Here’s the rub: while I love turn-based strategies, they oftentimes become an exercise in endurance — particularly during long games. Commander: Napoleon at War is no exception. Towards the end of the grand campaign, I found myself constructing the same units over and over, pushing a ubiquitous force of line infantry seasoned with horse artillery and heavy calvary toward Moscow in attempt to accomplish a single goal: end the game; finish what had become inevitable but now, simply, formality. Though this is no rub against CNAW, perhaps it’s an observation on design pitfalls surrounding the genre as a whole.
It begins with a brilliant title screen. Horses linger over a field. Hooves suspend water, which catches rays of light. A subtle promises of global domination through force, perhaps guise. Warfare of an early 19th century Europe. This is no political sim, nor does it advertise to be. CNAW is purely strategic. A grand strategy, in fact. Though there are resources to consider — manpower, horses, production capacity — these are fairly abstract design elements, focusing the lion’s share of my attention toward production and the distribution of troops in continental conflict.
The meat and potatoes of CNAW is conflict. The anticipation of conflict via resource management. The culmination of conflict through warfare. Much of this is abstracted, and that’s fine. This is also no hyper-realistic simulator. No Europa Universalis. Nothing from HPSIMS nor Shrapnel Games. Although for its level of retraction, CNAW shows matured concepts and a rather simple, efficient way of displaying combative information (one of my key compliments to the series). Slitherine and Freeverse’s previous series title, Commander: Europe at War, provides much groundwork for this game’s accomplishments. What I find here feels very much like CEAW, particularly in presentation. That’s not inherently bad. I played CEAW and enjoyed it, though I found its formula so simple that it grew uninviting after much time. Since I show a tendency to linger in abstraction, I’ll punch myself in the nuts and move towards specificity. Namely, my first campaign with the game.
I choose France. I choose the main campaign. No handicaps. Fog of war enabled. Etc. These details become halfheartedly relevant. The tutorial: functional, though concise. The manual: detailed, readable. I’m devoted to exploring both before I fully launch any title. Neither give me reason to break from form.
CNAW’s controls are simple. Left-click selects; right-click deselects or centers the screen on a hex when clicked against unit-less terrain. I find that a combination of the overview map and this right-click method easily navigates Europe and Northern Africa. Key cursors exist, but for some reason their response becomes haphazard in windowed mode. To you, the reader, these things are understood. I feel minor obligation to note them, as they rarely make or break a game. What’s more important are the game mechanics and its ability to immerse us in its reality.
Though I have no point of reference, I’m sure that designers deliberate much over balancing abstraction and detail. Much testing needed for playability. Much research for historical context and accurate balancing of authenticity and entertainment. CNAW’s formula is fine; as I said, it builds on that of CEAW. And with that comes my first complaint: generalization of the force pool; something not distributed per city or even region. In CNAW, anything constructed may be deployed in core region cities, which are cities under my nation’s control at campaign start. I understand this need for abstraction so I won’t linger here too long. Though it’s not my preference, I suppose it compliments the high-level perspective of the series. I like individualized force pools because it encourages the player to consider locale during recruitment and new troop positioning, particularly during enemy offensives. In a way, CNAW apologizes with how I distribute multiple forces during deployment. For example, when I have seven land units to distribute, I may not front them all to the city under pressure nor may I deploy anything to a city under siege. Capitals allow any number of deployed units per turn, while regular cities allow one. I must rely on wagons to distribute units over broad ranges. This is a component of in-game logistics. This wagon system proved somewhat obtuse to me at first, though I quickly mastered moving troops over great distances with little to no resource impact on my economy.
At the start of my campaign I’m enlightened to present tensions. The year, 1805. The Coalition who oppose me: Great Britain, Austria, and Russia. Some words toward Russia’s military formidability and its harsh weather conditions. Then a brief screen observing key cities and their correlating victory points and the ultimate objective: defeat the three countries who constitute the Coalition. I’m now commander-in-chief of sorts. The fate of Europe resting in the space between my fingertips and the mouse. Before the campaign, Napoleon deploys with line infantry between Stuttgart and Munich, and for some reason I feel no closer to him than any other unit. Perhaps I’m the hand of the French nation, not a specific soul at work. My compassion toward Napoleon as an in-game agent is somewhat muted. I feel no more obligated to him than I do toward maintaining a normal, functioning army. (Although his stats are rather killer.)
Quickly I defend Munich against Austrian line infantry, heavy cavalry, and horse artillery. Upon victory, Vienna appears attractive. She’s to my east, and a combination of Russian and Austrian line infantry guard her. I then take Vienna. With force. One Victory Point accomplished. Several decisions left to consider.
And for some reason, I don’t concern myself with balancing branches of the military. My army is my agent. The navy, not so much. My French ships of the line engage the English near Gibraltar. The numbers appear even, though England has brought an admiral to back his blockade of ships. I breach by amassing combat against single foes. I sink two of his units. He, almost all of mine. What French ships remain retreat north around Spain to more hospitable waters. As I said, my inclination is toward land warfare more so than naval. My navy becomes defensive until my economy improves and I’m able to afford otherwise. By now, I’ve moved against Venice and taken minor, immediate cities to my east. Though I crave some discipline for my naval negligence — an English landing, the shelling of a seaside city — nothing ever occurs. My pre-war doctrine concerns taking cities, keeping them, burning the ones too far for me to properly guard, but I’ll only raze one city in this campaign: Reval. And this will happen much later, when my ego has grown too large and has encouraged my hand to fatten and slow in response. This is where CNAW will teach me a lesson. And these are moments I crave in-game. If they occur, I consider the moment successful. A game should draw us in, keep us in its heart, love us like Gravitation or spook us like the first Half-Life. The sensation can be anything actually, as long as it pulls us from the day and defines our relationship within it, not allowing us a moment to look at it through a player’s eyes but through the eyes of an agent within its world, mulling the tensions at hand.
And with this I draw to a brief, mechanical observation and closure of this first part. I’ll speak toward units and attributes, which seems relevant to discuss early.
Unit types range from Generals and Admirals (which essentially function as unit modifiers with a radius), Militia (poor country boys — like me), Light Infantry, Line Infantry (standard boots on soil), Light Cavalry, Heavy Cavalry, Horse Artillery (for maneuverability), Foot Artillery, Siege Artillery, Ships of the Line, Privateers, Bombard Sloops, and the Frigate. Here, attributes become relevant. Each unit has Ground Attack, Ground Defense, Shock, Anti-Cavalry Bonus, Naval Attack, Bombard Attack, Movement, Attack Range, Land Spotting, Naval Spotting, Quality, and Survivability. Alongside these attributes, each unit retains qualifiers such as Strength, Effectiveness, Supply, and Experience. Each unit also carries a production cost, build time, manpower cost (likewise with horse cost when relevant), upkeep, and some ambiguously titled Loot Skill, which the manual reads: “The % of damaged goods that the unit will capture when attacking merchants.“ Sounds naval to me.
There’s a present, deliberate balance between units and their effectiveness. Line Infantry act as the backbone of my army. Militia, good for guarding and when production capacity wanes. Heavy Calvary for shock purposes after bombardment or after a preliminary softening by other units. Light Cavalry to maneuver and to pursue routing enemies so they may not rebuild and revisit later. So on. At my campaign’s inception, I took great consideration over troop balance and their distribution across my battle fronts. This will subside, as I’ve alluded earlier. I have yet to determine if the fault lies more with me or with a misalignment in the unit hierarchy.
