Empire: Total War Diary – Part 5, Sabotage!

Let’s begin by examining just how screwed I am.

Using the very scientific measuring tool that is the Empire Prestige graph we can clearly see my fairly average stack of prestige is more than dwarfed by the combined might of the my allied enemies. Now suitably emasculated, I shall present some Mathematical proof to further my case. My military is rated at 42, France is at 96 and Spain is at 137. Ergo I am screwed by a factor of 191 screws. I don’t entirely know what that means, but I’m pretty sure it’s bad.

This is what it boils down to: there’s no way I’ll be able to beat France the same way I beat the Huron, this is a different class of enemy. They’re richer and better equipped and there are more of them. It’s okay, though. I have a plan. I’m going to fight dirty.

Every once in a while, if you have a Tavern, you will spawn Rakes. These are devilish chaps who saunter about the map with a flintlock pistol and a highwayman’s mask being generally dashing. They’re good for three things: assassination, spying and sabotage. The third of these options is the one that interests me. I’m not going to meet the French on the field of battle, I’m going to very quietly send all of my Rakes over the channel to set fire to their stuff.

For some reason (which I’m sure has nothing to do with certain Northern stereotypes) all of my Rakes are in Scotland. Glasgow, to be precise. I send them all south and have them board the fleet I have guarding the channel. They just manage to get to the other side and into France before a huge fleet of French ships engages my force. I’ve already recalled the large fleet that was guarding my trade interests on the Ivory Coast but they’re still a few turns away. I’m left to defend the channel with one of my oldest fleets made up of fairly low-tech, substandard fare. Fortunately I happen to have a numbers advantage in this particular battle. There is, however, a greater worry.

I am terrible at ship combat.

Manoeuvring your ships is a difficult, sluggish and quite frustrating process of lining up with the wind and trying to present your ship correctly in order to deliver the most devastating broadside possible, preferably before the enemy has a chance to fire on you. The ships, being huge hulking beasts of wood and iron whose only means of propulsion is the gentle breeze blowing over the waves, are understandably none too nimble. Ship combat ends up being a slow and awkward line dance as your row of galleon try to encircle theirs. Ideally you’ll want to concentrate all of your fire on one ship, but success and defeat often feels more dependent on luck than skill.

Ships in Empire also have an infuriating tendency to flee, but as they can only do so at snails pace they rally a few minutes later, which means randomly losing control of parts of your fleet whenever they become panicked. For this battle, I get lucky and most of my ships stay in line. After sinking a couple of their sloops we reach a stage where all of the French ships are technically fleeing, and I win. It’s not my finest hour, but it’s an important result. Soon my entire navy will be blockading the channel, raiding French supply lines and keeping enemy troops away from the motherland.

To France, and the exciting business of Espionage. Enter my Rakes, the two Jims: James Alexander and James Whitson. I’m looking to target buildings that are easy to Sabotage. Successful missions will increase my Rakes’ experience and give them a boost when attacking harder targets. Whitson gets the short straw and successfully sneaks into Paris to spy on French affairs. Alexander, meanwhile, is assigned to Lille. His mission: burn down the Pleasure Gardens. It’s a hard job, but someone’s got to do it.

Alexander fails miserably, but escapes with his life and will have another shot at the Pleasure Gardens next turn, the lucky bast.

To America! Gosling’s army of superheroes storm Louisiana and easily overcome the meagre French resistance there. I’m beginning to wonder, in a slightly paranoid way, where on earth all of these French troops actually are. There are apparently thousands of them on the map, but so far I’ve hardly encountered any of them. They’ll want to show themselves soon if they want to have a hope of stopping Gosling’s army from charging through the land of hope and glory nicking their gold and sleeping in their beds.

In fact there’s something far more bothersome that the French hampering my growth across my entire Empire. Civil unrest is brewing among both the working and upper classes. It’s a side effect of my huge strides in research. Better education grants your citizens a greater awareness of the systems of government and their own rights, which in turn leads to festering resentment towards the status quo. New ideas are dangerous things. Civil unrest can have the effect of lowering productivity and, in the event of open rioting, whole regions can be completely paralysed. I lower taxes to basically nothing across the Empire, effectively bankrupting myself for a few turns in the hope that my citizens’ happiness will rise. Then I raid a few more French trade routes and set up a trade agreement with Venice to buff my income a little.

Then I set fire to Lille, to cheer myself up.

Then, examining the intelligence James Whitson gained from Paris I see that the French have built the grand Palais Bourbon. As grand palaces go, they don’t come any grander than that. There it stands, a huge swollen status symbol, right at the heart of the Capital, the centre of the French government. There’s a small number lurking in the corner of the screen, sitting next to a small picture of a bomb.

There’s a 16% chance I could burn the Palais Bourbon down to the ground. My cursor hovers over the icon. Can I?

I can. I’m greeted with an image of a building in flames. My rogue even managed to get out alive. James Whitson, if you weren’t a tiny digital man I’d kiss you right now, so help me god.

A single shot has yet to be fired, but I’ve already delivered my first ‘fuck you’ straight to the heart of the French government. It’s true that a thousand men with muskets can get a lot done, but sometimes a cad in a cape with a box of matches is all that’s needed to wage your wars. The frontline of this conflict lies not on the open fields of France, but in the dark and gloomy alleyways of Paris, most of which now belong to the dark and elusive figure of Sir James Whitson, dashing fellow, professional arsonist and Agent of His Majesty’s Government.