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TALES OF THE STUPID
Part I: The Mouse that Roared
Hello. Welcome, and thank you for reading my Tale. I hope you will enjoy it. Tales of the Stupid will be a series involving stories of Civ that are silly, difficult, or most of the time--just plain Stupid.
This Tale was the Napoleonic Europe Conquest. I edited it to allow play as the Netherlands, and set the Difficulty to Sid.
Chapter One: I am Dutch, Hear Me Roar
The Foreign Minister rushed into King Mrmitchell's office. "What do you request, my King?" he asked. "Bring a Diplomat here from the Prussians." The Foreign Minister smiled and said, "Yes, my King" before scurrying out of the room.
"Stop!"
"What is it, my King?" asked the Minister, confused.
"Also bring one from Russia. And from Austria. And the Ottomans. And France, and Spain! Sweden and Denmark!"
"Hosting an international summit, King?"
"You could say it. Now hurry! Tell them this is an issue of grave importance." With that, the Foreign Minister exited the room.
As soon as he left, King Mrmitchell laid back in his King's Chair, propped his feet on the desk, and got out a--someone is knocking! Blast!
"You may enter," the King said, hastily rearranging himself back to a Kingly state. The Minister of Violence bursted through the door, and shouted.
"Our forces are pathetic! They could fall to France at any day now!"
King Mrmitchell attempted to feign deep thinking about the Minister's remarks. In fact, he was thinking about the London-Liverpool game last night. Regardless, the fake worked--the Minister sat down in the guests' chair and waited.
The King then pulled off a very well-executed maneuver to get him out of the way. He simply told the Minister, "Do not worry. Amsterdam will not fall to France. I will order that extra soldiers be trained."
The Minister was satisfied by this, and got up, shook the King's hand and thanked him, and quietly walked to the doors and went through. The King pressed a button on the underside of his desk, and there was an excruciating scream directly outside, before several men quickly marching down the hall. The scream became muffled, and they marched back out of hearing range.
At this point, the King again pushed back his chair. He slouched down and relaxed for a moment, when some idiot sharply rapped on the door.
"Who is it!?", he asked, almost agitated. "I have returned with all our foreign ambassadors!"
The King's grim expression brightened momentarily. He said, "Excellent! Direct them all to the Grand Hall. Tell them I will join them in one moment."
The King locked the top drawer in his desk, hid the key under the wastebasket, and stood up. He walked to the door, slipped on the Imperial Skates, and left.
Once in the wide, long, empty hall, the King zoomed down, and sped to the door on the skates. Once at his destination, he quickly braked, slipped them off, and hid them behind an old Knight's armor that was there on display.
There could have been no more a regal entrance to the Grand Hall. It's too bad it was ignored. The Spanish and Austrian diplomats were talking to each other, the Ottoman ambassador was trading obscenities with the Russian man, and the Swede and Frenchman just sat on opposite ends of a table, giving each other bad looks. The Prussian diplomat kept asking the Foreign Minister unnerving questions about our military strength.
I called for silence, and gathered them all to one table. As I stood before them, all was silent, even though everyone took turns slinging rubber bands at the French representation.
"Men," I said, using my deep voice to back my words, "I have called you here today for a very important reason." Just to mess with their minds, I made a pause here, and tried to see how long I could stretch it.
After a few minutes, the Turk asked, "Well what the hell is it!?"
"Oh, yes, I thought you would never get to that. Well, it is very important that you listen very carefully."
Since there was no pause this time, all the men leaned closer and looked interested enough in what one-city Holland did.
"I announce that I am declaring WAR."
The Russian snickered.
"What are you laughing for, Vladmir? It is you who I am going to crush."
By now, Vladmir was rolling around on the floor laughing. It might have been the drugs I give all foreign delegations to Amsterdam, but the Austrian spoke up. "Our Mutual Protection Pact requires that if you declare war on him, we will declare war on you, and I feel confident we can do that."
I gave him a frank exchange of words which meant "I am not done speaking yet, please do not interrupt me." I made a strong, Kingly walk to the side of the table opposite the ambassadors, and pointed to them, going down the row, saying:
"I declare war on Prussia, Austria, the Ottomans, Sweden, Spain, and...well...I just don't even like Russia. Damn Russians."
The Austrian joined the Russian on the floor, laughing around and leaving spittle, a good slipping hazard, on the floor as he rolled. Eventually the barbarian--er, Russian--recovered, and then I looked him sternly in the eye and said, "Ah, but I am serious."
He started chuckling, and was about to fall again, when all the other diplomats looked at him very seriously. Some didn't talk, and some yelled "watch out!" but as he fell, strong Dutch hands grabbed him and dragged him away. Then, each foreign representative was taken, and followed the Russian to the firing range.
On his way out, the King tripped over the Austrian, who had been overlooked. "Damn Australians," he said, getting up and dusting himself off. Noticing the late time and figuring the drugs had rendered the man unconscious, he carefully took him, picked him up, and carried him to a high window in the Palace.
The King quietly opened the window, and--push!--threw the drugged Austrian into the trash pit fifty feet below. After that, he got a palace servant and threw him down as well, just for good measure. The day ended, the King checked that his desk drawer was still unlocked, and he then went to sleep.
Part I: The Mouse that Roared
Hello. Welcome, and thank you for reading my Tale. I hope you will enjoy it. Tales of the Stupid will be a series involving stories of Civ that are silly, difficult, or most of the time--just plain Stupid.
This Tale was the Napoleonic Europe Conquest. I edited it to allow play as the Netherlands, and set the Difficulty to Sid.
Chapter One: I am Dutch, Hear Me Roar
The Foreign Minister rushed into King Mrmitchell's office. "What do you request, my King?" he asked. "Bring a Diplomat here from the Prussians." The Foreign Minister smiled and said, "Yes, my King" before scurrying out of the room.
"Stop!"
"What is it, my King?" asked the Minister, confused.
"Also bring one from Russia. And from Austria. And the Ottomans. And France, and Spain! Sweden and Denmark!"
"Hosting an international summit, King?"
"You could say it. Now hurry! Tell them this is an issue of grave importance." With that, the Foreign Minister exited the room.
As soon as he left, King Mrmitchell laid back in his King's Chair, propped his feet on the desk, and got out a--someone is knocking! Blast!
"You may enter," the King said, hastily rearranging himself back to a Kingly state. The Minister of Violence bursted through the door, and shouted.
"Our forces are pathetic! They could fall to France at any day now!"
King Mrmitchell attempted to feign deep thinking about the Minister's remarks. In fact, he was thinking about the London-Liverpool game last night. Regardless, the fake worked--the Minister sat down in the guests' chair and waited.
The King then pulled off a very well-executed maneuver to get him out of the way. He simply told the Minister, "Do not worry. Amsterdam will not fall to France. I will order that extra soldiers be trained."
The Minister was satisfied by this, and got up, shook the King's hand and thanked him, and quietly walked to the doors and went through. The King pressed a button on the underside of his desk, and there was an excruciating scream directly outside, before several men quickly marching down the hall. The scream became muffled, and they marched back out of hearing range.
At this point, the King again pushed back his chair. He slouched down and relaxed for a moment, when some idiot sharply rapped on the door.
"Who is it!?", he asked, almost agitated. "I have returned with all our foreign ambassadors!"
The King's grim expression brightened momentarily. He said, "Excellent! Direct them all to the Grand Hall. Tell them I will join them in one moment."
The King locked the top drawer in his desk, hid the key under the wastebasket, and stood up. He walked to the door, slipped on the Imperial Skates, and left.
Once in the wide, long, empty hall, the King zoomed down, and sped to the door on the skates. Once at his destination, he quickly braked, slipped them off, and hid them behind an old Knight's armor that was there on display.
There could have been no more a regal entrance to the Grand Hall. It's too bad it was ignored. The Spanish and Austrian diplomats were talking to each other, the Ottoman ambassador was trading obscenities with the Russian man, and the Swede and Frenchman just sat on opposite ends of a table, giving each other bad looks. The Prussian diplomat kept asking the Foreign Minister unnerving questions about our military strength.
I called for silence, and gathered them all to one table. As I stood before them, all was silent, even though everyone took turns slinging rubber bands at the French representation.
"Men," I said, using my deep voice to back my words, "I have called you here today for a very important reason." Just to mess with their minds, I made a pause here, and tried to see how long I could stretch it.
After a few minutes, the Turk asked, "Well what the hell is it!?"
"Oh, yes, I thought you would never get to that. Well, it is very important that you listen very carefully."
Since there was no pause this time, all the men leaned closer and looked interested enough in what one-city Holland did.
"I announce that I am declaring WAR."
The Russian snickered.
"What are you laughing for, Vladmir? It is you who I am going to crush."
By now, Vladmir was rolling around on the floor laughing. It might have been the drugs I give all foreign delegations to Amsterdam, but the Austrian spoke up. "Our Mutual Protection Pact requires that if you declare war on him, we will declare war on you, and I feel confident we can do that."
I gave him a frank exchange of words which meant "I am not done speaking yet, please do not interrupt me." I made a strong, Kingly walk to the side of the table opposite the ambassadors, and pointed to them, going down the row, saying:
"I declare war on Prussia, Austria, the Ottomans, Sweden, Spain, and...well...I just don't even like Russia. Damn Russians."
The Austrian joined the Russian on the floor, laughing around and leaving spittle, a good slipping hazard, on the floor as he rolled. Eventually the barbarian--er, Russian--recovered, and then I looked him sternly in the eye and said, "Ah, but I am serious."
He started chuckling, and was about to fall again, when all the other diplomats looked at him very seriously. Some didn't talk, and some yelled "watch out!" but as he fell, strong Dutch hands grabbed him and dragged him away. Then, each foreign representative was taken, and followed the Russian to the firing range.
On his way out, the King tripped over the Austrian, who had been overlooked. "Damn Australians," he said, getting up and dusting himself off. Noticing the late time and figuring the drugs had rendered the man unconscious, he carefully took him, picked him up, and carried him to a high window in the Palace.
The King quietly opened the window, and--push!--threw the drugged Austrian into the trash pit fifty feet below. After that, he got a palace servant and threw him down as well, just for good measure. The day ended, the King checked that his desk drawer was still unlocked, and he then went to sleep.
The Dutch will last longer than 1 turn. More coming soon.
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