Greetings citizens of New Spain on this lovely day in 1644. We landed on these bountiful shores exactly one hundred and fifty years ago. Today, I stand before you, on the steps of the fully staffed New Madrid town hall with the clackity-clack of the printing press running in the background. At town halls like this, through our colonies, Supreme Court Chief Justice John Jay presides; Samuel Adams brews beer and independence; Alexander Hamilton inspires free production for new buildings; and Patrick Henry sits around and says that "but one life to give" thing all day to generate extra liberty bells.

What's that? That was Nathan Hale? Patrick's line is "give me liberty or give me death"? Right. Well, thematically, they're very similar. Anyway, Patrick you're a great Founding Father. You're doing a heckuva job.

Read the address after the jump.

So I stand before you to bring you our first centennial-and-a-half (could someone look up if there's a word for that?) State of the Colony address. Please gather close so you can hear me above the din of construction of our half-finished cigar factory, where two master tobacconists will roll the finest New Spanish cigars on the soft flesh of their milky white untanned European thighs. I will speak over the tintinnabulation of our cathedral's bells, rung by a firebrand preacher and two Jesuit missionaries who are useless as missionaries since we're not exactly interested in any native outreach programs that don't involve muskets.

As you know, New Madrid is totally size-13 ginormous. We have converted natives – slaves, really, from the Incan War -- harvesting sugar and tobacco, while an indentured servant and fisherman keep us all fed. Through New Madrid, all our fine coats pass on their way to Spain, along with raw sugar and cigars, carried across the sea by our fleet of three caravels and the galleon Tomasita Truimphant. We keep Old Spain warm, and buzzing on a sugar high and nicotine.

Just up the road to the north is El Norte Piedra, where we mine ore from the hills, forged by a blacksmith into tools, which are carried by wagon train around the colonies so that other settlements can build advanced buildings. In the near future, El Norte will be the site of the armory that provides us with weapons. The fishing towns to the south, Southwatch and Interior Mar, are building stables to produce horses from all the surplus fish. Our dragoons will ride these fish-eating horses to victory.

Our main source of income is the coats from Fort Beaver, just a short trip across the Rio Neuvo to the west. Fort Beaver's coat factory, worked by master fur traders, is constantly hungry for furs. It's a great big fur eating machine, nom nom nom, capable of making 45 coats every year, each selling for 11 gold, minus the 21% tax charged by the king. More on him later.

However, for all the coats shipped from Fort Beaver, there's very little actual fur production in Fort Beaver. The raw material for these coats comes from the south, beyond Southwatch, beyond Interior Mar, deep in the tundra forests among the Arawak native settlements, where we've founded the fur trapping city of Wasilla. Here we currently have three trappers producing 20 pelts a year, increased to 30 thanks to the know-how of fur mogul John Jacob Astor who's recently joined us, and boosted ever so slightly to 32 thanks to the fierce spirit of independence we draw from our town halls, even when there's no one working there (thanks, Patrick Henry!).

In the immediate future, we plan to grow Wasilla to increase fur production to meet the demands of that coat factory. The rocky coastal settlement at Crab Shoals will also start trapping fur, and we plan to expand into the deer-rich forests to the west.

We're sitting pretty. Our French neighbors are growing, but they don't have room to expand like we do. Among the European colonies, we're in first place in manufacturing, food production, land area, and population. Of course, our standing is partly because the Dutch have recently lost New Holland, New Amsterdam, and Fort Nassau to marauding Apache warriors. It is with the deepest and most heartfelt sincerity that I say to our Dutch neighbors: Ha ha.

We've come a long way, my fellow colonists. We defended ourselves from Incan aggression. Some of you will point out that, yes, we fully intended to practice a little Bush Doctrine on the Incans to head off any eventual threat they might have posed. And to avail ourselves of the treasure they weren't using. But since the Incans declared war on us first, we enjoy the moral high ground. This will look absolutely fabulous in the history books. So we've got that going for us.

However, the New Spanish government has learned that Arawak tribal leader Agueybana has recently sought significant quantities of yellowcake from the Incans. They claim it's some sort of corn meal tortilla, but we're not going to wait until the smoking musket comes in the form of a "we declare war" smoke signal. So we are mobilizing our two veterans of the Incan War, along with three cannons, to liberate the citizens of the Arawak settlements from their land. Which, incidentally, we need to provide fur for Fort Beaver. But the real reason is the yellowcake thing. Plus human rights violations. Also, they violated various treaties. So Agueybana and his sons must leave the tundra forests within 48 hours. Their refusal to do so will result in military conflict, commenced at a time of our choosing.

Up next: The Arawak Quagmire

(Click here for the previous Colonization game diary.)