I’ve been a friend of Charlie Vasey for the past 20+ years. I know I’m his friend because I get to buy him lunch every time I’m in London. That, and he didn’t squawk too loudly when I borrowed the reviewing style of his acerbically venerable game magazine, “Perfidious Albion”, which has been around longer than anyone cares to admit. PA, these days, bills itself as the magazine of “chaotic historical simulation”, as Charlie and his pals seem to opt for those games where the player has little control over what’s going on. That this philosophy is often honored in the breach within PA’s pages doesn’t take away from the fact that Charles, Duke of Penzance and Baron of Basingstoke, has a penchant for events simulated so that they reveal the underlying chaos of any given event which requires just the opposite.
And, while commenting back and forth about the games that crossed his desk, Charlie was doodling away on his own. For years, Duke Charlie has been running off fifth-world, mimeograph games on whatever subjects flitted across his fancy, games no one ever really saw except his coterie of conspirators. When prodded to actually let someone produce one of these home grown specials, Charlie would usually hem and haw, harrumphing like C. Aubrey Smith about one thing or another, until the subject got changed. Somehow, though, the folks at Clash of Arms backed him into a corner, and we now have one of CV’s magnum opuses [Ed. true, incorrect Latin, but we were worried if we used the right declension, we would be flooded with Obispograms; cf. the “Op Fire” column] before us, The King’s War, probably the best simulation yet on the events we call The English Civil War.
King’s War approaches the gamer rather shyly, hidden in one of those small, flat boxes usually reserved for Larry Baggett epics or the backwash from Poulterland. A $36 tag on a 1” box is not going to gain CoA any admirers - even if it reflects the realities of the industry, today - and the box itself is not one that elicits enthusiasm. Someone has got to tell the folks out there that a painting which looks good on a wall in a museum is not necessarily one that serves a similar purpose on a game. When trying to catch the consumer’s eye, focus and drama are what counts … mostly the former. Here we have a period painting that serves to illuminate Charlie’s ideas about chaos more than the actual game does. And please, CoA, the back of the box is where you wax enthusiastic about the product inside; we all passed History 101a (or at least most of us).
That aside, it’s all uphill from here. The Rick Barber map is interesting and colorful, although one doubts there will be a great call to buy a separate one, suitable for home framing, for the $25 advertised in the enclosed offer. The great number of “boxes” not only detract from the excellent, individual portraits of the almost 2 dozen leaders, but tend to obscure most of the terrain of “jolly olde”. The counters are good, the rules book a bit stuffed, and the play aid charts are excellent, proving most valuable indeed as play progresses.
We have had a handful of games on the English Civil War over the years, the most recent being one of the hobby’s great fiascoes, Rob Markham’s virtually unintelligible Ironsides. None has been very popular, perhaps because none seemed to grasp the essence of what the ECW was all about. Granted, there are not many in the US market who do understand the subtleties of this sideshow to the 30 Years’ War, although its events are far clearer than, say, the French Revolution. A few turns with King’s War will give these folks far more insight than a weekend of reading. Both, however, will consume about the same amount of time.
King’s War is a sort of doctoral thesis on the House Divided system. But don’t let that ancestry fool you. KW is not a game one plays out of the box, in an evening, or for the sheer spirit of competition. If anything, it resembles Geronimo in that it has a fairly steep learning curve with enough player options, in terms of “whaddo I do now?”, that the flow and purpose of the game will not be immediately apparent. This is not a game one swigs, gulps and belches; King’s War is to be chewed slowly and digested carefully, with much rumination along the way. While it may not be the most accessible system around, it will greatly reward those who can spend the time and thought in actually planning what he wants to do more than five minutes ahead. This is one of the areas in which Vasey’s design shines: the mechanics produce a pace of game events that virtually mirrors the flow of the war. No instant victories on turn 3 here, folks; we’re talking of thinking in years.
The reluctant accessibility is not aided by a rather lock-jawed set of rules, rules that are denser than a cafeteria chocolate cake and far more difficult to penetrate than the actual game system. None of this is aided by such communication miscues as giving the seemingly simple word “move”, three different system meanings, all of which occur within a space of 2 paragraphs. What do you make of the admonition that, and I paraphrase here, while a leader, under certain circumstances, is limited to four “moves” during his “turn:”, you are, several sentences later, told that he can only “move” once per “turn”? Also making things somewhat opaque for players the first several turns is a hierarchical leadership system that, while accurately and nicely portraying the internecine conflicts and politics of the war, produces a lot of “who’s riding in whose carriage?” for the first several hours of play.
Those drawbacks being duly noted, King’s War, once understood, is an ideal game for players who like a challenge, understand the difficulties of conducting any sort of campaign under 17th century circumstances, and revel in fighting not only the enemy but one’s own, usually self-inflicted problems. This is a game rich in detail, and not just detail as chrome, but detail that must be dealt with, and dealt with thoughtfully, in order to accomplish even the most limited of aims.
The heart of the KW system is not combat, which occurs fairly infrequently and, while producing telling results in terms of “the Big Picture”, usually is far less disastrous than desertion. Each player has a whole bag full of leaders, and a truly grab-bag lot of duffers many of them are. For every Prince Rupert there is rather eponymous Percival Foppington. Vasey has done yeomanlike duty to give each of the 50 leaders - including the Countess of Derby - an individual personality, achieved through a multiplicity of ratings: Stacking (or how many regiments can he command), Army Rating (a battle DRM), Tactical Rating (how many regiments he can affect positively, used, interestingly instead of the Army Rating!), Movement Allowance (some real McClellan’s here), and the important Regional Affiliation, which limits recruitment for many commanders. A few leaders, such as Lord Goring, actually get better as the game progresses, a somewhat double-edged system sword, as it is one of a series of fiddly rules that pockmarks the game.
Combat units are generic regiments of foot and horse, all with the same strength, and identified only by the County where they may be recruited. Graphically, they resemble something AH might have done a decade ago, but they serve their purpose, even if they don’t exactly warm one’s cockles. The combat units are placed either on the game-map, but mostly, there, in the box of their commander, or on the Recruitment Map, waiting to be drafted. Setting these suckers up can be rather tedious, as, while Charlie and friends may know,. exactly and instinctively, where “Bodmin Launceston” is, I would venture to say that most of us provincials don’t even know what it is. And as neither the map nor the rulesbook is any more helpful than simply stating where a unit is, be prepared to spend about 20-30 minutes of heavy peering.
The monthly turns consist of three separate phases, within which players alternate: campaigning, besieging, and recruiting/deserting. With a fair number of leaders marshaling a goodly number of regiments, you would think that there would be a lot of too-ing and fro-ing each turn. Not so. Each player gets a set number of Campaign Points per turn, and it cost a variable number of those to do anything. It is conceivable (and not improbable) that moving a large army to one battle will gobble up all of one’s CP’s for that turn, leaving everyone else standing around, waiting for the mail to arrive. Add to that the fact that an intended target may choose to (attempt to) break off contact, or that an opposing army can try to intercept you as you stumble along, and, after a turn or two, you get very cautious and introspective about what you are looking to accomplish, especially as battles prove to be relatively bloodless affairs that don’t seem to accomplish much of lasting interest, a viewpoint which proves to be insidiously corrosive in the long run.
It appeared, at least from our play, that there were far more sieges than battles. The siege mechanics are quite creative, reflecting the fact that if you can keep a besieging army in the field, eventually the other sucker will fall. (Less felicitous is the misspelling of “Seige” [sic] on the counters.) Some cities are harder than others, and there’s a lot of best-laid-plans-ganging-agay, but it’s easier to trap a rat in a corner than to chase it through a field.
And whatever one does in the first two phases, he always has to keep a sharp eye out for what will happen in the Desertion/Recruitment portion of the turn. This is done by drawing numbered chits, although the recruitment numbers are, generally, higher than the desertion. Still, it is possible to see small armies melt away, putting the kibosh to the best of plans. And recruitment occurs by region, and one’s more fecund areas quickly become depleted, forcing the player to attempt to assert one’s presence into other sections of the country where he normally would normally venture only in disguise. Thus, while players have to keep an eye on their basic victory conditional objectives, what they want to accomplish in the short run often conflicts with that, creating much tension in the thought process. Neato stuff.
What is not so neato, however, is the fussiness of much of the system. Each rule seems to have several exceptions, and each turn brings in a series of “this turn only” rules that lend a miasma of inelegance to a remarkably creative system. There’s an awful lot of “if this is October then remove Neville and Lewellyn, add 1 to every regiment with green uniforms, and the ‘Fish and Chips’ rule is in effect for the first 5 drs, only.” Given the tortuous political machinations of this war, and the depth at which Vasey is attempting to recreate them, such tacked on tailfins are a necessary evil. It does slow down play, though, and that for a game which, if played from beginning to end, will take several sittings, at least.
Fortunately, the rewards for such perseverance are great … if immersion in detail is what you like. This is a dense game, one that pays off the patient and punishes the rash and foolhardy. No one battle will destroy you, and you have to eschew any “can I win this on turn 2” way of thinking. To that end, the rules provide much period detail, in the way of special rules for different leaders, the Irish question, the New Model Army, the Self-Denying Ordnance, Montrose … and almost endless pile of shiny chrome.
The King’s War is a marvelous evocation of a civil war that is far more complex than most Americans are aware, and, as such, requires far more expenditure of thought and time than many of you may be willing to expend. If you do, though - and we heartily suggest giving it a try - you’ll find it a very tasty dish, indeed. And speaking of tasty dishes, your turn to pick up the tab, Charlie.
CAPSULE COMMENTS
Graphic Presentation: Nice; but, Rick, this ain’t the Bayeux Tapestry.
Playability: Not for the quick-play artists. Requires thought, planning, time and the ability to sift through some hulking rules. Solitaire OK.
Replayability: A major selling point.
Historicity: Excellent, although I’m not so sure that the optional Frenchie, le Comte de Canard, is anything more than what his name suggests.
Creativity: Lots of it, albeit lacking the patina of elegance.
Wristage: Minimal
Comparisons: So far ahead of the other games on this subject that there is no comparison.
Overall: An absolute must for the serious, historically introspective wargamer. I’m not sure the “3 hours and I’m outta here” types will like it very much. Their loss.
from CLASH OF ARMS
One 22” x 33” gamemap; 5xx counters; Rules Book; 2 Recruitment Charts, 2 Play Aid Charts; boxed. $36 from CoA, Phoenixville PA
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© Copyright 1994 by Richard Berg
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