Collage of CAARdinals: An interactive history of the Papal States
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phargle said:I tested the regular unmodified file and it still crashes between November 13th 1073 and January 30th 1074.
I'm at the internet cafe and can't check my files til later, but if you're loading fine and it's reliably crashing just a little in, what it has to be (~95%) is that there's a dynasty breeding that you don't have in your dynasty.txt file.
I'll check when I get home, but I thought I had used a clean copy of 1.05+IP2 for compatibility's sake. Assuming you've already got both of those...
um...
o You might have some Bushes running around in Iceland. If that's what it is, feel free to clean 'em out or give em standard dynasties yourself or give me til tomorrow and I'll post a new savegame.
j.
Update
Sent a pm, but no Bushes. On the other hand, I was using IP2 and Drachenfire's Welsh mod. I will post a dynasties.txt file tomorrow for future players which will prevent CsTD, but I'm pretty sure everyone will need to dl the IP2, since it changed a number of the ethnicities and tags (i.e, otherwise, you'll end up with Abghazian kings of Norway and Cypriots declaring themselves King of Basra, etc.)
As God is said to have said of His Creation,
Sorry for the Inconvenience, y'all,
j.
EDIT: Added most recent replies to the Talk post
phargle said:I'm using 1.05. I'll check the Iceland thing.
Oh - I am also not using IP2. Hm.
Sent a pm, but no Bushes. On the other hand, I was using IP2 and Drachenfire's Welsh mod. I will post a dynasties.txt file tomorrow for future players which will prevent CsTD, but I'm pretty sure everyone will need to dl the IP2, since it changed a number of the ethnicities and tags (i.e, otherwise, you'll end up with Abghazian kings of Norway and Cypriots declaring themselves King of Basra, etc.)
As God is said to have said of His Creation,
Sorry for the Inconvenience, y'all,
j.
EDIT: Added most recent replies to the Talk post
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A Pope To Die For
He thought everybody was out to get him. He was wrong.
It was cold in the winter of 1073. You think you know cold until it hits you. You're an Italian bishop. The pope just died. The Curia wants you to wear the big hat. And then you show up in Rome and you find out the land ain't got no forestries, the courtiers were all picked at random, and you can never get with the dames ever again. You think you know cold. You don't know cold. I do. I'm the pope, and my name's Hildebrand. At least it was - 'til they got to me.
I walked out into the fields by the city. She was a big city, the kind that would grab you tight and hold you to her sweaty bosom. And you loved that bosom. You loved it because she wiped away the tears and whispered secrets into your ear. She'd lie to you sometimes, but that's how Rome was in 1073. I remember that sweat like it was yesterday; that's because it was yesterday. I walked out into the fields and noticed somebody built a library. I borrowed a book. They let me take it because I was the pope. I headed into the field to find somewhere to sit, and that's when it hit me - I had no shade to sit under and read that book. I knew I had to build some forestries. Somebody wanted me to build those forestries. But who? And, more importantly, why?
They say you can't know love 'til you've known betrayal. What they don't tell you is that it takes a lot of betrayal to get there. I knew a man who loved once. You could tell by his beard and the clothes he wore that he was Danish. We played cards and I cheated, but he just smiled. What I did was wrong, but the look in his eyes told me that I was just one betrayal on a whole road of pain. He knew and he let me win anyway. I didn't understand why until that thing happened with those peasants in Trapani. They were Muslims, of course; everybody was, back then. But the way they rebelled against me and the things they said made me think of that Dane, and I wondered if I'd ever get to smile like he did. Somebody had to put that rebellion down. That sombody turned out to be me.
I was in my office when she walked in. She was a nun; I knew she was a nun because of the way she dressed, and because I hated nuns - and I hated her the way a dog hates his own feces. She was talking to me about the peasants in Sicily, but I didn't listen. I just knew that I was a man, and she was a woman, the two of us there in that office. She talked about God and the divine right of kings like it was some new idea; maybe it was a new idea back then, between her and me in that office. And that's when I walked away. The nun. The provinces. It all made sense. The forestries were a ruse to keep me away from Trapani, and I fell for it, hook, line and sinker. I never saw that nun again. We kept it simple and clean - the way Hildebrand likes things to be.
I landed in Trapani expecting a peasant army. That's exactly what I got. There were three hundred and twelve of them, every one of them with murder on his mind. I could tell by the way they looked at me that the time for talking was over. I was a pope with a big red target on my head and they were the arrows coming my way. Winning this war would take something big. Something smart. Something I didn't have to think about. So I took six hundred and ninety six knights, and then I took the same number in everything else. Everything but heavy infantry. I took half as many of them. Even to this day, I don't know why I did that, but it saved my life. I thought about the nun then; the way she talked about theology; the way her body filled out that habit like two peasants in heat. They say you can never go home again. Damn them for being right.
When the killing was done, there were twenty-four bodies too many among the dead. Clearly, somebody else was here with these peasants. And there I was, standing in Trapani with my army, not even knowing who the hell I'd just fought. It was just like them to send somebody anonymous to get me. They wanted me dead but they didn't want me to trace the hit back to them. They neglected one minor detail. Me. I knew I would have to work my way to the top, so I started at the bottom with the peasants in Trapani. It took some aggressive pursuasion, but they told me what I needed to know.
That's when I realized this was big. Too big for me. Hell, too big for anybody. It's just that things like that didn't seem to matter anymore. I was mad as all get up and I was tired of being pushed around. Somebody was going to pay, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be me. The peasants in Trapani gave me a name: Husam. Hearing that name in my ears is something I'll never forget, because that's when I knew that I was in for a long night - and an even longer dirt nap in the morning. That's the kind of thing they did to people like me back in 1074. So I did what I had to do. I attacked first.
The papacy will eat you alive if you let it. It'll chew you up and shit you out, and it'll leave you stinkin' there begging for more. That's what I thought about when I saw Husam. I knew what he knew - that there were men bigger than both of us who wanted me dead. I thought about the nun as I asked Husam for a name, and I knew then what I'd been denying the whole time. The papacy had won. I was a dead man. It was only a matter of time. The thing was, time was all I had. So Husam told me the name and I realized for the first time in months that it was my turn to smile. I smiled big.
I was halfway up the chain of command, lost and confused and alone with nothing but a band of Italian swordsman and my memories to keep me warm. Below me were the men I'd hurt. Above me were the people they'd fingered. I wasn't going to get another chance. I had to get the Sheik of Palermo, and I had to get him fast. There was just one thing. Something important to me. Something I had to get off my chest. A man can only last so long on hate, and I'd hated those peasants in Trapani for a long time. That hate kept me going when my body ached and my muscles failed. It kept me warm. But I'd held onto it for too long. I had to let it go. A man can't go on if he doesn't forgive. Even a man like me. Especially a man like me. I was bent over like a broken pavilion and I had nothing left, but I knew as I stood there in those fields in Agrigento that I did what I had to do.
That's when I felt it. A pain in my chest. It was like a battering ram slamming into my doors and I was ready to retreat. They say dying is like going home. What do they know? Ain't like any of them has ever died. Dying ain't like going home. It's like holding a pair of aces and realizing the guy across the table has a full house, and there's no amount of cheating or begging or bluffing you can to do win. And the see is your ass. I guess I shouldn't have anted up if I wasn't willing to lose. Thing was that I was willing to lose. I was willing to lose it all. The nun. The forests. Even my own life if I had to. I just wanted to kill that son of a bitch in Palermo. Turns out it just wasn't enough. I was an old and bent man dyin' and clutching his chest on some forgotten Italian rock. And then I laughed. I was dying and I was laughing and it was all because I'd realized I didn't feel cold anymore. I was the pope. My name was Hildebrand. At least it was. . . 'til they got to me.
A Pope To Die For
He thought everybody was out to get him. He was wrong.
It was cold in the winter of 1073. You think you know cold until it hits you. You're an Italian bishop. The pope just died. The Curia wants you to wear the big hat. And then you show up in Rome and you find out the land ain't got no forestries, the courtiers were all picked at random, and you can never get with the dames ever again. You think you know cold. You don't know cold. I do. I'm the pope, and my name's Hildebrand. At least it was - 'til they got to me.
I walked out into the fields by the city. She was a big city, the kind that would grab you tight and hold you to her sweaty bosom. And you loved that bosom. You loved it because she wiped away the tears and whispered secrets into your ear. She'd lie to you sometimes, but that's how Rome was in 1073. I remember that sweat like it was yesterday; that's because it was yesterday. I walked out into the fields and noticed somebody built a library. I borrowed a book. They let me take it because I was the pope. I headed into the field to find somewhere to sit, and that's when it hit me - I had no shade to sit under and read that book. I knew I had to build some forestries. Somebody wanted me to build those forestries. But who? And, more importantly, why?
They say you can't know love 'til you've known betrayal. What they don't tell you is that it takes a lot of betrayal to get there. I knew a man who loved once. You could tell by his beard and the clothes he wore that he was Danish. We played cards and I cheated, but he just smiled. What I did was wrong, but the look in his eyes told me that I was just one betrayal on a whole road of pain. He knew and he let me win anyway. I didn't understand why until that thing happened with those peasants in Trapani. They were Muslims, of course; everybody was, back then. But the way they rebelled against me and the things they said made me think of that Dane, and I wondered if I'd ever get to smile like he did. Somebody had to put that rebellion down. That sombody turned out to be me.
I was in my office when she walked in. She was a nun; I knew she was a nun because of the way she dressed, and because I hated nuns - and I hated her the way a dog hates his own feces. She was talking to me about the peasants in Sicily, but I didn't listen. I just knew that I was a man, and she was a woman, the two of us there in that office. She talked about God and the divine right of kings like it was some new idea; maybe it was a new idea back then, between her and me in that office. And that's when I walked away. The nun. The provinces. It all made sense. The forestries were a ruse to keep me away from Trapani, and I fell for it, hook, line and sinker. I never saw that nun again. We kept it simple and clean - the way Hildebrand likes things to be.
I landed in Trapani expecting a peasant army. That's exactly what I got. There were three hundred and twelve of them, every one of them with murder on his mind. I could tell by the way they looked at me that the time for talking was over. I was a pope with a big red target on my head and they were the arrows coming my way. Winning this war would take something big. Something smart. Something I didn't have to think about. So I took six hundred and ninety six knights, and then I took the same number in everything else. Everything but heavy infantry. I took half as many of them. Even to this day, I don't know why I did that, but it saved my life. I thought about the nun then; the way she talked about theology; the way her body filled out that habit like two peasants in heat. They say you can never go home again. Damn them for being right.
When the killing was done, there were twenty-four bodies too many among the dead. Clearly, somebody else was here with these peasants. And there I was, standing in Trapani with my army, not even knowing who the hell I'd just fought. It was just like them to send somebody anonymous to get me. They wanted me dead but they didn't want me to trace the hit back to them. They neglected one minor detail. Me. I knew I would have to work my way to the top, so I started at the bottom with the peasants in Trapani. It took some aggressive pursuasion, but they told me what I needed to know.
That's when I realized this was big. Too big for me. Hell, too big for anybody. It's just that things like that didn't seem to matter anymore. I was mad as all get up and I was tired of being pushed around. Somebody was going to pay, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be me. The peasants in Trapani gave me a name: Husam. Hearing that name in my ears is something I'll never forget, because that's when I knew that I was in for a long night - and an even longer dirt nap in the morning. That's the kind of thing they did to people like me back in 1074. So I did what I had to do. I attacked first.
The papacy will eat you alive if you let it. It'll chew you up and shit you out, and it'll leave you stinkin' there begging for more. That's what I thought about when I saw Husam. I knew what he knew - that there were men bigger than both of us who wanted me dead. I thought about the nun as I asked Husam for a name, and I knew then what I'd been denying the whole time. The papacy had won. I was a dead man. It was only a matter of time. The thing was, time was all I had. So Husam told me the name and I realized for the first time in months that it was my turn to smile. I smiled big.
I was halfway up the chain of command, lost and confused and alone with nothing but a band of Italian swordsman and my memories to keep me warm. Below me were the men I'd hurt. Above me were the people they'd fingered. I wasn't going to get another chance. I had to get the Sheik of Palermo, and I had to get him fast. There was just one thing. Something important to me. Something I had to get off my chest. A man can only last so long on hate, and I'd hated those peasants in Trapani for a long time. That hate kept me going when my body ached and my muscles failed. It kept me warm. But I'd held onto it for too long. I had to let it go. A man can't go on if he doesn't forgive. Even a man like me. Especially a man like me. I was bent over like a broken pavilion and I had nothing left, but I knew as I stood there in those fields in Agrigento that I did what I had to do.
That's when I felt it. A pain in my chest. It was like a battering ram slamming into my doors and I was ready to retreat. They say dying is like going home. What do they know? Ain't like any of them has ever died. Dying ain't like going home. It's like holding a pair of aces and realizing the guy across the table has a full house, and there's no amount of cheating or begging or bluffing you can to do win. And the see is your ass. I guess I shouldn't have anted up if I wasn't willing to lose. Thing was that I was willing to lose. I was willing to lose it all. The nun. The forests. Even my own life if I had to. I just wanted to kill that son of a bitch in Palermo. Turns out it just wasn't enough. I was an old and bent man dyin' and clutching his chest on some forgotten Italian rock. And then I laughed. I was dying and I was laughing and it was all because I'd realized I didn't feel cold anymore. I was the pope. My name was Hildebrand. At least it was. . . 'til they got to me.
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fgl said:
Heh. If only they'd had some fedoras or heart medication somewhere for sale on those damp, lonely Roman streets...
Or if only that bastard catamite Alexander II hadn't discovered clerical celibacy
I can't believe you let a Pole named Bogamil become pope, though...
mms said:
It won't take much time now we're getting the kinks out. He only lasted what? Two years?
It'll just be rough dealing with the short life spans...
j.
Fixed Phargle's save to put Bogumil already in Papacy, be PC, and able to control Napoli's division. Also included copy of Welsh mod dynasty file.
File is here.
j.
File is here.
j.
Llywelyn said:
Able to control Napoli's division? Were they the guys who mobilized their army themselves and just sat there?
I deleted the link out of my update.
Stunningly fantastically excellent. But better than that.
The link-jokes in the wiki-pope were clever and.. illuminating (only polite word I can think of ) also bloody funny.
Equally the hard-boiled mob-pope was inventive and equally funny.
phargle, Llywelyn I enjoyed that deeply, you've set a high bar for others to follow.
More I say: MOOOOOOOOORE!
The link-jokes in the wiki-pope were clever and.. illuminating (only polite word I can think of
) also bloody funny. Equally the hard-boiled mob-pope was inventive and equally funny.
phargle, Llywelyn I enjoyed that deeply, you've set a high bar for others to follow.
More I say: MOOOOOOOOORE!
Great stuff, a very interesting premise you have here. I'd play long, except I can't write, and am usually chained to my desk working.
ElPip said:
o Golly...
'tweren't nuthin'.
And the bar is, in fact, very very low. Unless you're thinking of it as a limbo. In which case it's still very very high. Everyone (inc. you, Senor Pip
) is encouraged to try a stint in the pointy hat. JimboIX said:
We'll see if we can't sneak you a file.
EDIT: Um... the cool kind. Not the manila one.
j.
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Awww, horse puckey
Apparently, our next poster Rocketman went and done got hisself banned off the forums.
So we need a writAAR...
Any volunteers?
No pressure - anytime in the next week or two is good; and no, I don't think he was banned because he was about to write the next instalment. He prolly asked where Anonymous was, or was derogatory of Mr T's yodeling, or hacked into the OT section, or something in no way related to helping out this (with your help!) wonderful AAR.
j.
Apparently, our next poster Rocketman went and done got hisself banned off the forums.
So we need a writAAR...
Any volunteers?
No pressure - anytime in the next week or two is good; and no, I don't think he was banned because he was about to write the next instalment. He prolly asked where Anonymous was, or was derogatory of Mr T's yodeling, or hacked into the OT section, or something in no way related to helping out this (with your help!
) wonderful AAR. j.
Like the wiki style that you had earlier on. A nice unique touch
And wow the last guy didnt' live long at all!
And wow the last guy didnt' live long at all!
It'd be interesting to take up the Big Hat. Alas I've too many plates spinning, and too many clichés riding me hard. Some day perhaps...
And phargle... fecking brilliant
And phargle... fecking brilliant
ComradeOm said:
*bow*
So . . . anybody else out there in AARland interested in giving this a whirl? It's fun to be the pope. And you're often some crusty old priest, so the game shouldn't take too long before you shuffle off this mortal coil.
Well it seems that i could give a try. So is the next pope (Who is Victor III, i think or does it go in the way it have gone in RL?) will be ready to play, without any modifications? Or?
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I have Veldmarschaalks mod installed, would that change my ability to play this save?
I could give it a try if it would work. I can throw a song or 2 here anyday.
Well, not anyday. I need to wait until my testweek is over, atleast.
I could give it a try if it would work. I can throw a song or 2 here anyday.
Well, not anyday. I need to wait until my testweek is over, atleast.
