It began, as these crises invariably do, with combat.

In its early days, Imperium Offtopicum seemed to defy easy categorization. "Geopolitical role-playing game" seemed an overly generous moniker for the loosely-structured tabletalk culture of 2010–2011. Rules were virtually nonexistent: the Game Moderator was a moderator, responsible for updating the map, guaranteeing decorum, and little else. They were games that emphasized co-operation, not competition; that held themselves together by a mutual respect amongst their participants. They had no goal; the adventure was the journey, not the destination. The idea that such a free-range, open-ended game could govern itself, let alone maintain enough enthusiasm to keep running, is nigh-unthinkable to the latest generation, and a tragic testament to how perversely the tradition has mutated from its humble roots.

Veteran players often look back on IOT IV as the pinnacle of both the "old school", and even the series entire; yet I hold the original sequel, the ironically-named IOT III, as the true high-water mark. Granted, at its peak, IV was the most popular and most active iteration, and the changes I introduced provided much-needed structure for elements just a bit too critical to be left to players' whims; but III was imbued with a spirit that I have never seen demonstrated as strongly in any subsequent installment. It was perhaps the only game in which the map didn't matter: until its final stages, the setting was carried exclusively through the story as written by the players. Conflicts were more internal than not; crises were those of intra-governmental squabbles or international criminal conspiracy, and what state-to-state flashpoints did emerge were resolved with words rather than swords. IOT III accomplished what every other game has only purported to do: champion the art of diplomacy.

Part of the reason for this was that the early games had not discovered a suitable mechanic for conducting warfare. The dice rolls in the first IOT were held to be too random, Mad Man's dance video competition too bizarre, and my attempt at actual combat simulation fell through once the scattered skirmishes exploded into world war. Even as the players yearned for the opportunity to finally crush Mathalamus, out of spite or otherwise, the black hole of combat remained a surprisingly effective deterrent. Whenever war finally did erupt, especially on a large scale, the game could be reliably predicted to fold shortly thereafter. Early IOT may never have held any victory conditions, but the unspoken rule was that the mere start of war symbolized global defeat.

That defeat has now claimed the series in its entirety.

Reconciling the hard numbers of a combat mechanic with the limitless imagination of a roleplay world became the focus of the sequels and adaptations that emerged after IV. The "main" or "numbered" line has more or less adhered to a simplistic approach with a set "balance" of attacks, sometimes arbitrated, sometimes based on a crude economic model tying provinces to points. The myriad of spin-offs built upon this framework, progressively refining and specifying economics into statistics encompassing national industry, military technology, international trade, espionage, and so forth. This evolution, while gradual, has proven monumental in scope: what began as a supplementary means to provide objective and quantifiable military strength fundamentally rewrote the character of the game, and in doing so, destroyed its unique identity.

"Roleplay is the essence of IOT", Taniciusfox's photocopied rulesets repeat over and over. The truth, deplorably, is that this statement has been a lie for at least a year. Sure, almost every opening post you'll find makes some encouraging statement; and yes, games generally reward players willing to invest the time into garnishing their little worlds; but roleplay has only truly remained at the heart of the "original line" of games, a line that seems doomed to die out, if it hasn't already. Economics has usurped the throne, spontaneous creativity replaced with cold, hard statistics. IOT these days more closely resembles a Paradox Interactive strategy game than a friendly pastime at the lunch table. And because the environment is now defined by set numbers and formulae, victory and defeat can be expressed in tangible terms. Games are no longer about co-operation, but competition; not about building one's own world as much as tearing down those of one's neighbours; war, once a rarity, is now commonplace. The GM no longer mediates disputes; he rationalizes the destruction. In the economized IOT, roleplay is nothing more than a monetary incentive, the fading flame of imagination rendered subservient to mathematical logic.

Predictably, this hostile atmosphere sells itself to a different player mentality. The original band of IOTers, the participants in the first six to eight games, were strongly adverse to complex mechanics: the sessions they knew were casual affairs; they played to have fun—"IOT is not a wargame!" we chanted to Domination3000—and I don't think it's any coincidence that all but a precious few of the old club are no longer seen on the premises. The generation that has come to replace them plays to win. It scours the rules for any loophole or ambiguity it can exploit for self-advancement. It bickers amongst itself over technicalities realized too late to abuse. As it wheels and deals with its fellows, it is ever calculating how best to dispose of its partners. Ignorant of its own history, it expresses incredulity at the possibility of a "self-governing" game, a "diplomatic" game, dismissing such a simplistic design as "boring" and inherently destined to fail. It is a cruel people, for an equally cruel age.

What went so horribly wrong? choxorn, one of the original participants now virtually anonymous to the community, posits that the game unintentionally sold itself out to the "problem players". Early IOTs were marked by their self-discipline; it was only a small fringe that chose the war drum as its first recourse. Despite repeated calls for these players to be kicked, the GMs reluctantly held them on in order to remain 'fair' to the CFC moderators. The consequence was that the disease festered; unable to shake ourselves loose of them, we were forced to bend the rules to accommodate their aggressive playstyle. As early as IOT3, the idea of roleplayed combat had been tossed around; as soon as IOT4, any such hope had been dashed against the rocks. Roleplay requires subjectivity, something impossible to uphold in good faith when players are driven by absolute victory. choxorn concludes thusly: "I think that the proliferation of the mechanics to fight wars is almost entirely their [the problem players'] fault- because they wanted a way to win, and everyone else wanted a way to conquer them so that they'd leave."

Rightly or wrongly, Imperium Offtopicum is likened to another CFC culture, Never-Ending Stories. In its infancy, IOT was derided as an "even lazier LazyNES", an unwitting imitation that eschewed hard mechanics and dumbed down diplomacy. Today, IOTers cling to the notion the camps remain distinct by claiming IOT is "gameplay-oriented" while NES is "story-oriented". I freely admit that despite repeated attempts at research, my understanding of NES is cursory at best; but I would argue that IOT and NES are now much more similar than ever before, that the pursuit of increasingly complex mechanics renders the games practically distinguishable only in their respective decorum. NES may be much more verbose in its daily discussions, but at the end of the day, in both games the roleplay is a façade, mere decoration for computations seeking the maximization of statistical advantage. Perhaps the moderators are right: perhaps it's time the forums were merged and the communities combined. At least then we would get postcount.

IOT was unique, once. It was the sort of game played with a wink and a smile by a community that trusted each other enough to leave the particulars of its world open to the fates. It was a story more than a game, a leisurely saga of make-believe politics told under an umbrella of mutual respect. Today it's little more than an inefficient session of a multiplayer strategy game, every sentence milked for profit, every order the result of meticulous cost-benefit analysis. I have followed the tradition almost from its inception, watched as the games of the mind turned into attrition of the chessboard, witnessed our indescribable little pearl devolve into a dime-a-dozen strategy game. I have always endeavoured to support that original simplicity wherever it manifests, but with the old guard long gone and the new régime crushingly apathetic, perhaps it's time to admit defeat.

The king is dead. Long live the king.