INTRODUCTION At HISTORICON '86, I joined in an ECW game, hosted by a fella named Otto Schmidt, featuring large, galumphy, 4 inch by 4 inch stands, jampacked with 25mm pikemen and musketeers. I was quite impressed with both the display and the rules and have mentioned them once or twice in past issues of the REVIEW. It turned out that Otto also goes under the name of GAME ANVIL, a New Jersey based effort which runs computer, play-by-mail (PBM) wargames. It also turned out that, as a reward for entering Otto's ECW game, he offered to enroll me -- and I accepted -- in his PBM game of BAROQUE, a fascinating affair of the early 1600's in Europe, which deals with 12 European powers: Spain, France, England, The Tsar, The Ottomans, etc. My first mailing was received after I submitted a "Move Fee of $3 ... I should note that admission to the game normally entails something like $15. Thereafter, I was told, a $3 fee is supposedly required per move to defray Otto's printing expenses, computer time, mailing costs, and whatever. The BAROQUE guidebook, on the other hand, says that 75 cents is the usual Move Fee. Evidently, the book is correct, since three turns into the game, I had sent in a total of $9, and my computer printout indicated that I still had $7.25 to my credit. Who am I to argue with a computer? The mechanics of play in the PBM game consist of: a. Filling out a computerized "short form" on which you list a maximum of 14 orders per turn. The total orders available are limited to 29; these include, however, just about anything you'd want to do ... move troops, raise troops, build ships, declare war, marry, foment disruption, spy out enemy territory, produce an heir, etc., etc. b. Sending in your orders and awaiting the results. A computerized printout arrives fairly rapidly, since Otto processes orders whenever he receives five order sheets. On occassion, therefore, you receive a printout even when you haven't sent in any orders, since five other participants have done so. Each printout thus divides the garners into an "active" class - those five who submitted order sheets - and an "inactive" class - the rest who stand by momentarily. The printout consists of two parts: 1. A rundown of your own assets and forces, i.e., a status report with items to which only you are privy. 2. A newsletter containing information for the "general public": Denmark is invaded, the Doge of Venice has married, the Turks declare war on the Austrians, an heir is born to the King of Poland, etc., etc.  Back to my first mailing The computer printout told me that I was the King of France, unmarried, with a potfull of florins in the treasury, with five good and true field commanders, and with a small army of musketeers, pikemen, cavalry and guns in Paris. One of the kickers in BAROQUE is that you don't really play THE head of state... you sort of represent the royal dynasty. Hence, if the unmarried King of France, with no heirs, was to be killed in battle, there wouldn't be too much of a French royal dynasty left and I'd be in limbo for the rest of the game. It behooved me, therefore, to "make a baby"... but, as everyone knows, before one makes a baby, one must be properly married. At least it was so in the early 1600's. And so the question became... who to marry? Sacre Bleu::... but my prayers were answered almost immediately... for who should call me up at this most critical time, but the King of England! Now, who amongst you out there has ever received a long distance phone call from the King of England? Who, indeed? Nice chap, the King of England... and we quickly pledged our troth. No, you guys, don't wince... we weren't going to marry each other... but he would marry into the royal house of France, and I would marry into the royal house of England, thus allying the two most powerful countries of Europe. A good deal for both of us. My very next order sheet into the computer stated, among other things, that England and France had agreed to make reciprocal marriages. All was going well, thought I a couple of days later, when the phone rang again. This time, it was a most FURIOUS King of England. "You, you @#$%&, you renegged on our deal," said he. "You rotten @#$%&, you married into my house, but you didn't let me marry into yours!" "Merde." cried I, for what had happened was that the King of England's newsletter had just arrived, and in it he found out that while my marriage had been effected, his had not. What to do?? I have to admit that I couldn't get too excited over the British crisis. After all, I was married, even if he wasn't. My royal house was secure. A king, said I to myself in my most objective kingly fashion, had to take the good with the bad. Hard cheese for the King of England. But time heals all wounds... a couple of days later, it was determined that Otto's computer had goofed and that our two royal houses would, after all, be inseparably intertwined. The King of England, realizing that the King of France hadn't tried to do him in, was, once again, on good terms with the boys in Paris.  While all this was going on, I had received mail from other royal families: the King of Spain, the Doge of Venice... scarcely a day would pass without a letter or two bearing someone's royal imprint being found in the mailbox. The King of Spain, for example. This monarch offered to trade, or purchase, the west coast of France bordering on the Atlantic: And then, he said, if not the west coast, how about the southern coast on the Mediterranean? Nom de Dieu! Was he making some sort of a royal joke? It was bad enough having Spain on the other side of the Pyrennees... but to let Spaniards on French soil? They breed like flies... the whole neighborhood would go ... The King of Spain -- thus far in the BAROQUE scenario -- appears to be a thorn in the side of France. The map of Europe is diagrammed above, and one can readily note that not only does Spain sit to the west of France beyond the Pyrennees, but Spain owns three provinces on France's eastern border: Lorraine, Florence, and the Spanish Netherlands. Spain thus sandwiches France quite neatly, and I, as the Roi de France, feel obligated to keep a close watch on both of France's borders. One savings feature is that my English ally possesses Portugal, thereby providing a potential "counter-sandwich" should Spain get any big ideas. The BAROQUE effort is my first cut at a PBM computer game. Fred Hubig is enrolled in the World Campaign game AEGYPTUS, which you've seen advertised in the REVIEW, set in the ancients era, and Fred promises us an article on the shenanigans going on in the AEGYPTUS universe. Otto Schmidt has put a tremendous effort into his BAROQUE. The 39 page campaign booklet is professionally done, in an 8 1/2 x 11 format, very well written, and nicely illustrated.  FINAL THOUGHTS At this writing, it's only Turn 4 in the game, and I can't really reveal all the intimate details of my diabolical ploys and strategies without giving away my plans... who knows in what strange circles and courts of Europe the REVIEW will circulate? Suffice it to say that England and France, for the nonce, have allied themselves. I also read in the newsletter that, way out to the east, the Ottoman Empire is clawing its way into Hungary which, at present, belongs to Austria. There's a war going on. But what happens in the east is not my immediate concern. The Spanish monarch occupies my attention. I think I aroused his monarchial ire when, in kingly fashion, I replied to his queries regarding the acquisition of a part of France: "Yuch: Pfeh! Ptui.... I spit on your offer;" And then, to make matters worse, I mentioned the fact that he, a purported monarch, didn't even have royal stationery and had addressed me on a 3x5 card. I must have struck deep, for his very next communication was written on a full 8 1/2 x 11 sheet with a huge-lettered "SPAIN" across the top. I quickly got the tone of his message, when he referred to me as "Simple Simon". . Ma foi! But when one deals with peasants, one must expect a little dung to cling to one's shoes. This King of Spain, something must be done... After I wrote all the above... suddenly... a fly in the ointment. My latest newsletter arrived and boldly stated: THE KING OF FRANCE IS DEAD: What is going on here? Cut down in the prime of my life... never able to fully enjoy connubial bliss with my newly acquired English wife... not having time to produce an heir... I was just starting to enjoy the kingly life... and, most important of all, I've got Nine Big Ones invested in Otto and his computer. What is going on here? Reading on in the newsletter, I discovered I wasn't quite out of the picture... I was now a PRINCE of France, perhaps a nephew of my former self, but at least, the royal line continued. Out of what closet the new Prince emerged, the newsletter did not state. I'm not sure just what it is that the Prince can not do that the King could have done. Let me state, mes amis, that BAROQUE appears to be good stuff.., every time I re-read the booklet, I pick up a subtle point or two, and glean an interesting and useful tidbit or so. Occassionally, Otto - or his computer - goofs, but, in general, the effort which Otto put into his set-up clearly comes through, and I have nothing but praise for the game. Back to PW Review April 1987 Table of Contents Back to PW Review List of Issues Back to MagWeb Master Magazine List © Copyright 1987 Wally Simon This article appears in MagWeb (Magazine Web) on the Internet World Wide Web. Other military history articles and gaming articles are available at http://www.magweb.com