Let's Play Choice of Broadsides, Chapter Two
Previous chapter is here.
The game is HERE. A great review of it is over at Jayisgames, and my "review" is here. If you think this game sounds fun, play it before reading, because there will be massive spoilers after the cut.
Okay! Let's dive right in!
As you prepare to leave Courageous, you run into Madam Bryce, the second lieutenant.
"Well, well, well! 'Acting-Lieutenant' Smythe!" she says, grinning widely and slapping you on the back. "I know you'll do smashingly with your first command; I have the utmost confidence in you!"
"Thank you, ma'am," you reply, touching your hat in salute.
BRYCE! Bryce is our homie. Without her, we'd be sad and alone.
Just at that moment, first lieutenant Pigot rounds the corner. "Madam Smythe," she remarks, somewhat stiffly. "Fine piece of luck you've had."
Pigot, with over twenty-five years experience, is by far the most senior lieutenant on board--perhaps in the whole fleet--but it's not to her credit. She's too incompetent to earn a promotion to commander; she's watched countless younger, more competent lieutenants pass her by, while she racks up years of "valuable experience." All she has to show for it is the power to boss the other lieutenants around imperiously, and she rarely misses an opportunity.
And stuck with this jerk. What's that? You've got a feeling Pigot will be trouble? Well, you could be right.
"Luck has not a bit to do with it, I say!" Bryce counters cheerfully. "Well, go on then! Don't want to keep the prize waiting!"
"Aye aye, ma'am!"
She's right, let's get started! The next page describes the prize ship and our situation in detail. It's a very vivid description that unfortunately is too long to put here. In summary, the frigate's great and we'll have no trouble sailing, but the ship was recently captured and has many more prisoners than we've got crew. And we're about to address the prisoner situation.
A Gaulish officer, no more than a few years older than yourself, approaches you and offers her sword in surrender. She addresses you in Gaulish.
Her words sound like so much gibberish to you. You were never very good with languages and never really had the opportunity to learn Gaulish, even if you had wanted to. "I cannot speak your language, ma'am," you say to the enemy officer.
Désolée, mais je ne parle pas votre langue, madame.
"Ah. I see," she responds slowly in Albionish. "I speak your language a little, ma'am. Pardon my. . . misunderstandings?"
You nod. "Please, ma'am, continue."
"I am Lieutenant Villeneuve of the Gaulish Republican Navy. In battle, higher lieutenants were all killed, and the Captain wounded. I am now highest active officer of this ship."
Ah, the first appearance of Villeneuve. You can't tell, but I'm super excited right now. Smythe, however, is probably slightly interested and trying to be courteous. Shall we introduce ourselves?
"I am Acting-Lieutenant Anne Smythe of H.M.S. Courageous. I have been placed in command of this prize."
A slight flash of resentment crosses her face as you use the word "prize," but she quickly suppresses it. "Yes. I offer you my. . . I do not know the right word in your language. My parole? My word that I will not seek to escape?"
You nod. "We use the word 'parole' as well. Your 'word of honor' as a gentlewoman, you mean."
"Ah, yes. You have it exactly, ma'am."
Do you accept Lieutenant Villeneuve's parole?
Option time! We can say: A) No DUH. "She's a gentlewoman and would never think of breaking her word[,]" B) Okay, but I'm keeping this sword just in case, C) I'd love to, but we are SO outnumbered right now it's not even funny, or D) ARE YOU MAD? She's the enemy!
The decision depends on our honour vs. our practicality vs. our prejudice. At this point, I'd already decided that Smythe was to be an honourable but cautious officer who is not prejudiced, and sees the Gauls as worthy opponents until proven otherwise. Also, I decided that I liked Villeneuve, so I'm going to trust her as long as I get to keep her sword.
After a moment's hesitation, you reply, "I accept your parole. Please attend carefully to any instructions the crew gives you, and you will of course need to return to the hold at any time that I request."
"I understand, ma'am. Thank you." Her expression looks a little sour as she glances at her sword, still in your hands.
She's not happy about my last condition, but everything seems to be fine. So what's next?
Jones approaches you a short while later. "So that's it then, ma'am? The bloody Gaul spends hours trying to kill us, does kill a lot of good women, and then after the battle it's all nicey-nicey? Her lot murdered Davies, but we're supposed to not care after the battle is over?"
How do you respond?
Davies is dead? So she really was done for. Oh, well, we tried. Anyway, Jones is our young firebrand of a mistress's mate. I have a feeling she's got more against the Gaulish people than we do. Since Smythe is a nice person, I pick A) Explain myself, over B) Tell her to drop it, or C) Flog her for her impertinence.
"I understand that it hurts, Jones. We all lost friends today. But there are rules about how wars are fought. We may not like the rules, but we still have to follow them," you explain. "War is a terrible thing, but without those rules it would be even worse. Do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am," says Jones, although it doesn't seem that she does. "But why should we trust their officers but not their women?"
"Because I know that Lieutenant Villeneuve has been taught for years that nothing is more important than her honor. She would rather die than break her parole."
"If you say so, ma'am."
Because she's honourable and we like her, Jones. I have a feeling we wasted our breath, since you don't seem convinced. At least you haven't started resenting us. Oh, who am I kidding? You will always resent us.
A few days later, Villeneuve comes over and tells us that one of her crew is badly hurt and needs medical supplies. When asked if we would provide them, we say A) Yes, instead of B) No, and we do it because Smythe is not a humongous prick.
"Merci beaucoup, madame." This is what she would say if not for our language difficulties. Instead, she thanks us in English/Albionish. What a shame to not hear Villeneuve speaking her native tongue.
The next few days are full of sailing, and then the new problem arises. Jones tells us that a hole was found in the hold. We get the crew to patch it up, and then the game asks us why we think Jones told us? Was it: A) Out of duty, B) Sucking up, or C) To save herself? Again, since Smythe is distressingly good-natured, we decide that she was A) just doing her job. The game gives us this ominous "Perhaps you're right[,]" and I gulp. This had better not be foreshadowing, you hear me?
On the sixth day, one of your women calls down to the deck. "Sail to lee!"
"What sort of ship is it?" you call back, as you search with your spyglass.
After a minute, the sailor calls back, "He looks to be a Gaulish sloop-of-war, ma'am."
A sloop-of-war. . . That presents you with a difficult choice. A sloop carries no more than 20 guns, and often fewer. What's more, a sloop's guns will be of lighter weight than those of a frigate. If you had a full crew, you could easily capture him. But with only a prize crew at your disposal, the sloop would have a much greater rate of fire and substantially larger number of women.
How do you want to handle this?
We could do this several ways: A) Attack it directly for massive damage, B) SNEAK ATTACK! or C) Leave it, it's too risky. I choose the ambush option, since we don't have the resources for a frontal attack, but I really really want to get this ship, it would be so cool.
Yeah, so what's the plan? A) Sneak up in the dead of night and threaten to ram them, or B) The wounded gazelle gambit, where we lure them in and start shooting on them. I pick (A). And now to put it into action. We extinguish all the lights and make everybody quiet. This is a very tense situation. For atmosphere, hum an appropriate sneaking tune.
Your ship slips silently across the block waves under a dark sky. You maintain strict silence, gliding into position. Finally, having expertly sailed the ship into a position directly behind the enemy sloop's stern, with no more than 50 feet separating your ship from their stern, you light the lanterns on your ship and fire a single warning shot. The enemy sloop could not possibly withstand being raked by a frigate. They strike their colors and surrender. You slowly make it back to Albion with both your original prize and the sloop as a prize. Finally, you sail into Chesterport and heave a sigh of relief as you come under the great guns of the harbor defense. You have succeeded.
WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS, MY FRIENDS.
We tell the port's Royal Navy captain how awesome we are for doing this, and she is shocked and impressed. Before long, everyone else learns about this, and our life gets better and better.
You find yourself thrust into prominence as a hero. Admirals, members of parliament, and peers ask you to call on them. The Patriotic Fund commissions a shiny engraved sword with a gold hilt for you as an honor. While it will take some time for the prize court to determine precisely how much money you will receive, your agent assures you that it will be substantial and offers to advance you a thousand pounds--an absurd amount of money, really--against the prize court's future payment.
And perhaps most importantly, the Gazette lists you as commissioned a lieutenant. You set sail from Albion as a midshipwoman and left H.M.S. Courageous as an acting-lieutenant with the permanent rank of midshipwoman. When H.M.S. Courageous sails back into port, however, you rejoin his company as a commissioned officer, with all the status and authority that commands.
Money, patronage, and a shiny new promotion? I think this was a pretty good day, don't you? What a nice way to end the chapter!
And here are our updated stats:
Name: Madam Anne Smythe
Rank: Lieutenant
Seniority: 1 years
Age: 20
Sailing: 85 (+)
Gunnery: 76 (+)
Leadership: 52 (-)
Fighting: 70
Patronage: 46 (++)
Tact: 26
Likeability: 55 (+)
Honor: 55
Courage: 55 (+)
Bloodthirst: 45 (+)
Intelligence: 52 (+)
Wealth: 37 (+++)
TO BE CONTINUED.
The game is HERE. A great review of it is over at Jayisgames, and my "review" is here. If you think this game sounds fun, play it before reading, because there will be massive spoilers after the cut.
Okay! Let's dive right in!
As you prepare to leave Courageous, you run into Madam Bryce, the second lieutenant.
"Well, well, well! 'Acting-Lieutenant' Smythe!" she says, grinning widely and slapping you on the back. "I know you'll do smashingly with your first command; I have the utmost confidence in you!"
"Thank you, ma'am," you reply, touching your hat in salute.
BRYCE! Bryce is our homie. Without her, we'd be sad and alone.
Just at that moment, first lieutenant Pigot rounds the corner. "Madam Smythe," she remarks, somewhat stiffly. "Fine piece of luck you've had."
Pigot, with over twenty-five years experience, is by far the most senior lieutenant on board--perhaps in the whole fleet--but it's not to her credit. She's too incompetent to earn a promotion to commander; she's watched countless younger, more competent lieutenants pass her by, while she racks up years of "valuable experience." All she has to show for it is the power to boss the other lieutenants around imperiously, and she rarely misses an opportunity.
And stuck with this jerk. What's that? You've got a feeling Pigot will be trouble? Well, you could be right.
"Luck has not a bit to do with it, I say!" Bryce counters cheerfully. "Well, go on then! Don't want to keep the prize waiting!"
"Aye aye, ma'am!"
She's right, let's get started! The next page describes the prize ship and our situation in detail. It's a very vivid description that unfortunately is too long to put here. In summary, the frigate's great and we'll have no trouble sailing, but the ship was recently captured and has many more prisoners than we've got crew. And we're about to address the prisoner situation.
A Gaulish officer, no more than a few years older than yourself, approaches you and offers her sword in surrender. She addresses you in Gaulish.
Her words sound like so much gibberish to you. You were never very good with languages and never really had the opportunity to learn Gaulish, even if you had wanted to. "I cannot speak your language, ma'am," you say to the enemy officer.
Désolée, mais je ne parle pas votre langue, madame.
"Ah. I see," she responds slowly in Albionish. "I speak your language a little, ma'am. Pardon my. . . misunderstandings?"
You nod. "Please, ma'am, continue."
"I am Lieutenant Villeneuve of the Gaulish Republican Navy. In battle, higher lieutenants were all killed, and the Captain wounded. I am now highest active officer of this ship."
Ah, the first appearance of Villeneuve. You can't tell, but I'm super excited right now. Smythe, however, is probably slightly interested and trying to be courteous. Shall we introduce ourselves?
"I am Acting-Lieutenant Anne Smythe of H.M.S. Courageous. I have been placed in command of this prize."
A slight flash of resentment crosses her face as you use the word "prize," but she quickly suppresses it. "Yes. I offer you my. . . I do not know the right word in your language. My parole? My word that I will not seek to escape?"
You nod. "We use the word 'parole' as well. Your 'word of honor' as a gentlewoman, you mean."
"Ah, yes. You have it exactly, ma'am."
Do you accept Lieutenant Villeneuve's parole?
Option time! We can say: A) No DUH. "She's a gentlewoman and would never think of breaking her word[,]" B) Okay, but I'm keeping this sword just in case, C) I'd love to, but we are SO outnumbered right now it's not even funny, or D) ARE YOU MAD? She's the enemy!
The decision depends on our honour vs. our practicality vs. our prejudice. At this point, I'd already decided that Smythe was to be an honourable but cautious officer who is not prejudiced, and sees the Gauls as worthy opponents until proven otherwise. Also, I decided that I liked Villeneuve, so I'm going to trust her as long as I get to keep her sword.
After a moment's hesitation, you reply, "I accept your parole. Please attend carefully to any instructions the crew gives you, and you will of course need to return to the hold at any time that I request."
"I understand, ma'am. Thank you." Her expression looks a little sour as she glances at her sword, still in your hands.
She's not happy about my last condition, but everything seems to be fine. So what's next?
Jones approaches you a short while later. "So that's it then, ma'am? The bloody Gaul spends hours trying to kill us, does kill a lot of good women, and then after the battle it's all nicey-nicey? Her lot murdered Davies, but we're supposed to not care after the battle is over?"
How do you respond?
Davies is dead? So she really was done for. Oh, well, we tried. Anyway, Jones is our young firebrand of a mistress's mate. I have a feeling she's got more against the Gaulish people than we do. Since Smythe is a nice person, I pick A) Explain myself, over B) Tell her to drop it, or C) Flog her for her impertinence.
"I understand that it hurts, Jones. We all lost friends today. But there are rules about how wars are fought. We may not like the rules, but we still have to follow them," you explain. "War is a terrible thing, but without those rules it would be even worse. Do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am," says Jones, although it doesn't seem that she does. "But why should we trust their officers but not their women?"
"Because I know that Lieutenant Villeneuve has been taught for years that nothing is more important than her honor. She would rather die than break her parole."
"If you say so, ma'am."
Because she's honourable and we like her, Jones. I have a feeling we wasted our breath, since you don't seem convinced. At least you haven't started resenting us. Oh, who am I kidding? You will always resent us.
A few days later, Villeneuve comes over and tells us that one of her crew is badly hurt and needs medical supplies. When asked if we would provide them, we say A) Yes, instead of B) No, and we do it because Smythe is not a humongous prick.
"Merci beaucoup, madame." This is what she would say if not for our language difficulties. Instead, she thanks us in English/Albionish. What a shame to not hear Villeneuve speaking her native tongue.
The next few days are full of sailing, and then the new problem arises. Jones tells us that a hole was found in the hold. We get the crew to patch it up, and then the game asks us why we think Jones told us? Was it: A) Out of duty, B) Sucking up, or C) To save herself? Again, since Smythe is distressingly good-natured, we decide that she was A) just doing her job. The game gives us this ominous "Perhaps you're right[,]" and I gulp. This had better not be foreshadowing, you hear me?
On the sixth day, one of your women calls down to the deck. "Sail to lee!"
"What sort of ship is it?" you call back, as you search with your spyglass.
After a minute, the sailor calls back, "He looks to be a Gaulish sloop-of-war, ma'am."
A sloop-of-war. . . That presents you with a difficult choice. A sloop carries no more than 20 guns, and often fewer. What's more, a sloop's guns will be of lighter weight than those of a frigate. If you had a full crew, you could easily capture him. But with only a prize crew at your disposal, the sloop would have a much greater rate of fire and substantially larger number of women.
How do you want to handle this?
We could do this several ways: A) Attack it directly for massive damage, B) SNEAK ATTACK! or C) Leave it, it's too risky. I choose the ambush option, since we don't have the resources for a frontal attack, but I really really want to get this ship, it would be so cool.
Yeah, so what's the plan? A) Sneak up in the dead of night and threaten to ram them, or B) The wounded gazelle gambit, where we lure them in and start shooting on them. I pick (A). And now to put it into action. We extinguish all the lights and make everybody quiet. This is a very tense situation. For atmosphere, hum an appropriate sneaking tune.
Your ship slips silently across the block waves under a dark sky. You maintain strict silence, gliding into position. Finally, having expertly sailed the ship into a position directly behind the enemy sloop's stern, with no more than 50 feet separating your ship from their stern, you light the lanterns on your ship and fire a single warning shot. The enemy sloop could not possibly withstand being raked by a frigate. They strike their colors and surrender. You slowly make it back to Albion with both your original prize and the sloop as a prize. Finally, you sail into Chesterport and heave a sigh of relief as you come under the great guns of the harbor defense. You have succeeded.
WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS, MY FRIENDS.
We tell the port's Royal Navy captain how awesome we are for doing this, and she is shocked and impressed. Before long, everyone else learns about this, and our life gets better and better.
You find yourself thrust into prominence as a hero. Admirals, members of parliament, and peers ask you to call on them. The Patriotic Fund commissions a shiny engraved sword with a gold hilt for you as an honor. While it will take some time for the prize court to determine precisely how much money you will receive, your agent assures you that it will be substantial and offers to advance you a thousand pounds--an absurd amount of money, really--against the prize court's future payment.
And perhaps most importantly, the Gazette lists you as commissioned a lieutenant. You set sail from Albion as a midshipwoman and left H.M.S. Courageous as an acting-lieutenant with the permanent rank of midshipwoman. When H.M.S. Courageous sails back into port, however, you rejoin his company as a commissioned officer, with all the status and authority that commands.
Money, patronage, and a shiny new promotion? I think this was a pretty good day, don't you? What a nice way to end the chapter!
And here are our updated stats:
Name: Madam Anne Smythe
Rank: Lieutenant
Seniority: 1 years
Age: 20
Sailing: 85 (+)
Gunnery: 76 (+)
Leadership: 52 (-)
Fighting: 70
Patronage: 46 (++)
Tact: 26
Likeability: 55 (+)
Honor: 55
Courage: 55 (+)
Bloodthirst: 45 (+)
Intelligence: 52 (+)
Wealth: 37 (+++)
TO BE CONTINUED.