Crusader Kings 3 тоглоомыг ашиглан төрийн эрх баригчийг огцруулах арга замыг туршив

I heard it on the wireless: election fever is sweeping America. The world’s loudest democracy is headed to the ballot box to vote in its next slate of soda jerks and Chevrolets and whatever else it is they have over there. It’s all very exciting.

Can I help? Yes. I’ve already solved my own country’s politics, now it’s time to help the benighted and backward people of places like “Connecticut” and “the Oklahoma Panhandle”—fantasy names from a land beyond knowing. People love it when foreigners tell them how to do their own domestic politics, and especially when they have as robust a methodology as I have: a copy of Crusader Kings 3 and most of the DLC.

Using Paradox’s premier 1066 simulator, I will ascertain the best way to remove a burrowed-in leader from power. Which real-life figure is this a videogame analogue for? Don’t worry about it, don’t email me about it, and don’t launch a cruise missile at my house.

Don’t email me about how the midterms don’t choose the president either. I don’t know what those words mean.

King of New York

I first had to create an accurate, 11th-century simulacrum of an American president. None of CK3’s historical rulers quite fit the bill, so I decided to create a ruler from scratch.

I created an 80-year-old lecher named Wenzel and put him in charge of the Holy Roman Empire. His defining trait was ‘lunatic’.

So that was sorted. Next, I needed a position from which to actually act in the world. I needed to be someone who could effect change in the HRE and test my theories as to the best way to go about removing a leader. This was easier: I simply nosed through Wenzel’s myriad direct vassals and picked one who seemed most like some guy, thus to represent the working masses of the American Empire. I’ve quite genuinely forgotten his name, but he had very few traits and was prone to tuberculosis.

We were off to the races. I immediately cast about to find some means of dislodging the boss. My first solution was simple: plunge the realm in an internecine civil war that scourges the land with blood and fire. Unfortunately, I soon realised I probably wouldn’t be allowed to suggest that as an option for the American people in an international videogames publication, so I decided to, like, win an election or something instead. Whatever.

Well, okay, not just win an election. The bloodless paths to power I saw were to either get myself nominated as the old man’s heir (HRE elections aren’t as regular as modern-day America’s—at the time of writing—and so I couldn’t replace him directly via one) or to butter him up so nicely that he declares me co-ruler.

I opted for both. My first move was to ply my delicate kaiser with flattery and gifts. He liked flattery and gifts, and as a bonus, by showering him with them I significantly decreased the odds I would wake up to find all my lands redistributed among his wretched children. I increased the odds I would wake up at all, at that.

With my other hand, I penned fawning letters to his most powerful vassals: ‘My esteemed lord, my honourable lady, your most munificent worshipfulness…’ On and on I went, doling out what little gifts were available to me, and starting schemes to sway and cajole the realm’s most powerful. It all seemed, almost boringly, to be coming together. Perhaps the great secret to overcoming your political enemies is… just being plain old nice?

No. Absolutely not. Being nice is just the vague flouncing about you do before you get serious and start organising the guillotines. Though I had successfully gotten a fair few influential figures on-side, none of them seemed inclined to support me for the big chair. As for Wenzel? He was fond of me, but he was also ancient and deranged, and was apparently too busy getting deep into religious superstition (quite literally, he acquired the ‘superstition’ modifier while I wasn’t looking, somehow) to dedicate much thought to power sharing.

Time to get serious.

Not time to get serious

Somehow this goddamn idiot caused a plague. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, I don’t know if what I am describing is even really possible within the mechanics of Crusader Kings 3, but our awful pervert king caused a plague and proceeded to ravage my counties with it. This is what happened regardless as to whether it’s possible or not.

It was called “Wenzel’s Cough” and it quickly tore through most of my subjects (eh) and my entire family (uh oh). My wife had it, my daughters had it, my sons had it, I had it. The whole castle probably looked like a boss arena from Hunt: Showdown—walls caked in viscous emissions and baking like an orchid hothouse.

The busywork of not dying distracted me from the quest to depose Wenzel. I isolated the capital and secured a personal physician, whom I oriented in the general direction of my family and said “Just go nuts chief.” He locked me in a room with a trillion bees (this actually happened), which somehow gave major relief to my consumption. I lost the ominous ‘Dying’ warning at the top of the screen and was free to return to politics. Most of my family got relief too, save one son who died. Fortunately, it was one I was mostly unaware of up to that point.

With my attempts at diplomacy foiled, I figured it was time to try war. Wenzel had about 7,000 men in his army whereas I had 1,400. Defeating him on the battlefield would need allies. I began a scheme to sway one of his most powerful vassals: a Tuscan duchess named Matilda with a decent army. Perhaps I could marry her? My current wife was an obstacle, true, but an obstacle with a boutique variant of tuberculosis, so it might all work itself out.

At some point while all this was happening, Wenzel developed the traits “Irritable” and “Withering mind.”

And then this idiot duchess went and declared a war of independence against Wenzel without me, practically guaranteeing her defeat, imprisonment, and possible execution.

What’s the real-life lesson here? You can’t rely on the tender feelings of powerful people to hand you your salvation in dark political times. They have their own stupid ends and will pursue them to your detriment.

You also can’t rely on your loved ones to die from plague at times that are convenient to you, so my plan might not have worked even if Matilda hadn’t gone war-mode. Sometime after our Tuscan duchess declared war, Wenzel’s cough abated in my lands. The city gates swung open again, and the cloud of death lifted from over my realm.

Except for me, of course. Despite my physician’s daring bee treatment, my condition had worsened to the point that the ‘Dying’ notification was back. Even more galling: I kept proccing events that showed every individual member of my family recovering fully from the disease, one by one. “The sound of laughter echoes in your halls again,” beamed CK3, as a new notification asked if I wanted to have my last rites performed or if I wanted to go to hell.

Idiot Matilda lost her war around the time I choked out my last on my deathbed, surrounded by my family who were all absolutely fine. In the imperial capital, Wenzel tottered along, muttering to himself as he roamed cavernous palatial spaces. He had new traits: high blood pressure and a faulty heart, but refused to die. A new plague was working its way north through the world towards him. He refused to die. An exploding heart, deranged mind, and multiple competing plagues, and he refused to die.

I died, though, having not figured out how to remove a senile moron from power. Well, good luck America.