Not too long ago, I was gifted a copy of Crusader Kings II. This is a ridiculously in-depth game where you play as a ruler of Europe in the Middle Ages. As a ruler, you can be as small as a little Earl in a tiny, crappy part of Finland, or the King of France. You have to deal with court intrigue, war, trade, the Pope, feuding vassals, all the stuff a real ruler of the era would've had to have messed with. You build up your ruler and his dynasty, going through several generation of just trying to improve your family's name and make some mark on history. It's really hard to play and get into. I've barely tried. But it can run really easily on many computers so, hey, I've got nothing better to do. Let's try this. I chose to be Earl Murchad of Dublin, on the eve of the Battle of Hastings, 1066. With just the one county to my name, so begins my quest...
Summer, 1066
Ugh. Time to take stock of my holdings here. Three sons. One of whom is old enough to need to be married. I'll deal with that later. Hey! I have a wife! Hi, wife! Tailltiu. That's a...unique name. SHe has a pretty distressingly low opinion of me.
Apparently, I'm really lustful. Okay! Makes sense. I seem to have a suspicious amount of ladies in my court. Excellent.
Oh hey. My father is A) super old and B) the earl of Leinster to the south. Old man, you better die fast. Gonna get my hands on some more land real soon.
Need an ambition...uh...what am I skilled at? Nothing! Holy crap, I'm useless. I can't do a damn thing well. Let's get some diplomatic ability going up in this Dublizzy. Gonna wheel and deal my way to something useful. Okay then. Let's get going.
Spring, 1067
Met my neighbor to the west. Conchobar of Kildare. Seems like a really nice guy even though he looks like Grima Wormtongue. Apparently Kildare and Dublin together make the Duchy of Meath. So...uh, sorry, Conk. I WANT YOUR COUNTY. Schemes!
Turns out, I've got a court. The people int he court can do things. And right now I've got my top guy on a quest in Kildare to undermine Mr. Conk's claims. Mmmm...I will have Kildare.
Fall, 1067
Saw a guy on top of a church about to jump. My loving and sympathetic subjects were telling him to do it. Time for me to try out my awesome earl diplomacy mojo. I climbed up on the roof with him and we talked about women and beer and leprechauns or something. Eventually he got bored and climbed down. Everyone else was pretty pissed that they didn't get to see a nice splat, but I felt pretty good about it. Murchad 1 - Death 0. Sucker.
Summer, 1068
My son and heir, Dommand, is whining about wanting to be married. Personally, I think he needs to shave his awful mustache before anything can happen there, but let's have a look around and see if I can't find him a nice woman who can bring me some prestige. Looking around Ireland...nope....nope. What the hell. THERE ARE NO GIRLS IN IRELAND. Okay. Fine. Let's go check out Britain. Anyone have any daughters? Oh hey, this guy has 5! ANd all are married. ARGH.
Okay! Let's try the mainland! Whoa heck! This guy has 14 children. Nice. Impressive on all counts. Only one (married) daughter. Good lord. Oh, hey, this guy has a daughter. She's...she's 0 years old. Well, I...I'm not sure Dommand will be okay with that. Try again. A Spanish duke! He has a daughter who is...6! Well. That's an improvement. A French Duke! His daughter is...oh my god, 11! Good enough! Let's get this betrothal started!
Meanwhile, I sent my court chaplain to convince the Bishop of Dublin that I'm a really great guy. I had neglected to notice that those two men are, in fact, the same people. Nevertheless, he sent me a letter telling me how he managed to convince himself quite well that I'm awesome. I'm glad he's so charismatic.
Spring, 1069
Dommand has smallpox. I'm no doctor, but I think that's bad, right? Usually, if something has pox at the end of it, it's a bad thing. I can't wait for someone to invent some sort of neutered version of the awful demons and humor imbalance that causes it such that his body can learn to fight it more effectively. Until then, welp. Maybe he won't die?
Fall, 1070
...now I have smallpox. Really? What was I doing with my son? Dammit. Then, to top it off, apparently I decided to have a nice stroll through the forest and was attacked by a bear, whereupon I had my arm nearly ripped off and Dommand saved my life. I got a badass scar out of it, though, so I can't be too angry.
Summer, 1071
Bishop McTalkstohimself died. I like to imagine he found himself on top of the church like the guy from a couple of years back and couldn't talk himself out of jumping. Very sad. Appointed to new bishop my court chaplain. Hopefully he's more persuasive with himself than the last guy.
Haha! But my work in Kildare has paid off! I now have a strong claim to it. ANd I'm gonna pursue the hell out of that claim. I want that land, Grima. Give. Now to decide how best to off this jerk.
Spring, 1072
I already hate this new bishop guy. I was practicing medicine on a servant girl, trying to find the best methods of dislodging food stuck in a person's throat. Now, obviously, this sort of maneuver might require full body contact. And, in the pursuit of science and medicine, all factors that might cause different results should be removed. Such as clothing. But the bishop just barged in and assumed the worst of everything and now the pope thinks ill of me. Ugh.
Spring, 1074
Oh, this is gonna be a good year. In the same month, I have set plans into motion to assassinate Grima Wormtongue over there and take his land and Dommand's bethrothed has come of age and they can get married. I feel like this would be a good premise for a play, about a brilliant man setting in motion illicit events on the eve of a beloved child's wedding. No way this can turn out wrong.
Fall, 1074
Grima died. Of illness. I DIDN'T GET TO KILL HIM. I didn't get to set any plans in motion! His stupid son with his stupid bowlcut just happily pranced into power. ARGH. I HATE YOU GRIMA. You couldn't even die correctly.
Spring, 1075
Okay. Take two. Time to kill Grima's son whose name I won't even bother to remember because he's just gonna die. I got his chancellor on board. We're gonna stab the hell out of him. Meanwhile, my youngest son is scheming to kill Dommand. That's not gonna fly. He's in the dungeon now. Need to decide what to do with him, but for now he can just sit there and think about how dumb he is.
Summer, 1075
Hot damn! Dad died. I got more land. But I still don't have a duchy. Dammit. I will not rest until I am a Duke and the only person standing in my way is that damn Grima kid. Why won't he just die already?
Fall, 1075
And another bishop died. I have no idea what makes being bishop in this city so dangerous.
Spring, 1076
That rat bastard in Kildare outed my plot against Grima's son. My plans have been set back quite a bit, but I refuse to give up.
Meanwhile, I BOUGHT A PUB MOTHERFUCKERS. Aw yeah. Salt the turnips. Get the mead flowing. Brought in a bard from England. Everyone had a grand ol' time until it was so successful that I ended up doubling the money I sunk into it. I am the best. I am so smart. I've got the money.
Spring, 1085
Oh my god. NOTHING IS HAPPENING. This is the most boring decade EVER. And that bastard in Kildare is still alive. So, we're doign this the direct way. WAR! HUH! WHAT IS IT GOOD FOR? PRESSING FALSE STRONG CLAIMS TO UNIFY A DUCHY. GOOD GOD Y'ALL.
To be continued...
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