coast Fog (Prairies, Cascadia, California)
Spoiler :


South American Fog (all South American states except La Plata)
Spoiler :


Middle Eastern Fog (Turkey, Egypt, Iraq, Arab Sultanates, Iran, Caucasian Union)
Spoiler :


West African Fog (Algeria, Mali, Burkina Faso, Nigeria, Congo)
Spoiler :


East African Fog (Ethiopia, Tanzania, Swahililand, Katanga, Zambia)
Spoiler :


Indian Fog (Pakistan, Ganges, Maharashtra, Hyderabad, Odisha, Bengal)
Spoiler :


South East Asian Fog (Thailand, Vietnam, Indonesia)
Spoiler :


Central Asian Fog (Kashmir, Kashgaria, Afghanistan, Tibet)
Spoiler :


East Asian Fog (China, FER, Japan, Tohoku)
Spoiler :


Australasian Fog (Australia, New Zealand)
Spoiler :


--

La Platan Fog
Spoiler :


English Fog
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Russian Fog
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South African Fog
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I'll try to write a story. :)
 
I would like to join as the Congo after the update. As I understand the current Congolese state is nationalist, quasi-Baathist?
 
@JoanK: yay I like stories

@spaceman98: that's a good summary of the Congo yeah; you'd be taking the only other nationalist left on the planet besides France. The country will be reserved for you when the update comes out.
 
Algeria
Spoiler :

Algeria's leader, Tekil Amun, brought much new land to the nation. King Tekil was very cruel to the people of conquered lands. Riots broke out all over the country, many people killed, much land destroyed. In 2198, 2 teams of elite soldiers were sent by a man named Parker Moret to the cities of Rabat and Algiers. The team at Rabat struck first, creating a distraction that would attract the attention of the army. Meanwhile, the team in Algiers went into the palace of Tekil Amun, killed everyone in sight, and captured the king. Parker met with the King, and after calling much of the city to the palace, Parker shot the king, proclaiming himself the new ruler of Algeria.

Parker Moret, now the king of this nation, did have a lot of knowledge on Algeria's current situation. For many years before the coup he used stolen technology to listen in on the government's conversations. He gave the knowledge to the public in the form of a newspaper, not known to the government of course. Parker was a 36 year old man, with one son and two daughters. Parker II, age 12, Margaret, age 14, and Ashley, age 16. His wife, now the Queen, was Chelsea, age 34. She had some power in this form of government, however, her political ideas are almost identical to Parker's, so it didn't matter much.

A major idea that got supporters excited and that Parker put into action almost straight away was having 2 levels of government, as Tekil Amun and his counsil were the only ones in power before. There would be 5 "counties" all having the power to propose ideas and complaints to the king, and each could be given a unique set of laws by the king. All would be similar, but adjusted to account for environmental and cultural differences. There would be 5 counties. Central Algeria, Chad, Niger, West Saharan, and Libya. Algiers is capital of Central Algeria and the country, Chad's capital is the newly founded Chad City, Niger's capitol is New Niamey, West Saharan's capital is Rabat, and Libya's capital is Tripoli.

King Parker faced little opposition, but there were still those who preferred Tekil's way of ruling. A new Anti-County party started to grow in West Saharan county. After this, King Parker and his supporters became known as The County Party, and The Anti-County Party led by a mysterious woman named Madison Smith was formed in Rabat.

Only time would tell if King Parker could put this nation back on track...

(First attempt at a story, may be absolute rubbish.)
 

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Well, for one, those are all very English names. You'd think there'd be more anti-English sentiment after the Anglo-Algerian War. XD
 
The smell of gasoline and its bubbling sound upon being poured from a few cans silenced the song of some lonely bird singing from afar and the stench of the sewers somewhere in the small town of Jequitaí. With barely a few thousand people, the intermittent settlement barely qualified as a town, much less now that the front was on the close river Sao Francisco. It had been a divisional headquarters for the royalists just months ago, but it lay now just behind the Federation's troops. Before the place could be allowed to thrive again with prostitution and entertainment for soldiers on leave, it had to cleared.

That was why the Militia for Counter-Revolutionary Suppression was sent in. Captain Rui Fernandes, merely 28, commanded the seventy-odd men sent to find out any subversive elements remaining. Just upon arrival they found some people were already taking justice into their own hands. Perhaps paradoxically for a repression force, they rapidly quenched the popular lynchings through their federal authority and organised the local mobs into searching squads. On the second day, they found a stash of monarchist weapons. The owner of the house was arrested, and that afternoon was spent burning the victims of indiscriminate violence, which had been left to rot hanging from trees or even just lying in the middle of the street, where some had been stoned while en route to wherever their hanging was due. Nothing but contempt was held for the dead, and nothing but misery awaited their families, if they survived. Fernandes was there, with a medical mask and latex gloves, giving instructions, looking with martial, ice-cold dead eyes at the desolation around him. If someone had even tried to look into them, however, he would have noticed a reflection of disgust and contempt that rarely poured into his words for the locals.

While the whole town was busy taking care of the dead, some of Fernandes' men were on duty, searching for hideouts and evidence of royalist activity. An abandoned factory was put under vigilance, and after a week, Captain Fernandes had a list of almost one hundred people who had visited it, alone or in couples, forming groups of up to thirty people at times. Fernandes' spent Friday night in his office, with men coming in occasionally. Any of them would have said that he looked tired. That he looked older. On Sunday, the Militia surrounded the factory. Their aim was to round up the twenty-odd people that were supposed to be reunited there, while some of his lieutenants lead the popular squads to arrest everyone else on the list.

All was going according to plan, but no plan can stand contact with reality, and gunfire soon broke from inside the factory. After a brief exchange, two militiamen were dead and nine more had been wounded. Fernandes reluctantly ordered his men to use all firepower available, grenades were thrown, and soon the façade had been wrecked and what still stood was ablaze. A charred body, still on flames, suddenly fell as a floor collapsed, surfacing the wreckage oddly twisted. No shots were heard any more, but suddenly a cry louder, higher-pitched and worse than any shot that was ever fired could be heard. It became a long, desperate howl as a man, still burning and still alive came out of a door on the second floor and charged against the Militia, standing still in fright as long as that horrible sound continued. The human fireball leaped into the void in its blind charge, falling through the broken planks that had once been an office floor, and diving head first into the smouldering ruins of the façade. Fernandes turned away and could barely hold from throwing up, but tears were already running through his face. Nothing, not the summary executions, not the petty gunfights, not even the hangings he had seen and even been an active part in back in Sao Paulo had prepared him for such a horrible cry and such a horrible death.

In total, three militiamen died and fourteen were wounded, none severely. Another six charred corpses were found inside, and another sixteen people surrendered. Once they were disarmed and lined up against the wall for identification, Fernandes in person shot them one by one. Only then did he throw up. Angrily, he ordered his men to pile up the bodies, but it was he who picked a gasoline can from a jeep and poured it on the corpses. The smell of gasoline and its bubbling sound upon being poured from a can silenced the song of some lonely bird singing from afar and the stench of the sewers.

Captain Fernandes lighted the fire. The town was clear.
 
I really like your story JoanK.
 
Thanks! I wasn't too happy, but I have been out for the weekend and I feared I may miss the update. :)
 
:bump:
 
Thanks JoanK, I can assure you and everyone else the update is being worked on steadily, it's been mostly done in fact since this Saturday, however constant incoming assignments from school and model UN have stopped me from finishing up the written portions of the three most complicated parts of the update. I'm aiming to finish by Friday, and I'm excited about the events which you'll all learn have transpired this turn. :)
 
Great! I just get nervous after a week without news. :)
 
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