It shouldn’t be too surprising to you by this point that most ideas for any kind of art spring from the influence of an earlier work. Sometimes, this influence is subtle, like when a painter uses the same kind of stylistic touches as an earlier painter – or a novel which explores the same themes as an earlier one, but interprets them differently. Sometimes, these influences are obvious. The dynamic in either case is something like a conversation – or as a student of philosophy might put it, a “dialectic”. The earlier work makes a statement in its narrative and design choices, and the latter offers a response, either tacitly agreeing with those choices by copying them or using them as a foundation for developing new elements – or disagreeing with them by removing the results of those choices in their own work, or iterating on them in a way which changes them drastically.
In a case where these influences are subtle, this conversation takes place in whispers, the relationships between the earlier and later works being so faint that it takes a lot of careful study to reveal them. In a case where these influences are obvious, all it takes for even the most casual observer to realise what’s going on is for them to recognise who those shouting voices belong to.
In the case of Shadow of the Eagles, this conversation is taking place with bellowed voices, through bullhorns, hooked up to amplifiers.
The previous work which serves as Shadow of the Eagles’ biggest influence and foil is Clash of Arms’ 2014 board game Legion of Honor: a game where you and several other players each play as junior officers in the armies of Revolutionary France, fighting in historical battles, rising through the ranks, living through the course of the First Republic and the Empire, and playing a supporting role in the drama of the Napoleonic period. Sounds a lot like the pitch I wrote for Shadow of the Eagles, doesn’t it?
This, however, is where the similarities end. Legion of Honor is an ungainly hybrid, a combination of role-playing game, light wargame and competitive board game, and it shows. It carries with it a lot of the liabilities of all three: the complex ruleset and multiple specialised systems of the first, the heavy reliance on dice rolls of the second, and the cumbersome need to balance around multiple competitors of the third. The result is a game system which is, quite frankly, almost impenetrable for the casual player – trust me, my friends and I have tried, multiple times. Each time, we turned out to have been playing wrong because the gigantic tangled web of rules tripped us up, or we ended up simply not having fun because of how many seemingly redundant or over-complex systems we had to muddle our way through for a single round. As an idea, this game fascinates me. As an idea, I adore it. As a game?
Well…
That’s where Shadow of the Eagles comes in – an attempt to take the same concept which Legion of Honor tried to embody and create something closer to my own style. To create something more narrative focused, more intuitive, and more streamlined, all while keeping the same sense of historicity and love of the subject matter which the developers of Legion of Honor very obviously had. During our abortive attempts to actually play Legion of Honor, I think I spent more time telling my friends facts and anecdotes about the figures and events of that time period than I did actually playing – and judging by their reactions, I think my friends enjoyed hearing those stories more than they did playing the game. That touches at my aim with Shadow of the Eagles: essentially, to iterate on Legion of Honor’s concept, and make it something more suitable for casual players who aren’t so much interested in messing around with piles of separate card decks and tokens, but do want to step into the fantasy of living through the Napoleonic period as one of its movers and shakers.
That’s the mechanical conversation I’m having when I design the core mechanics behind Shadow of the Eagles.
Of course, it isn’t the only influence I’m working with either. Through my career, I’ve assembled quite a few historical sources, most of them pertaining to the military experience of the late 18th and 19th centuries. Naturally, these were intended as source material for the Dragoon Saga, but seeing as how many of these were written by historians or veterans of the Napoleonic Wars (for obvious reasons), they’ll be more than useful for this project as well.
The ones I’ll be drawing from the most are:
Swords Around A Throne – John Elting
This is probably the most comprehensive and detailed reference on the French Army of the Napoleonic Wars I own. It’s got a chapter on almost every part of the French military system, from the Emperor’s personal staff to the medical services and conscription parties. Implicitly, it emphasises that Napoleon’s success as a military leader was owed not just to personal skill, but to an entire system of military organisation and support – one whose architects (men like Berthier, Guibert, and Carnot) are often overlooked by conventional “Great Man” narratives about the period.
Napoleon the Great – Andrew Roberts
An assessment of Napoleon-the-Man, and a rather sympathetic one given that its author is a literal English aristocrat. Still, this is something of a warts-and-all portrait, which includes his awkward early years (which I’ve referred to as his “cringey incel phase” before). It also assesses Napoleon’s record as a politician and a policymaker, which demonstrates how much of “his” achievements were facilitated or orchestrated by supporters who did much of the actual legwork under his direction.
Blundering to Glory – Owen Connelly
An assessment of Napoleon-the-General, which studies some of his campaigns in detail to conclude that Napoleon’s unmatched win/loss record had less to do with his skill as an peerless tactical genius, but as a “scrambler”, who could quickly improvise in ways which turned likely defeat into victories which he could then exaggerate through his skill in shaping the narrative after the fact. Also controversially argues that Napoleon actually was 5’2.
Life in Napoleon’s Army – Eleazar Blaze
Blaze was a junior infantry officer in the Napoleonic French army, serving through many of the Emperor’s later campaigns. His recollection of his life in military service provides a window into the everyday routine, rituals, complaints, and professional culture of an army of the period, and gives me some idea of what it was like to march and fight as a relatively low ranking member of the Grande Armee.
The Cavalry Maiden – Nadezhda Durova
A junior cavalry officer in the Russian Imperial Army during the latter part of the Napoleonic Wars, Durova fled her family and entered military service dressed as a man (or was a trans man who transitioned when he joined the army, which is a theory I don’t personally find convincing, but which I do consider valid). Her memoirs give me some insight into what it was like to serve as a cavalry officer of the time, as well as what it was like to fight against the French Army the player will be a part of.
The Black Count – Tom Reiss
Remember when I said that Napoleon’s success relied on a supporting cast who are often overlooked by conventional historical narratives? Well, this is a biography of one of them. Thomas-Alexandre Dumas was the son of a Haitian slave and a disgraced French aristocrat, who rose to prominence as a peerless cavalry leader during the Revolution. He served with Napoleon and played some part in his initial military successes, before being more or less abandoned by him when their professional relationship turned to rivalry. A hero of the revolution in his own right, Reiss’ biography paints Dumas as a foil to Napoleon socially, politically, and culturally – and serves as a reminder that the period of 1789-1815 was more than just “The Bonaparte Show”.
Next time, I’ll be talking about my takeaways from these influences and sources – and how I’m going to be turning those into design pillars around which to shape Shadow of the Eagles’ core gameplay and story mechanics.
Paul Wang 