On Imperfect Information

The War of the Trossian Succession has some pretty lofty goals.  One of those goals, and one that few games attempt, and even fewer achieve is giving the players a sense of the uncertainty of running a major military campaign.  Warren Peace threw me a link to a review of The Flight of the Eagle.  As the players take the role of the Kings of Tros, the issue of perfect information during the tabletop wargames becomes a non-issue.  

As a suitable replacement for that uncertainty, The Wars of the Trossian Succession includes blind-pull event cards - one per year per player - which may not become evident until after traps are sprung!

Additionally, and of more practical concern, the poor Kings must rely on the communications of the day.  That means slow-post horse and/or packet ships:

[P]erfect information is only part of the problem. Armies are composed of individuals, and communication is an imperfect art. Messages are lost, delayed, misunderstood; subordinates are willful, disobedient, over-promoted, and commanders are egotists, out of touch with reality. War is the province of uncertainty, as Clausewitz reminds us, and things go wrong. 1815 once again provides us with a perfect example of this in the fruitless march and counter march of d’Erlon’s corps between Quatre Bras and Ligny.

Although the rules for Tros are considerably simpler than those for Flight of the Eagle, they should help capture some of the uncertainty and difficulty inherent in managing large-scale campaigning.  Much of what gets handled by iron-clad rules in Eagles will be managed in a more narrative format - subject to the whims of the umpire - in Tros.

As such, Tros is not intended to serve as a playtest for a ruleset destined for the market.  It relies too heavily on the trust established between players and umpire for such base concerns.  Rather, it is meant as a proof of concept, a means of demonstrating to the world that the simple rules and convoluted execution of old school wargames possess a charm all their own.  It is a stab at a return to tradition, and you are invited to follow along as we re-blaze a trail overgrown with rules crunch over the last few decades.

At any rate, the first portion of the review is well worth a read for anyone interested in a deeper-than-usual delve into a different way to emulate generalship and the high-stakes tension of issuing imperfect orders to imperfect soldiers.  It might even help the reader feel a little more sympathy for old hapless General Irvin McDowell, of First Manassas infamy.