I can't quite believe I'm saying this, but this is not all that different from how trains in the US work today!
Minus the cult.
Probably.
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I can't quite believe I'm saying this, but this is not all that different from how trains in the US work today!
Minus the cult.
Probably.
The uniform cannot be as good and neither is the pay. The drivers work 9 to 5 on Sodor and also live on the island, which is a massive middle class tourist trap and full of the landed aristocracy. Unless they're living in worker villages, they must be rolling it in.
Sodor really does seem to be a cult, and quite a good one so long as you don't try to leave or question anything the Controller says, or make too much fun of the slave trains (results of which vary from overpowering your uniforms forcefield and becoming slightly sooty, to being thrown 'accidentally' in the tar pits and nearly drowning in front of several schoolchildren).
Of course they are living in worker villages, or perhaps camps. Either way definitely tied to your employment and 'good' conduct, where 'good' is blindly following orders.
A description that covers most nationalised industries to be honest - short hours, minimal work, no responsibility or consequences for actions, but a requirement to blindly follow the union line at all times or face shunning and expulsion.
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The return of the trains was a surprise to be sure, but a welcome one.
Isn't this just this AAR's version of normal at this point?
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I admit, as I was writing the sentence, I thought along these lines...
Probably sheds. The engines 'sleep' in sheds, as do the trucks and buses. I do not expect the Controller to equate any difference.
Falls a bit short of Sodor though, which has a 100% beloved approval rating in universe and is also (if not efficient) somewhat operable as a system. No economic, supply or poltical issues, and a self sufficient raw materials base...starting to think this is a very particular kind of utopia for a very special type of person.
Aside from disabled vicars.
No one's ever really gone...
I think after all that, everyone still finds the Controller a bit weird and unsettling. He gives Mussolini the willies, enough that they've never actually met despite the collective interest in making the trains run on time.
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The funny thing is that I recall reading somewhere that Sodor is technically part of the Duchy of Lancaster, which means that there’s probably some obscure legal shenanigan somewhere that the monarchy or government could do to undermine the whole mess.
According to Thomas the Tank Engine Canon (that is, media outside The Railway Series books), after the Sodor Wars, Sodor was an indepdant viking settlement and kingdom. Mostly spent its time dicking around with the Irish. After the Norman Conquest, the then king apparently pussied out and bent the knee, becoming the first Duke of Sodor. He and his family built a castle there which was somehow lost and rediscovered in the early 21st century, by trains, obviously.
In the 19th century, Sodor was industrialised and attached to the mainland via various large bridges, and therefore (presumably) ran alongside or under the banner of the Northern rail companies, then the big four, and then nationisation.
The revolution occurred following the announcement of nationalisation, as that's when the first Fat Controller shows up and becomes Emperor of Everything in Sodor. It got to the point that he was powerful enough in and off the island that when diseal came in and steam was out, he told the government to fuck themselves and carried on as usual.
Today, Sodor is essentially an independent nation, though a very quintessentially rural englandy one (with a smattering of Welsh), ran and operated under the thumb of the fat controller and his descendents, who seemingly control or are involved with everything on the island, which somehow has a vast industrial base as well as a ridiculously huge tourist visitation each year.
In the whole history of the books and the outer media, only one government official has ever visited sodor, and it was the head of state (greeted by FC, who is basically the same thing on Sodor).
So...I'm sure Parliamney technically has the power to do something. But they would probably fail.
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That reminds me, I was going to share this as it seems appropriate to this incarnation of the Fat Controller;
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Oh yes?
Hmm. Delightful facial expression choices, I must say. And I think we've found the cover art for the Sodor Wars mod for HOI4. And very possibly, for this AAR as well...
I think living tanks is perhaps even more horrific to be honest. Especially minesweeper. Or flamethrower ones.
Thomas the Tank already has a tractor, so it would not be hard for the (again, heavily industrialised) Sodor state to militarise at least one of their vehicles...
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This insane cult and its leaders are far scarier than anything Darth Kelebek and the S.I.T.H. Could conjure up …
I was going to make a comment about the FC, Mussolini and trains, but you got in first. Seeing this though, are they one and the same? “Never met”, eh? Or is that just a smokescreen for the old ‘has anyone ever seen them in the same room at the same time’ trope? After all, they seem to have many physical and operational characteristics in common …
How very suitable.
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It's like Howard always said, there's always an insane cult of wierdos in the woods.
It's just these guys are white and led by an (ostensibly) English aristocrat. Which is a bit of a reversal.
Surprisingly, this joke had not yet been made.
It would be remarkable and excellent had I slow burned this throughout only to have the joke spoiled by you before I made it.
However, I never actually made that connection, and so we are safe from consequence. Especially as Mussolini is human and FC is...also?
Don't be absurd! The Emperor has a shiny golden laurel and Toppham wears a hat.
I think so. And the double benefit of making absolutely no sense if you're coming unto this AAR based off the tagine and title.
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So, has the American army gone on a vacation to Europe and Asia?
The trains are good fun, and I'm very glad the FC has remained in the story.
The trains are good fun, and I'm very glad the FC has remained in the story.
Reminds me of The Wicker Man (the original, not the shitty Nic Cage remake). This was Christopher Lee's favorite role, and I'd highly recommend the movie. It also has enough strangeness you could probably find some inspiration somewhere.
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Gone on an Atlantic Cruise and been sunk immediately by the Commonwealth. Really should have worried more when they did the same thing in the China wars.
The assault on the Northern US has halted for no reason I can see other than lack of supply and terrible infrastructure. The only saving grace of a british invasion through Canada is that Canada is large and poorly developed. If Mexico gives them the western seaboard or they land on the east somewhere, it's all over.
Quite. A good film and an interesting blend of various themes. Lee's character controls the island absolutely, but of course, once he established that a human sacrifice of great symbolic significance would help them, the fear is he may well be next in the wicker man...
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That ending sequence is very powerful. Lee's hesitation can be seen as he realizes that's a very real possibility, but it doesn't stop him in the end. It definitely raises the question of whether his faith in the gods was that strong, or whether he thought he could manipulate the island.
Or the risks of backing out (societal upheaval against him, right now) were greater than the risks of going ahead (possibly a problem for his future self, but certainly he can handle those problems as they appear, right.. right?)
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He has to go through it to maintain the question of whether or not the cult is right. Throughout the film, their way of life is not particularly maligned by anyone who isn't an uptight, repressed and miserable Christian (though his own faith is not maligned either).
Still, the cults beliefs work such that the island is happy, prosperous and (apparently) fertile. Is that because it simply fosters good community and an affinity with nature or...?
So Lee has to go through with it, to keep that going. And also, as is made quite clear throughout the film, regardless of what his ancestors thought about the practice, he himself seems to believe quite a bit of it.
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World War III – The Empire Strikes Back. Again. Against the other Empire. Again. Bit confusing really.
World War III – The Empire Strikes Back. Again. Against the other Empire. Again. Bit confusing really.
“Be the offerings offered?”
The cloaked figure at the head of the alter rose his hands high and wide.
“Be the offerings offered!”
The three virgin goats screeched as their throats were efficiently cut and their blood splattered and gushed atop the sacred carvings.
“The Awakening! The Awakening!”
The cloaked figures sang as one, swaying slowly from side to side in rhapsody. Their chant slowly became the only sound in the chamber, as the beasts expired.
“Let the signs be told! Let the future be pierced!”
“Together as one, let the signs be told. Let the future be pierced!”
Their leader lowered his hands slowly toward the fallen animals, and taking the ceremonial knife of disembowelment, swiftly cut the belly of one of the goats wide open. The smell, rotten as it was before, was now approaching dorm room levels of unpalatableness. The entrails were grasped and lifted by the figure, and in great concentration he looked at them carefully. First with his eyes closed, and then with them open.
To make sure he got it right.
“Behold! Let it be known, and let it be writ-”
The chamber door quietly opened after a knock, and a junior civil servant entered and beckoned to the lead practitioner.
“Bugger,” he sighed, and lowered his hood, revealing a bespeckled old man in a bowler hat. “Sorry chaps, got to go speak to the PM. We shall have to decide the annual interest rates later this week.”
The upper echelons of the Bank of England staff grumbled good naturedly and left the room in good order.
Winston Churchill watched them parade past him, and took a gulp of his tea.
“Prime Minister,” the Bank’s governor greeted him, cloak gone and smell muted with a quick change into morning dress.
“Geoffrey,” Churchill nodded.
“I do wish you hang rung ahead. You know this is the busiest time of year for us.”
“Yes, you certainly seem…busy. As ever, the war must come first.”
“Oh yes. Which one?”
“Our one.”
“That does not narrow it down much.”
“Against the Roman Menace.”
“Ah! Excellent. What about it?”
“Well.”
“Well?”
“The economy, sir. How stands the bank to aid us in the coming months?”
“Well, as always sir, the Bank of England always recommends the same course of action in any conflict.”
“And that is?”
“Avoid them, sir. Terribly bad for business. Expensive, nasty things. Ruin trade relationships, waste resources and take much needed attention away from economics, the most important thing in the universe.”
“Well, we’re in this one for the duration.”
“Hmm. Well, I’m sure you know best, sir. I suppose you want us to crack open our book of dirty tricks to see what will work?”
“If at all possible, yes.”
“Right-o. Let’s see,” a huge and dusty volume with more than a little dried blood on the cover was brought out by underlings. “Well, in the Napoleonic Wars, we financed essentially the entire world to fight against France, and succeeded in going bankrupt slightly slower than the French did. Wonderful news for landed aristocrats, in the short term anyhow, but not something I feel we should ever attempt again.”
“Given that their economy is larger than ours, no doubt you are correct.”
“Well then, we could try buying up lots of their country’s industry and economic sectors accidentally/on-purpose and then-”
“No, we used that against the Americans, and it didn’t end up working quite as well as I hoped. Well…I suppose it did, given that the Americas look likely to fall to us soon, but I don’t think the Romans will fall for the same trick.”
“Mm. Rampant state approved piracy?”
“Bit pointless, they don’t have any ships to rob.”
“Hmm! A tricky customer. I’m sure we’ll think of something. In the meantime, try not to do something stupid like lose an entire continent of valuable resources. Not sure how you could cock up that badly, but it must needs be said.”
The cloaked figure at the head of the alter rose his hands high and wide.
“Be the offerings offered!”
The three virgin goats screeched as their throats were efficiently cut and their blood splattered and gushed atop the sacred carvings.
“The Awakening! The Awakening!”
The cloaked figures sang as one, swaying slowly from side to side in rhapsody. Their chant slowly became the only sound in the chamber, as the beasts expired.
“Let the signs be told! Let the future be pierced!”
“Together as one, let the signs be told. Let the future be pierced!”
Their leader lowered his hands slowly toward the fallen animals, and taking the ceremonial knife of disembowelment, swiftly cut the belly of one of the goats wide open. The smell, rotten as it was before, was now approaching dorm room levels of unpalatableness. The entrails were grasped and lifted by the figure, and in great concentration he looked at them carefully. First with his eyes closed, and then with them open.
To make sure he got it right.
“Behold! Let it be known, and let it be writ-”
The chamber door quietly opened after a knock, and a junior civil servant entered and beckoned to the lead practitioner.
“Bugger,” he sighed, and lowered his hood, revealing a bespeckled old man in a bowler hat. “Sorry chaps, got to go speak to the PM. We shall have to decide the annual interest rates later this week.”
The upper echelons of the Bank of England staff grumbled good naturedly and left the room in good order.
Winston Churchill watched them parade past him, and took a gulp of his tea.
“Prime Minister,” the Bank’s governor greeted him, cloak gone and smell muted with a quick change into morning dress.
“Geoffrey,” Churchill nodded.
“I do wish you hang rung ahead. You know this is the busiest time of year for us.”
“Yes, you certainly seem…busy. As ever, the war must come first.”
“Oh yes. Which one?”
“Our one.”
“That does not narrow it down much.”
“Against the Roman Menace.”
“Ah! Excellent. What about it?”
“Well.”
“Well?”
“The economy, sir. How stands the bank to aid us in the coming months?”
“Well, as always sir, the Bank of England always recommends the same course of action in any conflict.”
“And that is?”
“Avoid them, sir. Terribly bad for business. Expensive, nasty things. Ruin trade relationships, waste resources and take much needed attention away from economics, the most important thing in the universe.”
“Well, we’re in this one for the duration.”
“Hmm. Well, I’m sure you know best, sir. I suppose you want us to crack open our book of dirty tricks to see what will work?”
“If at all possible, yes.”
“Right-o. Let’s see,” a huge and dusty volume with more than a little dried blood on the cover was brought out by underlings. “Well, in the Napoleonic Wars, we financed essentially the entire world to fight against France, and succeeded in going bankrupt slightly slower than the French did. Wonderful news for landed aristocrats, in the short term anyhow, but not something I feel we should ever attempt again.”
“Given that their economy is larger than ours, no doubt you are correct.”
“Well then, we could try buying up lots of their country’s industry and economic sectors accidentally/on-purpose and then-”
“No, we used that against the Americans, and it didn’t end up working quite as well as I hoped. Well…I suppose it did, given that the Americas look likely to fall to us soon, but I don’t think the Romans will fall for the same trick.”
“Mm. Rampant state approved piracy?”
“Bit pointless, they don’t have any ships to rob.”
“Hmm! A tricky customer. I’m sure we’ll think of something. In the meantime, try not to do something stupid like lose an entire continent of valuable resources. Not sure how you could cock up that badly, but it must needs be said.”
…
27th April 1943
“Summarise, gentlemen.”
The Great and Mighty Cheesare sat on his porto-throne in Egypt as his command staff reported in.
“In basic terms, your Imperial Majesty, Africa is ours.”
“Indeed?”
“Ethiopia is free and the British are scrambling out of their territory and attempting to escape to the seas from various ports along the eastern coasts that remain open to them. The French are slightly less prone to running away, but the writing is on the wall and no reinforcements are coming from India to save them. Not if the British are pulling out anyway.”
“And in the south?”
“Our African friends have the situation well in hand. No help is coming from that quarter. I really do think that the Dark Continent has come under new management.”
“Excellent work gentlemen. Now, closer to home. What news of Iberia?”
The officers looked a little less sure but continued to answer dutifully.
“The British have a firm foothold in the south of the peninsula. Our scouting forces and garrisons have been swiftly repulsed, surrounded and executed. We’re going to need an army to shift them now.”
“Is there such an army?”
“With Africa secure and Europe sedentary, we have several options, sire.”
“Fine. Take two European armies and some puppet troops, and go get my Rock back. Push them out of the Med-facing ports first, then roll them up. No excuses gentlemen, just results.”
“Yes, Mighty Cheesare!” they said as one, and hurried out.
“What do you think, Alan?”
“I think we’re doing alright, Mighty Cheesare.”
“Is that good?”
“It is what it is, sire. Though I admit to being quietly confident.”
“Suddenly, they were interrupted by the officers trooping back in.
“Yes?”
“Yeah, we won.”
…
12th May 1943
“Bit anti-climactic, that.”
“I don’t think they were supplied for a full invasion, sire. Honestly, I think they were surprised we left the back door unlocked, and just as surprised when we came to shut it several months later.”
“I’ll never understand those British types.”
“No, Mighty Cheesare. More tanks, love?”
“Ooo, yes please!”
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It's very fitting that each empire has some sort of cult running in the background. It is another similarity between the two. In a different world, with no competing claims, maybe Britain and Rome could lead the world together? Though the question of who would lead this alliance would probably cause it to fall apart.
I liked this bit.
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Was going to do more train cult stuff but the idea of the Bank of England being ran by people randomly picking numbers from nowhere tickled me something fierce. Economics is very similar to organised religion in many aspects, especially when considering its impact on and allotment into wider society.
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Yes, I laughed quite a bit at this. Nice little turn for us.
This was well handled, finally. Just needed a sharp blow.
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