Strategy Post - 6/30/2010

Fitness

Each unit in kingsword has a fitness rating from 0.00% - 100.00%
This fitness rating represents the unit's readiness. At 0%, the unit is able to fight, but isn't necessarily "ready" or prepared to do so, so it will fight at a lower effectiveness than a unit at 100% fitness.

Fitness is gained when:
- The unit is stationed in one of the zones (Stronghold, City, Alliance, Kingdom)
- With each "End Turn" taken, each unit will gain between .50% - .75% fitness.

Using a General:
- A general is the fastest and most effective way to train your troops and keep them ready for battle. A general will train player-controlled troops that are stationed in the same zone as the general. (Exception: A general stationed in the City or Stronghold will train BOTH zones).
- A general trains based on 2 skills: Fitness & Leadership

If the # of units being trained is EQUAL TO OR LESS THAN the general's Leadership * 10, he is considered "able" to train those troops without any loss of effectiveness. If his leadership * 10 is less than the # of troops he's attempting to train, the task is simply beyond his leadership ability and he'll do his BEST, but won't be able to train them at maximum efficiency.

For Example:

General A: 50 Fitness, 100 Leadership
Troop #: 800

Since the # of Troops is Fitness Gain % = (General Fitness Skill / # of Units) * 100 + Normal Gain (.50% - .75%)

General B: 50 Fitness, 100 Leadership
Troop #: 1200

Since the # of Troops is > Leadership *10; then the following formula is used:
Fitness Gain % = ((General Fitness Skill / # of Troops) * 100) * (100-(# of Troops - Leadership*10)/# of Troops + Normal Gain (.50% - .75%)

So effectively, we calculate the % by which the # of Troops exceed the Leadership*10 and take that same % away from the fitness gain. If the # of Troops exceeds Leadership*10 by more than 2x, the fitness gain is wiped away completely, leaving only the normal gain enjoyed whether you have a general or not.

This change is effective today. Enjoy!

Fiction #5 - Lord Chancellor Jean-Luc Gregoire

Duke Lousypher was amongst the distinguished guests fortunate enough to garner an invitation to the palace from Lord Chancellor Gregoire. While not officially declared regent, Chancellor Gregoire had arguably been the power behind the throne for the past year while the King had languished in his illness. Jean-Luc appeared to be most firmly in control of things now that the good King, may he rest in the arms of the Creator, had passed on.
It was rumored that the Chancellor would announce the discovery of the King's official successor at the ball he was holding in his residence within the Carpenter Palace grounds. Many believed that he had at last discovered the hidden will that rumor had buried somewhere in the kingdom. This rumor, among other unsettling consequences, had resulted in small craters dug at night near virtually every notable landmark, secluded grotto, and back alley in the land. The Great Cathedral and the Monument to King Cyrus had required extensive repairs after will-seekers had torn up chunks of the floor and support columns respectively. Duke Lousypher had even found his eldest son lowering his youngest down into the well in search of the item that would make them heroes.

The Duke counted himself fortunate that he had a personal invitation and that he was in the habit of arriving early, as tonight's event had overwhelmed the capacity of the vast halls of the Carpenter Palace. A large crowd of people who could no longer squeeze inside was beginning to gather around the outer walls in the hopes of being among the first to catch the rumors that would emerge. By arriving early, Lousypher and his wife, had managed to lay claim to a promising portion of the balcony that overlooked the better part of the dance floor and offered an excellent vantage from which to catch whispered discussions from the floor below, where people sometimes forgot that there might be someone overhead.

The scene that bloomed before the couple was well worth the efforts of procuring a good view. The polished marble dance floor of the Great Hall gleamed in the light of thousands of candles. The Kingdom's elite were gathered in the hopes of witnessing the unfolding of history itself. Beneath the dulcet tones of the best orchestra in the kingdom, a low buzz could be felt as the most powerful nobles, the wealthiest merchants, and the most influential clergymen in the land whispered about the consequences that were sure to come of the one great revelation that had already been brought to light tonight.

All three of the contestants that had thus far declared their claim to the throne were in attendance.

In one corner, Lord Marshal Tennyson and his supporters, decked out in the muted tones of their military dress uniforms jingled as they brushed broad shoulders and jangled medals of valor and honor. Despite the festive nature of the occasion, they stood with stiff backs and almost every hand that was not holding a stout drink rested on a sword hilt. The mood that emanated from that section of the hall seemed to leech the music from the air.

At the opposite corner of the dance floor was the 'Merchant King', Lord Niccolo Florenti, surrounded by the wealthiest barons, traders, and nobles in the kingdom. All were dressed in the finest clothing available, most of which had been fashioned in the last few hours specifically for this occasion. Normally, there would have been scarcely concealed leers from behind elaborately decorated fans and stage whispered ironies at the expense of those that were foolish enough - or worse poor enough - to walk by in anything less than the most up-to-date fashions. In place of the usual witty satire was barely concealed outrage and a purplish tinge of embarrassment.
Never one to miss an occasion to spread the good word, Lord Reverend Wilhelm Kelvin and his flock were scattered throughout the room distributing prayers and blessings and seeking donations to the church. Perhaps their faith in the Creator and their revered leader held them above the doubt and suspicion that was tearing at the other factions. Perhaps they just used frenetic activity to cover their nerves.

Despite their obviously vast differences, each of these groups had one stark similarity that was the subject of every whispered conversation in every corner of the room. Strapped to the left hip of each of these extremely powerful men was an identical sword and scabbard which bore a striking resemblance to the only weapon in the kingdom that none could fail to recognize: The Kingsword.

As the orchestra stopped for its first break of the night, the host of the evening, Lord Chancellor Gregoire and his wife, entered through the grand archway, atop the three story 'stairway to heaven' crafted to look like a collection of clouds. The sight could not help but remind those in attendance that in the absence of a King, it was the Chancellor that lived in the palace and saw to the day to day running of the kingdom, just as he had been doing for the past year. Duke Lousypher had no doubt that such a reminder was exactly the Chancellor's intention.

The Lord Chancellor, although in his fifth decade, was still a healthy man. Tall by the standards of the age and Duke Lousypher supposed that many women found his appearance striking. He wore his hair, which was dark everywhere but at the temples, at shoulder length as was the current fashion at court and displayed a closely trimmed beard shaved neatly to the jaw line. The Chancellor presented his wife, which the Baron did not have to suppose to be striking, and then bowed to the assemblage that had mostly gathered at the foot of the steps to hang upon his words.

"My noble guests, thank you for honoring me with the pleasure of your company. I do hope that you are all enjoying yourselves. In particular, I wish to extend my greetings and gratitude to His Holiness, His Wealthiness, and His Honorableness, Lords Kelvin, Florenti, and Tennyson for taking time away from their pressing schedules to mingle with their humble subjects in this trying time. You will all, no doubt, have heard the rumors that His Majesty's will has been found. I would that I could say this were so. It would make all rest easier to have a sure successor and avoid the unpleasantness that may come from a contest for the throne. Nevertheless, I must sadly assure you, this is not the case. I will, however, say that it is my fervent hope that, by bringing our three contenders together tonight, we may be able to make some progress toward that end. But enough of such business. We have all mourned the passing of a great man for a long time and if my close friend was here, I have no doubt that he would say, 'Rejoice! For the Creator has made such times of merriment as these to make our struggles the rest of the time worth while.'"

With that, the music resumed and Lord Chancellor Gregoire extended his hand to his Lady Wife to join him in a dance.

After a seemly time among his guests, Lord Gregoire at last sent his paige to summon the Sovereigns - as popular terminology was referring to them - into a private chamber to meet.

"My Lords, thank you for coming. I wish to extend my apologies for any 'difficulties' that may have arisen from tonight's unforeseen events. When I requested that you bring your evidence to support your claim to the throne, I assure you that I had not been aware that all three of you were in possession of these artifacts. I had hoped that perhaps we would be able to come to a mutual agreement since there was no clear successor. Apparently, the issue is far more clouded than I had believed. I will not insult you by asking where you came by these or whether or not you know them to be the true Kingsword. I know you each to be a man of integrity, and that you could only have gotten them from the most reliable of sources and have every reason to believe that yours is the genuine item. Now it just remains to see what we shall do with this little quandary."

"Well, it seems simple enough." Lord Marshal Tennyson's words cut the silence like the sword that was the point of contention. "The Kingsword makes its wielder invincible in combat. We have a very simple means of determining which blade is the true one: a trial by combat."

The Merchant King, Florenti, emitted a caustic snort and looked around the room before he replied. "Simple for you my General! I, for one, would prefer not to have my head lopped off in order to find that the sword's abilities were not enough to overcome my lack of skill with it. Yes, King Cyrus was unbeatable with the Kingsword in hand - but let us not forget that he was an accomplished warrior beforehand. Perhaps it merely augmented his existing ability."

Lord Reverend Kelvin was quick to add his support, "I agree with Lord Florenti - the Kingsword is a symbol of the Creator's Will - it was an instrument that He used to deliver His chosen leader into power. Who is to say that it would work at all for another bearer? I do not think that this matter can be settled so easily. We must attempt to determine who the Creator chooses as the new leader of His people."

With a sigh of resignation, the Chancellor concurred. "I am sorry, General Tennyson. I know that a man like yourself has probably never even considered that foul play might have been involved. What if all of the swords are forgeries? While I would never suspect you of such a thing, it is possible that another who might profit from seeing you take the throne could have sent these items in the hope that such a trial might take place. If that were the case, I think that there is no question who would win such a trial and I think I know you well enough to know that you would not wish to rule under such dubious means. I fear that we shall have to find another method of discerning the King's and the Creator's will. It appears that we shall not, as I had hoped, be able to come to an agreement on this matter tonight. It is my proposal at this time, that each of us remains in the role he currently fills, with Lord Marshal Tennyson in charge of all matters involving the military and the defense of the kingdom. Lord Florenti will remain in service as the Minister of the Treasury and have final authority over all trade matters. Lord Reverend Wilhelm will continue to watch over the spiritual health of our people in this trying time and lead the people in prayer that the Creator's will be revealed. I humbly offer my continued services as administrator and liaison between your esteemed offices."

When the arguing, wheedling, and bargaining had concluded nearly four hours later, Lord Chancellor Gregoire was exhausted. Still, he had one last item to attend to before he could retire to his chambers and his wife. Gregoire gestured to his paige, who returned in a few moments with Duke Lousypher who had been patiently waiting outside as requested through the entire meeting.

"Thank you, good Duke for your patience. I have a duty with which I would like to entrust you, as my most valued friend and ally." The chancellor withdrew a key from a hidden pocket in the fold of his sleeve cuff and opened a chest tucked away beneath the concealment of a cloth over a table near the back of his office. From within the chest, the Chancellor withdrew a long, slim item wrapped in golden silk and gently unwrapped it to reveal an exact duplicate of the weapons that each of the other men had worn at their sides. "Take this and keep it well, for upon this the fate of our kingdom may one day rest."

The Duke's hand trembled slightly as he took the blade and scabbard in hand and wrapped it once more in the concealing cloth. He could not help but wonder if he truly held the legendary weapon of the Carpenter King - or if this was a replication of some kind being given to him as a test. "Your trust shall be proven well placed My Lord."

"Of that I have no doubt."

Strategy Post - 6/16/2010

Espionage - Offensive

One of the 'extras' that KingswordOnline features beyond other similar games is the ability to perform 20 espionage actions against your enemies. This is done by spending espionage points, which are produced by Spies who work in your barony.

Espionage actions are broken down into 4 levels of difficulty:
Easy - these actions are common, easy-to-know type spy actions mainly done to gather much-needed information about an enemy. Easy espionage actions cost:
Easy Action = Total Influence / 1000

Medium - these actions are less common, but still 'average' in difficulty to perform. Medium espionage actions cost:
Medium Action = Total Influence / 500

Hard - these actions are of above-average difficulty to perform and require more effort (points) to be spent. Hard espionage actions cost:
Hard Action = Total Influence / 100

Difficult - these actions are significantly above-average to perform and require an even higher # of espionage points to be spent. These actions are also by far the most destructive actions in the game. Difficult actions cost:
Difficult Action = Total Influence / 10


When attempting an offensive espionage action, you simply click on the action you wish to perform, which brings up an input box in which you enter the target player name. Also available at that point, is another input box called "Points To Spend" which is a very important box.

"Points To Spend" are EXTRA espionage points you elect to spend above and beyond the base cost of the action. The more espionage points you assign here, the better your odds of success in your mission.

Your success is based on several different factors:
* The target's total # of espionage points
* The target's defensive espionage allocation for the action you're attempting
* The difficulty level of the action you're attempting
* A small, random element to simulate luck, weather, situations out of your control

Next Week: Defensive Espionage Page. How to use it effectively.

Strategy Post - 6/9/2010

General Fitness Bonus

When hiring and training a general, it is important to have a high Fitness rating for purposes of training your units quickly and efficiently. This rating can be adjusted by the player based on the # of experience points his/her general accumulates.

General experience points are gained through:
1) Taking turns where units are gaining fitness. (Note: if the units are 100% trained, they are not gaining fitness and the general will not gain exp points.)
2) Fighting in battles
3) Fighting in kingdom wars

During the End Turn, the increase in a unit's fitness depends on several things:
1) The # of units in the location. The more units, the longer it will take the general to train all of them to their top fitness (100%).
2) The Fitness Rating of the General. A general with a low fitness rating will take longer to train units than would a general with a higher fitness rating.
3) The Leadership Rating of the General. The general only contributes his full fitness bonus IF the # of units he's training is less than or equal to his Leadership x 10. If the # of units he's training exceeds this amount, the bonus gradually approaches 0, the more units there are.

How It Works:
- Each unit requires 100 fitness points to train from 0% - 100%
- The number of fitness points used per turn is equal to the General's Fitness x 100
- We then figure out how many total fitness points are NEEDED: (# of units * 100)
and apply the fitness points towards that total.

For Example:
Player A wants to train 100 Archers in his City Zone and has a general with a 40 fitness rating and a 80 leadership rating.

* Since the leadership rating is > # of units (40) / 10, his full fitness bonus applies.
* Fitness Gain Per Turn = General Fitness (40) * 100 = 4,000 points!
* Total Fitness Points Needed = # of units (100) * 100 = 10,000 points!
* Points are assigned. Fitness gain = 4,000/10,000 = .40
* The 100 Archers will gain 40% fitness each End Turn

As you can see, a high fitness general with adequate leadership is critical to the expedient training of troops.

Note: A normal fitness gain per end turn is a random roll between .50-.75
This is gained whether a general is present or not, so the general bonus would ADD TO this gain.

Next Week: A Look at the General's Offensive Tactics Bonus

Fiction #4 - Lord Niccolo Florenti

"...and in those dark days, loyalties shall change hands like coin..."

The enemy army stretched in every direction, as far as the eye could see.
Newly crowned High King of Camlyn, Cyrus Avallon the First, appeared as though his crown would not rest upon his head long enough to lose any of its shine. Although all of the former kings and barons that had once divided this vast land stood behind him, it had been a long and bloody battle to bring them together and many men had died on all sides. The combined forces numbered just short of one hundred thousand men - preparing to face what Lord Marshal Tennyson estimated at nearly six times that many. Many of the nobles did not trust one another and, despite the dire need, the King suspected that some of the barons had not brought all of their men as he had commanded, which may in the end, be for the best. Even had the barons brought every man they had, they might not have had enough to defeat this foe.

"My Liege, I fear that we must retreat from the field. Against such overwhelming odds, we cannot hope to face them in the open. With brilliant strategy, we may be able to cobble together what the history books would declare a victory - but there would not be enough men left standing afterward to hold off ten angry farmers with pitchforks. From the walls of the castle we may stand a chance, but not here."

"And what of the outer lands - the forests, the mines, and the farms, Lord Tennyson? How long shall our new Kingdom last without food? How shall we survive the winter with no wood for our fires? I fear it may be a choice between death on the field and death to starvation. I shall trust the hand of the Creator and his ability to lead us to victory even against such odds as these before I shall leave my people to scrounge amongst their own dead for food in a siege we have no hope of breaking. Reverend Wilhelm, make sure the men are ready to see their maker. We go to battle!"

In the tent of the High King, his squire was putting on the armor Cyrus had made with his own hand; an armor almost as legendary as the sword that hung at its side. Cyrus looked down at his handicraft and wished, once more, that his life had been one simply of making such things and not of using them.

"Creator, let this sword and this armor run with rivers of the blood of those who would stand against Your appointed rule." Nevertheless, Cyrus could not help but imagine his own blood running down the metal that had never before been pierced or dented. For it was certain - this would be the last time he wore it.

From the entrance to his pavilion, the nervous voice of a page announced a visitor. The King's first impulse was to chasten the young man for interrupting his preparations, but on a whim he thought better of it and called out that he would meet with this one last supplicant before he died. He did not want his last act as king to be turning away a subject in need.
The subject in question was a traveling merchant. A man of slightly smaller than average height and build. He showed the darker skin tone common among the people of the western coast lands. His hair was dark and oiled, as was his fine mustache which appeared to have just grown recently in just the last few months. The merchant bowed low as the page introduced him as Niccolo Florenti.

"My lord. Forgive me for disturbing you, but I cannot help but notice that you appear to have a problem. I could not count myself a loyal subject or a Creator-fearing man were I to see an opportunity to lend aid to my kingdom and let it pass by. As a merchant, I deem counting as one of my strong suits and I do not think that I need to be a man of military training to know that six to one is poor odds. Indeed, were I a gambling man, which I am not, the money would be more safely bet on the other side. I can see by your expression that you find it hard to believe that a mere merchant may be able to assist in a situation like this one. Do not bother to deny it, were I in your place, I would feel the same. I do not ask that you take me on faith. I have, for you, a proposition: I shall deal with this horde of invading barbarians and not a single drop of Camlyn's blood shall be shed upon the field today. All that I require of you is a horse, a suit of armor, a squire, and a grant of lands and title should I succeed. Should I fail, we shall likely all die, so you see… you have nothing to lose either way."

It was a deal, the King found, he could not refuse.

Cyrus sat atop his war horse with his army assembled behind him for battle and watched as the strange young merchant rode forward under a banner of truce and met with the leaders of the amassed barbarians, which appeared to be as many as fifteen different tribal chieftains. Whatever it was that the smooth tongued salesman said, it was met with a mixture of laughter and raised shouts of anger. The little horde of chieftains turned back to the much bigger horde of warriors and began to whip them into a frenzy for battle. While, oddly, Niccolo Florenti turned and trotted back to the king with a smile on his face.

"Alas, they have refused my terms of surrender. I fear that there will be a fight after all. Array your men for battle, my king, but do not attack. It is not your men that shall do the fighting or the dying today."

For a brief instant, Cyrus Avallon caught a glimpse of the true steel that was beneath the care-free peddler's veneer of Niccolo Florenti and he made note to himself never to underestimate this man. "You heard the man, Lord Marshal. Array the men for battle."

As Camlyn's forces set themselves to receive the charge of the barbarians, the war chieftains whipped the tribesmen into a suitable frenzy and wave upon wave of slobbering mad men began to rush toward the waiting armies of the High King with a roar as loud as the tsunami they resembled.

Florenti raised his hand and the enemy archers pulled back the strings of one hundred thousand bows and a dark cloud of arrows went into the air... and came down not upon Camlyn's upraised shields, but landed amidst the mostly naked backs of the onrushing horde. Meanwhile, the enemy's elite cavalry units, held in reserve to supplement any weak points the infantry might have developed, charged forward and quickly impaled the main body of the enemy infantry, plowing through their own men from behind like a scythe through winter wheat. Within seconds, the many different tribes that had been assembled against Camlyn splintered once more into their native groups and they fought amongst themselves in a savage battle fueled by generations of hatred.

When the carnage had ended, not a single son of Camlyn had died, and only one thousand of the enemy remained - the leader of which approached Nicolo under a red stained flag of truce.

"We have done as you commanded my lord. The enemy has been defeated."

"Well done Captain. Here is your payment, as promised."

* * * * * * * * * *

"And that, is the legend of how Niccolo Florenti was elevated from a traveling merchant, to a knighted noble."

When Niccolo was done listening to the bard recount the legend of his ascension to nobility, his loyal baron stood and asked a question. "Lord Florenti, I have heard that tale many times, and I have always wondered, how did you know that the men you hired would win?"

Niccolo laughed as loud as he had laughed in his life and it was several minutes before he could bring himself to answer. "Weren't you paying attention? I am not a gambling man. I hired them all. I only had to pay the victors."

Lord Niccolo Florenti, known as the Merchant King, Sovereign contender for the throne of Camlyn, now held in his hands the same blade that had been used by High King Avallon twenty years ago to knight him and give him his title. He smiled, as he remembered all of the extra accolades and promises Cyrus have given him when the deal had been for just a title. Cyrus had been a generous man, but had never really understood the true value of money or power. Really, they were the same thing.