We were the colossus, the last power truly standing. The only powers that could hold a candle to the Durendal Khanate were those with nuclear weapons, which were now limited to one: our frenemy, Styrkuria.
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.
My (virtual) people were dying by the thousands, lives cut short by a vile, supernatural plague. It was a divine punishment; a plague of biblical proportions sent from on high.
Mission accomplished. The Durendal Khanate had brought enduring freedom to the socialistic masses of DACT. All it took was a small expeditionary force of tens of thousands of battle-hardened troops, coupled with close-air support from attack helicopters, and, of course, the careful application of a hundred-odd cruise missiles.
Invasion was imminent. The good news was it wasn’t against us. The bad news was it wasn’t by us. All that mattered was that war was coming.
We had found the fall guy for our illicit nuclear affair at last. The atomic horse was out of the barn and the world had entered crisis-mode.
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.
We had nukes. But the more important question was: did anybody else? And did anyone else know we had them? And for that matter who gave them to us?
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?
Being an American consumer again after months abroad has given me new appreciation for the almighty dollar bill.
I’ve become a firm believer that the world won’t end with a bang, nor a whimper. It will simply stop.
It occurred to me this morning that this would be the first Thanksgiving ever that I’d be away from family.
What follows is the story of how I ended up on an active volcano during a snowstorm.
There is one word to describe Sicily, uttered by my favorite, fictitious Sicilian: Inconceivable.
I spent the last weekend in the City of Light. Although, Paris can’t hold a candle to glorious Strasbourg, but it was pretty swell nevertheless.
I didn’t miss the bus this time around. I actually went to Discount Disneyland, also known as Europa Park.
It’s time for me to put on my International Relations nerd hat on and get into the nitty gritty.
Last Wednesday was the 25th anniversary of the reunification of Germany and I happened to be at the seat of the European Parliament at the time. Let me tell you, Chancellor Angela Merkel is mighty fine. Oh, and President François Hollande was there too.
What does the Statue of Liberty, pinot gris and a chocolate factory have in common? The lovely city of Colmar.