Ways To Play Diplomacy In Denver When You're Not Dead

By,  "The Committee to Subvert Manus"


This is pretty long, but it is felt by its authors (who affectionately refer to themselves as "The Committee to Subvert Manus") to be worth reading. In fact, they go so far as claiming that those who read this note will be better prepared than those who don't, so ignore it at your own peril.... -- Manus Hand

 

With the world coming to Denver, and after the pre-event tournaments held on the west and east coasts of the United States, it was felt that a write-up on how to play the system and what you need to keep in mind while doing so would be useful for attendees who are new to the declining-centers concept. Instead of forcing you to learn these "how to play" rules yourself after playing a game or two -- at which time you usually discover that the system actually works and works well -- we're going to be kind to you and impart our collective wisdom.

The declining-centers rule is intended to speed up the game, and to allow more of the full range of game-play in less time than would otherwise be possible. It does this by forcing players to make endgame-like choices earlier than would otherwise be necessary. In a sense, the ARMADA system can be viewed as something of a marriage of the full rulebook system (games played to agreed draws, with smaller draws scored higher) to the predominant system used on the European continent (C-Diplo -- in which games run to a fixed end-year, with the goal not to eliminate players but dominate them as determined by supply center count).

Manus likes to say that through this marriage, the system rewards the full range of talents of a Diplomacy player, forces a player to use those talents and punishes the player who doesn't. This document covers some of the pitfalls common to players new to the system. So take our advice and learn the easy way from those who have learned the hard way that, you know what, Manus may be right!

The Forbidden Fruit

As we said, the point of the declining-centers rule is to "hasten the endgame." This means that it is possible that you will be in a position of having to stop a player from claiming a solitary victory earlier than you may be accustomed to doing.

For many players, this situation offers up a Forbidden Fruit -- the temptation to throw centers to a player other than the leader, in an effort to create a tie and by doing so prevent a declining-centers victory.

The rules now offer a deterrent to this, in that under the right conditions, two players tied in supply center count can agree to end the game as a two-way draw without the consent of the smaller players. If you simply give some of your centers away to create a tie, this means risking watching the two tied players take the hefty point award for a two-way draw, and leaving you with even fewer points than you would have gotten if you tried to stop England, even if you failed after another game-year or two.

Even without the two-way draw possibility, handing centers to another player to create a tie is bad play, for the simple reason that this Forbidden Fruit really is poison. The biggest danger of "dot-tossing" is overkill; it is very difficult, in the heat of a game, to give up the precise number of centers that will allow your savior to stop the victory by tying the leader -- in hopes of either extending the game for another year or forcing the leader to agree to a large draw -- without giving him enough centers to win the game himself. At the very least, creating a tie means creating a second player who poses a dangerous threat to claim victory. It is not unheard of, even when the victory conditions required a victor to top his nearest rival by at least a whopping two centers, for a player to claim a victory in part because his unthinking allies overzealously tossed dots in his direction to stop the perceived leader, because the leader lost a center unexpectedly or the eventual winner grabbed one more than his alliance agreed he should.

By now, we hope The Forbidden Fruit looks pretty shriveled.

Don't bite The Forbidden Fruit. It bites back.

The lessons here are:

  1. Be very careful if you try to engineer a tie. It usually doesn't work. It usually creates a new victor, instead of forcing the draw you want. If you bite into The Forbidden Fruit and throw some dots to make one guy as Big as The Big Guy, you are creating another monster-actually ensuring that now there are two powers who can win the game next year. Way to go, babe.
  2. If you are the leader, beware of the player who, for whatever reason, tosses centers to his ally in order to keep you from victory. Just as in the standard game, this is the dreaded "throw threat" that any leader must be constantly on guard against. In the reducing centers game, dealing with the possibility that the game can be thrown to another player simply to prevent you from winning is even more possible than in the standard game. Again, this is the system forcing you to experience and deal with the intensity of a Diplomacy endgame.

The Small Time And The Big Boys

There's yet another reason that The Forbidden Fruit is bad play: the sinner who falls for this temptation is depriving himself of an endgame treat that is almost always still available, that being The Small Time. We all have to pretend to enjoy The Small Time. And we shouldn't really be pretending. The ability to parlay two or three or four centers into a meaningful role in the outcome of the game is a truly joyful thing, and one mark of a serious player. The mistake that most people make, as we shall see, is in assuming that the hastened endgame necessarily deprives one of the joys of The Small Time. But this is fallacious. Think about it: how can the best way to leverage your little bit of power be to hand over that power to other players? Heed the lesson and don't toss your dots.

The scoring system used at this tournament should make this clear. If you are part of a draw, you earn exactly as many points as everyone with whom you share the draw. If you can play the game well enough to force the other players to agree that they cannot eliminate you, and a draw is voted, you and your one little center holding on for dear life will reap the exact same point award as the largest players on the board. If you play the dot-tossing game, ignoring the dangers we're warning you about, guess what you get when it goes horribly wrong. Nothing.

An example from the pre-event tournaments is instructive. An eight-center Austria (who obviously hadn't read this document) explained that he intended to remain in the draw (an expected three-way) by throwing his dots to a nine-center Germany and an eight-center England, keeping both from gaining the decisive advantage and forcing them to fear the possibility of the other taking the victory enough that they would agree to draw the game while he still survived. He began to carry out his plan, first intentionally, and then less so. Austria had quickly weakened himself so much that he could no longer help one of the Big Boys counter the attacks being made on him by the other Big Boy. The result was a fifteen-center German victory. But Austria had two dots left, by cracky!

A Very Good British Player (you can tell he's British because of how he spells "realize") has identified the crux of the biscuit (or is it a scone?) here:

In a normal game, you play, you fight, and then someone starts to get to 14-15 SCs, and you realise you have to stop fighting and put up a line to stop them. And if you do, you get to share the draw. If you fail, the leader keeps growing until he gets to 18, and he solos.

This system is meant to work exactly the same. You play, you fight, and then you realise that someone is getting up to within two or three years of a victory. So you have to stop fighting each other and put up a line. If you succeed, you get to share in the draw. If you fail, the leader keeps growing until he gets to the victory condition, and he wins.

To summarize, the lessons here are:

  1. A one-center power is as good as a ten-center power in a draw.  Remember this.
  2. But that's no reason to be a one-center power on purpose. Don't create large powers at your own expense unless you know exactly what you're doing (and it's better than even odds that you don't). If you're in a situation where you'd give a dot to an ally in a standard game, it's the right thing to do here. But if you wouldn't do it in a standard game, it's an even worse thing to do here -- if you do it anyway, you will find out even faster than in a standard game just how wrong it is.
  3. Play the same game you ordinarily would, assuming that your ordinary game isn't to throw all your dots to someone else as soon as a potential victor emerges from the ranks. Pretty simple, huh?
  4. Don't allow other players to get to six or seven centers without a fight. A lot of American players use the phrase "one-dot" as a slander, but a one-dot stab that keeps someone from getting into a superior position while you languish is essential to playing this system well. You don't have time to wait for the dots in your alliance to balance out. Normal American tournament play encourages alliances that stick together through 1904 or 1905 or longer. This will not always work well to ensure you a part of the draw. Stop the leader when the leader is on seven centers, and you won't need to worry about him forcing his way to 15 from 12.

Is It The Endgame Already?

The same Very Good British Player points out the primary need for the educational document you're now reading: players who are new to the system simply fail to recognize when they need to realize that a victory is imminent. New players don't seem to remember that with reducing centers, not only can you claim a victory sooner, but so can your allies and enemies. Which means you need to be on guard much earlier.

Luckily, this is easy enough to rectify; watch the supply center sheet, and do what every good Diplomacy player must do -- pay attention to the whole board. When one player is within three or four or even five centers of what the victory condition will be in two years, it's probably time to act.

Balance the board (the mantra of C-Diplo players everywhere) and keep your place in the draw secure (the mantra of non-C-Diplo players everywhere).

Adjust your measure of the lead-time that you'll need to prevent anyone (other than you, of course) from claiming a victory by carefully observing the mood and inclinations of all of the players. You need to be thinking about how hard it will be to get each player to join an effort to form a line to stop any other player who poses a victory threat. Admittedly, knowing the mind of a player is not easy. But that's Diplomacy, and if you fail to know the other players and work with them to create your own advantage, you fail at Diplomacy. As long as you are doing the things you should be doing anyway in any game of Diplomacy, you will at least have a clue to the player's brainwaves. If players near the leader seem to be having a hard time letting go of their mutual animosity (to the leader's benefit), it will be best to act earlier. The leader (which is hopefully you) should be constantly trying to ensure that the coalition cannot stop him, by turning the other players against each other and keeping them focused away from his victory threat until it's too late. Again, just as in standard Diplomacy.

Most solos in standard Diplomacy occur because the losers fail to work together to stop the leader, instead bickering endlessly because one of them stole Trieste in 1902. Let bygones be bygones as soon as you need to do so -- and remember that in this system, you often need to do so much quicker.

Remember: any piece of any draw, however small, is better than being on the wrong end of a victory. Stay focused on the prize, avoid petty entanglements that allow larger powers to make hay, and pay attention to the details.

Lessons to take from this little monologue are:

  1. If you don't know when the endgame will start, I can guarantee that someone else does.
  2. If there is a leader, stop him before he claims victory. Usually this means acting to balance the board (as in C-Diplo) just as soon as there's a leader that your mother wouldn't recognize.
  3. If you are leading, don't let the other players balance the board. Don't let them stop you from growing to the victory you're earning.

The Hands Of Time

Another piece of the WDC rules that has caused some angst among North American players especially is the timing rules. A master clock, with Australasian timing and drop-dead deadlines, is pretty intimidating for some players. Dealing with time remains a significant challenge for some players.

The central clock has rapidly become the tournament standard in a great many venues worldwide. The games are eminently fair, and no one can protest, "sure, he won his game and I only drew mine, but that's because his table agreed to twenty minute negotiation periods and we only had fifteen, so he had five extra minutes every season to strategize and persuade."

Some players who are new to strictly timed play fear it. It usually takes about two games before most players who came in hating the central clock get the hang of it. It's difficult to deal with it at first, if you've become accustomed (over years of social play) to taking your time. The winner of this event will be someone who can manage all the elements of Diplomacy, including the clock.

A few simple practices will help you to master the clock:

  1. Study the board -- the whole board -- carefully during the adjudication. Write down your units as soon as the adjudication is complete. As soon as you know the position of the pieces for the next move, start writing orders as they occur to you.
  2. Use your negotiating time wisely; communicate directly. Don't waste your time and your colleagues' time with recriminations and bluster and idle chit-chat, unless of course you have your orders completely in hand, and want to prevent an opponent from getting his own orders correct.
  3. Do not, under any circumstances, chatter during reading, adjudication, retreats, or adjustments -- it's just rude, and you're stealing time from everyone.
  4. You don't have time to agonize here, so don't. Make a decision, let it go, get your orders in the box. Everyone else had the same clock to deal with. If they're getting their units ordered, you know you can do it too. And if they're having trouble like you are, then at least on some turns, someone is probably having a worse time of it than you are -- and this means there's a very good chance that they will screw up an order when it is very opportune for you that they do so.

In Conclusion

The WDC rules were, in the first instance, and still are, a labor of love by Manus. A great many other prominent players have assisted him in their refinement. The rules do what they were meant to do. You get the same experiences -- even more intensely -- that you get in a full Diplomacy game.

The rules work. And if you heed the lessons in this document, they will work well for you.

Most important of all, though, let's have fun with them.

 

"The Committee to Subvert Manus"
c/o Manus Hand
([email protected])

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