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The primary design flaw in Diplomacy is that Naples should be affixed to Brest in much the same way that Portugal is affixed to Spain. [Ahem, Andy!!! --EH] What!?! What do you mean, I need to do more? You got 34 articles on supply centers coming in. Edward, who's gonna read the one on Brest, of all places? Sigh... okay, okay, I'll take it seriously. By the way, that’s the last boob joke you’re getting, but at least it’s a complex and multi-layered boob joke. [Thank you sir. Please, move towards the crux of your thoughts. --EH] One of my dirtiest Dip secrets is that my absolute favorite country to play is France. It’s remotely possible that I’m not very bad at it; in the Shrine to Satan (that’s pronounced "sch-taan" if you’re a hockey fan, and "Marshall, you lying sack" if you’re not) at my home, about 40 percent of the best country hardware on my shelf resulted from turns as France. While this is despicable, it’s true. The point is that I’m very nearly qualified to discuss this critical French supply center. Okay, fine, I asked first. Whatever. Like many key supply centers, Brest and its immediate neighbors form a balanced nugget; that is, it has five neighboring spaces, setting up the potential for the space to be successfully defended by an invading power. Facing such a power with fleets in the English Channel and the Mid-Atlantic, a damaged France would need four units to retake its Atlantic port—three in the land spaces to attack with support, and a Med fleet to cut the Mid-Atlantic’s support for the invaded space. This is probably beyond the means of a beleaguered French player, faced as he/she might well be with other challenges. Herein lies the popularity of the English opening F Lon-Eng, otherwise known as the “You Did WHAT???” gambit. Okay, fine, many of you know what I like to call it, but we’ll lay off that one here. The power and flexibility of this opening cannot be denied. Neither can its potential for creating long-standing enmity. There is some indeterminate number of players whom I will likely never trust again because, for instance, once, in 1994, they opened to the Channel when I was France. Oh, go on, stand up and take a bow, you know who you are. Bastards. [This must be an elite group. --EH] Another problem with the potential for this gambit is that in Spring 1901, when the French player would most often contemplate the stopping move (F Bre-Eng), the Channel is most assuredly not where you want that fleet to be. You’re frequently better off opening to the Mid-Atlantic and worrying about defending Brest later—even if “later” is Fall 1901. But every French player falls for it at one time or another. The panic induced by the potential for losing a home supply center is just too great. This begs the question—as the French player, can you afford to lose Brest? Yes and no. Oft-times, England’s seizure of Brest will provide diplomatic leverage for France over England’s allies. The spectre of an enlarged England—even a slightly enlarged England—is often just enough to tilt the German player in the direction of a stab. On the other hand, against determined and competent enemies (and by competent, I mean enemies who understand that it’s very, very bad to take your foot off of France’s throat), the fall of Brest is the beginning of the end for France, from a tactical perspective. Once enemy units are landed in Brest, it’s unlikely that you’ll ever again have a center free for a build (again, given no change in the diplomatic winds). The answer to the aforementioned question lies in your read of the diplomatic balance between England and Germany. If the English player has chosen to go it alone—and many do—you might consider something as sneaky as allowing Brest to fall while you attend to other issues (presumably issues that balance the loss of Brest). If you’re facing a solid E-G, whine to Italy and Russia and string together the b(r)est series of tactical guesses you possibly can (and if Italy’s helping, throw yourself at Italy until the dullard gets the point that there’s only one place for the “E” part of E-G to go next). Having said absolutely nothing of substance about the tactical and strategic utility of Brest, let’s turn now to its value as a build center. One of the great things about France is using subterfuge in your builds. A fleet built in Brest is very nearly as dangerous to the Italian as one built in Marseilles (it’s just as close to the Western Med). An army built in Brest threatens the German almost as much as one built in Paris or Marseilles. The same army can, with just a couple of French fleets, be an instrument for an invasion of Italy. The beauty of building anything in Brest is that it can give one time to disguise a setup for a stab. That’s enough on the topic, except to say this: Brest — it’s what’s for dinner. Of course I lied. Duh! [Sigh.... --EH] . . . . . . . . . . .Congratulations to Manus and the Pouch on this, the 34th issue; I join Edward and all of my fellow authors for this issue in congratulating Manus and proclaiming the Pouch to be the best of all Dipzines.
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