Old World is an amazing Civ-like game that really takes you back in time to an older, more brutal, more unforgiving and less sentimental time. Incense is burning and the palm trees are swaying outside your mud-brick ziggaraut. There are many things occupying your attention... There is a mob gathering in your capital, demanding the temple doors be opened, there is an invasion force massing many miles to the west, your own soldiers are hungry for battle, but your best general recently died and your inexperienced nephew has taken his place. Your step-mother schemes and plots in the shadows of the palace, still resentful that the throne went to you and not your stepbrother. Your late father made many mistakes, and now you must pay for them. Your son has been acting out during his studies... perhaps philosophy was not the best choice for the boy, the army may have knocked some sense into him. But now instead of studying battle planning and logistics, he has taken on a pet monkey that he takes everywhere he goes. It's frankly an embarrasment. You take another bite of your glazed date and look out the stone crenelation at the azure-green river lazily drifting below you, slave barges carrying stone upriver to the monument your father ordered built, it's construction carrying on apace even as the man who ordered its erection lies rotting in the family crypt. He may have ordered it, but YOU will get the credit for its completion... if you live long enough to see it done, that is.

You are not without friends. Your spymaster is still loyal... building spy networks in far off Egypt. The priest of the pagan religion of your ancestors still loves you as one of the true believers, but your father encouraged the spread of Zoroastrianism, and the followers of Ahura Mahzda are relentless, begging you convert to the new creed. You've thought about it on many occasions, the mystic teachings of Zoroaster resonate deep in your heart, but to convert would be to alienate hundreds of thousands of your most loyal supporters... And then there's your wife: a foreigner from the lands you are now at war with. Your father thought a marriage would strengthen the bonds between your kingdoms, but even he could not foresee the ambition in the hearts of the young. The old king died, and his son and heir bore no love for you, nor his sister, your wife. Though the bonds between husband and wife are unbreakable, your people distrust her immensely, given her heritage. And deep down, you wonder if even you do. Your loyal spymaster surely doesn't. Of course, you've taken a concubine, what ruler doesn't once in a while? And perhaps one of your other generals harbors unrequited feelings for you, bringing complications all its own. But surely your wife understands all this? Surely it wouldn't put her in a foul temper... after all, she was the daughter of a king. She knows what burdens and pleasures come with the crown. At least, she should.

You return to the map laid out before you as the smell of salt and fire gently drifts in through the window, mingling with the incense. The sound of saws and hammers ring out; aural proof of the mighty navy you are constructing in your capital. And you will need it. Your eyes scan the mass of blue in the center of the map. The Carthaginians you're at war with have the strongest navy in the Central Sea, and your fathers army will mean nothing on the water. Scribes and priests, astromancers and astrologers are all scribbling away and consulting the ancient texts, as well as the tea leaves, desperately trying to find a technology that will give you the edge in the coming campaign. Once the sea is taken, the assault on their homeland can begin.

You trace your finger on the papyri map, drawing a straight line up from the sea. The barbarians in the north are as yet an unknown factor. They could be a great friend, or a powerful enemy. If your son would only lose the pet monkey, perhaps he could be married with the chiefs young daughter, and an alliance could still be struck. With their support a two pronged attack could squeeze the Carthaginian homeland. You close your eyes, a plan forming in your mind.

People will die no matter the choices you make; but you were prepared for this. You knew from the moment you were born you would be king. Now you need to rule.