Aaand onto Spring, of what may well be the final year:
England:
I put a lot of thought into how to say this; but in the end... Valar Morghulis. You are the weakest link. Goodbye.
France:
Total surrender and a kamikaze attack your other neighbours. Well, I can't argue with it. I'd probably be fed up too. And I daresay you got a little bit erect from killing England off like that. Your failures were far earlier in this game; and now you're no more than a passenger that Charon is taking across the Styx.
Germany: Really. I mean, you're pretty much dead regardless, but that was the least entertaining and one of the least effective set of moves you could possibly make there. Why not at least support yourself to Denmark and make some ATTEMPT at reclaiming it? I guess that just sums up your game though: Ineffectual, dull, and not quite all there.
Italy: Once again, you remain an island of sensibility in a sea of chaos. Sadly; most island paradises are too good to be true, and yours is too. By letting Russia into Wales; you might not even get that most fantastic of outcomes; the survive. Much like everyone else though; your failings were sewn many years ago. And boy, does it feel like actual years when it comes to commentating some of these moves.
Austria: Yes, yes, excellent stab, almost guaranteed solo, job done. I mean; it was probably harder to fuck up than to succeed here, but I suppose I should give you more compliments either way. Whether Russia was throwing this game or honestly believed you about a 2 or 3 way draw; your press has clearly been excellent. Convincing France, your enemy of oh so long, to kamikaze and throw to you is just the cherry on the top. No cookies for you this turn though; you need to save room for the victory cake. Marseilles, Smyrna, Ankara, Portugal takes you to 17 this year; but I daresay you could spin one last line and get Russia to let you into Sevastopol a year early for the 18 this year.
Russia: And so, the final fall has happened. For so long; Russia battled its way into Board Superpower status and matched and rivalled that of its illustrious rival to the West; but mistakes were made. Too many sausages turned out to be missiles. And unconvincing alliances, detentes, and resurgent alliances have merely led to perestroika, glasnost, and the fall of your iron curtain. It'll be interesting to know at which point you truly gave up on stopping Austria, Mr. Gorbacan.