Inselnova Wiki Play

The Daily Chronicle

A newspaper is printed for your world every morning and waits for you when you next take the chair. Master Quill files it, the Harbor Board posts its notices in it, and the same edition goes to every governor on the water. Only the parts about you differ.

The paper is not the record

Two things in Inselnova carry the name Chronicle, and it is worth separating them once. The Chronicle record is the running public memory of the realm: every arrival, alliance movement, landed blow, and proclamation, filterable and permanent. The Daily Chronicle is the paper, printed once a day, edited down to what a governor ought to read over breakfast, and then frozen.

The paper draws on the record but it is not the record. A quiet realm still gets a paper. A loud one gets a paper that leaves things out.

Four pages, in a fixed order

Every edition turns the same way, so you learn where things live and stop hunting for them.

PageWhat it holds
Front PageThe day's lead story, the Governor of the Day, and Your Dispatch.
Your EstateDays of Rule, what the realm asks of you next, resources gained, the Steward's Column.
Realm NewsThe spotlight, the standings board, and the Guild Hall column.
Back PageLetters, notices or tips, the small ads, and the weekend riddle.

A page with nothing on it does not print. On a very still morning in a young world the Realm News and Back Page can both be absent, and the paper is two pages long. That is thinness in the world, not a fault in the press.

The front page

The lead story on a weekday is the loudest thing that happened in your world yesterday: a harbour taken, a war closed, a shore torn back from the Black Tide. When nothing rose far enough, the press files a piece about the quiet instead, and every governor in the world reads the same one.

Under the masthead sits a single line naming the Governor of the Day, and on weekdays a short strip of bulletins from across the realm and the guild halls.

Your Dispatch

The bordered box near the foot of the front page is the only part of the paper written about you. It takes your proudest deed of the previous day and writes it up: the raid that paid, the wall that held, the hoard that came out of the ground, the offering carried to the church. Beside it stand your place in the realm and your score.

Your Dispatch fires on small deeds as well as large ones. One answered distress call is enough. If you did nothing worth setting in type, it says so kindly and does not lecture you. The wording changes from morning to morning, so a governor whose strongest habit never changes does not read the same paragraph twice in a row.

Master Quill
Master Quill: Margin note
The dispatch reports your best deed, not your only one. A day with a won siege and a sold cargo prints the siege. The cargo is not missing; it simply lost the page.

Governor of the Day

Each morning the paper names one governor at the top of the day's standings. It is an honest thing to aim at, so here is what the board counts.

The tallymen weigh a single day of work in ten categories: plunder hauled, enemy troops felled, wars won, islands stormed, defences held, Black Tide shores liberated, colonies founded, treasure recovered, spy missions returned clean, and affairs settled at the council table. Each has a floor you must clear before it counts at all, so the board is not moved by one small errand. The strongest single showing of the day takes the name.

Three things surprise governors who chase it:

  • One highlight each. A governor who led in two categories still appears once, on the stronger of them. The board spreads names rather than repeating one.
  • Recent leaders are damped. Having led the board in the last few days makes leading again harder. It is a weight, never a bar, so a genuinely enormous day still carries.
  • Breadth loses to depth. A day spread thin across many small actions rarely clears a floor. One committed campaign usually beats five errands.

On Saturday and Sunday the title reads Governor of the Week and is drawn from the seven days just closed. The weekly board carries no damping, so a governor who dominated the week takes it outright.

The Realm page

Realm News is the world's page. It opens with the spotlight: the Governor of the Day or of the Week, their alliance flag, and a line saying what earned it.

Below that runs the standings board, at most five names, each with the deed that put them there. On a weekday it counts dawn to dawn. On the weekend it counts the week that just closed, with the window printed above it. When you make the board, your own row is marked so you can find it without reading the names.

The Guild Hall column closes the page with word from the alliances: banners formed, members taken in, ranks climbed, and stretches of ocean claimed. It appears only when there is something to report.

Your Estate

The second page is yours, and it reads in a deliberate order: what you have kept, what is asked of you, what came in, and what still wants doing.

  1. Days of Rule. A wax seal counting the mornings you have taken the chair without a gap, with milestones marked at the first day, the first week, a fortnight, and on toward ninety. Miss a morning and the count starts again the day you return.
  2. What the realm asks of you next. The single next unfinished achievement beat, with the guidance for it and a way straight to the place it is done. This is the compass for a new governor and it never advances past you.
  3. Resources gained. What accrued across your islands while you were away, counted per resource, most precious first.
  4. The Steward's Column. Up to three matters your steward wishes to raise: affairs waiting at the council, expeditions waiting for orders, unread reports, islands in poor condition. With nothing to raise, he offers a remark instead, as stewards do.
Treasurer Mora
Treasurer Mora: Treasury habit
Read the Estate page before the Realm page. The standings will still be there in ten seconds. The three matters in the Steward's Column are the ones costing you something right now.

The back page

The back page is the part that is not work. It carries three kinds of writing, and each day carries one kind, in turn: letters to the Harbor Board one morning, Board notices the next, top tips the morning after, and round again. Nothing has gone missing on a day you see only letters. It is simply not the notices' turn.

Beneath whichever kind is running, the Small Ads and Rumours are set in two columns and print every day. On Saturday and Sunday the leisure block adds the Harbormaster's Riddle, whose answer is printed faintly and can be held up to the light.

When the realm tore an island back from the Black Tide the day before, the back page leads with the announcement instead, and with word of the share waiting at the Claims desk. That is real news, and it is set apart from the jokes.

The weekend editions

Saturday and Sunday print on different paper and read differently.

Saturday is the review. The lead looks back over the whole week rather than a single day, the standings close the week, and the Governor of the Week is named.

Sunday is a story, and the story is invented. The Sunday Reader carries a long tale for the morning: sometimes a chapter of a serial that runs in parts, one part each Sunday, the same part for every governor in the world. Whatever it describes, none of it happened. No island in it is a real island, no governor in it took a real action, and nothing in it changes anything on the water. If a name you recognise appears, it appears the way a name appears in a ballad.

Master Quill
Master Quill: Read Sunday as fiction
Weekday news is reported. Sunday is written. Do not sail on it, do not avenge it, and do not go looking for the island in the tale. It is not there.

Back issues

Once printed, an edition is frozen. Reopening it later shows the same headline, the same standings, and the same dispatch you were shown that morning, even where the world has moved on since.

Old editions wait on the shelf called The Governor's Almanac, reached from the Governor's Desk under the Chronicle filter. Each card shows the day, that morning's engraving, the front page headline, your own dispatch headline, and where you placed if you made the board.

The shelf keeps the last fourteen days. Editions older than that are cleared as new ones are printed, so a paper you want to keep is worth reading before the fortnight closes. Notices from the Harbour Board are the exception and stay on the shelf.

Reference

What actually gets me onto the daily board?10 categories

Each category has a floor before it counts, and the floors are set so the board reflects a committed day rather than routine upkeep. In rough order of how much a strong showing is worth:

  • Breaking the Black Tide carries the most for its size. The counts are small and the deed is rare, so one liberation is read as a large day.
  • Plunder hauled and enemy troops felled come next, and they want real volume before they clear their floors.
  • Wars won, islands stormed, and defences held sit just under those.
  • Colonies founded, treasure recovered, and spy missions returned clean are worth less per showing.
  • Affairs settled sits lowest, and mostly reaches the board on a quiet day.

The order is a tendency, not a rule. A small wobble is applied each morning so the same category does not head the board every day of the week.

Your Dispatch uses a wider and gentler list than the board does. That is why the paper can write about your day without the realm's board agreeing it was one of the five biggest.

When does the paper change over?once a day

A new edition belongs to your own morning, and the day turns over in the early hours rather than at midnight. A governor who takes the chair at two in the morning is still finishing the previous day's paper, not starting the next one. Everyone whose morning falls on the same date reads the same edition.

Common questions

The back page only had letters today. Where did the tips go?

Nowhere. The back page carries one kind each day and takes them in turn, so tips will come round. Three consecutive mornings cover all three.

Did the thing in the Sunday story really happen?

No. Sunday's tale is fiction, written for the morning and nothing more. Nothing in it took place in your world, and no part of it affects your islands, your standing, or anyone else's.

I had a huge day and still was not Governor of the Day.

One name is printed each morning, taken from the top of that day's board. Somebody had a stronger single showing, or you led recently and carried a weight for it. Depth in one category beats a wide, thin day.

I closed the paper before reading it. Is it gone?

No. Reopen it from the Governor's Desk under the Chronicle filter. The Almanac holds it exactly as printed for fourteen days.