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News from the North: Napoleon’s Triumph
The Ragnar Brothers were forged in war and strife (a little like the One Ring); early days saw Phil in particular spending far too much of his meager grant/wage on huge military boardgames involving masses of counters, dozens of map sheets and rules books that would sink a battleship. Since then, age may not have withered him, but has certainly reduced his big game budget. But what’s this? A moment of madness or inspiration? After due deliberation on the Geek, he’s only gone and splashed out on Napoleon’s Triumph (one of the last copies left in the country apparently - thanks to Charles at the Orc’s Nest for tracking it down).
Napoleon’s Triumph simulates the Battle of Austerlitz, and it does look gorgeous: a two-board map that genuinely looks like a battlefield, metal flags to indicate who is who and red and blue rectangular blocks to represent the forces. All that’s missing is the long stick that the girl from the WAAF always seemed to hold to show the latest wave of Messerschmitt fighters coming in over Kent.
The game system is very different, so much so that the first time Phil attempts the rules, he gives up in something like disgust and resigns himself to having chucked forty-four quid down the toilet. However, the Geek is a wonderful thing and having read various session reports, reread the rules, read some FAQs, reread the rules again, written out a new reference sheet and tried a solo scenario, Phil feels that it can be unleashed on the Ragnars at the annual Staffordshire ‘bash’.
The designer says that it is “simple, with a steep learning curve” (assuming that the two things can go together). Staffordshire proves all this. The rules explanation alone takes about an hour. It is not helped by cheery Ragnars airing their two-pennyworth. “What is the distance between villages?” Steve Kendall bizarrely asks. Turns out it’s about a mile. Dave then has to discuss 19th century farming patterns in Bohemia before Phil hauls them back to the matter in hand. Setting up takes another half hour. About an hour is left for the actual gaming where things happen, but in the words of Paul Daniels, not a lot. People feel they ought to be impressed, but a full game has most certainly not been played.
Now, the game has a lot of very classy bits of design, to take just one example – how to simulate the ‘surprise’ element to the day. Historically the allied Austro-Russian army attacked the French right in a heavy fog, committed more and more troops and in the process overextended themselves. Napoleon held back his reserves, and then smashed the allied centre. In the game, as long as the French hold back their reserves, the onus is on the Allies to win the battle; the moment the reserves are brought on, it is the French who then have to make the running. You have to attack with the allies not knowing whether the French will use their reserves, but if they do then the battle immediately changes - very, clever.
The major problem with the game is the way that the rules are written. Central to the system is the combat sequence. Now there is only the one attack sequence, but scattered within it are rules for retreating before combat, feinting, artillery bombardments, counter-attacking, cavalry attacks, the limitations of small units, cohesion and on and on and on.
Undaunted we fast forward to Yorkshire. Phil and Roger decide they need to get their teeth into some solid two-player games. Each game will be given the benefit of the doubt and be played at least twice. This Friday is the turn of Napoleon’s Triumph. Both players set up their forces – Roger as the French, Phil as the allies – and neither have a clue what they’re doing. It does feel good, though, packing one corps with the guards and another with heavy cavalry. How it will work is anyone’s guess.
Roger has some dodgy dispositions. His right flank looks dangerously unhinged (as might be said of any number of the Ragnars). Phil is generous: “Leave it like that and I’ll have it. You need to defend both villages.” Roger is having none of it. He wants his corps to maneuver. Phil shrugs, and proceeds to mangle the end of Roger’s line. Roger commits his reserves. It is the second turn and this is not good.
Next Phil moves a corps against the right-centre of the French line. Roger reveals two deployed batteries of artillery and proceeds to shred it. Subsequently the allies begin a curious but rather effective sideslipping sort of glide along the front of the French army. Roger commits more and more of his troops to the defence and watches helplessly. After an hour and a half, as more and more of the allied army infiltrates around the French left, his morale cracks. He has become ‘demoralised’ (as the rules have it). No major engagements have taken place but he cuts a dispirited figure. Is this the end for Napoleon’s Triumph?
There then follows a lengthy post-mortem. Fortunately Roger perks up. Hurrah! It transpires that both the ‘glide’ and the ‘infiltration’ are horribly dangerous. If Roger had feinted (sic) Phil would have been in all sorts of trouble. Small examples are set up and run through. Odd points in the rules are explored (when might you defend with no units, and when can an attacker win using no units – some of it slightly surreal). But the future of Napoleon’s Triumph is safe for the moment. Roger departs home to rework his own reference sheet. His élan is back where it needs to be. Napoleon’s Triumph will make it to a third outing.
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