They all should have listened to me, that much is clear. But they didn’t and most of their carcasses litter the battlefield with the buzzard’s getting the more juicy parts. Yes, they should have listened to me.
My strategy was as sound as as old as the game of Risk itself. Fortify Australia. One way in, one way out. My armies would die for me to the last man. Some called them fanatics, barbarians. Little plastic men with little plastic minds. I called them Legion. They would unleash hell and horror on the battlefield, driving my opponents ashes into the board game itself.
Mr. Rogers and the Hippie both tried to control N. America from the beginning, ignoring the rest of the board, forgetting about the power of Europe or the rich mines of Africa. Had the cold war taught them nothing over the last 50 years? Mutually assured destruction, making it easier for 3rd world terrorists to come in and take over our beloved country. The cry of “Wolverine” would be heard no more.
In Western and Easter Europe dwelt the Teacher, a newer member to be sure but did he hold some ancient wisdom? Perhaps. Perhaps not. If he did he would need all of his cunning if he was to fight off the attack coming from his south. The Gamer had set camp in all of Africa and his intentions were clear from the start: Go North to the rich bounty of armies that holding Europe commands.
I was not worried about any of these players. You could easily see the chaos that was about to erupt and the only thing that comes from chaos is the annihilation of all those who try to control it. They would blindly kill each other without seeing who the real enemy was even though it was close enough to peep in their windows as they got undressed. In South America the Politician roamed freely, unchallenged. His boarders heavily defended, it’s inner secrets heavily guarded. He was poised to launch multiple attacks in multiple directions. Burn and pillage his way through the game, becoming stronger with each captured territory. In my mind’s eye I could see the outcome, I could see each maneuver, each roll of the die. Eventually he would end up at my doorstep and I only had hope that my group of patriots could drive him back.
“Brothers!” I screamed. “Can you not see the threat poised directly to your south and west? The Great Satan has arisen and means to consume you all in fire and ash! Unite my brothers! Forget your petty squabbles! Unite and defend our freedom!” I say again, they did not listen to me.
With a lust for power and an all consuming greed for control, Mr. Rogers and the Hippie began their struggle for North America. Again and again they attacked, neither gaining an advantage but only proving that little plastic soldiers can die a hero’s death. 40 armies became 30. 30 became 20. 20 became a handful. They had decimated themselves, leaving only a token force in all of North America. The Hippie retreated to Alaska choosing that place to make his last stand while Mr. Rogers went to Japan and I offered him my protection. And the Politician? He waited. Silently.
In Europe, the teacher attempted in vain to hold off the advances of the Gamer coming up from the dark reaches of the Congo. Like a 16 year old zeroing in on a drunk cheerleader, he was relentless and a bit handsy.. The Gamer had a good home base and a nice little fatwa going in the subcontinent. But he had no objectives, no direction to point his force. Into Europe he would venture, then stop short of victory and pull his men back. Into Asia he went where my fantastic fanatics pushed him back. But he ignored the Politician, right next door and growing more powerful. And the Politician? He waited. Silently.
The Teacher was desperate and his forces were quickly diminishing. I offered him sanctuary in East Asia as well. I set a circle around The Teacher and Mr. Rogers giving them the protection at the level that they haven’t seen since their mother’s held them in her bosom. I did this not only because I am merciful and kind, but because I know that the board game of Risk is more than just strategy and tactics. It’s also about people and this was perhaps my secret knowledge that would, if used correctly, allow me to defeat the scourge in South America. With my blessing the Teacher and Mr. Rogers unleashed their minions back into Europe, trying to persuade by force where diplomacy had failed, that the Gamer should renounce his ways and attack the Politician immediately. In the meantime, I used the extra time bought to slowly grow my empire. And the Politician? He waited. Silently.
In the cold of the night, hidden in Alaska, the Hippie tried to replant his soldiers but it appeared futile, the ground could not be sown. Supplies were running low, moral was on the brink of mass suicide and desertions were common. The Kool-Aid was being prepared but they never even had the chance to drink it. A rumble in the south, a scream by the gate. The Politician was on the move. He was silent no more. Like an uncaring tidal wave crashing on the shores he consumed all before his path. Up through the Rio Grand Valley, into the heartland of America he swept virtually unopposed. Taking a detour to Greenland and then back into North America The Politician came, unstoppable until he reached the hot gates of Alaska and the Hippie. I wish I could say it was a valiant defense. I wish I could write of the bravery and sacrifice. I wish I could tell you of the Alamo like stand the Hippie made. But I cannot. It was over before the first breath screamed a warning. The Hippie was no more.
The Politician was not finished and would not be finished until all bowed to him on bended knee. Using the Bearing Straights he swept into Northern Asia and then south to confront Mr. Rogers. That lovable Mr. Rogers who just wants to make arts and crafts was being besieged and I could not help him. But his stand was valiant and he took many a men to the grave with him. But in the end, the force opposing him was just to strong. Mr. Rogers joined the Hippie in destruction and the prophecy was complete.
The Teacher was now being pushed on all sides. His Asian force went with a whimper but his Eastern Block army held there own for a little while until cold and hunger took them. He was eaten alive by the Gamer and by the Politician. Let his name be sung and put into ballads of old. He was in a better place now and the mortal world could no longer hold him.
To Be Continued.................