BigTime
Prince
Awesome! I'm guessing its over with, is it?
King of the World #16: Julius Caesar
- Thread starter Neal
- Start date
Awesome! I'm guessing its over with, is it?
silentounce
Chieftain
- Joined
- Jan 12, 2008
- Messages
- 83
Exactly. 75%. AP requires 75% to win, always. What you are saying doesn't contradict what I said.
BigTime
Prince
Okay. Big update, here. Let's get to it.
Lord Julius pored over his maps and the logs from his Caravels' captains. The Roman king wasn't normally one to think scientifically, but reports that noon in the east Pacific corresponded to highsun in far-off Alaska was intriguing, to say the least. If the sun moved across the sky in a regular fashion, but if it was in both the far east and the far west at the same time...
"Eureka!" the emperor exclaimed, pounding his fist on the tabletop:
This well-kept secret of the world's roundness allowed Roman ships to plot courses with greater accuracy than their counterparts, speeding up their journeys considerably.
Things were going well for the empire. Commerce was flowing smoothly, the dark borders of the map were being pushed back by the lights of exploration and reason, and the people were productive, enjoying the brief respite of a peaceful Golden Age. Hostilities were ongoing with the Mali of Africa, but that was more of a "police action" that didn't affect most Romans back home. Even Kufah, a minor town on the Caspian Sea, experienced a minor population boom amidst tales of a gold rush. The Egyptian and Russian peoples completed the research projects set before them and promptly traded us Divine Right and Music. It was an idyllic time, full of merriment and joy:
Caesar smirked at the idea of a lavish wedding gift and politely declined. He had Hatshepsut wrapped around his little finger, anyway, and if she balked, Egypt stood no chance against the swords and Cannon of the Legions. The emperor may have been getting soft in this time of peace, but he was still a practical man.
This was also a time of fluorishing for the Buddhist faith. The University of Sankore was built in Parisiorum, and the Spiral Minaret was later built in Matrice. These Wonders, when combined with the bolstering effects of the Apostolic Palace and the Angkor Wat's benefits to the Priesthood, resulted in Buddhist Temples popping up across the supercontinent. Seizing upon the ideals of absolute monarchy and Divine Right, Caesar even ordered a renowned civil engineer to bend his talents to building a summer home in the once-strange lands of the Picts:
Versailles was lavish, and the parties hosted there by Caesar and the fetching Catherine were legendary. Even the upright Saladin was known to have ben dragged to a few by his Egyptian bride. Seven types of wine, from all over the empire, were served, along with fine French ham seared with imported Chinese spices. The Arab monarch, of course, did not sample this particular dish.
And yet Caesar was troubled. The Monarchy was a fine deal for him and his close circle of friends (it is, after all, good to be the king), but it was holding the empire back from the glories it might otherwise achieve. So, despite Catherine's protestations, the emperor turned over much of his power to the Senate (though the Legions still answered solely to him) and promised to give up many of his luxuries and observe a stricter form of religious observance:
The urban literati and specialists, seeing the dawn of a more progressive form of government, cherished their right to vote and contributed much to the Roman body of knowledge (and further improved our already powerful religious economy).
By 745, Timbuktu had fallen to Roman force of arms. Seeing his capital city in foreign hands, Mansa Musa relented and promised to obey Rome in all things:
And Timbuktu once again passed under Mali control. Mansa Musa was largely allowed to languish in his barren corner of the globe, occasionally being traded an old technology for what little pittance of gold he had in his meager treasury.
Printing Presses around the empire (based on an ingenious Arab design traded to us for Nationalism and Banking) heralded the end of the "African threat" and the dawn of a new era of real peace (They would later publish Egyptian star-charts and other secrets of the new science of Astronomy). But President Julian (for that was the name he went by in those latter days) saw a new opportunity for war:
Qin Shi Huang's imperial army was undergoing training exercises in southern Pakistan, within easy reach of our forces in Susa. And, with Missionaries on their way to spread the faith to the benighted New World, a conquered China seemed a fitting jewel to fit into his crown.
Of course, the priests and courtiers of the Apostolic Palace gnashed their teeth at the thought of Rome and China, the two pillars of the faith, fighting with one another as the heathens in the Americas performed their dark rituals away from prying eyes, but Julian laughed off their proposals to end the war. With China's offensive armies crushed, the conquest of India, at least, was a fait accompli:
Vijayanagara held the relatively useless Shwedagon Paya, but also the elusive Statue of Zeus, which might have vexed the more superstitious civilians back home had it not been seized quickly. Morale was boosted by a trade mission undertaken by Coco Chanel (in this world a fat, mustachioed man) in Los Angeles (in this world a frigid trading post in northeastern Canada). The money was tucked away in anticipation of a major military retraining in the use of Rifled weapons (currently being looked into by our Arabian lackeys).
At this point the Roman army split, sending one half southwards to secure the southern peninsula, and the other northward to Delhi. Cyrus, Saladin, and Catherine, though, also smelled blood in the water and sent their own detachments to claim their pieces of the pie. Caesar barely won the race for Delhi. Not that he was too terribly concerned about it, of course. Most of his attention was fixed on building Catherine a private residence among the beautiful lights of Parisiorum, which she had fallen in love with:
Caesar admitted that he had neglected the headstrong tsarina with his newfound dedication to his faith and his empire, but the results of the construction (a new Golden Age) was worth the effort even beyond pleasing his not-so-blushing bride.
The mission to the New World was off to a rocky start. Roosevelt welcomed the Buddhist missionaries, and the American people were tolerant of the new faith. But Montezuma hardened his heart, and refused to even allow the Roman priests to step off their Caravels onto his shores. And the Inca were on the other side of the continent, and, without the Aztecs' blessings, the missionaries were forced to sail south around the Tierra del Fuego. The Incan delay was just that: a nuisance. But President Julian had little interest in waging war across the Atlantic. The gods smiled upon him, though, as the Aztecs decided that Roosevelt's independence was too much to bear. As Montezuma's troops closed in on Washington, Caesar made his move:
Washington was converted just as Montezuma's war machine toppled its walls. And thus did the Buddhist faith weasel its way into the Aztec empire.
The war against China, meanwhile, went well. Bombay fell easily, stranding Asoka in the Phillipines. Our Legions (as well as those of our subordinates) then took the fight to Qin. After we took two cities and Saladin took a third, the Chinese leader saw the writing on the wall:
With their emperor shamefully capitulating to Rome, Asoka and Tokugawa found themselves without a master. The Indian leader, already broken, willingly joined Caesar's alliance, but the stubborn Tokugawa held out.
Tokyo fell quickly:
But it took an assault on Osaka, in what we know as Korea, to get the Japanese to kneel in surrender.
As millennial celebrations kicked off across Eurasia, a humble monk in the Inca highlands did more to secure our victory than all the soldiers in the war with China:
He walked amongst the villagers of Vilcas, heard their problems, and preached a simple message of peace, love, and letting Neal win. And so began the long wait.
What better way to pass the time while waiting for your scribes to write up the victory resolution than consolidating total power over the Old World?
Genghis Khan crumpled rapidly between the hammer of Roman Cannon (and, increasingly, Riflemen and Cavalry) and the anvil of China's replenished troop count. He capitulated after 40 years, reducing the world powers to 2: President Julian in charge of the Old World and the Warlord Montezuma in charge of the New. Conflict would be inevitable, but it could be postponed until after a proper victory celebration.
A check of the polls revealed that Asoka, having been driven to the Phillipines, had lost his Buddhist constituency and, therefore, his vote on the Apostolic council. This minor error was easily remedied:
Shouts of poll-fixing and foul play echoed around the chamber as the ballots were handed out, but the grumblings never progressed beyond just that:
And so it was done. It was a somewhat anticlimactic victory, for there was still work to be done in pacifying the Americas and educating Rome's vassals, but Pontifex Maximus Julian I was nevertheless confident that his rule was unquestioned and that the faith was ascendant. He may have renounced the Monarchy, but he truly was King of the World.
The final map:
And the score:
A new best, more than lapping our old high with the Isabella game. The Deity multipliers (and early finish) probably had a lot to do with that. All in all, great fun and a nice return to basics after a couple of oddballs in the Earth18 and Ragnar games. Thanks for reading!
Lord Julius pored over his maps and the logs from his Caravels' captains. The Roman king wasn't normally one to think scientifically, but reports that noon in the east Pacific corresponded to highsun in far-off Alaska was intriguing, to say the least. If the sun moved across the sky in a regular fashion, but if it was in both the far east and the far west at the same time...
"Eureka!" the emperor exclaimed, pounding his fist on the tabletop:
This well-kept secret of the world's roundness allowed Roman ships to plot courses with greater accuracy than their counterparts, speeding up their journeys considerably.
Things were going well for the empire. Commerce was flowing smoothly, the dark borders of the map were being pushed back by the lights of exploration and reason, and the people were productive, enjoying the brief respite of a peaceful Golden Age. Hostilities were ongoing with the Mali of Africa, but that was more of a "police action" that didn't affect most Romans back home. Even Kufah, a minor town on the Caspian Sea, experienced a minor population boom amidst tales of a gold rush. The Egyptian and Russian peoples completed the research projects set before them and promptly traded us Divine Right and Music. It was an idyllic time, full of merriment and joy:
Caesar smirked at the idea of a lavish wedding gift and politely declined. He had Hatshepsut wrapped around his little finger, anyway, and if she balked, Egypt stood no chance against the swords and Cannon of the Legions. The emperor may have been getting soft in this time of peace, but he was still a practical man.
This was also a time of fluorishing for the Buddhist faith. The University of Sankore was built in Parisiorum, and the Spiral Minaret was later built in Matrice. These Wonders, when combined with the bolstering effects of the Apostolic Palace and the Angkor Wat's benefits to the Priesthood, resulted in Buddhist Temples popping up across the supercontinent. Seizing upon the ideals of absolute monarchy and Divine Right, Caesar even ordered a renowned civil engineer to bend his talents to building a summer home in the once-strange lands of the Picts:
Versailles was lavish, and the parties hosted there by Caesar and the fetching Catherine were legendary. Even the upright Saladin was known to have ben dragged to a few by his Egyptian bride. Seven types of wine, from all over the empire, were served, along with fine French ham seared with imported Chinese spices. The Arab monarch, of course, did not sample this particular dish.
And yet Caesar was troubled. The Monarchy was a fine deal for him and his close circle of friends (it is, after all, good to be the king), but it was holding the empire back from the glories it might otherwise achieve. So, despite Catherine's protestations, the emperor turned over much of his power to the Senate (though the Legions still answered solely to him) and promised to give up many of his luxuries and observe a stricter form of religious observance:
The urban literati and specialists, seeing the dawn of a more progressive form of government, cherished their right to vote and contributed much to the Roman body of knowledge (and further improved our already powerful religious economy).
By 745, Timbuktu had fallen to Roman force of arms. Seeing his capital city in foreign hands, Mansa Musa relented and promised to obey Rome in all things:
And Timbuktu once again passed under Mali control. Mansa Musa was largely allowed to languish in his barren corner of the globe, occasionally being traded an old technology for what little pittance of gold he had in his meager treasury.
Printing Presses around the empire (based on an ingenious Arab design traded to us for Nationalism and Banking) heralded the end of the "African threat" and the dawn of a new era of real peace (They would later publish Egyptian star-charts and other secrets of the new science of Astronomy). But President Julian (for that was the name he went by in those latter days) saw a new opportunity for war:
Qin Shi Huang's imperial army was undergoing training exercises in southern Pakistan, within easy reach of our forces in Susa. And, with Missionaries on their way to spread the faith to the benighted New World, a conquered China seemed a fitting jewel to fit into his crown.
Of course, the priests and courtiers of the Apostolic Palace gnashed their teeth at the thought of Rome and China, the two pillars of the faith, fighting with one another as the heathens in the Americas performed their dark rituals away from prying eyes, but Julian laughed off their proposals to end the war. With China's offensive armies crushed, the conquest of India, at least, was a fait accompli:
Vijayanagara held the relatively useless Shwedagon Paya, but also the elusive Statue of Zeus, which might have vexed the more superstitious civilians back home had it not been seized quickly. Morale was boosted by a trade mission undertaken by Coco Chanel (in this world a fat, mustachioed man) in Los Angeles (in this world a frigid trading post in northeastern Canada). The money was tucked away in anticipation of a major military retraining in the use of Rifled weapons (currently being looked into by our Arabian lackeys).
At this point the Roman army split, sending one half southwards to secure the southern peninsula, and the other northward to Delhi. Cyrus, Saladin, and Catherine, though, also smelled blood in the water and sent their own detachments to claim their pieces of the pie. Caesar barely won the race for Delhi. Not that he was too terribly concerned about it, of course. Most of his attention was fixed on building Catherine a private residence among the beautiful lights of Parisiorum, which she had fallen in love with:
Caesar admitted that he had neglected the headstrong tsarina with his newfound dedication to his faith and his empire, but the results of the construction (a new Golden Age) was worth the effort even beyond pleasing his not-so-blushing bride.
The mission to the New World was off to a rocky start. Roosevelt welcomed the Buddhist missionaries, and the American people were tolerant of the new faith. But Montezuma hardened his heart, and refused to even allow the Roman priests to step off their Caravels onto his shores. And the Inca were on the other side of the continent, and, without the Aztecs' blessings, the missionaries were forced to sail south around the Tierra del Fuego. The Incan delay was just that: a nuisance. But President Julian had little interest in waging war across the Atlantic. The gods smiled upon him, though, as the Aztecs decided that Roosevelt's independence was too much to bear. As Montezuma's troops closed in on Washington, Caesar made his move:
Washington was converted just as Montezuma's war machine toppled its walls. And thus did the Buddhist faith weasel its way into the Aztec empire.
The war against China, meanwhile, went well. Bombay fell easily, stranding Asoka in the Phillipines. Our Legions (as well as those of our subordinates) then took the fight to Qin. After we took two cities and Saladin took a third, the Chinese leader saw the writing on the wall:
With their emperor shamefully capitulating to Rome, Asoka and Tokugawa found themselves without a master. The Indian leader, already broken, willingly joined Caesar's alliance, but the stubborn Tokugawa held out.
Tokyo fell quickly:
But it took an assault on Osaka, in what we know as Korea, to get the Japanese to kneel in surrender.
As millennial celebrations kicked off across Eurasia, a humble monk in the Inca highlands did more to secure our victory than all the soldiers in the war with China:
He walked amongst the villagers of Vilcas, heard their problems, and preached a simple message of peace, love, and letting Neal win. And so began the long wait.
What better way to pass the time while waiting for your scribes to write up the victory resolution than consolidating total power over the Old World?
Genghis Khan crumpled rapidly between the hammer of Roman Cannon (and, increasingly, Riflemen and Cavalry) and the anvil of China's replenished troop count. He capitulated after 40 years, reducing the world powers to 2: President Julian in charge of the Old World and the Warlord Montezuma in charge of the New. Conflict would be inevitable, but it could be postponed until after a proper victory celebration.
A check of the polls revealed that Asoka, having been driven to the Phillipines, had lost his Buddhist constituency and, therefore, his vote on the Apostolic council. This minor error was easily remedied:
Shouts of poll-fixing and foul play echoed around the chamber as the ballots were handed out, but the grumblings never progressed beyond just that:
And so it was done. It was a somewhat anticlimactic victory, for there was still work to be done in pacifying the Americas and educating Rome's vassals, but Pontifex Maximus Julian I was nevertheless confident that his rule was unquestioned and that the faith was ascendant. He may have renounced the Monarchy, but he truly was King of the World.
The final map:
And the score:
A new best, more than lapping our old high with the Isabella game. The Deity multipliers (and early finish) probably had a lot to do with that. All in all, great fun and a nice return to basics after a couple of oddballs in the Earth18 and Ragnar games. Thanks for reading!
BigTime
Prince
Nice job! The game was won long ago, so I agree that an AP win was the best to seal the deal. 
Shoot the Moon
Playing World in Conflict
- Joined
- Dec 24, 2005
- Messages
- 708
Nice job. Last time for Rome, right? 
madscientist
RPC Supergenius
All Hail Caesar! Masterful game!
Silv Something
Pi(e) Loving Maniac
Great game Neal!
But wait - you could have vassalized everybody! You would become King of Kings of the World!
But wait - you could have vassalized everybody! You would become King of Kings of the World!
sophie
Break My Heart
Wow, this game went by so quickly I hadn't even noticed it had ended!
IAM
Emperor
Well, sure. And I did vassalize everyone outside of the Americas. But to take the New World would have required a navy, and the logistics of overseas invasion, and all that. The game was won, so I decided to wrap it up the quickest way I knew how.
Silv Something
Pi(e) Loving Maniac
You could have seen the perfect diplomacy screen once again:
Spoiler :
You could have seen the perfect diplomacy screen once again:
Spoiler :
The perfect diplomacy screen would be empty...
Silv Something
Pi(e) Loving Maniac
Well then it wouldn't really be a diplomacy screen now, would it?
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