No matter the rules I’ve written for a host of different games (or the hundreds of games I’ve read and played over the years), I like rules that follow these thumbnail criteria (in no particular order):

1. Simple

2. Self-contained.

3. Standardized format.

4. Thorough.

5. Points to relevant material (if appropriate).

6. Plug and play.

7. Examples, examples, examples.

Considering the rules I’ve written and the rulebooks I’ve published (such as the 448 page Strategic Operations or 424 page Tactical Operations), some of you are laughing pretty hard right now at my use of the term ’simple.’ However, in this context I don’t mean short and easy to understand necessarily. While some games are great for that (such as a pile of German boardgames that have wonderfully simple and short rules but lots of re-playability), in this context I mean individual segments of rules that are easy to understand.

For example, there’s a section in BattleTech Tactial Operations called Planetary Conditions. Basically a giant pile of rules covering a myriad of terrain, terrain conditions, weather and so on. Each of the rules by themselves is usually pretty simple and straight forward. Some of the perceived complexity, however, comes from the attempts to hit points 2, 4, 5 and 6 above. For example Thin Snow is incredibly simply: +1 MP to wheeled vehicles and conventional infantry. But then you’ve got to cover how Fire interacts with it…and weapons fire…and then units such as Spheroid DropShips, and what types of Prohibited Conditions are prohibited for use with Thin Snow, and then a thoroughly cross-referenced table that covers everything at a glance, and so on.

When you try and make it that self-contained and thorough and plug and playable, that’s when you go from a section of similar rules in a previous rulebook that spanned 6 pages to a section that spans 36 pages. Though, to be fair, the number of “terrain, terrain modifications and weather” options went up by 10 fold…but still, you get the idea.

So, what does all of this mean for Leviathans? Well, as I’ve mentioned in previous blogs, I try and take all of those same concepts and apply them as appropriate.

However, there’s also point 3: standardized format. Now I know often I go too far and there’s others (including our editors, whom I love) that push back (rightly) now and then. But I’m a huge believer in creating a standardized format that’ll clue the reader into important information and allow them to digest everything in an easy to understand format.

So here’s some rules from The Channel Campaign from the original draft:

>>>

Repair – a vessel making a repair order is considered to be in the base location for that player (E for the English, F for the French). It may repair up to four damaged ship locations, provided replacements are available in stock (see Replacements). Note: Repair orders don’t count as Coalling actions.

Vessels being repaired cannot be used in battles resulting from an enemy Assault action.

>>>

Now, taking my concepts from above into account, here’s a current draft of the rules (pre-edite):

>>>

Repair Orders

A vessel given a Repair Order is considered to be in the controlling player’s Base Sector. For each vessel given a Repair Order, the controlling player may repair up to any four damaged Slots, provided replacements Slots are available (see Replacements, p. XX).

Coalling Orders: Repair Orders don’t count as Coalling Orders (see p. XX).

Assault Orders: During the turn that a vessel is given a Repair Order, it cannot be used in any combat resulting from an enemy Assault Order (see p. XX).

>>>

A very small example and obviously doesn’t cover everything I’m talking about, but hopefully gives you enough of a look to get the idea.

Now back to work so I can wrap this document it up and get it ready for an open release to you guys!

See ya next duty shift!

Randall

The Admiralty

23 July 1909

“Congratulations, Spence, I’ll be over there to congratulate you properly later on. Have some Bruichcladdich waiting for me.” Devon Cavendish replaced the receiver in the cradle, glad to be rid of the distraction. Of course Spencer was the new Prime Minister, the Opposition was in shambles, and Fisher had shot himself in the foot by refusing to offer up his protégé as a sacrificial lamb on the altar of public scrutiny. Asquith had been…persuaded…to remain on the sidelines, and Lloyd George…well, no one wanted a Welsh PM. But the election was won, and the Party well and truly in control.

Which brought his attention back to the matter at hand. He finished pouring the drinks the phone call had interrupted, placing them on the silver tray himself before turning to serve the three men seated in the small office. Large, brusque men who were ill suited to the small confines of the spartanly appointed room. All three wore the uniform of the Sky Fleet, though some wore it more easily than others. Cavendish again mentally berated the short-sightedness of the Admiralty that had left him with little choice other than to approach such men as this. At least in the Borderers, there had been men of class. He doubted these men even knew what Bruichcladdich was, let alone what it tasted like. They were impressed enough with the Glenfiddich he’d just poured each of them.

“What exactly are we here for, milord?”

Cavendish managed to keep his annoyance from flashing across his face as the senior of the men spoke. Captain John Christian, the so-called Butcher of Calcutta, and his irritating New Zealand accent. No class. Cavendish knew the only reason he hadn’t been cashiered from the Sky Fleet was Fisher didn’t want to irritate those hawks in Parliament who had nodded with agreement at Christian’s heavy-handed approach for dealing with the natives. He forced himself to adopt the disarming smile that left most military men thinking he was yet another spoiled politician. That he had left the cane at home certainly didn’t hurt.

“Thank you, John—can I call you John?—for asking.” Cavendish couldn’t care less whether Christian minded him using his given name, but small concessions and all that. “What I want to talk to you gentlemen about is where you see the future of the Sky Fleet going.” All three men shifted uncomfortably in their seats at the words. Cavendish decided to play the status card. “As you may know, I’m a Privy Councillor, and I feel it is my duty as such to give the King as accurate advice as I can. For that, I need to know what can be done to improve and fix the service.” And what I need to do to ostracize the Fisher clique without completely gutting the efficiency of the Sky Fleet. At the end of the day, Cavendish wanted the Sky Fleet to be full of Christians, pit bulls for the Empire, not afraid to put a bit of stick about. Fisher would never let his troops off the leash like they needed to be. Hence, he needed to go. It wasn’t about one man, it was about the future of the empire.

“For one, you can tell the bloody Admiralty to stop tying our hands and give us some decent crews, instead of their cast offs. Or better yet, you can tell the Admiralty to sod off, and give us our own service.” Lieutenant Commander Ralph Richards, currently CO of the HML Raven. He’d voiced a thought that Cavendish had espoused himself at times, making the Sky Fleet separate from the Navy, but the reality was the two were so closely tied together, it was impractical to separate them. Still, he liked Richards’ line of thinking. One to watch.

“To do that, you’d have to get rid of Fisher. And then you’d have Scott. I’m not Jackie’s biggest fan, but I prefer him over Prancing Percy.” Cavendish furrowed his brow. Stupid flyers didn’t realize the Sea Lord was a political position, not a military one, and replacing Fisher with Scott would not happen…but replacing Fisher was one part of the equation, replacing Scott was an easier task…He decided to broach the issue with these men, his litmus test of the flying corps.

“Who would replace Scott, then?” The third man, Frederic Dreyer, didn’t hesitate to respond.

“Jellicoe.”

Cavendish had been surprised his contacts had recommended inviting Dreyer at all, given the man’s close relationship with the Fisher clique. But the fact he was here suggested ambition, and more than that, Dreyer was intelligent. Intelligent enough that Cavendish might make use of him, if he could trust him. Trusting a Son of Abraham? Well, politics makes for strange bedfellows indeed. It was certain someone of that faith would never make flag rank in the Royal Navy without very strong backing. Of course, that backing would come at a price…It was worth considering.

In any case, at the moment this discussion was about the King—or more accurately, Cavendish advising the King. It wasn’t yet about Fisher’s transition from power, so Dreyer had no reason to feel conflicting loyalties. For the moment, he was a sounding board and nothing more.

“It doesn’t matter anyway—Fisher has the King’s ear, and nothing will happen while that’s true,” Christian said. Cavendish found himself reappraising Christian’s political acumen. Now if only one of them would nudge the conversation in that direction…

“About the only thing that would change that is if Fisher invaded bloody France! Hahah!” Richards took another swig from his tumbler and then filled up the glass from the crystal carafe. I should not have invited him after all, a drunk by the looks of it, and his greatest contribution is get Fisher to invade France. What a waste of time…

Or is it?

To Be Continued…

It’s an interesting combination of “campaign rules”, but wedded to the specific concept of the British and French fleets brinkmanship across the channel. Even better, the concept (I believe) has the legs to be tweaked and used across a variety of theaters around the world; if I remember right John told me he’s already got a larger, more aggressive concept for an African campaign.

While the printed document is bleeding red all over the place…most of it is actually more format related, with the majority of his concepts very strong and I think very doable. Course it needs to really be banged on and playtested…then again perhaps I’ll whip it into form and shape, let Matt do a nice layout of it and I’ll toss it out for an open playtest.

After all, while it was very useful to have the community bang on the Point System, on something like The Channel Campaign, even beyond the balance of the game mechanics, it would be very useful to have the community let me know what type of information (and presented in what form) they’d like to have in these “campaigns” to enhance their game playing experiences. In otherwords, was it fun and if it wasn’t, what about it needs to be tweaked to make it fun.

Yeah…liking that concept more and more.

See ya next duty shift!

Randall

I’d like to thank everyone that participated and made comments in the appropriate forum thread.

There’s a lot of great info in there and I’ve got some of my “best crew” already digging deeply into everyone’s comments. We’ll then try and find the most common themes/elements that have emerged as trouble spots and then we’ll take hammer and chisel and go to town and adjust as appropriate.

Once again, thanks to the growing community for your help in making the game the best it can be!

See ya next duty shift.

Randall

Buckingham Palace

13 February 1909

“Goddamn it, John! What were you thinking?!”

Admiral John Jellicoe looked up sharply at his superior’s words. No sooner had the Skagerrak fleet arrived back in England, than he had been whisked off to London to face an inquiry at the Admiralty. That had been remarkably pro forma, with the questions aimed not so much at his handling of the so-called debacle, but Fisher’s role in the exercise. So having his mentor address him in such a way—especially in this place!—was a slight shock to the system.

“Ah, sir, I’m not certain I understand what you mean. You know what happened. The German fleet arrived in much more force than anticipated, and I made the decision to minimize any casualties.” Which was what you told me to do. He left the last unsaid, not sure how it would go down. The other man in the room took a deep puff from his pipe, the blue-grey smoke drifting listlessly towards the domed ceiling of the sitting room.

“I’m not sure what else you expected him to do, Jackie—that blasted battleship showed up, and from that point on, our ‘show of force’ was going to escalate into a proper shooting war.” Third Sky Lord Admiral Percy Scott took another puff. “No, John did the right thing withdrawing. We both know that.”

Fisher sighed languidly. “I know that, Percy…it’s just that blasted Harris raked me over the coals, and he’s not the only one. After the fight I had to put up to keep Lloyd George from slashing the budget, I’ve lost more friends than I’ve gained in Parliament lately. Now with this…I’m not sure why I ever agreed to stand for ruddy office.”

“Because I asked you to, dear Jackie.” All three men rapidly came to their feet to greet the new arrival. The King awkwardly waved for them to remain seated before sinking into the stuffed chair opposite Fisher. He took out his own pipe and Scott leaned across to light it. “This is a bit of bad business, Jack.”

Jellicoe huffed. “The thing is, it’s not—we took out more of the Krauts than they did of us, and we withdrew in good order.” In response, the King pulled out the folded newspaper stuffed in the side of the chair, one that had obviously been there for a while. Jellicoe cringed when he saw the photo on the front page: the wreckage of the HML Suffolk festooned with German sailors and airmen at the Caserne in Kiel. The Times had been proud of their photographic coup, but it had been the bane of his existence since his return from sea. The boffins at Whale Island had been concerned about Germans learning the secrets of the British leviathans, but it was largely immaterial. The Germans knew how to build the flyers, and the County-class was a fairly basic design, most not even mounting Dreyer’s new sighting mechanism.

No, the impact of the Suffolk was the fact that a British vessel had been captured, albeit only through salvage, by a foreign power. And whilst Jellicoe had the utmost respect for Fisher, he also knew that Fisher might have to cast him to the wolves in order to save his own nascent political career. Whether or not he went quietly was a completely different question. Out of respect for their friendship, he was hoping it would not come to that.

As always, the elephant in the room was the King. Fisher’s relationship with the King had seen him take on the civilian political role, and seen him advance to a cabinet post, albeit one closely related to his naval career, all in a matter of months. And while Fisher was a good man, he was also ambitious enough—if not for himself, then for his ideas—that he might see the need to throw a close friend and protégé on the sacrificial altar.

“Admiral, I know you did the right thing, we all do. But Jackie is more than a naval officer now. What has happened, and why, is much less important than what has been perceived to happen.” The King tapped the photo pointedly. “That is what the people see.”

“Regardless, Sire, I’m not going to sacrifice John to save a political career.”

Jellicoe nodded at Fisher’s words, glad for his mentor’s support. Thank goodness for small mercies.

The King shook his head disappointedly. “I’m not asking you to, Jackie. But, you’ll be in a position to help him more as Prime Minister than as Sea Lord.” The King softened his voice and faced Jellicoe directly. “John, take the blame for this now, and it will all blow over later on.” He tried a different approach. “If someone doesn’t take the blame, then the assumption will be that Lloyd George was right, and the leviathans are overpriced mistakes.”

Jellicoe felt a twinge of annoyance at the King using his belief in the Sky Fleet against him. Fisher interjected before he could respond. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not going to allow John to take the blame for what was a sound tactical decision. Photos be damned, I’ll stand by my man. Those bastards in the House may have forgotten, but a man is a man by his actions, not his words.” He turned to face the King. “Sorry, Sire, but I am Sea Lord, and as such the responsibility falls to me.”

The King took a deep puff from his pipe and breathed out lightly. “Then I can’t help you, John. Your party won’t back you if you decide to do this.

“I know, Sire. Politics—and especially politicians—be damned.”