Last year I played a multi-generational game of grand strategy Crusader Kings 2 using the A Game of Thrones mod, which transforms the historical medieval setting of CK2 into the continent of Westeros from George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire novels (and the HBO series). My goal was to play as the most minor of lords and experience the conflict and drama of Westeros from the ground floor. Game of Checkers will run on Sundays for ten weeks.
White Weddings
Ravens fly into my tiny tower on the island of Pebble, bearing some sad news. Catelyn Tully, wife of the late Ned Stark, has died at age 70, followed by Jon Overton “Snow”, bastard son of Ned Stark, at age 51. They're natural deaths, and those are respectable ages to reach in such a dangerous world, but it's still sad, since I hate to see characters from the fiction depart my little game, even though our stories don't exactly overlap.
Not all deaths are terribly sad, however. Another raven has arrived, so let us all remove our caps and mourn the passing of my neighbor Petyr “Littlefinger” Baelish. He died in bed, surrounded by loved ones who probably didn’t actually like him very much. On the other hand, he knew just how much they didn't like him, because that dude was, like, good at knowing stuff. He was 67.
But with each death comes a new life. A son is born to Rosie and whatever her husband’s name is. It’s hard to be thrilled. Maybe it’s just a knee-jerk reaction but all I can think about is that when I die and take over the life of my firstborn, my second child will no longer be my child but my sibling, and as we’ve seen recently, siblings are always trying to babystab your baby. I name my son and future brother Neejerk. I’m feeling very pessimistic.
Then I notice the freshly-born baby Neejerk is now my heir instead of my firstborn, Daisy. Ohh, right. He’s a boy and my firstborn is not. Our gender laws are such that a daughter can inherit, but only if there aren't any eligible males, and now there is. As much as I’d like, I can’t change the gender laws: they would have to be changed from the very top of the ladder, and I’m basically only on the second rung.
Still, I may have a way to sidestep this unfortunate situation. I can’t change the gender laws, but I can change the succession laws to reflect an elective monarchy. That means the heir is voted for. Since I have no vassals, I’ll be the only one voting, and I can pick my daughter, Daisy. I’m not really doing this just to hurt Neejerk, I just think Daisy should inherit. Also, I just don’t really want to play as a guy named Neejerk. I change the law and appoint Daisy as heir. Crisis weirdly averted.
This is probably a terrible idea, but since Lothar the Lame (backer of plots to kill both my baby daughter and my Master of Whispers) is still hanging around at court, and since my Master of Coin just died, I hire Lothar back as my tax collector. He’s got the best Stewardship rating of anyone at court, and no one comparable will accept my invitation. Suspiciously, my Master of Whispers dies shortly after, though she was 67 so it’s not really that suspicious.
My new Master of Whispers proves to be as adept as my former one, thankfully. Another plot comes to my attention. Uncle Nerdrick’s wife, Rosamund (Tyrion’s daughter), wants to assassinate my Castellan, Roggo. In this plot with her, among others, are my grandmother Dana Whent, my aunt Nanndrick, and both of my sisters. This is all getting pretty dire. I'm surrounded by scheming, hateful family members who do nothing with their time but plot to kill my children and employees. I give everyone involved a stern lecture, and they back off their plot.
Amazingly, despite being involved in two plots to kill members of my council, Aunt Nanndrick starts bugging me because she wants me to find her a husband. Annoyed, I look through my Big Book of Possible Husbands for a suitable spouse, and I perk up when I spot the perfect match: Chief Orell of Hardhome. That’s north. North of The North, in fact. North of The Wall. Orell is a Wildling.
That. Will. Work.
I send Nann packing to her new husband. So long! Enjoy the haunted forest! I have to pay a dowry, but it’s worth it to have that schemer far away from my walls. As an added bonus, she and Orell appear to take an instant loathing to each other. Sometimes, this game just gives you a perfect little satisfying moment.
Then, my sister Ruby’s husband dies. Great! I mean, you know, that’s sad. But also great. I can get rid of her, too. I search through the book again, finding Magnar Cregan of Upper Frostfangs. That’s even further north than the place I sent Aunt Nanndrick. It’s so far North it’s almost off the map! I marry them and send her packing. Cregan, another Wildling, is so happy to receive my scheming sister that he actually becomes my ally.
I'm feeling better. Two of my biggest enemies are now gone from my castle, freezing their butts off and married to stinky, ragged wildlings. Then, I get word that doesn't make me feel better at all. Nanndrick actually seems to be doing well north of the wall: her husband just made her Spymaster.
For all I know, Nanndrick is back here in Wycliffe, right now, building a plot against me.
More War
There are wars in The Vale.
There are wars in The Vale, there are wars in The Vale, there are wars in The Vale. Did I mention there are wars in The Vale? At any given moment there are a couple hundred of my troops are tromping over The Vale engaged in putting done some pointless revolt.
There are wars everywhere else as well. The one happening now is at least sort of interesting. Prince Brandon (Bran from the books, son of the late Ned Stark), now age 44 and bald, is going to war against Princess Shyra, (daughter of Ned Stark, not in the books). The claim is Winterfell. This one, I’ll be happy to march for. It’s like weirdo fan-fiction, two Stark children going to war over Winterfell. We’re on Shyra’s side due to my liege’s alliances, though Brandon loses before my troops even get to Winterfell.
My husband, meanwhile, seems cranky, and given that the rest of my family has been engaged in plotting against me, I want him to at least be content. I give him a title: Lord of Cups. After I bestow it upon him, I look it up and discover that means it’s now his job to test my wine to make sure it’s not poisoned. He should consider that a great honor, provided he doesn't realize how likely it is that someone actually is trying to poison me.
As the latest war dissolves and my troops again march home, I decide it’s about time for a war that means something, so I’m going to have my own. I'm going to try to take over The Paps, the other tiny island off the coast of The Fingers.
Lord Alric of The Paps only has one ally, the Lord of Acorn Grove, and that’s way the hell north. If I can put a good army together and march on The Paps, he’ll never arrive in time to help. Still, I need to plan this carefully. I can raise about 1,000 troops from Wycliffe and another 150 from Pebble. I can afford to hire another 1,500 mercenaries for 75 gold, and pay them 3 gold a month for 30 months until my money runs out. Is that enough time to destroy The Paps' armies and sack the city? He’s got 1,100 soldiers of his own, and while I expect to win in a straight fight, I’ll still have to siege the island, which could take a while.
What the hell. I’m going to do it. I tell my husband, who is tentatively sipping wine out of my cups with a terrified expression on his face, to put down the goblet and get on his armor. He’s going to lead my army to war, which should be slightly less dangerous than testing my drinks for poison.
What's Pappening?
I press my claim on Lord Alric of The Paps. He raises his levies and, surprisingly, starts marching out to meet me. Huh. I kinda thought he’d just hunker down in his fort and wait for me to arrive. Oh well. I raise my tiny levies and hurriedly hire 1,500 sellswords. It’s on.
Alric marches through Sunset Keep and we trample through Coldwater Burn, our armies meeting in Snakewood. Happily, we slash through his forces like dragonglass through a white walker, and he flees out into The Vale with only a few hundred remaining men. We march on to The Paps to begin the siege.
Then, something alarming happens. Alric and his soldiers begin marching on Wycliffe and Pebble. It’s a siege-off! He’s going to try to claim my holdings while I’m busy claiming his. He marches through Wycliffe and crosses the bridge to Pebble. It’s not going to do me much good if he takes over my island while I’m taking over his. Also, I’m physically in Pebble. That’s where Rosie is while her husband is leading her army. If he captures the castle, he captures me.
Okay, it’s time to get drastic. I have 80 gold left, just enough to hire another 1,200 mercenaries. If they arrive in Pebble just in time to meet Horton’s 330 soldiers and chase them off, and then I dismiss them before incurring any additional monthly payments, I might be able to afford to continue the siege on The Paps long enough to take it. If this drags on, though, I won’t be able to pay the current mercs' monthly expenses and they’ll bail. I take out a loan from the Iron Bank (at 25% interest) just to be sure, and hire the new soldiers.
Boom. As if by magic, a force of 1,290 soldiers suddenly appears on Pebble. Horton immediately does an about-face and starts sacking Wycliffe instead, but I send the fresh sellswords chasing after him. He abandons Wycliffe and heads back out onto Coldwater Burn, but really, he’s got nowhere to run now.
It’s over. The Paps is mine! I've got another tiny dumb rock to call home.
The acquisition of The Paps comes with a surprise, too: of the five holdings that make up The Fingers, I now rule three of them: Wycliffe, Pebble, and The Paps. That’s a controlling share of The Fingers. The lords of the other two holdings, Midlor Point and Sunset Keep, have become my vassals, and now I'm running the whole show.
I've got a new title! I’m no longer Lady Nondrosie of Pebble. I’m Lady Nondrosie of The Fingers!
This is exciting! Briefly. Then it completely ruins everything.
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