Well, I haven’t failed yet with this column, that’s a good sign. But this is coming from a guy who once opened A Vie – Tri *bounce*, A Bud – Gal *bounce*, F Tri – Ser *void*. Actually, I didn’t open that way, but I saw it happen to someone in my last FTF game. I was playing Russia and thought I was going to eat him alive with Turkish help. I ended up as a mere side dish for a powerful A/T. The lesson is this: I am not very good at Diplomacy. To get serious for a moment: I would be remiss if I did not open my column by addressing the recent passing of Mr. Allan B Calhamer. I’m not sure how it’s possible to live a life in which you spend time living on Walden Pond and later work as a letter carrier and while doing that design the greatest strategy game, and I say the greatest overall game, of all time… in your spare time. I never met the man and the only way I’ve engaged with him is through his game, but it’s brought me such immense pleasure for the past 16 years – roughly half of my life. I hope to get at least another 16 years under my belt in the game. Thank you for making that possible, ABC. Now, for the awkward pivot from heartfelt feelings about the legacy of a great man, the wonder of Diplomacy and how it makes us all better people into the column I had already prepared for this installment, in which I intend to explore the worst things any of us have done to our friends in the context of the game. Awkward pivot complete. Actually, I want your stories. I would love to publish a supplementary column next time excerpting or reprinting them. So I’ll make you a deal. I’ll tell you about some of the worst skullduggery I’ve committed in Diplomacy and you send me your story in trade. Deal? The Case Of The Dip Pouch Celebrity I’ve never told this story, so it should be interesting to see if I can recall all the details. If you’ve read any of my interminable columns before, you may know that I got my start as a Diplomacy freak at about age 14, gaming with a church youth group of all insane things. Even more insane, the powers that were at the church, for whatever reason, let me host Diplomacy games there… and I can’t recall ever being supervised during those games. Thank you, Jesus! So I had a column published in the DipPouch way back then (I’m not going to link you to it, it’s far too embarrassing, and if you are dedicated enough to find it on your own, well, I feel very sorry for you). I would not call it a groundbreaking column. It was more a 15-year old kid trying to talk a bunch of e-mail judge players into giving up e-mail play for a mass return to the postal community. If you need to go check and see if it worked, that’s fine, I can wait… Anyway, the point of all this is when I had this column run in the DipPouch, it was like I had just published a novel or something. I was such a little goof. I printed out the article at my dad’s work and took it to the youth group meeting. Some of the kids’ enthusiasm matched mine — this was a Time magazine level achievement, there must be TONS of material that the DipPouch rejects for space constraints. So, to make a long story far longer, here is what a little weasel bastard I was. *ring ring * Sam: Hello? Me: Hey Sam, it’s Heath. Sam: Hey-ohhhh! Me: Hey-ohhhh! Sam: Lunch B hey! Lunch B ho! Lunch B, Lunch B, go go go! (this has gone a bit far afield, but to my credit, we did have lunch for the first time together that year) Me: So, Sam. I’m putting together another game a couple weeks from now at the church. Sam: Hmm, that sounds like it could be doable… Me: But there’s a twist! I’ve got an assignment from the Dip Pouch — we’re going to annotate one of our games! [note: if you haven’t guessed, I had not, in fact, received this assignment from the Dip Pouch main desk.] Sam: What do you mean? Me: Every turn we’re all gonna fill out a little questionnaire, and I’m going to write down the position every turn and show our game with our own comments in an article! Sam: Whoa! Awesome! Sign me up! [calls several friends to help fill the game] I’m sure you know what’s coming but it’s fun to say it anyway. I created these little half-sheets of paper with a questionnaire on them. I don’t remember exactly how the questions ran, but it was something very close to this: What power are you? What turn is it? Who is/are your ally/allies right now? What do you plan to do next turn if everything goes right this turn? I collected them all in something that looked very similar to “the box”, that sacrosanct orders-collector that is completely off limits for grubby mitts seeking to handle its contents prior to the deadline. And, just like every turn, there were moments that everyone was off talking and I was alone with the board. I’m sure you will not be shocked to hear that I read every single one of those slips and based my play on it. Sam turned out being my ally in an E/F (how do I remember that??) and I’ll never forget what he wrote about his short term plan , exact words: “finish slicing up Germany and then stick it to England quickly.” I won that game. The DipPouch article never ran. In fact, it was never written. I kept the commentary cards for posterity. Somehow, I also kept my friends. Having Fun and Profiting While Deeply Angering a Close Friend To bring things a bit more into the present, I am going to tell you about the quickest and in some ways most undeserved win I’ve ever pulled off, as Russia, in 1905. If you want to see the way the map progressed, a pdf is here: http://www.floc.net/ dpjudge/maps/brindisi.pdf This game was played with a very good friend of mine from those early pious church days and his group of friends from high school and college, many of whom I was only just getting to know through a regular poker game we had at the time. We had played a couple of times before — once live, once over some horrible web interface. I had already collected the impression that this was a group that often played on spite and other emotional factors rather than trying to stay coolly rational. I’m not faulting them for that because I’m a bit the same way, but I already had an inkling that I would play certain people based on their biases against other players and the other strange dynamics that had evolved among their group, which I was by no means an expert on at that point. I got everyone to play on dpjudge because I’m always trying to get people to try the judges, and most of them seemed to like it okay. We were going to play it anonymously, but some of us — ok, one of us — can’t stop typing when he starts, so it sort of gave him/me away. But luckily everyone else gave themselves away from similar idiosyncrasies. I could tell immediately that the Italian player was my good friend, whom I know to be a good solid player of the game, if less experienced than I am, and also a very good ally. I always enjoy working with him when I can, a fact our first group started to resent. We absolutely slaughtered A/T. We ran misinformation that worked, got people moving all the wrong places, it was beautiful. In only a couple game years, I was fairly huge as Russia. (by each successive year, I went 6-8-10-13, reaching 18 in 1905). But in other quarters, people were grumbling about my good buddy in Italy. Apparently, he had been pointing out where they were making mistakes here or there, particularly as related to slowing me down. And, amazingly, instead of going “yeah, hey, Russia could win” the response was “damn, really, you’re still criticizing me? You ALWAYS tell us what to do!” They clearly loved the guy as a close friend, but felt he could be arrogant in games — something I’d NEVER witnessed in many, many years of knowing him closely, but if they want to feel otherwise, be my guest! I cultivated that all game as soon as I sensed it. While our alliance was really pretty egalitarian, and I certainly didn’t take a back seat and neither did he. My PR all game to everyone else was “gosh I want to get free here, but this guy is such a tyrant, I can’t get untangled. I need help. Can you attack him?” They never did attack him, partly because he and France militarized their border to the point that neither one was going to break through to the other. Italy wanted F/I/ R but I knew better. He kept up his information campaign against F/G, the main powers standing aside from I/R. But to them, “information” looked like “you guys are fools and idiots and you’re going to let Russia win because you’re dumb.” Based on the messages I was receiving from those players, the overarching sense that he was being arrogant or pushy was totally driving their foreign policy. So I wondered — it’s still a win if they just give it to you, isn’t it? And I decided that yes, yes it was. So I kept up the volume on the “arrogant tyrant Italy” meme — when he was the most milquetoast, friendly, unassuming ally you could ask for in our own negotiations. The decisive turn was when Italy and I had fully wrapped up the East and attacked Germany. I got in there with Silesia, Prussia and Baltic. Before the German had a chance to write me I sent him a message saying, “Ugh, man, I am so sorry, I don’t even want to be attacking you. Italy is making so many threats I don’t know what to do; he’s going to win the game and I have no idea what I’m going to do about it.” Germany responded as I hoped. “He’s not going to win the game, not if I can help it. I’m moving out of my centers. Take them. I’d much rather see you win than him, you’ve been much nicer to me and totally on the up-and-up.” (Ain’t I a stinker?) France, who was working closely with Germany, agreed. And I essentially took over all of Germany and France in one move, while moving into the DMZed Austria/ Turkey to get my 18th dot from Italy, just to make him hate me more, I guess. Ironically, the backstab came at a terrible time. I was about to leave for my friend’s poker game — the self-same gent that played Italy in this game — and 5 minutes before I was out the door, I saw that the moves had gone through and the game was as good as won, just one fall season to go and it was finished. And, as though karma was repaying me, when I got there, no one else had shown up. I’m not going to describe that conversation for you, I think that’s one of those things better left to the imagination. Don’t be afraid to imagine colorful language. He was very angry, but composed. He told me that my move was “dishonorable.” I felt bad, but I couldn’t help it — I laughed at him when he said it. It seemed silly since, after all, he was talking about Diplomacy. When we played poker that night, I’m pretty sure the guy raised every bet I made. Who could fault him? Unfortunately, that particular Diplomacy group was destroyed by that experience — they all went back to playing other games and once again I was bereft of live opponents. Was it worth it? Considering that the Italian player is someone I’ve been competitive with over board games since my teenage years, I’d say yeah, it was worth it. What about you? I have plenty more stories than this, but I have already written 2000 words and I’m not sure if the DipPouch has enough space to go further <wink>. But please, send me the story of your slimiest move. I’ll publish what I get. Heath Gardner (heath.gardner@gmail.com) If you wish to e-mail feedback on this article to the author, and clicking on the envelope above does not work for you, feel free to use the "Dear DP..." mail interface.