Thinking philosophically about wargaming, or bout a wargame campaign, is probably a bad idea. After all, wargaming is a hobby. And some rather unhelpful non-questions can be thrown up, but such reflections, some of which I have considered here in the dim and distant past. Examples would include ‘does wargaming indicate a condoning of violence?’ The answer to that one is a fairly straightforward ‘no’. There are more difficult questions, of course, such as ‘does the depiction in this or that role-playing game of the nation state suggest fascism?’ The answer to that one is ‘possibly’. But I am not really trying to pursue such questions here.
What has been slightly puzzling me over the last week or so is the thought that my campaign might actually represent, for me, part of my world-view, albeit reduced to something which can be comprehensibly wargamed. I suppose I need to elicit the campaign system a little bit, and also a bit of the background to why I made the choices I did.
First of all, the background. The idea of wargaming a whole world (this one) has been with me for a while. When I started solo wargaming, there was a penchant for imaginary worlds, peopled in various ways, like Tony Bath’s Hyboria campaign. Wider reading, such as Parker’s The Military Revolution, indicated that the early modern period was the first in which the various bits of the world really started to interact with each other. The 1618-Something email campaign was an outworking of this, inspired by the DBR army list books which covered the world (or much of it, at least).
I suppose you could say that the various campaigns I have run, more or less successfully, and journaled here as blog posts, have been practice for 1600 – Something, the big one. Quite likely. Ideas that have been around for years have linked up with fairly new ones to form some sort of fairly open, flexible, practical and interesting method of dealing with large numbers of actors, at a level of detail (or lack of it) which keeps things moving and keeps wargames flowing. The latest of these, incidentally, the Wars of Stuart Succession, has just been published in Lone Warrior. 232.
Underlying the system is a good deal of randomness. Each power, each turn, attempts to make an initiative roll. They manage it or not. Those that make it then draw a card which indicates the activity – raise or move a force, engage in diplomacy, or subvert someone. Across the mass of actors, this can lead to quite a variation in action, and each has to be considered as to what would be best or most likely for the actor in question. Occasionally this is clear, but mostly a list of options can be made and the decision established by a dice roll, possibly a bit like matrix games.
Other dice rolls, such as GOOS rolls or diplomacy rolls, decide on the outcomes of the actions. Hence, a list of wargames is drawn up, which are resolved on the table. The results of that- financial, in terms of armies and territory lost and prestige gained (or not), then feed into the next turn of the campaign. Random events, such as rebellions, disaster, or a few good things, mix things up a bit, as do some of the more raucous elements of the world of the early Seventeenth Century, such as the Mongols and Circassians.
Does this mean, then, that I see the world as essentially random, with no one, no potentate of 1600 or so, as really in charge of anything? Is that an expression of my political (with a small ‘p’, please) views of today? Anything is possible, I agree, and I might not be the best person to assess my motives, but the answers are, I think, ‘yes’ to the first question, and ‘no’ to the second.
The final influence on the game is possibly Parker’s book, Global Crisis. The thesis of this wide-ranging book is, as I recall, that Seventeenth Century rulers put far more store in their ambitions and ‘honour’ than they did in the well-being of their people, even in the face of environmental catastrophes, such as crop failure and plague. The rulers of Germany, for example, continued to make war even though their polities were depopulating. Spain kept fighting even though the country was financially exhausted. Sweden kept going in spite of the fact that the country was more-or-less depopulated, so much so that agriculture could barely continue. And so on.
I suppose that my campaign is in part a reaction to this, and an acceptance of it. The reaction is that my actors have small armies, and the conceit is that these do not really affect the local populations. The acceptance comes because the armies, or at least their victories and losses, can cause problems to the home nation in terms of bankruptcy and rebellion. In the game, Sweden is facing waves of rebellion because of huge (relatively) debts. Cambodia ceased to exist because of debt and battlefield losses. The actions of leaders had consequences for their nations, usually bad ones.
I am not sure, having tried to write this down, that it amounts to a ‘philosophy’ in any way, shape, or form. It does, perhaps, amount to a view of history, which suggests that most people simply want to get on with their lives in a relatively stable context, and that leaders only make things worse. On the other hand, I have, in the expansion to Asia, Africa and the Americas, tried to give these political actors agency. That, too, is a historical and possibly politically philosophical act. The Africans (etc.) were not simply quietly waiting for the Europeans to come and conquer them in the next two hundred years or so.
I suppose that there is not a single driver for the way the campaign has been created. I wanted a system that would generate wargames, and it has achieved that goal. What underlies that is a matter for some debate, but I have tried briefly to outline some of the influences, even if they do not amount to anything cohesive. But the foregoing may at least ask a question: do our wargames reflect our own personal thinking, or that of our society or culture in any way? Answers in the comments, please….



