Yes, we discussed its questionable nature in my Arts of China class. It's a fascinating idea...but that's all it is fascinating.
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Yes, we discussed its questionable nature in my Arts of China class. It's a fascinating idea...but that's all it is fascinating.
Here's an interesting issue - if China was prepared to annex the ethnically different continent of India, with its dark skinned people and multitude of religions, surely it would have no objection to reannexing Xinjiang, Tibet and Manchuria into the Empire once again? I would disagree with your thesis that Han Chinese Emperors treated the border territories as "chips", in fact these are the gateways to China. With Xinjiang in enemy hands it is too easy for them to strike into Yellow River Basin. During the "Five Dynasties, Ten Kingdoms" period of chaos (after the fall of the Tang and before the Song was founded), northern China was given to the Liao - this proved to be one reason why the Song was perpetually harassed in the north, having lost a series of passes to them. The Han and Tang dynasties placed great emphasis on expanding to the northeast (Liaodong, Korea and beyond) and northwest (Silk Road).
Anyway, let's just assume they DID think of these territories as "chips" - if you're willing to annex India, there should be nothing stopping you from retaking the old Qing territories, and of course Tibet which is an important link between China proper and India. Might as well go for Siberia as well and write a story about a race to the North Pole (with some imaginary Chinese man getting there first, of course).
Good show, perhaps you should attempt to create a Chinese basin in the Pacific Ocean? Some sort of "Rise of Chinese Mahanism", the need to control islands in the Pacific to project Chinse Blue Water naval supremacy, and a possible collision with the USA in future. Then again in Victoria ships don't need ports, since they can sail around the world nonstop without having to refuel..........
Anyway, let's just assume they DID think of these territories as "chips" - if you're willing to annex India, there should be nothing stopping you from retaking the old Qing territories, and of course Tibet which is an important link between China proper and India. Might as well go for Siberia as well and write a story about a race to the North Pole (with some imaginary Chinese man getting there first, of course).
Good show, perhaps you should attempt to create a Chinese basin in the Pacific Ocean? Some sort of "Rise of Chinese Mahanism", the need to control islands in the Pacific to project Chinse Blue Water naval supremacy, and a possible collision with the USA in future. Then again in Victoria ships don't need ports, since they can sail around the world nonstop without having to refuel..........
Try creating such an big empire as the Mongols did,it surely would look cool on the world map !!!
Henry v. Keiper said:Wooden mast ships don't need fuel.
They can't sail around for 100 years without ever returning to port though. Or stay in the middle of the Atlantic without any sign of land nearby for 100 years......that's why I think HOI and EU handles this much better.
ptan54 said:
Sure they can, my great great grandpa Keiper did that. He sailed around for a hundred years. He's still sailing in fact. He lives off his own flesh. So far he's eaten his own arm.
Henry v. Keiper said:
:rofl:
That's great.
So, hasn't it been a while since the last update?
yeah,
probably Adso trying to find a little smidgeon of time to either play or write.
Both of which can be tricky
Heretic
probably Adso trying to find a little smidgeon of time to either play or write.
Both of which can be tricky
Heretic
This AAR is really great. I just read through it all last night. I can't wait for the next update.
I wanted to bump this AAR to remind the author that people ARE still interested in it It would be a travesty if this didn't get seen through to the end, which isn't that far away now for sure.
It would be a travesty if this didn't get seen through to the end, which isn't that far away now for sure.
Thank you! My semester is nearly out for a well-deserved month long break, and I have a hard drive full of old screenshots waiting to be pawed through.
Just because I need to excuse my poor forum sense, I'm 2 semesters out from graduating with two honors undergraduate degrees (in history and philosophy), so just a teensy bit overworked.
Much of the historical narrative of this AAR can be divided into two parts: one which supposes a radical Imperialist dynasty in power which spurns traditional 'gateways' into China, opting instead for control over southeast asia and India, and the development of the traditional urban centers in the Yangtse valley. The shifts in culture that accompany urbanization combine with the speedy overextension of the dynasty to create the Great Tragedy, and ten years of turmoil give birth to a new and radical culture that hybridizes Confucianism and a saladbars worth of Western scientific ideologies, South Asian mysticisms, and an overwhelming rejection of 'powerplay' politics...at least until the Reform Coalition wins its way to power.
I've spent so much time thinking about this setting I could write a novel...or a frustratingly dense academic history. What a waste ;-)
-Adso
Just because I need to excuse my poor forum sense, I'm 2 semesters out from graduating with two honors undergraduate degrees (in history and philosophy), so just a teensy bit overworked.
Much of the historical narrative of this AAR can be divided into two parts: one which supposes a radical Imperialist dynasty in power which spurns traditional 'gateways' into China, opting instead for control over southeast asia and India, and the development of the traditional urban centers in the Yangtse valley. The shifts in culture that accompany urbanization combine with the speedy overextension of the dynasty to create the Great Tragedy, and ten years of turmoil give birth to a new and radical culture that hybridizes Confucianism and a saladbars worth of Western scientific ideologies, South Asian mysticisms, and an overwhelming rejection of 'powerplay' politics...at least until the Reform Coalition wins its way to power.
I've spent so much time thinking about this setting I could write a novel...or a frustratingly dense academic history. What a waste ;-)
-Adso
Some more "Day In The Life..."
Basically, I want to give you a slice of life in the noisy, complicated secondary city of Nanjing, which was the capital of the old Dynast,y but the Celestial movement after the Great Tragedy established its new capital in the city of Suzhou, where its leader initially rebelled.
The first character is a 27-year old who was born nine months after the sack of Kaifeng and brought up on boats in a one of the Grand Canal refugee cities, and now ekes out a living as a porter in the city.
The second character is a 19-yeat-old student whose Reformist tendencies make him unpopular with his classmates, especially the female ones, who only 18 years ago obtained the right to be educated in the same way as males. He hasn't taken any but the first two exams yet, and is from Suzhou, so he goes home to visit his father, a former private foundry owner, now a state foundry supervisor, fairly often.
A Morning in the life of Shi Hsian, Porter (in the city of Nanjing). Late Spring, 1904.
5:30am: awakened by Hu Wuyi, his friend and one of the six other men who share his section of the Bright Water Compound.
5:45am: Hu Wuyi and Shi Hsian breakfast on tea and a congee made from leftover millet-cakes and sold cheaply at the Compound Market for Bright Water and Suzhou Intermediary.
5:50am: They make their way to the rail station, where the second train of the day has just arrived, following the canals from Bengbu. Meeting at the distribution office, both are assigned the hauling of rice-cakes to several compounds which placed orders with the train company. Loading their porter-packs with several dozen pounds each, they race off through the streets and bridges of Nanjing.
6:40am: Arriving at the compounds, the two unload their material and are paid by the compound-overseer.
6:45am: A young man in a hurry hires Hu Wuyi to run a package of documents to some of the publisher’s offices down near Daqiao, at the river’s edge, and scribbles out a note which he reads aloud.
6:55am: Now alone, Shi Hsian makes his way back to the station consignment office, narrowly missing being run over by a man fleeing from a pair of military officers, a large number of cheaply printed newspapers clutched in both hands.
7:15am: The last consignments have already been handed over to porters at the consignment station, so Shi Hsian looks for a private customer. A very young woman wearing a strange headscarf, which Shi has only seen on a few Gansu women before, hires him to carry her luggage to the Foreign Territory, where she is staying. She obviously doesn’t know much Chinese, because she pays him double what the going rate is for a walk across the city.
7:40: Though Hsian doesn’t have a pass to enter the Quarter, the woman hands over some money and the affair is settled – his hopes for good pay for this job continue to rise, one doesn’t generally bribe lower officials, they’ll just get sacked. When they arrive at a place marked with a crescent of some sort, he drops off her luggage and heads out of the Foreign Quarter, hoping to catch the 8:00 train consignment.
….
11:10: Meeting Wuyi again, the two of them eat lunch at a restaurant near the Old Palace, operated by several Thai Chinese. Hsian doesn’t seem to mind the expense, regailing Wuyi with stories about the strange woman he hauled luggage for that morning. Wuyi goes right back, claiming he ran a Government package to four different men, all of whom had to put a chop on it, only to have the fifth man throw it right out.
That Same Morning in the life of Ts’ao Liu She, government student.
6:50am: the sound of a streetcar outside donging loudly at a clumsy porter wakes him and his roommates, all of whom are fuzzy from a meeting with the Marathi Students Society For The Advancement Of Fiction, at which a large amount of exotic Bombay fare was consumed.
7:00am: Wanders down to the market of the Suzhou Intermediary Students and Bright Water compounds, avoiding several screaming children whose mothers are already out preparing foods to sell. Eats a congee with fresh rice from this morning’s delivery while chatting with three of his friends about whether the Marathis they met last night really understood any of the Heavenly Principles, ending with a conclusion that it didn’t matter, so long as they could continue to cook.
7:30am: The students catch a streetcar to the river, and hop on a boat which takes them outside the city to the Jiangpu Lake Center For Study.
8:45: First class of the day, a long session on the early life of Yan I-Zhei, architect of the Heavenly People’s Principles. The scholar teaching the class is missing one hand, cut off by a Dynasty official for writing a protest memorandum in 1882,
9:30: Second class of the day, this time a calligraphy practicum and poetry writing contest. One of the students from the Suzhou Intermediary Compound wins, but it is a woman, and the professor seems more than a little put out by her use of traditional forms so effectively.
11:00: Third class of the day. An exam is given on the names and locations of the Western nations, their class systems, and their relationship to the Hegemony. The essay question, which Liu She gets quite infatuated with, asks them to analyze how the old Dynasty’s defeat of the British led to its own downfall, which Liu disputes, reformist that he is, and argues that it was the Dynasty’s lack of governing virtue that meant it couldn’t truly hold onto its power.
12:30: The students adjourn for the afternoon, taking boats that await their afternoon dismissal into town and heading to restaraunts or, some of them, to pleasure-quarters.
OK. I'm going to play human encyclopedia to explore this world of alternate history. Tell me where you want to go and what you want to know about, and I'll see what I can dredge up. Working in the library gets VERY boring around exam time.
-Adso
Basically, I want to give you a slice of life in the noisy, complicated secondary city of Nanjing, which was the capital of the old Dynast,y but the Celestial movement after the Great Tragedy established its new capital in the city of Suzhou, where its leader initially rebelled.
The first character is a 27-year old who was born nine months after the sack of Kaifeng and brought up on boats in a one of the Grand Canal refugee cities, and now ekes out a living as a porter in the city.
The second character is a 19-yeat-old student whose Reformist tendencies make him unpopular with his classmates, especially the female ones, who only 18 years ago obtained the right to be educated in the same way as males. He hasn't taken any but the first two exams yet, and is from Suzhou, so he goes home to visit his father, a former private foundry owner, now a state foundry supervisor, fairly often.
A Morning in the life of Shi Hsian, Porter (in the city of Nanjing). Late Spring, 1904.
5:30am: awakened by Hu Wuyi, his friend and one of the six other men who share his section of the Bright Water Compound.
5:45am: Hu Wuyi and Shi Hsian breakfast on tea and a congee made from leftover millet-cakes and sold cheaply at the Compound Market for Bright Water and Suzhou Intermediary.
5:50am: They make their way to the rail station, where the second train of the day has just arrived, following the canals from Bengbu. Meeting at the distribution office, both are assigned the hauling of rice-cakes to several compounds which placed orders with the train company. Loading their porter-packs with several dozen pounds each, they race off through the streets and bridges of Nanjing.
6:40am: Arriving at the compounds, the two unload their material and are paid by the compound-overseer.
6:45am: A young man in a hurry hires Hu Wuyi to run a package of documents to some of the publisher’s offices down near Daqiao, at the river’s edge, and scribbles out a note which he reads aloud.
6:55am: Now alone, Shi Hsian makes his way back to the station consignment office, narrowly missing being run over by a man fleeing from a pair of military officers, a large number of cheaply printed newspapers clutched in both hands.
7:15am: The last consignments have already been handed over to porters at the consignment station, so Shi Hsian looks for a private customer. A very young woman wearing a strange headscarf, which Shi has only seen on a few Gansu women before, hires him to carry her luggage to the Foreign Territory, where she is staying. She obviously doesn’t know much Chinese, because she pays him double what the going rate is for a walk across the city.
7:40: Though Hsian doesn’t have a pass to enter the Quarter, the woman hands over some money and the affair is settled – his hopes for good pay for this job continue to rise, one doesn’t generally bribe lower officials, they’ll just get sacked. When they arrive at a place marked with a crescent of some sort, he drops off her luggage and heads out of the Foreign Quarter, hoping to catch the 8:00 train consignment.
….
11:10: Meeting Wuyi again, the two of them eat lunch at a restaurant near the Old Palace, operated by several Thai Chinese. Hsian doesn’t seem to mind the expense, regailing Wuyi with stories about the strange woman he hauled luggage for that morning. Wuyi goes right back, claiming he ran a Government package to four different men, all of whom had to put a chop on it, only to have the fifth man throw it right out.
That Same Morning in the life of Ts’ao Liu She, government student.
6:50am: the sound of a streetcar outside donging loudly at a clumsy porter wakes him and his roommates, all of whom are fuzzy from a meeting with the Marathi Students Society For The Advancement Of Fiction, at which a large amount of exotic Bombay fare was consumed.
7:00am: Wanders down to the market of the Suzhou Intermediary Students and Bright Water compounds, avoiding several screaming children whose mothers are already out preparing foods to sell. Eats a congee with fresh rice from this morning’s delivery while chatting with three of his friends about whether the Marathis they met last night really understood any of the Heavenly Principles, ending with a conclusion that it didn’t matter, so long as they could continue to cook.
7:30am: The students catch a streetcar to the river, and hop on a boat which takes them outside the city to the Jiangpu Lake Center For Study.
8:45: First class of the day, a long session on the early life of Yan I-Zhei, architect of the Heavenly People’s Principles. The scholar teaching the class is missing one hand, cut off by a Dynasty official for writing a protest memorandum in 1882,
9:30: Second class of the day, this time a calligraphy practicum and poetry writing contest. One of the students from the Suzhou Intermediary Compound wins, but it is a woman, and the professor seems more than a little put out by her use of traditional forms so effectively.
11:00: Third class of the day. An exam is given on the names and locations of the Western nations, their class systems, and their relationship to the Hegemony. The essay question, which Liu She gets quite infatuated with, asks them to analyze how the old Dynasty’s defeat of the British led to its own downfall, which Liu disputes, reformist that he is, and argues that it was the Dynasty’s lack of governing virtue that meant it couldn’t truly hold onto its power.
12:30: The students adjourn for the afternoon, taking boats that await their afternoon dismissal into town and heading to restaraunts or, some of them, to pleasure-quarters.
OK. I'm going to play human encyclopedia to explore this world of alternate history. Tell me where you want to go and what you want to know about, and I'll see what I can dredge up. Working in the library gets VERY boring around exam time.
-Adso
This is a VERY detailed and deep world you have created, BrotherAdso. I bow before your superiority. If you want to expand this world, then it would be a great benefit to readers everywhere to immerse themselves in it.
anonymous4401 said:
Tell me about the Chinese colonies in Africa, and the Chinese immigrants there. How are Africans treated?
I once was so bored in Art History I class I wrote the entire constitution to a fictional nation.
I want to hear some military life, like what recruits go through, where the families of the soldiers live, maybe training or the life of officers, particularly with troops of foreign origin.
I want to know whats up with that foriegn woman with her mysterious package and bribing guards, she's up to something I tell ya!
I'm actually kind of curious as to what's happened with the rest of the world, especially Britain, the USA and Russia
I'm actually kind of curious as to what's happened with the rest of the world, especially Britain, the USA and Russia
Wow! An AAR after my taste!
Since the Celestial Kingdom is now the foremost ruling power in the world, how does this influence everyday life in Europe? Did Europeans already adapt Celestial lifestyle elements?
Since the Celestial Kingdom is now the foremost ruling power in the world, how does this influence everyday life in Europe? Did Europeans already adapt Celestial lifestyle elements?
A short story begins in response to the question:"What are the colonies and life in Africa like?"
Mugeta and Kambui watched the train crawl across the valley, the thunder of its wheels reduced to a gentle thudding by distance and the hot air of the valley, which had shimmered and hung heavy over Ibyati Yusu that afternoon. They watched it wind its way through the tall grass and down, down towards the pass that led inland, towards Ibyati Yusu, where the air hung heavy and sweat stung the eyes, and clotted the blood of those who lay dying.
Mugeta turned to Kambui and spoke, for the first time since the screams of those who lay dying had ripped open the heavy veil of the air.
“Kambui. The long-cart will bring to Ibyati Yusu soldiers, and the soldiers will find the dead. We should continue to run.” He said, quiet and slow as was his fashion.
Kambui responded. “The soldiers will not find us if we stay here, they will think we were simply lost in the killing, and they will go away,” he muttered without looking at Mugeta’s face, scarred and bandaged as it was.
“But if the old men from the west lake tell them about what the Yusai family did to your sister, then they’ll surely blame us.”
“The soldiers are not even Muslim, the Easterners are dense. They will think it was a mere money matter and leave on the long-cart to visit the other towns.” Kambui shook his head slowly as he spoke, shifting his rifle, dull and black and glistening in the sun, from his left to his right hand.
“The easterners are not so stupid, otherwise how did they kick out the Westerners when our fathers fought for them?”
Kambui snorted, but Mugeta plodded on with his deliberate, quiet Swahili, pronouncing every letter.
“Besides, the old men will tell them everything, Kambui. No matter how dense they are…Odai and his sons never liked you. We must run, perhaps if we can go to another town…”
Muegeta looked away to the end of the valley, where the train had disappeared under its thin smoke-trail, looking for all the world like a pillar of white stone in the sky, so calm was the wind.
Kambui stood. “Fine, Mugeta. We can follow the long-cart tracks. The Yusai are dead and I have given Hasina what she deserved.”
Mugeta was the first. He turned and began to walk. Hasina had deserved something other than the stink of bodies and buzz of flies – she had loved her brothers, and her mother, andevery living thing with the grace of Allah. She would not have liked the return her brothers had brought on her death.
As his strides lengthened, Mugeta’s thoughts were like the cloud that followed the Easterner’s long-carts. Would his work be counted against him when the judgement came? Every thud of his foot on the hard savanna soil brought back the crack of his rifle-butt against the skull of Okanu, the father of Ayele who had killed his sister. Without seeing Kambui behind him, he could hear every breath his brother took – his brother, who had taken such joy as he slammed the wood again and again into the face of Ayele, who had taken a knife for four nights in a row before the killings and snuck out to slaughter the cattle of the Yusai. And now where? To the cities of the Easterners? There was no family, no life left on the savannah.
That night, for the first time, Mugeta and Kambui slept without once hearing the lowing of cattle, but more than once they awoke, frightened by the chugging of the long-carts passing down the track.
Mugeta and Kambui watched the train crawl across the valley, the thunder of its wheels reduced to a gentle thudding by distance and the hot air of the valley, which had shimmered and hung heavy over Ibyati Yusu that afternoon. They watched it wind its way through the tall grass and down, down towards the pass that led inland, towards Ibyati Yusu, where the air hung heavy and sweat stung the eyes, and clotted the blood of those who lay dying.
Mugeta turned to Kambui and spoke, for the first time since the screams of those who lay dying had ripped open the heavy veil of the air.
“Kambui. The long-cart will bring to Ibyati Yusu soldiers, and the soldiers will find the dead. We should continue to run.” He said, quiet and slow as was his fashion.
Kambui responded. “The soldiers will not find us if we stay here, they will think we were simply lost in the killing, and they will go away,” he muttered without looking at Mugeta’s face, scarred and bandaged as it was.
“But if the old men from the west lake tell them about what the Yusai family did to your sister, then they’ll surely blame us.”
“The soldiers are not even Muslim, the Easterners are dense. They will think it was a mere money matter and leave on the long-cart to visit the other towns.” Kambui shook his head slowly as he spoke, shifting his rifle, dull and black and glistening in the sun, from his left to his right hand.
“The easterners are not so stupid, otherwise how did they kick out the Westerners when our fathers fought for them?”
Kambui snorted, but Mugeta plodded on with his deliberate, quiet Swahili, pronouncing every letter.
“Besides, the old men will tell them everything, Kambui. No matter how dense they are…Odai and his sons never liked you. We must run, perhaps if we can go to another town…”
Muegeta looked away to the end of the valley, where the train had disappeared under its thin smoke-trail, looking for all the world like a pillar of white stone in the sky, so calm was the wind.
Kambui stood. “Fine, Mugeta. We can follow the long-cart tracks. The Yusai are dead and I have given Hasina what she deserved.”
Mugeta was the first. He turned and began to walk. Hasina had deserved something other than the stink of bodies and buzz of flies – she had loved her brothers, and her mother, andevery living thing with the grace of Allah. She would not have liked the return her brothers had brought on her death.
As his strides lengthened, Mugeta’s thoughts were like the cloud that followed the Easterner’s long-carts. Would his work be counted against him when the judgement came? Every thud of his foot on the hard savanna soil brought back the crack of his rifle-butt against the skull of Okanu, the father of Ayele who had killed his sister. Without seeing Kambui behind him, he could hear every breath his brother took – his brother, who had taken such joy as he slammed the wood again and again into the face of Ayele, who had taken a knife for four nights in a row before the killings and snuck out to slaughter the cattle of the Yusai. And now where? To the cities of the Easterners? There was no family, no life left on the savannah.
That night, for the first time, Mugeta and Kambui slept without once hearing the lowing of cattle, but more than once they awoke, frightened by the chugging of the long-carts passing down the track.