Episode 3: The Great Game – Y1

Hello there.

My name is ExplosiveWatermelon, and I am your narrator for this part. I’ve hopefully put together something very special for you- a glimpse at the world through a closer lens. Enjoy!

This story is sponsored by ExplosiveWatermelon, who has recently started doing a Let’s Play featuring modded Civilizations. TBH I’m just using this space to advertise myself.

It’s not every day that somebody gets exiled from the submarine. This was a special occasion; my friend, Bel Buruk, happened to leak the future. One of the most prized possessions of Nebuchadnezzar, he told of an event that was to be- the fall of Kyoto to Chinese naval forces. However, Bel failed to realize that once the future is released, it cannot be recaptured.

There’s no reason the city shouldn’t have fallen today. Yet it seems that knowing the future changes the future. Thus, the city still stands, as the naval forces fall to the depths of the sea. You know what they say-

Loose lips sink ships.

As waves of chaos hit the Chinese front, a revolutionary fervor hits the nation.

Cassandra had seen it coming. Ever since she was told by the Babylonian emissary, she knew things would be different from that day on. Now, as her city faces a deadly siege, she receives what can only be described as an ephemeral voice- the singing of a choir, within a large hall, only to be silenced suddenly.

Time works to correct itself, and the city of Buenos Aries falls in the place of Kyoto. The consequences are still not felt, however.

The Ayyubid forces have once again engaged the Ashanti. The Ayyubids are a particularly faithful bunch- they couldn’t understand the belief of the Ashanti to bow before no god. Don’t they feel fear? Do they think that there is no cruelness to their way of life, that they should not be afraid of their creator who could force upon them such horror?

Or worse, could they believe that there is no being so vile to create such a universe.

Epaminondas faces down the Texan horde at the gates to Canada. He knew if Kingston fell, that would be only the beginning. It was better to keep the citizens out of war, but food supplies were growing limited- the citizens started to question his command.

In Sioux territory, a grand construct emerges from the Earth. This is their act of rebellion against their gods- for a people fated never to hold the Earth, they served only to spite the balance of the world. The Texans laugh at the irony- for this construct signals to them only what they had once said before.

“Come and take it”

Iceland remains a forgotten realm. Their lands are barren, their soldiers few- their only solace was in the sea. Still, the newfound settlement of Reydarfjall confused the citizens. Was this some sort of joke? There’s no sea here, no source of food. They should’ve realized at that moment that they weren’t at home- they were in prison.

Tiridates, third of his name, wandered the streets of Yerevan. Though a bustling city, they were empty whenever he took a walk. For good reason- nobody should bear witness to a king. If they did, they would realize he was only human.

Could a human have created an empire as great as Armenia? Truly, yes, but that wasn’t in the mind of a people as pious as the Armenians.

The Babylonians run their calculations to make sure that time has restored themselves. The report is given to Nebuchadnezzar:“Most nations seem stable, only a 1% chance of the Great Game’s foundation changing.”

The wise king stroked his chin. “No, if it’s to be, it will happen no matter the odds.”

In the provincial capital of Austin, Sam Houston across from his finest generals, with a pile of maps in-between.

“Sir, Kingston WILL fall. But doubts will be raised if you do this move. It’s unheard of, no man foolish enough would-”

Houston plunged a bowie knife about an inch through the table.

“We’ll take Kingston AND remove the pirates from our shores. Did I make myself clear?”

No man could deny Chief Houston. There was something about him which seemed unhuman… or perhaps a bit too human. Simply put, they were terrified of the man.

O’Higgins marched through Buenos Aires, a recent conquest. He decided, against his advisors’ will, that it’s only reasonable to meet his subjects.

Terrible mistake. It seems conquerors aren’t welcome.

Meanwhile, Pachacuti celebrates the dawn of a new age. The Conqueror promises his horde only the finest riches, lined with the blood of Bernardo O’Higgins himself!

The sirens go off in the Submarine. Nebuchadnezzar looked as the Chinese walked into the ports of Kyoto.

“Sir, wasn’t history supposed to divert? They should’ve never taken the city!”

“Remember what I said?” Nebuchadnezzar spoke, “If it’s to be, it will happen no matter the odds.”

Bel Buruk, having been exiled, now sits in the lodge of a Sibir chieftain. The chieftain speaks, “I hear you’ve got the vision over all plains.”

“Yes, I suppose you could say that,” Bel started, “It’s the ability to see through the lives of every being on the planet. Within a moment, I could experience a thousand lives from start to finish. In fact, I’ve seen where your path leads. This knowledge comes at a cost though.”

“Tell me!” The Chieftain begged.

It seems like only a moment passes, but the eyes of Bel went hollow for a moment. Then, he gave a curious look, as if something was wrong.

“Your death will be mourned by only a single girl,” Bel took a sip of the warm drink, nested in his hands. “You’ll have abandoned everything else, and in the end you’ll abandon her too. But now, you’ll ask me what it means, and I’ll tell you right now there is no metaphor. That’s simply the cost of such knowledge.”

Somewhere, time shifts once more. Chief Houston speaks to his generals.

“On second thought, the Pirates aren’t enough. We’ll conquer all of America, and if we make an enemy of the world, we’ll conquer them too!”

“Hey, Em” one of the male agents gathered the courage to speak to his superior, “If the Inca and Chile are both at war with each other, how can they both be in a Golden Age?”

Em spun around in her chair, an unimpressed look on her sun-stained face. “It’s easy- if two neighboring empires are at the height of their power, they will find no other recourse but war. Also, don’t call me Em,” she sighed, “That name holds a lot of weight around here.”

“What about the Maori?” Em’s underling spoke, “How could an island nation produce such structures? They’re limited in resources, and Aotearoa itself isn’t the most productive place.”

“Nonsense. They build because they’re an island nation- they can’t support a land force, their population grows faster than most others, and their nearest competition…”  She hesitated, “Well, I dare not speak ill of any competitor.”

Casimir III is welcomed back to Warsaw with light praise. While his people were still bitter about the losses to the Armenians, they had to credit him for his ability to make peace with the Portuguese.

“How did you reason with the mad queen herself?” A courtier queries.

“It’s simple,” Casimir smirked, “The most insane of all of us only listen to reason. I’m sure she was happy to find an excuse to take a break.”

Meanwhile, the Irish edge ever closer to the Polish Tribe’s core...

The Chinese celebrated with their newfound friends. The Mongols and China have a lot in common, especially in regards to their two loves: cuisine and warfare. Mao himself sat upon his throne, his short stature seemingly more intense in comparison to the large warped wood that formed the seat. He watched his court celebrate the fall of a city, as Mao wonders how he ever pulled it off.

“My lord,” a court eunuch spoke to Mao, “You’ve a guest.”

“At this time?” Mao questioned, “Well, I admire their courage. Whatever they say must be good.”

Introduced to the court was a rather small fellow, with bronze skin and brown hair, who patiently greeted every courtier who crossed his path.

“Greetings, Lord Zedong,” he bowed to the lord, “My name is Bel Buruk.”

The Sioux people rejoice! After having made their lands home to the Texans, some feared annexation would follow. However, this alliance with the Blackfoot was sure to keep them safe.

Kumasi’s siege is lifted, albeit temporarily. Osei Tutu paces in his grand halls. He feels a sense of Deja Vu, but… no, it couldn’t be.

The Incan flag is raised over the town hall of La Serena. Where once people danced and children played, now only the rattling of spears could be heard. People questioned Pachacuti’s tactics- using their close ally Argentina as bait for Chile’s army, while the Inca seized the opportunity.

“Men,” Pachacuti addressed his soldiers, “If you have any questions, save them for after we’ve won. For now, war is war.”

The men silenced themselves. They couldn’t argue he’s wrong… But until they’ve won what?

Pachacuti’s actions did not go unnoticed. Henry Morgan takes the opportunity to speak to his men.

“It’s time we return Nassau and Tortuga back to their rightful owners. The Inca cannot disgrace the game of war by sacrificing their allies to the Chilean despot.”

He couldn’t tell his men that he felt shame at having lost the cities in the first place. He couldn’t tell his men that those cities are not the reason for this war. Something down inside him knew battle like a baker knows bread.

Things turn worse for the people of the Ashanti. Their proud leader hides himself in his castle, hoping for the day he can see his people and tell them that things will be okay- but that day is not today. The Portuguese are laying siege to Kumasi once again, this time with an impressive naval fleet. It’s taking all the city’s resources to keep them at bay- but only few people can hold onto hope.

O’ Higgins does not fear.

It was not taught to him like other emotions. Thus, upon hearing the news of his fallen city, he could only laugh. It was nothing funny, true, but he’s up 2 cities since the start of this war, La Plata is under siege- and all that would be left would be to focus on the Inca, who now have an added front to worry about.

O’ Higgins does not know fear. That’s why this sense of unease is new. Why does this sound wrong?

On the other hand, the Ashanti know fear all too well. By the time a child learns their numbers, they know the emotion inside and out. That’s why, to live their lives under siege, is but the bravest act.

The Portuguese fleet is held back- though reinforcements are sure to come. However, there’s not one person in panic. They remain terrified, yes, but they’ve accepted their fate- yet defy it all by living all the same. Really, all are faced with death… Except Osei Tutu.

The Ashanti king had never known death. He knows love for his people, he knows all the traits of a true leader… yet he cannot leave his palace. Why were the citizens so eager to live, knowing death would meet them?

Smerdis is exhausted.

He had posed as a General for Sam Houston for so long, yet it seemed like nothing of value could be gathered. It was only when he received the letter from agent E- err, his commanding officer- that he realized what had happened.

Chaos. Destiny means nothing anymore. What happens from this point on is entirely new. Smerdis could no longer predict which wars Houston would enter- Sam’s mind was so crossed that his next enemy could’ve been Texas itself. This only meant that Smerdis’ duty was more important than ever.

His destination is Yerevan.

Meiji was tired.

Every play that could be made… Every action taken… all were inconsequential. He signed a peace treaty with Korea, yet even then it seems fruitless. Kyoto was NOT supposed to fall. Something deep in his heart knew that. Logically, it didn’t make sense… So then why?

“Sir?” one of Meiji’s genro, his own Spymaster, was staring at the empty husk of a man.

“Ah, sorry- what is it Chiyome?”

The spymaster had a look of pity on her face, “There’s a chance we can strike back soon. We’ve just received reports of a new member of Mao’s court- and it appears he’s an outsider.”

“Where from?” Meiji asked.

“That’s the thing- we have no clue.”

Morgan paced in his captain’s quarters. There was no question about it- Nassau would fall. 3 ships surrounded it, and a fleet was nearby to ensure all went well.

He was impatient, however. It belonged to him- as did the world- but the matter at hand is that things were going slower than expected. This wasn’t part of the plan.

But whose plan was it? Morgan never was one for thinking. Yet this grand strategy seems to run in his head like piss in a drunk’s trousers. Morgan needed something new, something that reached his sailor’s heart.

Lester B. Pearson was a good ruler- he thought, at least. The Texans were a fierce people yet it was by his hand that he kept his people proud in the face of such adversity. Kingston’s walls are blood-spattered. Scratched and burned. Yet they hold back the Texans, only 50 meters away. It was admirable, albeit Pearson knew it was futile.

Pearson adjusted his bowtie- you had to look good for your people. One look at the man could tell you he was not meant for war- which was why he had stayed hidden for so long. Now, it was time to step up. Canada was not meant to be a battlefield…

Yet it will only be free of war once war has been won.

Sparta had become friends of the Ashanti. Not out of any respect for the Ashanti- but because they longed for war more than they longed for riches. They had plenty of military legacies to their name- Military education, leg days, and of course the legendary Thermopylae. Thermopylae proves that even when Spartans lose, they win.

But who was it that led the Spartans in that battle, again? There was SOMEONE there, right?

Celebrations were made in Nassau the day the Jolly Roger was raised above the city hall. The people had long been in the hands of the Incan tyranny- it was time they returned home.

Henry Morgan himself made a speech. Most were too drunk to remember it, but the message was clear-

Next stop, Tortuga.

Kumasi falls.

The Nau were fought back, but they destroyed the city’s defenses enough for a lone galley to dock. The Portuguese were astonished- the archers that had held them back weren’t a professional regiment. They weren’t even well equipped. It was just… people. A citizen regiment that held them off for so long just so they could live a normal life. The Portuguese almost turned back out of guilt, when their commander came out.

“No, men,” the Admiral-General spoke, “You may think they’re regular citizens, but they’re soldiers all the same. Furthermore, we’re citizens of our home, and we’ve picked up our swords for the same reason they picked up their bows. All we can promise them is a time to rest- they’ve lost whether we leave or not.”

The sailors who were bold enough marched through the halls of the palace. It was abandoned long before they ever got there.

The Yakuts celebrate the construction of a fine temple- one that few would ever challenge. They awaited a speech from their leader for one hour.

Then another…

Some started to question what they were doing. Was there even a leader? They could swear someone usually does the speaking...

In the Southeast Asian islands, war is but a novelty. It’s not useful- conflict could be resolved through other manners. Even so, the men train for war. To be unprepared for war would be working against peace. It is only through a balance of power that this region is untainted.

Once more was the Chilean flag above the manors in La Serena. O’Higgins makes a triumphant return to his people, ordering troops to tend to the sick and wounded. Pachacuti wonders if this is karma, but only for a moment- the game is on, and hesitation means death.

Smerdis sat in his office, deep within the hillside of the Armenian Empire. Tiridates had laid out a perfect strategy for the invasion of the Ayyubids- yet he hesitated.

“Is something the matter, milord?” Smerdis asked, “This strategy is perfect.”

Tiridates gave a sad look to his newfound counsel. As if perfect wasn’t good enough… or that it was TOO good.

Smerdis was confused. “Commander,” Smerdis spoke into the void, “I’m free now if you want my report.”

“What?” A feminine voice responded, “Kingston edges closer to collapse- composite bowman in full force- and you want to tell us something?”

Smerdis sighed. He knew Tiridates was starting to catch onto the Great Game. That this world was incomplete. That this project- this ritual- had to be scrapped.

“Tiridates is plotting against Saladin, as expected.”

Smerdis didn’t have anything else to report. Rather, anything else he had to report… suddenly didn’t matter. Smerdis ended the connection with Em.

“Bel,” Smerdis muttered, “Let’s see if you were right.”

The Ashanti were biting back.

Kavanga was taking damage. Kumasi looked sure to flip. How could they still have the energy to fight?

Osei Tutu walked amongst his men once more. For once, he was in realization of the world around him. That he was in control.

That this moment, this opportunity, would not last forever.

“For now,” he spoke to his soldiers, “I am one with the Ashanti.”

Crashing noises could be heard from the commander’s room. She was not pleased. Her loyal crew waited outside for any sign of what had occurred. Finally, the door opened, and was quickly slammed behind her as she ordered her men.

“If Smerdis comes back, give him a shot between the eyes.”

Em was pissed. First report said he was plotting against Saladin… As was scripted. NOWHERE was Akbar supposed to play into this. An empire that stretched from Europe to Arabia… That was meant to stretch into Africa. Yet they turned their heads the wrong way.

“It’s a dumb move. There’s no army there, there’s a citadel blocking their path, and Akbar’s army is flooding into the empty space. WHY DO THEY WANT TO FIGHT THERE?!”

There was no reply.

The dent in his empire was repaired, albeit for a moment.

At the front lines was Patchacuti himself, spear in hand. He stood, injured and soaked with blood, but he stood as proud as any Incan should. The Incan flag waved proudly atop his spear, firmly pointed towards the heavens. He stood with only 30 men, and gave a hideous smile.

“I am here to reform the world,” he spoke with an excited tone, “and as sure as the sun hangs in the sky, the Incan horde shall not rest.”

Maria had made her way to Kumasi. The resistance is dead, but the Ashanti still live. That bothered her. Thus, she declares war on the Ashanti people, as well as her former ally the Ayyubids. All the pieces were coming together.

Maria could not be said to be the wisest ruler. However, none had the courage she possessed- and with good reason. Maria may be considered mad, sometimes even lazy. But it was for these opportunities in particular that she had waited. She never took a rest. She spent all her time making sure things went perfect.

Africa holds a strong resource base. The Jungles in the Congo were ripe for research, and it was only these two fools in her way. She had already set her foot down on the continent- now it was time to prove her worth.

If any madness had become of Maria, it was only out of duty.

Timur’s realm already shows signs of victory. His horses roam the many plains, they’ve settled the far reaches of the north- truly it could be said that any war was just a formality.

The Incan were confused by the peace treaty. Henry Morgan just surrendered Nassau.

“Why?” they asked him.

“So I can take it back from you, over and over,” Henry laughed, “I do have forever, you know.”

Urho Kekkonen was unsure what to do of himself. He wasn’t really in the game at the moment. All he could do was wait for his opportunity. He finally put together the finishing pieces on his temple- which was quite lovely- but it was nothing that would launch him back into the competition.

He’ll wait forever if he has to.

The Irish isles are rich, and their people richer. It could be said that none in Europe are quite so prosperous, but it’d be wrong. There was the lingering threat of Mad Maria turning their direction. Still, they had peace for now.

Sparta had fallen. No, that couldn’t be. They would never be disgraced so as to fall to a ruler who was more manic than cunning.

Yet that’s what happened. The people of Messene have already adopted a name change.

Shaka has earned his Impis. The soldiers that make empires shudder. Yet there he was, with little room to use them. They practically had to get a hall pass to get through Kongolese territory, just so they could invade the Ashanti. However, Mad Maria was taking charge in that war, leaving Shaka on the sidelines. It was embarrassing- the greatest warriors of all time, left isolated in their corner of the world.

O’Higgins was excited to meet Pachacuti. However, it seems he was left with disappointment, as Pachacuti had retreated several days earlier. But why would a man as proud as Pachacuti retreat, Bernardo wondered?

“Sir,” a soldier reported, “Cordoba is under siege.”

“Blast.” O’Higgins pondered whether this meant defeat.

In that moment, the world became unified in sin.

There was no longer any region that had been untouched by war. Jandamarra had broken the balance that stood between the Oceanian nations, having sent his ships to Indonesia.

Somewhere, a demon laughs in hell.

“Lord Kekkonen,” a courtier speaks, “We’re being invaded by Poland and the Armenian empire. I know this doesn’t look good, their territory eclipses ours entirely, but if we redirect our resources and- why are you laughing?”

Kekkonen hadn’t realized he was chuckling to himself. “Oh, I had been preparing for this,” he said, “Ships are already being sent to Tampere. The Poles don’t have a navy!”

Bernardo was routed. That Incan idiot had beaten him. Cordoba had fallen the moment La Serena was fortified. O’Higgins realized he was only a diplomatic tool for the Incans to annex Argentina- their once ally was to become the new front for future expansion.

O’Higgins got played.

Admiral-General Afonso had seen his days in Kumasi. He told his soldiers that those citizens were soldiers, much as his soldiers were citizens. Now, as he sat in the throne of Marrakech, he doubted that was correct. Yet he couldn’t feel guilt- something within him felt pleasure from this. Like he was born to expand Portugal to its outer limits.

He couldn’t say. Marrakech was Portuguese, and that was that.

Kumasi was almost back in Osei Tutu’s hands. He was willing to give up everything for this next battle. He was not prepared to lose to some foreign invader.

Where once his people had felt no hope, there was now opportunity. Osei has become one with the Ashanti- one with the world- and he plans to prove himself the wise ruler he once doubted of himself.

Pearson was… not expecting that.

His first appearance went well. His people liked him.

But it was clear he was not meant for war, and his enemies took that opportunity. The Blackfoot and the Boers are now invading, along with the Texan menace.

This was not a good sign.

Casimir orders his units towards Tampere to fortify against the invading Finns.

“Wait,” a general stops, “Weren’t we the ones invading?”

Houston leans back in his office’s chair.

“They declared war on Canada?”

His generals nod. “This is the perfect opportunity to take Kingston!”

“No,” Houston replies, “Let them duke it out, and we’ll take it from the victor. We need to restore our supplies.”

Indonesia is at peace again, but the damage has been done. This region will know peace only temporarily. However, in more pressing matters...

Kumasi is now a shadow where once great men resided. Now, it’s left to the hounds and any lost soul brave enough to call it home. Maria still holds it, but the Ashanti could reasonably take it.

Bel sat alone in his room. The Chinese treat him well, but he feels as though the life he’s lost is getting further away.

News of soldiers marching onto Tokyo came as no surprise- at least, not to Buruk.

“This ritual needs to close,” he said, collapsing into his plush bed. “For all our sakes.”

The Portuguese have claimed a little bit of the Isles for themselves, as a small mining colony. The Irish cannot afford complaints, lest they incur the Mad Queen’s wrath.

Messene collapses under the weight of Portuguese forces. So ends the Spartan-Messene state. Maria gives a speech to her new citizens:

“We may not have known you as friends for as long as we’ve known you as enemies- but rest assured you’ll make a fine addition to my collection.”

Sparta is eliminated.

Pearson has proven that appearances can be deceiving. Even a man in a bow tie can prove himself an able defender of his people. Now, it is up to him to prove himself a conqueror. The Blackfoot are being held off, Kingston is in repair, and the Canadian army is fortifying itself.

“These next plays will be interesting,” he muttered to himself.

Shaka marched into Mampong.

How could it have happened? There were no borders between the nations?

It’s simple. A single Zulu was a thousand men under Shaka, and a single Impi was a thousand Zulu. Now, the orders are clear.

“Hold the city. We need to break out of this confinement!”

Brazil declares war on Canada. They didn’t know why, but it felt right.

Finland is currently on the defensive. Casimir, however, wonders to what end? His force isn’t large enough to take Helsinki, and Tampere is taking damage along the way. This war is surely fruitless, but it’s also Poland’s only hope out of the hole they dug themselves into.

Makassar was a sign of hope. A city that knew no war- a fresh start for those hoping to escape the inevitable end. It has earned itself a second name-

Solace.

O’Higgins’ luck has run out.

The spoils of war have turned around, and Chile now found itself the victim of Pachacuti’s plot. La Serena, Córdoba… both signaled Bernardo’s weakness.

“Back to the drawing board,” he sighs, exhausted from having to explain to the press his failures in this war. “I wonder what our options are?”

As Tokyo takes damage, Bel is reminded of how this all started.

He wandered the streets of Kyoto, now lined with a combination of Chinese and Japanese markets.

“Well, Nebby,” Bel smiles, “The game is afoot. This battle royale may be between the competitors, but let’s see who the real strategist is.”

Prince Saladin smiles as he gazes at the map. He’s kept Konongo firmly in his hands, and now the Ashanti are almost dead. Who else was to blame but himself? Well, Osei Tutu- when his people needed hope the most, he vanished. Yet he thinks himself a great ruler because he returned when it was already over.

“Truly a shame,” Saladin smiled, “But I guess it’s up to God to judge.”

The Texan Republic leads in military, followed by the Armenian Empire and the Incan Horder. As Em examined the information Boethius had compiled for her, she sighed.

“I guess this agent needs to return to the field. Though I never expected,” she turned her head to a dartboard with Bel Buruk’s (rather handsome) face on it, and said, “that my first assignment when I returned would be assassination.”

A noise rang out through the Sibir village. A gunshot- the echo of a world forever changed. Yet nobody responded. There was nobody TO respond.

Em had to return order to the world, and no Sibir chief would stand in the way.

“It shouldn’t have to be like this,” she sighed, “That damn kid.”

Far outside the village, an approaching Timurid army hears distant thunder.

Nebuchadnezzar looked at his screen. “What’s with the Pa?”

“We think,” an aide said, “It’s a response to the chaos in the system. The ritual’s falling apart.”

“No,” Nebuchadnezzar said, “It’s running as it should. All the pieces are coming together. Bel, Em, and Smerdis have all entered the fray- meaning we’re ready to head to Phase 2.”

A round of applause echoed through the command room. “Still,” Nebuchadnezzar said, “That Pa should be working.”

The game so far is fairly even, with the exception of the Armenians who lead in 2 stats. Still, it could go to anyone. Texas has the lead in Soldiers.

Casimir has become a Prince, Pearson a Steward, and O’Higgins remains a Warlord.

Malachy’s a prince, Meiji’s a Warlord, and Kekkonen is a Lawspeaker.

Crowfoot is King, and Saladin and Timur share Prince status.

Osei Tutu is Prince, Houston is a PRAETOR somehow, and Tiridates is of course Emperor.

Wakan Tanka is dominating the world right now.

Here are some of the beliefs, feel free to choose your favorites.

Wakan Tanka is very widespread, and the religious exclaves in Armenia are fun to look at. Anyways, that’s all for this part. Thank you so much for reading! This took a lot of effort on my part, and I hope you enjoyed it!