Breaking world news! Military Coup Topples existing Punjabi Democracy. Islamic Fundamentalists take control of the Government.
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Those IC-counts are neat, but is it possible to perhaps get an MP-count? After all, the KoMgols have China, while the Americans have the normally MP-poor New World; and the Comintern have what is usually MP-poor Africa, so I'd expect the balance of power to look a little different to how the IC dictates.
Unlike IC, it would be difficult to give such a count without breaking the house rule of not looking at others' countries. I can reveal, however, that the Khanate's MP is not as high as you'd think; a lot of China's population was in the coastal enclaves now owned by Japan and Spain.
Don't forget Mayan-owned Qingdao.
Anywho, we can infer quite a bit from the conversion, which we were allowed to inspect. There hasn't been much change, yet, so from the top of my head:
Top tier powers, mp-wise (daily gain ~3):
* Kongo
* Germany
Medium tier powers (daily gain ~2):
* Ethiopia
* Cata
* Japan
Lower-tier powers (daily gain <2):
The rest. Approximate order:
* Komgols
* MayaUSA
* Russia
* Punjab
Anywho, we can infer quite a bit from the conversion, which we were allowed to inspect. There hasn't been much change, yet, so from the top of my head:
Top tier powers, mp-wise (daily gain ~3):
* Kongo
* Germany
Medium tier powers (daily gain ~2):
* Ethiopia
* Cata
* Japan
Lower-tier powers (daily gain <2):
The rest. Approximate order:
* Komgols
* MayaUSA
* Russia
* Punjab
yet still in dead last for MP >.>So says the person with the new MP
By 1938, Konstantin's internal position was essentially stable. The purges had removed his enemies' power base in the Legions, the final arbiter of power, and the reforms had restored the strength of Rome, if not beyond foreign challenge, then at least to the point where military power was no longer a usable club to beat the regime with. Moreover, the factional schism had not progressed to the point where the Komnenoi lost sight of the ultimate aim of keeping their nation (and thus the base of their wealth and power) strong. Konstantin, therefore, had no need for extensive (and expensive, not least in political capital) purges of the Senatorial class; there were no executions, no proscriptions, and while there were a few cases of house arrest, the last of these (Georgos, the charismatic leader of the Peace Party) was released in December 1936. It is true that Herakles, the leader of the maura poukamisa and a personal as well as political enemy of Konstantin, was sent to take charge of the officer training program at Penchisky, the world's most northerly university, traditionally regarded as a post of unofficial internal exile and mild disgrace; but it appears that he was not entirely unwilling to take the job, seeing it as an opportunity to put his ideas into practice and show the nation what could be done. In later years he was known to quip that at any rate the post was about as far away from Konstantin as it was possible to get while remaining within the borders of the Khanate.
Building, then, on the still-strong patriotism that had underlain even the bitterest years of the conflict, Konstantin was able to form a government that could, without irony or mockery, be referred to as one of national unity. Certainly Konstantin's faction, the War Party founded by Lysandros, was dominant; but they did not try to rule alone, nor, once it was settled who was to formulate overall policy, did they try to keep all the most prestigious positions for themselves. Even so influential a position as Overseer of Barbarian Territories (what other polities called Foreign Ministers) was given to Erastos, nominally of the Peace Party. This may have reflected Konstantin's belief that Rome was not ready for war, but it also served as a powerful gesture of reconciliation after the bitterness of the civil unrest and the military purges.
This slow rebuilding of Komnenos unity found a powerful boost in the unexpected transfer of Kongo-Over-The-Sea, or northern India. India was a traditional battleground for the Khanate's forces; neither the Cold March across Tibet, nor the slaughters of the War of 1821, were forgotten in New Byzantium. True, the mountain border had been mostly peaceful since the partition of Khmer in the first half of the nineteenth century; but to Roman minds, that was yesterday. An army which traced its ancestry, and drew its institutional memory and tradition, in a straight line through the Breaking of the Don and on back through the Teutoburger Wald to Cannae and Lake Trasimene, did not consider a hundred years to be a long time. The shift in the regional balance of power implied by the Kongolese retreat, therefore, immediately riveted Roman attention.
In real terms, that shift was not, it is true, so large as is implied by a glance at the map, or even by a more informed look at population densities. The negotiated transfer of the Ganges plain increased Punjab's mere geographical extent by roughly 50%; in terms of population the gain was even larger. But the economic reality was otherwise: The cotton, spices, and other cash crops that had made northern India a source of immense wealth through most of the period after the African conquest were no longer particularly valuable, and as a point of colonial policy the Kongolese had never strongly encouraged Indian industries. In the era of steamships and machine guns, India was not an asset to Kongo, but a liability; the need for troops to defend it against possible Roman or Japanese predation - troops which would have to be supplied across a possibly-unfriendly sea, or over the Persian mountains if both Ethiopia and Punjab were of a mind to allow that - far outweighed its enfeebled economic benefit. In terms of cold calculations of national strength, the transfer to Punjab, in return for concessions that were not made public at the time, was not unreasonable, and may indeed be considered something of a diplomatic coup.
Nevertheless, such a cold-blooded cutting of losses is unusual for empires of several hundred years' standing; if nothing else, whatever the realities of national strength, there are always interest groups who benefit from imperial arrangements. The event therefore sent a shockwave through the chancelleries of Asia, and most especially through New Byzantium, which was most closely affected. Rome had generally regarded Punjab as an ally of sorts, but a relatively unimportant one; at times the relationship had even been explicitly that of vassal and overlord. To find it suddenly enlarged by lands over which Roman troops had many times fought and died was an unpleasant shock, quite apart from the sudden necessity of defending a much longer border against this evidently expansionist state. (In truth, this danger was more apparent than real, the Himalayas being eminently defensible.) From the point of view of a dictator creating an external threat to unify disparate elements of his government, then, the Indian Transfer was a godsend; indeed much ink has been spilled in various attempts to prove that Konstantin was the mastermind behind the transfer, brokered it, forced it upon the Punjabis or Kongolese by the sheer force of his will, or used necromantic mind-control rays acquired from the Persian moon-colonies to prevent Ethiopia from using its well-known control of Kongolese foreign policy to stop the deal from going through.
Whatever the truth about the mind-control rays, it is clear that the consequent movement of Roman troops to what was now regarded as a more dangerous border was one element in the general ratcheting-up of tension between the power blocs that characterised the late thirties. The Punjabi goverment, feeling its oats but realistic enough to know that it still could not face Rome alone when Konstantin's reforms were completed, were pushed into closer alliance with their African benefactors, as indeed the Kongolese (or perhaps their Ethiopian masters!) had no doubt intended. Conversely the Khanate, understanding that it could destroy Punjab but not Africa, began to cast about for allies of its own, and its eye naturally fell on Europe.
Building, then, on the still-strong patriotism that had underlain even the bitterest years of the conflict, Konstantin was able to form a government that could, without irony or mockery, be referred to as one of national unity. Certainly Konstantin's faction, the War Party founded by Lysandros, was dominant; but they did not try to rule alone, nor, once it was settled who was to formulate overall policy, did they try to keep all the most prestigious positions for themselves. Even so influential a position as Overseer of Barbarian Territories (what other polities called Foreign Ministers) was given to Erastos, nominally of the Peace Party. This may have reflected Konstantin's belief that Rome was not ready for war, but it also served as a powerful gesture of reconciliation after the bitterness of the civil unrest and the military purges.
This slow rebuilding of Komnenos unity found a powerful boost in the unexpected transfer of Kongo-Over-The-Sea, or northern India. India was a traditional battleground for the Khanate's forces; neither the Cold March across Tibet, nor the slaughters of the War of 1821, were forgotten in New Byzantium. True, the mountain border had been mostly peaceful since the partition of Khmer in the first half of the nineteenth century; but to Roman minds, that was yesterday. An army which traced its ancestry, and drew its institutional memory and tradition, in a straight line through the Breaking of the Don and on back through the Teutoburger Wald to Cannae and Lake Trasimene, did not consider a hundred years to be a long time. The shift in the regional balance of power implied by the Kongolese retreat, therefore, immediately riveted Roman attention.
In real terms, that shift was not, it is true, so large as is implied by a glance at the map, or even by a more informed look at population densities. The negotiated transfer of the Ganges plain increased Punjab's mere geographical extent by roughly 50%; in terms of population the gain was even larger. But the economic reality was otherwise: The cotton, spices, and other cash crops that had made northern India a source of immense wealth through most of the period after the African conquest were no longer particularly valuable, and as a point of colonial policy the Kongolese had never strongly encouraged Indian industries. In the era of steamships and machine guns, India was not an asset to Kongo, but a liability; the need for troops to defend it against possible Roman or Japanese predation - troops which would have to be supplied across a possibly-unfriendly sea, or over the Persian mountains if both Ethiopia and Punjab were of a mind to allow that - far outweighed its enfeebled economic benefit. In terms of cold calculations of national strength, the transfer to Punjab, in return for concessions that were not made public at the time, was not unreasonable, and may indeed be considered something of a diplomatic coup.
Nevertheless, such a cold-blooded cutting of losses is unusual for empires of several hundred years' standing; if nothing else, whatever the realities of national strength, there are always interest groups who benefit from imperial arrangements. The event therefore sent a shockwave through the chancelleries of Asia, and most especially through New Byzantium, which was most closely affected. Rome had generally regarded Punjab as an ally of sorts, but a relatively unimportant one; at times the relationship had even been explicitly that of vassal and overlord. To find it suddenly enlarged by lands over which Roman troops had many times fought and died was an unpleasant shock, quite apart from the sudden necessity of defending a much longer border against this evidently expansionist state. (In truth, this danger was more apparent than real, the Himalayas being eminently defensible.) From the point of view of a dictator creating an external threat to unify disparate elements of his government, then, the Indian Transfer was a godsend; indeed much ink has been spilled in various attempts to prove that Konstantin was the mastermind behind the transfer, brokered it, forced it upon the Punjabis or Kongolese by the sheer force of his will, or used necromantic mind-control rays acquired from the Persian moon-colonies to prevent Ethiopia from using its well-known control of Kongolese foreign policy to stop the deal from going through.
Whatever the truth about the mind-control rays, it is clear that the consequent movement of Roman troops to what was now regarded as a more dangerous border was one element in the general ratcheting-up of tension between the power blocs that characterised the late thirties. The Punjabi goverment, feeling its oats but realistic enough to know that it still could not face Rome alone when Konstantin's reforms were completed, were pushed into closer alliance with their African benefactors, as indeed the Kongolese (or perhaps their Ethiopian masters!) had no doubt intended. Conversely the Khanate, understanding that it could destroy Punjab but not Africa, began to cast about for allies of its own, and its eye naturally fell on Europe.
From The Road to War: Eurasian Diplomacy 1921-1942,
Adam Tewksbury,
Deutsch-Anglische Informations-Presse, (C) 1967.
Adam Tewksbury,
Deutsch-Anglische Informations-Presse, (C) 1967.
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The Empire of the Volga Part III
Private Emilia Ivanova Isayeva was having a bad day.
Oh it had started well enough, the slop they were served in the field canteen was heated for once!
Whenever she or some other recruit had complained about the terrible food the kitchen staff would complain about a lack of funding, and they only had enough gas to cook the food for the officers.
Why did I choose such a loathsome career?
Well, there was no much of a choice, daughter of a Russian Polish cobbler intended to marry her off for the dowry? What choice did she have if she wanted an education?
“GROUP!” Yelled the Praporschik, the Russian military rank for “warrant officer”, a tall loathsome excuse for a non commissioned officer, all he could do is yell out abuse and through his incompetence somehow managing to constantly put the trainee company in danger.
All at once we all who had been milling about carelessly assembled into five orderly rows of ten soldiers each, we were each a “section”.
I had been put in the second row, the “Team Snatcher” There were coincidentally only ten women in this company and so we were all put in the same section to share the same tend.
“Alright you faggot fuckfaced cunts.” More mat, it could be very difficult to tell where proper Russian ended and where the mat begun... “Especially the ones who actually have cunts.” He nodded towards us. Is that so
“Today we're doing field experiences! So you better not fucking screw up or I will have you all digging trenches from now until the second coming! You hear me you sons of bitches? Oh excuse me, Sons and daughters of bitches. How rude?” He laughed at his own terrible joke. Oh saying it once might have been clever, but he liked it so damn much that he tended to say it every single fucking time.
Would it kill him to come up with something new? But then again the Russian Armed Forces don't apparently run on originality...
We marched over to the “motor pool”, it wasn't much really. A bunch of horses and a couple of trucks. The field army didn't have enough trucks to go around so we had just two old Californian studebakers.
We were driven for over three hours, with various bumps on the road with a lot of complaining.
“Turn left!”
“Watch that bump!”
“Are we there yet Brother?”
“Slow down!”
“Speed up!”
“Stop backseat driving you fucking douchbags!” more mat from the Warrant.
“Driver, learn to fucking drive and next time the streltsy won't be up your ass da?” His abuse of the driver was predictable.
The annoying thing was that he wasn't wrong either, while she had never driven the truck before she hung around it and watched the better drivers enough to know the current one had know idea what the fuck he was doing.
I could probably do a better job she fumed.
Nichevo though, it could not be helped. She was a strelet a private infantryman in the Russian Armed Forces and a transfer would take forever.
The truck finally stopped and a few moments later the Praporschik had opened the back.
“Alright get the fuck out, break time is over fuckheads. Time to start digging!” He laughed.
Fuck your mother you asshole.
She could swear with the best of them when she wanted to and each day of this “training” the line between “wanting to swear” and just “swearing as a natural part of speech” continued to be blurred.
She hopped onto the dark ukrainian soil, her heavy army boots landing hard and slightly sinking into the soft soil.
No wonder so much of our food comes from here.
Since it was still summer no one was wearing valenki, but soon enough after the raputsusa mud season and the temperature fell they would all be wearing militerized valenki.
She was quickly issued a shovel, a shitty thing made from wood and rusted metal. Great.
Fucking stupid training exercise if you ask me, she thought.
But no one asked her, so she simply kept digging where she was told.
She noticed that two others from her section weren't digging with their fullest 'brother zeal for the motherland' and seemed to be gossiping as much as they were digging.
The Great Debate between hitting them upside the head with her shovel out of rage or moving over to find out what they were talking was won by the Progressive forces of Curiosity and she walked over, shovel still in hand of course in case she didn't like what she heard....
“Brother Stasya, Brother Nyura, we'll never reach the second coming at this rate you know.”
They laughed nervously.
“Well? Spill it. This gossip had better be interesting.” Or else she left unsaid, but not unclearly.
“Well....” Anastasia started. “We've heard some rumors.”
You don't say.
She must have scowled because she widened her eyes in fear and quickly elaborated.
“That the training... Might not actually be for 'training' but for something else...” She said nervously.
“Eh?”
Anna continued where Anastasia left off, “Well you see Brother Strelet Emilka...” She said using Emilia's diminutive.
“I was thinking that maybe these training exersizes are really maskirovka to hide our intended purpose in this sector, or perhaps operationally.” She is such a fucking umnik, why don't you join the STAVKA like the rest of the eye glass wearing nerds?
However she was intrigued and kept such thoughts to herself and signalled her to go on.
“I think... There's going to be a war.” She said delicately.
“Huh? With.... Croatia?” Emilia wasn't stupid, just had no use for the pretentious. Either you could solve the problem at hand or you were useless and expendable.
But it made sense, the Croatian border was only a few miles away. What did the official report say these trenches were for? Irrigation? Its obvious if you think about it, most of these weren't going to be useful for any other purpose then a military one, especially if you ruined good farming land to dig them.
Anna had nodded, say whatever you wanted but Anna could dig and march like any other soldier when she put her mind to it. Maybe she will be useful in the end afterall?
“Khorosho, okay, we got it. Keep your undergarments and socks dry and we'll be fine if it happens.” They nodded. Seemingly... Relieved? All she did was say some words? Words don't mean anything, you can die if your not lucky no matter how careful you are so what does a few extra words do you?
Not a lot of good at all.
“Now get back to work or...” She brandished her shovel threateningly.
They got back to digging all right.
[No historical characters this time sadly.]
Private Emilia Ivanova Isayeva was having a bad day.
Oh it had started well enough, the slop they were served in the field canteen was heated for once!
Whenever she or some other recruit had complained about the terrible food the kitchen staff would complain about a lack of funding, and they only had enough gas to cook the food for the officers.
Why did I choose such a loathsome career?
Well, there was no much of a choice, daughter of a Russian Polish cobbler intended to marry her off for the dowry? What choice did she have if she wanted an education?
“GROUP!” Yelled the Praporschik, the Russian military rank for “warrant officer”, a tall loathsome excuse for a non commissioned officer, all he could do is yell out abuse and through his incompetence somehow managing to constantly put the trainee company in danger.
All at once we all who had been milling about carelessly assembled into five orderly rows of ten soldiers each, we were each a “section”.
I had been put in the second row, the “Team Snatcher” There were coincidentally only ten women in this company and so we were all put in the same section to share the same tend.
“Alright you faggot fuckfaced cunts.” More mat, it could be very difficult to tell where proper Russian ended and where the mat begun... “Especially the ones who actually have cunts.” He nodded towards us. Is that so
“Today we're doing field experiences! So you better not fucking screw up or I will have you all digging trenches from now until the second coming! You hear me you sons of bitches? Oh excuse me, Sons and daughters of bitches. How rude?” He laughed at his own terrible joke. Oh saying it once might have been clever, but he liked it so damn much that he tended to say it every single fucking time.
Would it kill him to come up with something new? But then again the Russian Armed Forces don't apparently run on originality...
We marched over to the “motor pool”, it wasn't much really. A bunch of horses and a couple of trucks. The field army didn't have enough trucks to go around so we had just two old Californian studebakers.
We were driven for over three hours, with various bumps on the road with a lot of complaining.
“Turn left!”
“Watch that bump!”
“Are we there yet Brother?”
“Slow down!”
“Speed up!”
“Stop backseat driving you fucking douchbags!” more mat from the Warrant.
“Driver, learn to fucking drive and next time the streltsy won't be up your ass da?” His abuse of the driver was predictable.
The annoying thing was that he wasn't wrong either, while she had never driven the truck before she hung around it and watched the better drivers enough to know the current one had know idea what the fuck he was doing.
I could probably do a better job she fumed.
Nichevo though, it could not be helped. She was a strelet a private infantryman in the Russian Armed Forces and a transfer would take forever.
The truck finally stopped and a few moments later the Praporschik had opened the back.
“Alright get the fuck out, break time is over fuckheads. Time to start digging!” He laughed.
Fuck your mother you asshole.
She could swear with the best of them when she wanted to and each day of this “training” the line between “wanting to swear” and just “swearing as a natural part of speech” continued to be blurred.
She hopped onto the dark ukrainian soil, her heavy army boots landing hard and slightly sinking into the soft soil.
No wonder so much of our food comes from here.
Since it was still summer no one was wearing valenki, but soon enough after the raputsusa mud season and the temperature fell they would all be wearing militerized valenki.
She was quickly issued a shovel, a shitty thing made from wood and rusted metal. Great.
Fucking stupid training exercise if you ask me, she thought.
But no one asked her, so she simply kept digging where she was told.
She noticed that two others from her section weren't digging with their fullest 'brother zeal for the motherland' and seemed to be gossiping as much as they were digging.
The Great Debate between hitting them upside the head with her shovel out of rage or moving over to find out what they were talking was won by the Progressive forces of Curiosity and she walked over, shovel still in hand of course in case she didn't like what she heard....
“Brother Stasya, Brother Nyura, we'll never reach the second coming at this rate you know.”
They laughed nervously.
“Well? Spill it. This gossip had better be interesting.” Or else she left unsaid, but not unclearly.
“Well....” Anastasia started. “We've heard some rumors.”
You don't say.
She must have scowled because she widened her eyes in fear and quickly elaborated.
“That the training... Might not actually be for 'training' but for something else...” She said nervously.
“Eh?”
Anna continued where Anastasia left off, “Well you see Brother Strelet Emilka...” She said using Emilia's diminutive.
“I was thinking that maybe these training exersizes are really maskirovka to hide our intended purpose in this sector, or perhaps operationally.” She is such a fucking umnik, why don't you join the STAVKA like the rest of the eye glass wearing nerds?
However she was intrigued and kept such thoughts to herself and signalled her to go on.
“I think... There's going to be a war.” She said delicately.
“Huh? With.... Croatia?” Emilia wasn't stupid, just had no use for the pretentious. Either you could solve the problem at hand or you were useless and expendable.
But it made sense, the Croatian border was only a few miles away. What did the official report say these trenches were for? Irrigation? Its obvious if you think about it, most of these weren't going to be useful for any other purpose then a military one, especially if you ruined good farming land to dig them.
Anna had nodded, say whatever you wanted but Anna could dig and march like any other soldier when she put her mind to it. Maybe she will be useful in the end afterall?
“Khorosho, okay, we got it. Keep your undergarments and socks dry and we'll be fine if it happens.” They nodded. Seemingly... Relieved? All she did was say some words? Words don't mean anything, you can die if your not lucky no matter how careful you are so what does a few extra words do you?
Not a lot of good at all.
“Now get back to work or...” She brandished her shovel threateningly.
They got back to digging all right.
[No historical characters this time sadly.]
Of course! How could I have been so blind!
Here is a quick comparison between the jan '37 save and the current (fall 38) base IC levels. It shows who has been building IC and how much. '37 rather than 36 was chosen because all the IC events from the setup should by then have fired.
Format is net gain in base IC, nation name. '38 base IC/'37 base IC.
Note that dissent may be distorting numbers mildly as dissent reduces base IC. Presumably Kongo has some dissent currently, for example. It should not be a large influence as short of sudden adverse events no played nations should really have any dissent by this point.
+76 Germany 434/358
+21 Ethiopia 233/212
+20 Catalunya 371/351
+13 Mongols 103/90
+12 Japan 233/221
+10 California 199/189
+7 Russia 100/93
+4 Punjab 98/94
+0 Croatia 92/92
-5 Kongo 221/226
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What happened today? Which country was burnt to ashes? Who died to the great scythe of death? The peanut gallery must know!
Blayne, your point of view keeps changing. Pick a pronoun and stick with it. You're either looking from the outside into Emilia's mind, in which case use "she" and "her". Or else she is narrating, in which case "I" and "we". But not both in such a short piece.
In the noble brightness of the 1930-40s there is only peace as the world ushers in a new era of harmony and prosperity.
The state of the world in March of 1940:
IC levels:
Axis(898/576):
-Germany: 697/465
-Russia: 201/111
-Norway: 0/0
Allies: (1166/714)
-Catalan Commonwealth: 646/387
-New Californian Republic: 341/212
-The Roman Khanate: 179/115
Comintern: (1295/837)
Ethiopia: 441/258
Kongo: 335/223
Japan: 373/256
Punjab: 146/100
Portugal: 0/0
The state of the world in March of 1940:
IC levels:
Axis(898/576):
-Germany: 697/465
-Russia: 201/111
-Norway: 0/0
Allies: (1166/714)
-Catalan Commonwealth: 646/387
-New Californian Republic: 341/212
-The Roman Khanate: 179/115
Comintern: (1295/837)
Ethiopia: 441/258
Kongo: 335/223
Japan: 373/256
Punjab: 146/100
Portugal: 0/0
Where did Kongo get 335 IC? It had 297 when the session ended. In fact I note that most of Komintern IC are greatly overestimated.
(And I'm posting this at great risk, not sure if my ban on these threads applies only the AAR forums or these MP threads as well)
(And I'm posting this at great risk, not sure if my ban on these threads applies only the AAR forums or these MP threads as well)
Effective IC is inflated for every nation but Germany due to the AI having a bonus to effective IC. Can't do much about it since I can't load up as other nations than my own.
Base IC should be correct.
Base IC should be correct.
Knock 10% off everyone except Germany.
No doubt showing it this way suits ze Germans, because it obscures his industrial lead. (And that is without mentioning his coal monopoly.)
No doubt showing it this way suits ze Germans, because it obscures his industrial lead. (And that is without mentioning his coal monopoly.)