The end was coming soon; we all knew it to be true. The world was dying, hobbled by a supernatural plague, paralyzed by diplomatic stalemate and ravaged by conflict. The only hope to save the world rested on the shoulders of the Durendal Khanate, the very tyrants who’d brought this world to the brink.
Fresh off forging a binding, pacifying and above all, successful alliance, I did what any aspiring megalomaniac would do: profit ruthlessly from my new and improved position. Inciting a little Cuban Missile Crisis would fit that bill nicely.
The Durendal Khanate was off to a bit of a rough start. Our bid for justice and equality for our oppressed brethren disintegrated in front of our eyes. We were dumbfounded the next day, when we received an innocuous email. The heading seemed innocuous: “Respected colleagues,” it began. This heading soon became the bane of my existence, the calling card of my arch nemesis and leader of the oppressive nation of Styrkuria.
This is the story of my rise and fall, of how I delved into the machinations of simulated geopolitics, ruthlessly rose in power, destroyed my enemies and alienated my friends and peers. At the end of it all, I brought peace and order to the world...of Statecraft. But at what cost?