Rich's rules: 1. Play as ruler of the North, Ned Stark. 2. Don't die. 3. No honour, only backstabbing. 4. I'd really like not to die, please.

Crusader Kings II is a game about scheming, plotting and advanced nefariousness in a medieval setting. It has a cast of hundreds of characters with observable traits, from tactical geniuses to lackwit blunderers, via lustful philanderers and chaste holy men.

George R R Martin’s Song of Ice and Fire books are about scheming, plotting and advanced nefariousness in a medieval setting. You can probably work out the rest. The two sync up so well, it only was a matter of time before Martin’s low-fantasy setting was ported into Paradox’s strategy game. Pleasingly, that time wasn’t very long: the Game of Thrones mod was released in beta by a group of industrious CKII fans just eight months after the main game. It’s now stable, comprehensive and easy to install. It’s what I’ll be using in this diary, and I heartily recommend you pop over to www.ck2agot.wordpress.com if you’re interested.

A quick note: this series will contain spoilers for the Game of Thrones’ TV series and books. I’ll keep major revelations from the first book onwards under my helm, but if you’ve somehow managed to avoid the novels (first released in 1996, you layabout), and also the HBO series, then pick them up and gobble them down like a juicy capon leg before reading on.

Valar Morghulis. All men must die. I’m OK with that, but do all men have to die right now? There’s a whole world to be seen, the continent of Westeros rendered in beautiful patchwork colours on Crusader Kings II’s map screen. There’s Dorne, jutting out into the sea in the south: sandy and warm, and split by culture – Dornishmen of sand, stone and salt. There’s the greenery of the Reach and the Riverlands, filling the heart of the country. Highgarden’s vineyards and Riverrun’s, um, rivers, which one day I’d like to visit, be welcomed as a guest and a friend. To the west, Casterly Rock and Lannisport; to the east, the imposing crags of the Vale. I roll my mousewheel down and zoom in on the highest peak: the Eyrie, home of house Arryn. It’s dusted white, like one of George’s laboriously described cakes.

And then there’s my (pretend) home: Winterfell. Westeros’s north is big, more expansive but more empty than the continent’s other regions. I’m expected to govern it alone, to manage a host of squabbling vassals and underlings, all while dealing with the seemingly inevitable: my own death.

I’m playing Crusader Kings II as Ned Stark, head of the Stark household, and boss of the north. The aGoT mod gives players a choice of starting period, and thus, their cast of characters. I chose to climb into Ned’s armoured boots just after famous fatty – and Ned’s best pal – Robert Baratheon has claimed the throne. It’s supposed to be a time of peace after the loopy rule of mad King Aerys II, but George R R Martin doesn’t make things easy for his characters

Ah, Winterfell, home sweet home to the Stark family. But for how long?

There’s that morghulis thing, for one. Robert, after successfully rebelling against an incumbent king, loses a fight with a boar and unceremoniously dies in bed with his guts falling out. Ned doesn’t even make it through one book before he has his head lopped off by his pal’s son and kingly replacement: Joffrey Baratheon.

"Ned is naïve and unflinchingly honourable – to his own detriment."

In the books, Ned is naïve and unflinchingly honourable – to his own detriment. It’s what gets him killed, and it’s a trait I don’t intend to take on myself. Crusader Kings II simulates all the intrigue of thousands of power-plays moving and interlocking across a vast political landscape. It lets you start plots against people, build spy networks, even kill your own wife. I’m not going to be like Ned. I’m going to scheme and sneak, backstab and betray. I’m going to take in the big picture, and play the pawns against each other.

One small problem: bar some minor dabbling, I’ve not played much of Crusader Kings. Its game mechanics are to me as courtly deceit and diplomacy were to Ned.

I must start small. Objective #1: not to die.

I spend the first year of Robert’s reign jumpy. I’m not sure quite how much of aGoT’s fiction is hardcoded into the mod, and I’m expecting Robert to die at any moment. If CKII had a letter-writing feature, I’d be sending him constant telegrams saying “FOR GOD’S SAKE STAY AWAY FROM PIGS” like a porcophobic weirdo.

I want to keep Robert on-side. He is, as king, the biggest presence in all Westeros. He’s also got some seriously impressive claims. Claims are your ticket to more land in CKII: get a claim, and you can invade a territory without some higher power smiting you for your insolence. As Ned, I’ve got lordship of Winterfell – and therefore, the north – but nothing else. Robert has dibs on the southeastern Storm’s End, as well as another four territories.

Fortunately, Robert likes me. Each CKII character – from king down to courtier – has two numbers on their character sheet. The first details how much they like you, the second how much you like them, dictated by a set of variables. Robert wishes Ned was a bit more hedonistic, knocking ten points off the score, but their shared bravery, battle history, and affinity for stabbing the shit out of things makes them fast friends. I could call Rob a fat bastard and he’d still share his capon with me.





I’m easing up as we hit the six month mark, when my spymaster brings me news of a plot. Shit! A plot! After so long spent mentally willing Ned to spend more of his time dressed in full plate armour and hiding in bushes, the p-word is enough to send me over the edge. I click on the plotter’s tiny face and bring up the diplomacy menu. I have a set of options: I can revoke his land and claim it for my own. I can arrange a marriage to bring him to heel. Or I can imprison him.

I consider taking his land and scolding him for his impudence, but I convince myself he’ll take offence and stab me in the night. To the dungeon with you, plotter.

Immediately, another of my vassals asks for his release. Are you in on it too, you capon-botherer? To prison with you, too!

"I congratulate myself on a guy well killed."

A mild panic grips me: what if they talk of their plan in my cells? I don’t know yet how deep CKII’s simulation runs. I’d better remove one of the problems. Diplomacy menu. Choose option ‘execute’. I bring the interred out into Winterfell’s yard, and as befitting the ruler of the north, chop his head off myself with my sweet Valyrian steel sword. A show of force, to deter future plotters. I congratulate myself on a guy well killed, take off my sword-handling mittens, and remind Ned to stay away from sharp objects.

Who was that guy I killed, anyway? I never checked. I bring up my message menu. ‘Howland Reed’. Hmm, why do I know that name? I Alt-Tab and check the Song of Ice and Fire wiki, search for Howland Reed.

“He is one of Eddard Stark’s closest friends and fought alongside him in many conflicts during Robert’s Rebellion.”

Sending a friend to prison was definitely a bad idea.

Ah. I suppose it’s tough to see who someone is when you’re wearing full plate armour so as not to be stabbed, but I’m feeling a little embarrassed when I get news of yet another plot. I’ve learned my lesson this time, though, and I check to see who it is before clapping them in irons.

It turns out to be some minor vassal from the far northeastern isle of Skagos. I read a little further: his plot involves paying someone a bit so they like him more. Jesus, is that what Howland Reed was doing? Howland, buddy, you didn’t need to pay me, I already liked you. And you could at least have mentioned that you weren’t planning to kill me before I cut your head off.

"Breeding a generation of hyper-angry children: this is not the way to stay alive, old Neddy."

I let the Skagosi man go about his plotting and sadly mouse over Howland Reed’s old land, now ruled by his eight-year-old daughter. She’s called Meera – hang on, I know that name – and she is pissed off. She’s eight, and her disposition toward me is already -100. I dig deeper into CKII’s menus, and see that she has ‘sworn vengeance’ against me. She’s just learning her times tables, and she’s already dead set on killing me as soon as she can.

Killing your best friends and breeding a generation of hyper-angry children: this is not the way to stay alive, old Neddy.

Ned’s particular way of drowning his sorrows at killing his mate does ensure the continuation of his legacy, though. A short while after, my wife Catelyn pops out a baby. I’m a slave to canon, so I name her Sansa. She joins her brother Robb and half-brother Jon in Winterfell’s baby-cage or whatever they have, and I don’t have to worry about her until she’s old enough to need a teacher – or I need to sell her off to some other lord to preserve an alliance.



A baby! Better arrange its marriage.

The introduction of a new child to the family has seemingly upset the existing kids. Jon – my bastard son, already disliked by Catelyn – is begging for more toys in recompense. I have a set of options to quiet his mewling, and I choose to make him play outside. As is perhaps understandable when your back garden is where your dad regularly executes his best friends with a big sword, this choice makes Jon immediately cynical.

To really stick it to Jon and the other kids, I retaliate by having another child. This one’s a boy, and I name it Bran because I am a Game of Thrones nerd. He will, I decree, have cushions strapped to his body until he reaches the age of 18, have his legs massaged by a team of court physiotherapists, and won’t ever be allowed to climb anything on pain of wedgies.

Bran’s birth signals the end of my first year in charge of the north, and I’m finally starting to relax. Robert, too, seems pleased to have seen out the year without being gored to death, and decides to celebrate by holding a massive feast. I attend, and eat so many capons that I’m sick.

"I retaliate by having another child."

Trotting back to Winterfell, I figure it’s time for a new goal. Ned is one of the mod’s better characters, lacking the massive personality flaws Crusader Kings II will often give its denizens. Robert, for example, is a drunkard, while Tyrion Lannister is ugly, reducing some of their stats. Ned is brave and honourable. My ‘accidental’ execution early in the year gave him a tiny bit of ‘tyranny’, but an innate kindness trait balances that out. Ned’s strength, however, lies in war: he’s a superb commander, and great in a scrap. Surviving the year has given me the taste for something more than merely existing. I want a fight.

But who? And how? The north has trouble with boats, the version of the mod I’m playing goes haywire whenever a northerner tries an amphibious landing. That takes an offshore invasion off the table. Going further north is pointless: the Night’s Watch has a gigantic ice wall blocking off the tribal Wildlings up there.

Hmmm, where to strike?

The only way is south, and the only thing blocking my descent is the Twins: two castles across a river held by one of the Song of Ice and Fire books’ most important families – the Freys.

This can’t be a quick strike. The Twins are famously fortified, and notoriously difficult to capture. They’re also the only way to travel between north and south. The Freys are pivotal to Martin’s stories because they control these castles. Anyone who wants to pass has to get pally-pally with them.

I could choose to get pally-pally with them, to marry Sansa off to one of their countless number, but for many reasons, I can’t bear to do it.

Walder Frey is the current lord of the Twins, 78 years of age. I bring up his character pane. Wouldn’t it be terrible if something happened to this poor old man? It’s time to do something Ned never did in the books or on TV. As I select CKII’s ‘intrigue’ menu, I decide to play the game of thrones.

Return next Sunday for PART TWO of the Game of Thrones diary.

Just as promised, Steam Trading Cards is now live. The virtual cards can be earned by playing participating games on Steam, trading with other users, or buying on the Steam Marketplace. Complete a set to create a badge, earn rewards and XP, and level up. The user with the highest Steam level at the end of the year gets to high five Gabe Newell while announcing Half-Life 3. In space.

In other true facts, I'm already hearing from users playing the Steam marketplace to profit off the cards' initial popularity. One user I spoke to has been buying low and selling high to pad his Steam wallet, even creating scarcity by buying up low-value cards in quantity. I'll keep an eye on marketplace prices as more users start trading the collectibles.

I was hoping to find a good deal on a 1952 Mickey Mantle card, but unfortunately, baseball isn't a participating game. You can see which of the games you own are participating here.

Victory or Valhall! With the release of Crusader Kings II: The Old Gods, the time has come once again to weave a stirring saga of war, love, betrayal, and adventure. This is the Crusader Kings Chronicle: Lords of the North.



Last week, I threw off the chains of the oppressive Haraldr Fairhair, derailing Norwegian history irreparably and setting up the House of Stórr to one day rule the entire country. Then, out of nowhere, the Swedish king Björn Ironside, son of Ragnarr Loðbrok, declared a subjugation war on me and my people. We take up our swords for freedom once again! Onward!

Get caught up: Chapter 1, Chapter 2.

Missed the original Crusader Kings Chronicle? Have a read!





On July 11, 884, the ailing Chief Þórólfr climbed the steps to the high table at his hall, where all the lords of the West had gathered. His body was weak, but his voice was still strong. Rumbling like thunder, he proclaimed his kingship over all the lands he had subjugated, and called upon all able men within his new kingdom to rise up and join his newly-returned warband in defending their homes from the Son of Loðbrok. Many answered, and by the fall, 2000 of Þórólfr's men were bound by ship for Sweden with oiled mail and sharp axes.

I've made myself a Petty King, a Norse rank equal to a duke in other realms, and a step below a proper King. This has allowed me to parcel out my land to vassal chieftains, so I don't have to try to administrate it all myself. For the time being, they are content with my rule and eager to send their men to fight for me. Björn's army is formidable, however, and we'll have to be smart to repel his invasion.



On the April 22, 885, Þórólf and his eldest son Ragnarr, newly come of age, received word that King Björn was on his way with swift ships to relieve their siege of the Swedish capital of Håtuna. Ragnarr, though only 16, was already showing great prowess in battle, and was given the command of 600 men who would hold the line at the shore, while Þórólfr's own detachment flanked from the East and drove them into a grove of trees that would be lit ablaze with oil and flaming arrows. Father and son were outnumbered by almost 700 men, but the plan worked, and three of Björn's men died that day for each of their own.



Håtuna fell not long after, but not before Þórólfr succumbed to a dreamlike state. The priestess attending him proclaimed that his mind had been taken from him, and he may never awaken again. Sorrowfully, the young Ragnarr took up his father´s banner and rode out to accept Björn's surrender.

My Infirm trait has escalated to Incapable, meaning death is near, and my son will take over as my regent. I had hoped for a more glorious death for such a glorious leader, but as all Norsemen know, fate is often not so kind.





As the year 888 dawned, Ragnarr had been ruling as regent for over a year. At the urging of his mother, queen Rikissa, he proclaimed right of conquest on all the lands of the Ynglings, his father's old enemies and former liege lords. While the Yngling line was said to be descended from the god Frey, whispers began to circulate that the mighty Ragnarr's blood was that of the god Thor, and that his line was destined to rule all the North.



Not long into his campaign against the struggling Haraldr Fairhair, King Þórólfr passed in the night. Ragnarr was named King, and his younger brother Sveinn was given dominion as Jarl of Nordland over their ancestral realm in the far North. Taking the throne at 20, Ragnarr had gained a reputation as a brilliant strategist, quick-witted as his father had been in his prime, proud, just, charitable, honest, and kind. On the battlefield, he excelled on the defense, having held the line against Björn's advance with only a handful of troops. The new king was married not long after to High Chieftess Freyja of Austergotland, a vassal of Björn Ironside.



My current succession law is called Gavelkind, which means that my holdings will always be divided evenly among my sons. It's not an ideal set-up, but I need to either convert to a monotheistic faith or reform the Norse religion to adopt a different means of succession. I'm aiming to do the latter, as it will also give me protection from foreign missionaries. I will need to hold three of the designated Norse holy sites, which will be no easy task.

The war to subjugate the Ynglings raged for the first three years of King Ragnarr's reign, but his victory came as inevitably as he proclaimed that it would. With Haraldr Fairhair's defeat, Ragnarr held dominion over all Norway, and the Ynglings were relegated to a backwater mountain hold, far from the coasts and the glory of raiding the open seas. Meanwhile, however, another son of Loðbrok was building his power. The jarl called Sigurð Snake-in-the-Eye had proclaimed himself King of Denmark, meaning Loðbrok's sons now held two thrones, forming a potentially dangerous alliance.





Two years had passed since Fairhair bowed, and Ragnarr had made a name for himself as a famous Viking raider, burning and looting towns and monasteries along the coast of Frisia. He even managed to capture a Frankish princess, Judith Karling of the line of Emperor Charlemagne. Back home, however, trouble brewed. Haraldr Fairhair was not content to owe fealty to another, and had been plotting with his brother, Jarl Bersi, to overthrow the Stórrs.

The Yngling rebellion raged from the spring of 895 until the late winter of 896. Bersi was brought to heel first, with Haraldr soon to follow. The two traitors were stripped of all titles, leaving the Yngling dynasty landless throughout Norway. The following Midsummer's Day, Ragnarr raised a runestone in the memory of his father, Þórólfr, and invited all his vassals to look upon it. Afterward, he stood before the great memorial and spoke in a booming tone that echoed his departed sire. The speech is recalled by the skalds in Ragnarr Þórólfsson's Saga:



“I have cast down the House of Yngling, who claimed to be descended from the god, Frey," he proclaimed. "If this were true, would they not be standing before you today, rather than me? I have scorched the temples of the White God of the South, and brought great wealth back to share with all of you. If their god were mightier than I am, would I not be struck dead, or stand before you empty handed? We gather today in prosperity and peace because my house is strong! Ours is the blood of Thor, son of Odin Allfather! And from this day forward, the Sons of Þórólfr shall rule as kings of all Norsemen, as is our birth-right!"

A thunderous cheer arose, as axes of warriors and tools of farmers and craftsmen alike were raised high in praise of the new King of Norway.



I have now named myself true King of Norway, putting me at a rank equal to Björn of Sweden and Sigurð of Denmark. Many new lords have sworn fealty to me peacefully, as I am now seen as their rightful liege: Iceland, Shetland, Vermaland, Medelpad, and Angermanland now eagerly follow the House of Stórr, making me the mightiest king in Scandinavia.





In the summer of 897, a son was finally born to King Ragnarr and Queen Freyja, named Rikulfr after his maternal grandfather. With a crown and an heir, Ragnarr turned his eyes eastward. The sons of Loðbrok had heard of his intentions to rule all Norsemen, and he didn't intend to give them the chance to strike at him first. He sent word to all of his vassals to prepare for a Great Blot—a grand sacrifice to the gods to bring good fortune in war.

A Great Blot can be held once every nine years. It will allow me to gain prestige, piety, good will with my Norse pagan vassals, and a small bonus to the morale of my armies for a limited time. It also includes an optional human sacrifice, which is handy for disposing of key prisoners...



The King's Blot was held on the last day of October. Many head of livestock were offered up in sacrifice, as well as the captive Christian princess Judith Karling. The traitor Haraldr Fairhair was given release from his disgrace, beheaded in the sight of his king to join his divine ancestors in the halls of Asgard. There was much feasting, and all the while, the hammers of smiths and boat-builders rang out in the cold, short daylight hours.

The end of the year and the festival of Yule were approaching. Come the first snowmelt, Ragnarr's men were going to war.

Come back next week to see the continuing saga unfold!