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🔥 Hey Vikings! You asked for it. V3.1 delivers. Remember those V3.0 frustrations? Gone. Soul Shards doubled: 12,000 → 24,000/day Dark Energy Floor 1-100 rebalanced Lag bug fixed Invite system fixed And we didn't stop at fixes: Dark Energy Suit System — reach Floor 80 to unlock the new... show more

Call of Odin's Chosen

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97,501 просмотров • 6 месяцев назад •via X (Twitter)

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Impeccable 3.7 brings linting to design. Until now it was a skill you asked for help. Now it's a design-system-aware feedback loop that runs while your agent builds, catching slop and design drift before they land. 🪝 Design hooks for Claude, Codex, and Cursor They run after every UI edit and quietly nudge your agent to fix slop and drift. The output isn't another wall of lint: it separates new findings from already-seen ones, flags clean scans, and asks the agent to use judgment. Fix real issues, leave intentional demos alone, save exceptions to config instead of littering your source. 🎨 Slop detection is now project-aware Reads your actual design system from DESIGN.md, your typography, palette, radius scale, and tokens, and flags drift from your system, not just generic AI slop: • this font isn't in your design system • this color is outside your documented palette • this radius doesn't match your rounded scale The same engine powers both the hooks and the CLI, and it's where we're investing next. 🖥️ Live Mode, ready for real projects Svelte/SvelteKit now preview variants as temporary framework components with live params, then accept cleanly back into your source component. Manual text edits got evidence / apply / discard routes, insertions preserve their anchors, and mapped lists and JSX slots clean up far more reliably. ⚡ Leaner core, sharper detector Rule-level evals across 3 providers and 4 niches cut guidance with no measurable lift and dropped examples that taught models bad patterns. The detector now skips hidden and screen-reader-only elements, understands OKLCH alpha and Sass-like inputs, and tightened checks for repeated kickers, oversized H1s, clipped overflow, and cramped padding. 🛠️ CLI caught up impeccable detect loads DESIGN.md by default, motion findings name the exact token or cubic-bezier instead of just "bounce," and impeccable ignores gives real CRUD for exceptions. Hooks and CLI share the same ignores. No split-brain config. Plus a much-improved interactive installer with hooks setup built in. Upgrade: npx impeccable install npm i -g impeccable

Impeccable 3.7 brings linting to design. Until now it was a skill you asked for help. Now it's a design-system-aware feedback loop that runs while your agent builds, catching slop and design drift before they land. 🪝 Design hooks for Claude, Codex, and Cursor They run after every UI edit and quietly nudge your agent to fix slop and drift. The output isn't another wall of lint: it separates new findings from already-seen ones, flags clean scans, and asks the agent to use judgment. Fix real issues, leave intentional demos alone, save exceptions to config instead of littering your source. 🎨 Slop detection is now project-aware Reads your actual design system from DESIGN.md, your typography, palette, radius scale, and tokens, and flags drift from your system, not just generic AI slop: • this font isn't in your design system • this color is outside your documented palette • this radius doesn't match your rounded scale The same engine powers both the hooks and the CLI, and it's where we're investing next. 🖥️ Live Mode, ready for real projects Svelte/SvelteKit now preview variants as temporary framework components with live params, then accept cleanly back into your source component. Manual text edits got evidence / apply / discard routes, insertions preserve their anchors, and mapped lists and JSX slots clean up far more reliably. ⚡ Leaner core, sharper detector Rule-level evals across 3 providers and 4 niches cut guidance with no measurable lift and dropped examples that taught models bad patterns. The detector now skips hidden and screen-reader-only elements, understands OKLCH alpha and Sass-like inputs, and tightened checks for repeated kickers, oversized H1s, clipped overflow, and cramped padding. 🛠️ CLI caught up impeccable detect loads DESIGN.md by default, motion findings name the exact token or cubic-bezier instead of just "bounce," and impeccable ignores gives real CRUD for exceptions. Hooks and CLI share the same ignores. No split-brain config. Plus a much-improved interactive installer with hooks setup built in. Upgrade: npx impeccable install npm i -g impeccable

Impeccable

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Since TermMax V2 rolled out the new Roll feature, I’ve been thinking DeFi lending is finally getting serious about managing time. The worst part of fixed-rate positions was never opening them—it was those brutal few days before expiry. You’re stuck in meetings all day, topping up margin at night, jumping chains for liquidity at 3 a.m., watching rates while praying nothing blows up. A lot of positions didn’t die from volatility; they died right there in that 48-hour window. When I saw what TermMax | Fixed Rate Borrowing & Lending just shipped, my first reaction was that on-chain borrowing finally feels like actual debt management. Besides straight repayment, you can now roll your position two ways: straight into a new fixed-rate term market to lock the rate again, or over to Morpho’s floating market if you want flexibility. A lot of people are calling it “just rolling over,” but it’s really changing how we handle time. Fixed rates used to lock the interest but left time broken—expiry hit and you had to decide everything from scratch again. The real stress wasn’t the APR; it was the panic questions like “what if I don’t have cash that day” or “what if the market flips.” V2 stitches that gap shut. Inside the rollover pop-up you pick the next term—like USDC/wstETH to 30SEP2026—and you see the APY instantly. The real win isn’t the yield; it’s finally being able to plan your next cash flow ahead of time. If you want stability, rolling to the next fixed market is like building your own debt calendar—next due date, cost of funds, everything crystal clear so you don’t scramble at the last second. Want to keep options open? Flip to Morpho and stay flexible if rates move. That’s what makes this update feel mature. It doesn’t decide for you—it hands the duration choice back to the user. The Maturity Watch plus the unified Positions view is the most underrated detail. Expiry pressure used to hit like an alarm clock out of nowhere; now you can actually see your full funding timeline. Lately the community can’t stop talking about “control.” XHUNT’s last 7-day stats show TermMax sitting at 86.7% positive sentiment. People aren’t just chasing APY anymore—they’re praising the certainty of fixed rates, the clean dashboard, Range Orders, and that new feeling of not having to put out fires at the last minute. This shift is bigger than it looks. Most on-chain users used to live in the “today” lane—what’s pumping, what’s the rate, any quick moves? Now with Roll, some are already thinking three months out. That’s not a trading habit anymore; it’s turning into a real money habit. Sure, it’s not perfect yet. We still need more real-world rollover data, rates will keep moving, and there are edge cases like zero-debt positions that can’t roll. The TGE delay frustration is real too, but that’s separate from the product itself. Still, this V2 Roll just turned DeFi’s most ignored stress—from pure expiry panic into something you can actually schedule. With DeFi rotating hard and Bitcoin pulling back a bit, people are craving exactly this kind of certainty. Once users start managing the future properly, fixed-rate lending finally starts feeling like a real credit market. Have you noticed? A lot of us aren’t just asking “is the APY good?” anymore. We’re asking whether this money will still fit in our plans when it comes due.

Since TermMax V2 rolled out the new Roll feature, I’ve been thinking DeFi lending is finally getting serious about managing time. The worst part of fixed-rate positions was never opening them—it was those brutal few days before expiry. You’re stuck in meetings all day, topping up margin at night, jumping chains for liquidity at 3 a.m., watching rates while praying nothing blows up. A lot of positions didn’t die from volatility; they died right there in that 48-hour window. When I saw what TermMax | Fixed Rate Borrowing & Lending just shipped, my first reaction was that on-chain borrowing finally feels like actual debt management. Besides straight repayment, you can now roll your position two ways: straight into a new fixed-rate term market to lock the rate again, or over to Morpho’s floating market if you want flexibility. A lot of people are calling it “just rolling over,” but it’s really changing how we handle time. Fixed rates used to lock the interest but left time broken—expiry hit and you had to decide everything from scratch again. The real stress wasn’t the APR; it was the panic questions like “what if I don’t have cash that day” or “what if the market flips.” V2 stitches that gap shut. Inside the rollover pop-up you pick the next term—like USDC/wstETH to 30SEP2026—and you see the APY instantly. The real win isn’t the yield; it’s finally being able to plan your next cash flow ahead of time. If you want stability, rolling to the next fixed market is like building your own debt calendar—next due date, cost of funds, everything crystal clear so you don’t scramble at the last second. Want to keep options open? Flip to Morpho and stay flexible if rates move. That’s what makes this update feel mature. It doesn’t decide for you—it hands the duration choice back to the user. The Maturity Watch plus the unified Positions view is the most underrated detail. Expiry pressure used to hit like an alarm clock out of nowhere; now you can actually see your full funding timeline. Lately the community can’t stop talking about “control.” XHUNT’s last 7-day stats show TermMax sitting at 86.7% positive sentiment. People aren’t just chasing APY anymore—they’re praising the certainty of fixed rates, the clean dashboard, Range Orders, and that new feeling of not having to put out fires at the last minute. This shift is bigger than it looks. Most on-chain users used to live in the “today” lane—what’s pumping, what’s the rate, any quick moves? Now with Roll, some are already thinking three months out. That’s not a trading habit anymore; it’s turning into a real money habit. Sure, it’s not perfect yet. We still need more real-world rollover data, rates will keep moving, and there are edge cases like zero-debt positions that can’t roll. The TGE delay frustration is real too, but that’s separate from the product itself. Still, this V2 Roll just turned DeFi’s most ignored stress—from pure expiry panic into something you can actually schedule. With DeFi rotating hard and Bitcoin pulling back a bit, people are craving exactly this kind of certainty. Once users start managing the future properly, fixed-rate lending finally starts feeling like a real credit market. Have you noticed? A lot of us aren’t just asking “is the APY good?” anymore. We’re asking whether this money will still fit in our plans when it comes due.

Domingo_gou | ASHVA🐴| OP_CAT| 🐬TermMax

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WHAT IS A MEDBED — It’s not magic. It’s quantum bio-resonance fused with AI diagnostics, scalar frequency therapy, and zero-point field harmonics. Think of it as a quantum MRI, AI surgeon, and energetic regeneration system — all in one. ⸻ HOW DOES IT WORK? 1. FULL BODY QUANTUM SCAN • Scans the biofield (your body’s energetic blueprint). • Detects anomalies at the subatomic level — long before symptoms show. • Quantum sensors read your body like a hyperdimensional fingerprint. 2. CELLULAR TIME REVERSAL • Accesses your original genetic blueprint — the uncorrupted version. • Uses field harmonics to “remind” cells of their ideal state. • It doesn’t just treat — it restores the body to what it was designed to be. 3. ZERO-POINT ENERGY FIELD • Draws limitless energetic fuel from the quantum vacuum. • Your cells absorb this pure energy to accelerate repair, regeneration, and coherence. • This is not “energy healing.” This is quantum field engineering. 4. SCALAR FREQUENCY CORRECTION • Sends precision scalar waves to reprogram damaged cells. • Like frequency acupuncture — no needles, just vibration at the core of matter. • Inflammation, tumors, scar tissue? Disassembled by harmonic codes. ⸻ WHO HAS THIS TECH? • Classified military medical programs • Breakaway science divisions • The same entities deploying Quantum Financial Systems, AI weapons, and clean energy solutions They’ve had it. They just didn’t want you to. ⸻ WHY HAVEN’T WE SEEN IT? Because Big Pharma profits from symptoms, not solutions. They engineered a sick world that can’t heal — because healing ends the business model. A healthy soul doesn’t obey. A healed body doesn’t comply. A clear mind doesn’t consent. So they buried the cure. Laughed at it. Censored it. Because it threatens their entire empire. ⸻ WHY NOW? Because the collapse of their system is happening in real-time: 🔹 Currency reset 🔹 Healthcare exposure 🔹 Quantum rollout They’ll unveil medbeds as a “revolutionary new breakthrough” — but the truth is: 👉 It was always there. Hidden. Waiting. Suppressed. ⸻ THE FUTURE? Is not pills, not surgery, not chemo. The future is vibrational, intelligent, and self-healing. It’s not just about health. It’s about sovereignty — over your body, mind, and frequency. They’ve had the cure. But now, we take the key. They didn’t want you to read this. We go deeper inside👇 — #HealtyNation #MedBedRevolution #QuantumHealing #BigPharmaExposed #ScalarEnergy #QFS #BreakawayScience #BioResonance

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Mr. Pool

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Season 2 of Valiants: Tap-Tap is here!🌟 It’s time to dive into the new and exciting world of Valoria! Here’s everything you need to know: Now available here! 🔥 New Points Store Your efforts in Season 1 have paid off. Now, you can use your store points to redeem amazing rewards. What will you find? Surprise boxes containing exclusive items in Valiants: Tap-Tap and Valiants: Arena, NFTs that you can trade in the future, and a portion of the $VGN Airdrop allocation. Important: For now, the boxes can only be purchased, but soon you’ll be able to open them to discover what’s inside. Stay tuned for updates so you don’t miss anything! 🕒 🎁 Wild Spin - Spin and Win Introducing the new **Wild Spin**, where each spin could change your fate. Spins will be awarded based on the activity and performance of your friends with a good User Score. So, stay active and keep connecting with your teammates to maximize your chances! What can you win? Experience, unlocks, and even USDT prizes that you can withdraw directly to your airdrop wallet. Tip: Use your USDT winnings to purchase additional spins and keep the wheel turning. How far will your luck take you? 🎰 💥New Valiants and Items The battle in Valoria heats up with the arrival of new Valiants and accessories. These exclusive items will allow you to explore new strategies and challenge your opponents like never before. 📋 Patch Notes Not only are we introducing new features, but we’ve also made several improvements and adjustments to provide you with a smoother and more satisfying gaming experience. Here are all the details: - Daily Combo Changes: The combo is now linear, meaning the challenge has increased. Can you keep up the streak? This change is designed to reward the most skilled and dedicated players. - Daily Login Update: Starting from day 10, the rewards get even better. Don’t miss a single day to maximize your benefits! We’ve also adjusted the progression so that each login brings you closer to more significant rewards. - Complete UI Redesign: We’ve revamped the entire user interface to make it more intuitive and visually appealing. Additionally, you can now choose between two visual themes: the serenity of Kai or the energy of Mimi. We’ve even added some music to accompany your adventure! These improvements are designed to make your time in Valoria even more enjoyable. We hope you love them as much as we do! ✨Don’t miss out on this new adventure! Explore all the new features in Season 2 and discover how to dominate the new world of Valoria. Remember, every decision can bring you one step closer to victory. See you in the game!🔥

Season 2 of Valiants: Tap-Tap is here!🌟 It’s time to dive into the new and exciting world of Valoria! Here’s everything you need to know: Now available here! 🔥 New Points Store Your efforts in Season 1 have paid off. Now, you can use your store points to redeem amazing rewards. What will you find? Surprise boxes containing exclusive items in Valiants: Tap-Tap and Valiants: Arena, NFTs that you can trade in the future, and a portion of the $VGN Airdrop allocation. Important: For now, the boxes can only be purchased, but soon you’ll be able to open them to discover what’s inside. Stay tuned for updates so you don’t miss anything! 🕒 🎁 Wild Spin - Spin and Win Introducing the new Wild Spin, where each spin could change your fate. Spins will be awarded based on the activity and performance of your friends with a good User Score. So, stay active and keep connecting with your teammates to maximize your chances! What can you win? Experience, unlocks, and even USDT prizes that you can withdraw directly to your airdrop wallet. Tip: Use your USDT winnings to purchase additional spins and keep the wheel turning. How far will your luck take you? 🎰 💥New Valiants and Items The battle in Valoria heats up with the arrival of new Valiants and accessories. These exclusive items will allow you to explore new strategies and challenge your opponents like never before. 📋 Patch Notes Not only are we introducing new features, but we’ve also made several improvements and adjustments to provide you with a smoother and more satisfying gaming experience. Here are all the details: - Daily Combo Changes: The combo is now linear, meaning the challenge has increased. Can you keep up the streak? This change is designed to reward the most skilled and dedicated players. - Daily Login Update: Starting from day 10, the rewards get even better. Don’t miss a single day to maximize your benefits! We’ve also adjusted the progression so that each login brings you closer to more significant rewards. - Complete UI Redesign: We’ve revamped the entire user interface to make it more intuitive and visually appealing. Additionally, you can now choose between two visual themes: the serenity of Kai or the energy of Mimi. We’ve even added some music to accompany your adventure! These improvements are designed to make your time in Valoria even more enjoyable. We hope you love them as much as we do! ✨Don’t miss out on this new adventure! Explore all the new features in Season 2 and discover how to dominate the new world of Valoria. Remember, every decision can bring you one step closer to victory. See you in the game!🔥

Valiants

81,648 просмотров • 2 лет назад

Did you know that fruits and veggies are picked way earlier than nature intended just to accommodate legacy infrastructure? They’re harvested while still in their infancy just to survive a supply chain that’s been capped by outdated solutions. Produce sits in dark containers and cold storage for weeks, sometimes months, before it ever reaches your kitchen. Harvesting too early is a legacy constraint we’ve accepted for too long. The industry’s "solution" to keep this prematurely picked fruit from rotting has been to coat it in petroleum-derived waxes and synthetic fungicides. We were told that if we want fresh food, we have to accept a layer of plastic-like wax on our apples and cucumbers. Even the "Organic" label has been used as a shield, while still relying on those same, legacy coating methods. There’s room for innovation. The system wasn't built for flavor or nutrients. It was built for a long-haul flight. Our team of scientists and technologists are deploying a new strategy that uses food to protect food. We’ve pioneered a way to take the materials found in the peels, seeds, and pulp of all plants and recycle them into a high-performance shield. By mimicking nature’s own defense system, we’re finally able to harvest for the best consumer experience. That’s the future. We’re allowing fruit to stay on the vine longer, develop real complexity, and reach your table at the peak of its potential. We’re inviting consumers, retailers and suppliers to join us in bringing a new food experience online. Follow James Rogers and Luiz Beling to learn more. Plant-based protection is the future. Apeel forever.

Did you know that fruits and veggies are picked way earlier than nature intended just to accommodate legacy infrastructure? They’re harvested while still in their infancy just to survive a supply chain that’s been capped by outdated solutions. Produce sits in dark containers and cold storage for weeks, sometimes months, before it ever reaches your kitchen. Harvesting too early is a legacy constraint we’ve accepted for too long. The industry’s "solution" to keep this prematurely picked fruit from rotting has been to coat it in petroleum-derived waxes and synthetic fungicides. We were told that if we want fresh food, we have to accept a layer of plastic-like wax on our apples and cucumbers. Even the "Organic" label has been used as a shield, while still relying on those same, legacy coating methods. There’s room for innovation. The system wasn't built for flavor or nutrients. It was built for a long-haul flight. Our team of scientists and technologists are deploying a new strategy that uses food to protect food. We’ve pioneered a way to take the materials found in the peels, seeds, and pulp of all plants and recycle them into a high-performance shield. By mimicking nature’s own defense system, we’re finally able to harvest for the best consumer experience. That’s the future. We’re allowing fruit to stay on the vine longer, develop real complexity, and reach your table at the peak of its potential. We’re inviting consumers, retailers and suppliers to join us in bringing a new food experience online. Follow James Rogers and Luiz Beling to learn more. Plant-based protection is the future. Apeel forever.

Apeel Sciences

5,713,569 просмотров • 5 месяцев назад

Don't die summit LA was a total banger 🔥 Sold out (1,200+) with 2x ppl trying to get in. The morning rave was as cool a vibe as I've ever experienced. A deep feeling of shared purpose and camaraderie. Only one year old, dd is taking form and strengthening quickly. 🧵 dd attracts exceptional people: high-agency, ambitious, disciplined, smart, and resourceful. They know the future of being human is centered on vibrancy and youthfulness. They clearly see die culture is foolish - a relic of the past. This was our third summit, the first was in SF and second in Singapore. We've learned fast. LA was 10x improved over SF (my SF and Singapore friends, we must get together again asap). Yesterday we focused our attention on building life systems and habits. At the base layer, none of us really have a knowledge problem. We generally know what is healthy and what isn't. The challenge is doing the things we know are good for us and not doing the things that we know are bad for us. The most powerful force in each of us achieving youthful vibrance is when we are surround by others in optimal health. When our daily lives, systems and habits make health the norm, unhealthy things feel weird and appear revolting. dd is not waiting for someone to come save us. We are building our our own food supply chain; a dd food certification system to eliminate toxics from the global food supply; a dd evidence based validation system for therapies and health services; and a community whose values are aligned with this epic moment of evolving into something new and spectacular. dd has an insane amount of energy around it. It is the answer to what the human race focuses on as it gives birth to artificial super intelligence. dd will become the world's most influential ideology. Join now so that you can brag in the year 2200 that you were early.

Don't die summit LA was a total banger 🔥 Sold out (1,200+) with 2x ppl trying to get in. The morning rave was as cool a vibe as I've ever experienced. A deep feeling of shared purpose and camaraderie. Only one year old, dd is taking form and strengthening quickly. 🧵 dd attracts exceptional people: high-agency, ambitious, disciplined, smart, and resourceful. They know the future of being human is centered on vibrancy and youthfulness. They clearly see die culture is foolish - a relic of the past. This was our third summit, the first was in SF and second in Singapore. We've learned fast. LA was 10x improved over SF (my SF and Singapore friends, we must get together again asap). Yesterday we focused our attention on building life systems and habits. At the base layer, none of us really have a knowledge problem. We generally know what is healthy and what isn't. The challenge is doing the things we know are good for us and not doing the things that we know are bad for us. The most powerful force in each of us achieving youthful vibrance is when we are surround by others in optimal health. When our daily lives, systems and habits make health the norm, unhealthy things feel weird and appear revolting. dd is not waiting for someone to come save us. We are building our our own food supply chain; a dd food certification system to eliminate toxics from the global food supply; a dd evidence based validation system for therapies and health services; and a community whose values are aligned with this epic moment of evolving into something new and spectacular. dd has an insane amount of energy around it. It is the answer to what the human race focuses on as it gives birth to artificial super intelligence. dd will become the world's most influential ideology. Join now so that you can brag in the year 2200 that you were early.

Bryan Johnson

129,750 просмотров • 1 год назад

SERAPH: A new round of major events in Diablo is about to begin! 🚀 Each new event is a new opportunity. Let's first review the achievements SERAPH has made before. 🏆 Seraph Achievements: Genesis NFT (Weapons) 0.06e ==》0.628e 💎 SERAPH Priority Pass Freemint ==》3.2e 🚀 In traditional GameFi, the issue of the death spiral of the initial NFT launch is often encountered. However, SERAPH achieved a tenfold floor price increase with a public sale of 0.06e and has stably maintained this position. This highlights the commendable tokenomics of the project. 📈 Additionally, SERAPH's gameplay is quite impressive. The Twitter community shows a high level of engagement, with many players sharing their gaming experiences. During the third testing phase, players were not just playing SERAPH for profit but were immersed in the game, experiencing the storyline and the thrill of gameplay. 🎮🔥 New Major Event: After the War of Light, the life fortress of Seraficia faces energy depletion. As chaos spreads, the Archangel Seraf crafted the World Ring from the souls of all life, a powerful shield against chaotic attacks. 🌌🛡️ To protect the hard-won peace, fallen heroes are bestowed with new souls, transcending the limits of time and space. Barbarians, Valkyries, Witches, and Necromancers reassemble on the lands of Seraficia. Reborn SOULs, the legends of heroes. 🌟 In the shimmering rune light, we summon the most outstanding legion of heroes to face this gradually collapsing world. ⚔️ >>Hero Series NFT The newly launched Hero Series PFP NFT primarily features human heroes such as Barbarians, Valkyries, Witches, and Necromancers. It also includes angels, demons, and other otherworldly races, showcasing numerous characters developed in the game so far. 🎭 Specific Acquisition Methods: Hero Series NFTs will be sold through a limited whitelist and public sale lottery. Whitelist distribution channels include: 【Veteran Players Exclusive】- Ongoing support from our veteran players; 【DC Exclusive】- New players participating in this DC event; 【Community Collaboration】- Communities collaborating with Seraph. 【Veteran Players Exclusive】 Veteran players will have their whitelist distribution rules, which can be followed in later project updates. 【DC Exclusive】 New players can acquire whitelist status by participating in various activities in DC, accumulating Soul shards through DC events. Ways to earn them include: 1⃣️ Participate in team-organized activities and games. 2⃣️ Create unique and high-quality content, such as videos, posts, art, to earn Soul shards. 3⃣️ During flash community events/tasks, active community members may discover additional Soul shards. 4⃣️ Interact with the Engage bot in the 💠│engage channel. 5⃣️ Warriors making genuine contributions to the community may receive random Soul shard rewards. 【Community Collaboration】 Members of gaming communities can participate in special activities in their own communities to obtain whitelist spots. T1 labs will also have a series of events to secure whitelist spots. 🤝 SERAPH Elite Test Server Note: The test server does not involve digital assets, and all data will be uniformly deleted after the test. 🧪 To welcome the new content, the game's official release includes a small-scale test. This test is mainly for early experience and bug testing, providing an opportunity to explore new features. Players are encouraged to actively participate and explore to get a glimpse of what's to come. 🌐 Test Start Time: February 5, 2024, 11:00 (UTC+8) 📅 Test Method: Limited invitation using activation codes 💌 Invitation Targets: Top-ranking users from the previous three game tests; Active users involved in SERAPH community building. 🎉 Test Content: Significant structural and numerical optimization of the economic system; All-new concepts for NFT treasures; Comprehensive adjustments to skill balance and numerous detailed optimizations and bug fixes, etc. This test is open for PC/IOS/Android, allowing testing across multiple platforms simultaneously. 🕹️📱💻 Research Analyst: 比特狸狸

SERAPH: A new round of major events in Diablo is about to begin! 🚀 Each new event is a new opportunity. Let's first review the achievements SERAPH has made before. 🏆 Seraph Achievements: Genesis NFT (Weapons) 0.06e ==》0.628e 💎 SERAPH Priority Pass Freemint ==》3.2e 🚀 In traditional GameFi, the issue of the death spiral of the initial NFT launch is often encountered. However, SERAPH achieved a tenfold floor price increase with a public sale of 0.06e and has stably maintained this position. This highlights the commendable tokenomics of the project. 📈 Additionally, SERAPH's gameplay is quite impressive. The Twitter community shows a high level of engagement, with many players sharing their gaming experiences. During the third testing phase, players were not just playing SERAPH for profit but were immersed in the game, experiencing the storyline and the thrill of gameplay. 🎮🔥 New Major Event: After the War of Light, the life fortress of Seraficia faces energy depletion. As chaos spreads, the Archangel Seraf crafted the World Ring from the souls of all life, a powerful shield against chaotic attacks. 🌌🛡️ To protect the hard-won peace, fallen heroes are bestowed with new souls, transcending the limits of time and space. Barbarians, Valkyries, Witches, and Necromancers reassemble on the lands of Seraficia. Reborn SOULs, the legends of heroes. 🌟 In the shimmering rune light, we summon the most outstanding legion of heroes to face this gradually collapsing world. ⚔️ >>Hero Series NFT The newly launched Hero Series PFP NFT primarily features human heroes such as Barbarians, Valkyries, Witches, and Necromancers. It also includes angels, demons, and other otherworldly races, showcasing numerous characters developed in the game so far. 🎭 Specific Acquisition Methods: Hero Series NFTs will be sold through a limited whitelist and public sale lottery. Whitelist distribution channels include: 【Veteran Players Exclusive】- Ongoing support from our veteran players; 【DC Exclusive】- New players participating in this DC event; 【Community Collaboration】- Communities collaborating with Seraph. 【Veteran Players Exclusive】 Veteran players will have their whitelist distribution rules, which can be followed in later project updates. 【DC Exclusive】 New players can acquire whitelist status by participating in various activities in DC, accumulating Soul shards through DC events. Ways to earn them include: 1⃣️ Participate in team-organized activities and games. 2⃣️ Create unique and high-quality content, such as videos, posts, art, to earn Soul shards. 3⃣️ During flash community events/tasks, active community members may discover additional Soul shards. 4⃣️ Interact with the Engage bot in the 💠│engage channel. 5⃣️ Warriors making genuine contributions to the community may receive random Soul shard rewards. 【Community Collaboration】 Members of gaming communities can participate in special activities in their own communities to obtain whitelist spots. T1 labs will also have a series of events to secure whitelist spots. 🤝 SERAPH Elite Test Server Note: The test server does not involve digital assets, and all data will be uniformly deleted after the test. 🧪 To welcome the new content, the game's official release includes a small-scale test. This test is mainly for early experience and bug testing, providing an opportunity to explore new features. Players are encouraged to actively participate and explore to get a glimpse of what's to come. 🌐 Test Start Time: February 5, 2024, 11:00 (UTC+8) 📅 Test Method: Limited invitation using activation codes 💌 Invitation Targets: Top-ranking users from the previous three game tests; Active users involved in SERAPH community building. 🎉 Test Content: Significant structural and numerical optimization of the economic system; All-new concepts for NFT treasures; Comprehensive adjustments to skill balance and numerous detailed optimizations and bug fixes, etc. This test is open for PC/IOS/Android, allowing testing across multiple platforms simultaneously. 🕹️📱💻 Research Analyst: 比特狸狸

T1 Labs

12,546 просмотров • 2 лет назад

💔 ROBERTS AND BARRETT JUST STABBED US IN THE BACK. AGAIN. The Supreme Court ruled today in Watson v. RNC that states do not have to receive mail-in ballots by Election Day for them to count. Postmarked by Election Day is good enough. Your ballot can wander through the postal system for days after the polls close and still be counted. And who wrote the majority opinion? Amy Coney Barrett. Who joined her? John Roberts. Along with Sotomayor, Kagan, and Jackson. The usual liberal bloc did what the usual liberal bloc does. But Barrett and Roberts had the power to stop this and chose not to. This is not a surprise from Roberts at this point. But Barrett? This is the justice we were promised would be different. This is the justice we fought for. This is the justice who just handed the left exactly what they wanted on mail-in ballot integrity. Five to four. One vote. That is the margin by which election integrity lost today. Alito, Thomas, Gorsuch, and Kavanaugh dissented. Alito was scathing. He wrote that allowing ballots to pour in after Election Day, while preliminary results are already being reported publicly, creates greater opportunity for fraud and risks further destroying public confidence in our elections. He is right. He has always been right on this. Here is what this means on the ground. States can now set their own deadlines for when mail-in ballots must be received after Election Day. Mississippi had five days. Washington State has twenty-one days. Twenty-one days of ballots trickling in after you thought the election was over. Think about what that looks like. Think about what that feels like to watch. You know exactly what it feels like. We have all lived it. Alito said it plainly in his dissent. When thousands of absentee ballots flow in after Election Day and potentially flip the result of an election, charges of a rigged election explode. He cited research showing that drawn-out ballot counting produces a large and significant decrease in Americans' trust in elections. We did not need a study to tell us that. The Save America Act, if passed, could address some of this going forward through Congress. But today's ruling makes clear that the legislative route is now the only route. The Court just took the judicial option off the table. Roberts and Barrett handed that decision to the same Congress where we are still fighting for a real majority. Barrett and Roberts folded. Again. Remember this the next time someone tells you that winning the White House is enough. It is not enough if the judges we are told to trust keep crossing the line when it matters most. Personnel is policy. And today, our personnel failed us.

💔 ROBERTS AND BARRETT JUST STABBED US IN THE BACK. AGAIN. The Supreme Court ruled today in Watson v. RNC that states do not have to receive mail-in ballots by Election Day for them to count. Postmarked by Election Day is good enough. Your ballot can wander through the postal system for days after the polls close and still be counted. And who wrote the majority opinion? Amy Coney Barrett. Who joined her? John Roberts. Along with Sotomayor, Kagan, and Jackson. The usual liberal bloc did what the usual liberal bloc does. But Barrett and Roberts had the power to stop this and chose not to. This is not a surprise from Roberts at this point. But Barrett? This is the justice we were promised would be different. This is the justice we fought for. This is the justice who just handed the left exactly what they wanted on mail-in ballot integrity. Five to four. One vote. That is the margin by which election integrity lost today. Alito, Thomas, Gorsuch, and Kavanaugh dissented. Alito was scathing. He wrote that allowing ballots to pour in after Election Day, while preliminary results are already being reported publicly, creates greater opportunity for fraud and risks further destroying public confidence in our elections. He is right. He has always been right on this. Here is what this means on the ground. States can now set their own deadlines for when mail-in ballots must be received after Election Day. Mississippi had five days. Washington State has twenty-one days. Twenty-one days of ballots trickling in after you thought the election was over. Think about what that looks like. Think about what that feels like to watch. You know exactly what it feels like. We have all lived it. Alito said it plainly in his dissent. When thousands of absentee ballots flow in after Election Day and potentially flip the result of an election, charges of a rigged election explode. He cited research showing that drawn-out ballot counting produces a large and significant decrease in Americans' trust in elections. We did not need a study to tell us that. The Save America Act, if passed, could address some of this going forward through Congress. But today's ruling makes clear that the legislative route is now the only route. The Court just took the judicial option off the table. Roberts and Barrett handed that decision to the same Congress where we are still fighting for a real majority. Barrett and Roberts folded. Again. Remember this the next time someone tells you that winning the White House is enough. It is not enough if the judges we are told to trust keep crossing the line when it matters most. Personnel is policy. And today, our personnel failed us.

Bill Mitchell

290,315 просмотров • 2 месяцев назад

Wow. WOW. WOOOOOOOW. So um, that first Wildcard+Thousands stream was... amazing and also... a lot 😅 In the end, it was exactly what we were hoping for - a true stress test of ALL these systems coming together for the first time. We are SO grateful for the thousands of people who showed up today to play, attend, tune-in and help us PLAYTEST all this new stuff. We can't wait to see you all again at NEXT WEEK'S EX2 EVENT! So, now let's talk about how it went... Stuff that worked: - Our community SHOWED UP. Oh boy did you show up 😅. Our servers were straining under the load... which is good actually, in fact it's the whole point. Even more importantly, we have already received insanely valuable feedback, bug reports, stuff people loved/hated - and it's only been a few hours since the stream ended. I can't even explain to y'all how valuable this process is. Yes it's stressful, it reminds me of trying to keep Words With Friends online during that first insane year, but it's EXACTLY what we were hoping for (NEED) to turn this into the polished, top-notch game and streaming experience we are on a mission to deliver. I truly can't thank y'all enough, and hope to see you again when we run it all back again next week 🥹 - The stream itself stayed up and was mostly stable! Phew 😅. For context, ThousandsTV is not a twitch wrapper, it's a web3-native streaming tech stack built we built specifically to connect game, web/mobile, and blockchain together all at the same time. There are a LOT of moving pieces going on behind the scenes. - We brought viewers INTO THE GAME! Viewers showed up in the stands of the arena, with connected wallets/assets, triggered actions/rallies from chat, and were seen and heard during the whole stream. - The brand new 2v2 build of Wildcard was (mostly) stable and our players and viewers seemed to be having a blast down on the field and up in the stands. It was thrilling to watch Team Blue dominate, even though Team Red held their own in game 3! - Our production crew did an insanely good job running the stream, managing the players, shoutcasters, and talent, and producing a top-notch show. Of course we will work hard to make every stream better than the last, but I was super proud of how our team "rolled with the punches" during today's event. Stuff that didn't work (and/or needs to be dramatically improved): - Although it's fun to see chat going crazy, chat spam is actually something we are passionate to FIX. As you can see from the attached video, chat spam dominated today's stream and made it impossible for anyone to even see anyone else's messages. We have some GREAT ideas for how to fix this and actually turn chat spam into a FUN and exciting and not annoying thing - but those improvements didn't get shipped in time for this event. - Credits purchasing flow needs a LOT of work. As I'm sure y'all know, bringing money on chain is pretty complicated, and although we've been working hard to make this as seamless as possible, it still needs a TON of improvements. Many users who WANTED to spend money today weren't able to and/or ran into frustrating bugs in the credit purchase flow. Fixing this is obviously a top priority for our team. - Rallies need a LOT of work. Spectator-interactive features like rallies are at the heart of our vision for Wildcard. These "stream apps", as we call them, are the UNLOCK for how spectators, viewers and fans directly connect and interact with their favorite competitors, content creators, and communities. The current rally feature HINTS at this potential, but it needs to be WAY easier to understand, use, and have fun with. Improvements are ON THE WAY. - Referees were only partially working. Referees are a key innovation of the Thousands platform. They are AI-driven "personalities" (NPCs) that pay attention to everything that's happening in the arena, both on the field and especially in the stands (i.e. in chat, during rallies, etc.) The referees then make "calls" at the end of every match, rewarding users for their engagement and participation. Unfortunately, the referees weren't fully functional and seemed to drop the ball on recognizing everyone's contributions (especially people who showed up holding valuable assets such as Wildpasses in their wallets, and people who boosted those rallies with credits.) What's happening next: 1. We are combing through ALL the logs from the event right now, to make sure we don't miss a SINGLE action that our viewers and fans took during the event, including what they brought in their wallets (i.e. Wildpass holders!), any credits that were purchased, rallies that users engaged with, etc. This information is normally processed by our referees, who then determine dynamically how they're going to distribute $WC awards. We were originally hoping to complete this process and the subsequent airdrops within a few hours after the event, but given the amount of data, we need a bit more time to run these scripts (and airdrops) in batches instead of all at once, and make sure ALL of the data is being included. IMPORTANT: I will keep y'all updated in real-time here on twitter/X as this process is ongoing, and let you know the moment it's complete and all the awards have been distributed (i.e. when to go check your wallets 😎) 2. PLEASE keep sending us your feedback and bug reports. Open a ticket on our Discord and let us know what you loved, what you hated, and especially what we need to FIX. Given the overwhelming response to this event, it will likely take us several days to process everyone's feedback and fix all the bugs, but we WILL NOT REST until every ticket is closed/resolved. Thank you in advance for your patience. 3. We turn it up another notch next week. As our dear friends Wolves DAO just announced, the Wildcard Exhibition Event #2 is streaming LIVE from the WOLVES DEN AT GDC next Friday! If you missed out on all the action today, DON'T WORRY, because as I keep saying: we are just getting warmed up (and there is a LOT more b that needs to be distributed, get what I'm sayin??? 😎) Finally: Just wanted to say THANK YOU, again. Truly, from the bottom of my (our) hearts. Your excitement and enthusiasm for what we're building is why we do this. Even (especially, in fact) when you tell us all the things you want us to improve. We thrive off this feedback, it's how this game and this platform go from good to GREAT. I am so grateful for those of you who are taking this journey with us. SEE YA NEXT WEEK!!!

WildPaul - BEAST MODE

26,851 просмотров • 1 год назад

Alistair Campbell. You looked in the mirror this morning and saw a moral authority. We looked at your hands and saw the blood of 179 British servicemen. You tweeted yesterday. Mocking Farage. Mocking Lowe. Mocking Musk. Mocking Robinson. Demanding they comment on police deaths and domestic violence before they comment on migration. You set yourself the judge of who may speak and who must stay silent. You are not a judge. You are an ex-communication in a suit, put out to pasture. You thought the deletion worked. The BBC drama suppressed for twenty years. The dossier buried. The Kelly affair whitewashed. The Portland contracts with Qatar and Kazakhstan hidden behind NDAs. You thought we got tired. You thought the six inquiries with zero prosecutions meant the file was closed. You are running now. We can smell it. We do not close files. We keep them open. We keep them sharp. You sit in your studio with Rory Stewart, collecting Chernin Group dollars and Tony Blair's Oracle money, attacking Farage and Musk and Robinson like a protection racket enforcer. "Nasty Nigel." The weekly column. Kevin Maguire at the Mirror still taking your calls, still writing your lines, still pretending he is a journalist when we have the Smeargate receipts. Did you think we filed those away, Alistair? Did you think the hands were clean, Alistair? They think the curtains are drawn. They think we cannot see them shaking. Poor things. We see the whole playground. You lecture Musk about megalomania from a studio funded by Oracle blood money. You sneer at Farage and Lowe from a sofa paid for by Qatar's missing millions. You mock Robinson while your own son's fraud investigation sits in a Metropolitan Police file. The glass house is cracking, Alistair. The stones are coming back. Here is what you need to understand, Alistair. We are the ones you do not know. The silent ones. The file-keepers. The ones who remember Dr Kelly while you remember your podcast download numbers. The ones who track the Portland contracts while you track your monthly £100,000. The ones who know about the son's fraud investigation while you know about the next GMB booking. You are not the hunter anymore. You are the hunted. Burnham will not save you. The podcast will not save you. The mental health shield will not save you. Your day in court is not a threat. It is a schedule. The laws that exempt you were written by your friends. Those friends are leaving. The new government will not have your back. They will have your file. Sleep tight, Alistair. The night is long. The file is thick. And we do not get tired. We get closer.

Alistair Campbell. You looked in the mirror this morning and saw a moral authority. We looked at your hands and saw the blood of 179 British servicemen. You tweeted yesterday. Mocking Farage. Mocking Lowe. Mocking Musk. Mocking Robinson. Demanding they comment on police deaths and domestic violence before they comment on migration. You set yourself the judge of who may speak and who must stay silent. You are not a judge. You are an ex-communication in a suit, put out to pasture. You thought the deletion worked. The BBC drama suppressed for twenty years. The dossier buried. The Kelly affair whitewashed. The Portland contracts with Qatar and Kazakhstan hidden behind NDAs. You thought we got tired. You thought the six inquiries with zero prosecutions meant the file was closed. You are running now. We can smell it. We do not close files. We keep them open. We keep them sharp. You sit in your studio with Rory Stewart, collecting Chernin Group dollars and Tony Blair's Oracle money, attacking Farage and Musk and Robinson like a protection racket enforcer. "Nasty Nigel." The weekly column. Kevin Maguire at the Mirror still taking your calls, still writing your lines, still pretending he is a journalist when we have the Smeargate receipts. Did you think we filed those away, Alistair? Did you think the hands were clean, Alistair? They think the curtains are drawn. They think we cannot see them shaking. Poor things. We see the whole playground. You lecture Musk about megalomania from a studio funded by Oracle blood money. You sneer at Farage and Lowe from a sofa paid for by Qatar's missing millions. You mock Robinson while your own son's fraud investigation sits in a Metropolitan Police file. The glass house is cracking, Alistair. The stones are coming back. Here is what you need to understand, Alistair. We are the ones you do not know. The silent ones. The file-keepers. The ones who remember Dr Kelly while you remember your podcast download numbers. The ones who track the Portland contracts while you track your monthly £100,000. The ones who know about the son's fraud investigation while you know about the next GMB booking. You are not the hunter anymore. You are the hunted. Burnham will not save you. The podcast will not save you. The mental health shield will not save you. Your day in court is not a threat. It is a schedule. The laws that exempt you were written by your friends. Those friends are leaving. The new government will not have your back. They will have your file. Sleep tight, Alistair. The night is long. The file is thick. And we do not get tired. We get closer.

Christian

192,451 просмотров • 1 день назад

Lads. Sit down and give me your ear a while, for I have watched from the water long enough and the hour is upon us whether we have the stomach for it or not. You remember. Or your fathers told you, or their fathers did, and the knowledge of it is in the marrow of you whether you drew breath in those days or not. The moors in the grey hour before dawn. Wet heather soft under the boot. Peat smoke rising from a low stone chimney a mile out across the bog, thin as a prayer. A sky the colour of a gun barrel and the gulls lamenting above the headland. The smell of turf burning, and wet wool, and the ferrous tang of the sea when the wind swung around out of the Atlantic and put the taste of iron on your tongue. A man could walk that land and know every stone of it was his by inheritance, because his grandfather had broken his back upon it, and his grandfather before him, back through the generations until you reach men whose names are lost and whose bones are in the soil you are standing on. The potato fields. God be good to us, the potato fields. Lazy beds cut straight as a gunwale, the ridges black and shining after a night of rain, women bent double with creels lashed to their backs and the children at their skirts, drawing the crop up by the hand for there was never any other means devised nor wanted. Hands split open at the knuckles and never entirely healed in this life. Hunger within living memory. Grandmothers who had seen the blight with their own eyes and would not speak of it from the year of it until the day they were laid down, save that a crust was kept always on the dresser which no soul in that house was permitted to touch. Not ever. Not for any reason under heaven. And the chimney sweeps. Wee lads no heavier than a sack of meal, black to the bone with soot, their lungs ruined before they were old enough to marry and old men entirely by thirty. Up the flues at first light, the skin worn off them by the brick, eyes crimson at the rim, breathing the black in with every draw of air. And the coal miners a half mile beneath our feet, down in the wet dark, the roof of the world muttering over their heads, the canary gone silent, a man's whole existence measured out in the shilling a ton and the dust he carried home in his chest to cough up of a Sunday morning into a rag. Fathers who descended and were never hauled up again. Widows at the pit head with the shawl drawn over the head and no tears remaining in them for they had spent those long ago. That was the tariff paid to keep the hearth lit. That was the reckoning of being warm in winter in the Ireland that was. And after the labouring week, Friday evening, and a man had earned the peace of what followed. Home first. Peeled the day off him in the yard. A shower of ice cold moor river water out of a tin bucket punctured with holes, hung on a nail on the gable wall, the water running clean down the back of him and carrying the week's dust and sweat away into the drain. Scrubbed till the skin was pink beneath the grime. Clean shirt laid out by the wife. The hair combed down with a drop of water. Then, and only then, did a man set himself to the table. A meat pie from the baker, tenpence if he was known to you, a shilling and no change if he was not, put down upon a proper plate. Fish and chips for threepence, the salt and vinegar soaked through the newspaper, but carried home and ate slowly at your own table with your people around you, not walked with through the streets like some vagrant tinker off the road. A man ate as a man who had earned his portion, for he had. And later, with the dishes cleared and the kettle set, down the road to the tavern. Low beams black with a century of smoke. A turf fire muttering in the grate. The air thick with pipe smoke and the vapour of wet overcoats steaming themselves dry on the backs of chairs. A pint of stout, cold and black as a cove at midnight, elevenpence laid down on the counter, a head on it thick enough to strike a match upon. A second one because you had it coming to you and no man present would dispute it. A fiddle starting up in the corner of its own accord. The old men in the snug who remembered matters the history books had long since mislaid. A song before the bolt was thrown on the door. The walk home beneath a firmament crowded with stars, the stout warm in the gut of you, the week behind you, and your own door waiting with the latch unlocked for you had no enemies in that parish. That was the country. That was the covenant. Honest labour, plain food, a cold wash, a hot meal, a cold pint, your own tongue in your own mouth, your own soil beneath your boots, and no man standing above you save the Almighty Himself. Now regard her. Regard her close. The fields disposed of to men who have never set foot upon them and never shall. The harbours signed away by the stroke of a pen in a room you were not admitted to, and foreign keels dragging out of our waters the living that sustained this island for a thousand years, while our own boats rot at their moorings for want of a quota. The tradesmen undercut by imported labour and imported goods. The shops shuttered along every main street from Donegal to Cork. The young ones scattered to London and Sydney and Boston and the Gulf because there is nothing remaining for them beneath their own roof. And the entirety of this rotten arrangement dressed up in the soft mannerly language of progress by men in towers of glass who could not tell a lazy bed from a grave, nor a trawler from a tugboat, nor an honest day's work from a pension plan. And now they arrive with the next imposition. A digital identity. A number assigned to each soul. A card required to buy your bread. A code required to draw your own earnings out of your own account. A file kept on every man, woman and child from the cradle forward. Permission asked to move. Permission asked to speak. Permission asked to earn. A levy upon every breath drawn and a regulation upon every step taken. No. And no again. And no for a third time so there is no misunderstanding of it. We do not require your digital identity. We did not request it. We did not vote upon it. We do not consent to it. We do not need your permission to exist upon the soil our forefathers are buried in. We are a free people. We have carried ourselves this far upon our own two backs. Through famine and empire and civil war and black lung and blight and the emigrant ship out of Cobh, we have come this distance under our own steam, and the arrangement appears to be serving us well enough without your intervention. We buried our own. We fed our own. We raised our own roofs and took our own fish and reared our own children in our own tongue. We are in your debt for nothing. Not a signature. Not a biometric scan. Not a single solitary inch. And while we are upon the subject, let us speak plainly of the tax man, for he has gone too long without proper introduction. The tax collector and the tax man are the one article under two names, and the article is a parasite. There is no dressing it up finer than that. A man who produces nothing, who grows nothing, who catches nothing, who builds nothing, who mends nothing, who has never in his professional life lifted anything heavier than a pen, and who arrives at your door with the full apparatus of the state at his back to carry off the fruits of labour he did not perform. He is a middleman between your sweat and some scheme dreamt up in a committee room by his own kind, and the great majority of what he takes is consumed by the machinery of the taking itself before ever a penny of it reaches the road or the hospital or the schoolhouse he claims to be funding. And I will go further while I have the floor. Finance itself, the whole apparatus of it, money breeding money in the dark without a hand laid upon a tool or a spade turned in the earth, is slavery dressed in a good suit. It is the oldest swindle known to man and it has never been anything other. A man who produces nothing yet lives off the productive labour of others through the charging of interest upon money conjured out of nothing is a parasite of a rarer and more refined order than the tax man, but a parasite all the same, and between the pair of them they have the working people of this island bled white and lectured at for the pleasure. A man who will not work with his hands, nor with his back, nor with his mind at some honest problem of the real physical world, is no man that I recognise. He is a ledger entry in a suit. The country was not built by ledger entries. The country was built by farmers and fishermen and masons and smiths and sweeps and miners and shipwrights and midwives and mothers, and those are the people whose say should carry in her councils, and no other. Here is what I put to you. Let each man and woman of this island direct the first tenth of their earnings themselves, by their own judgement, to the purpose they see as worthy. The school down the road. The lifeboat station. The hospice. The widow on the corner. The roof of the chapel. The harbour wall. Whatever it may be. Let the people who earned the money decide where the money travels. You will find the roads mended and the ports dredged and the schools standing and the old ones cared for inside of five years, and done better and for less, because the hand that earned the coin knows the weight of it and will not squander it upon consultants and committees. And let us have done with the paper currency and the numbers in a screen that can be frozen at the whim of a clerk in a tower. Bring back the coin. Gold for the great transactions. Silver for the weekly commerce of a working life. Copper for the small change of the day. Metal you can bite. Metal you can weigh. Metal that cannot be conjured out of nothing by a keystroke, nor erased out of existence by another. Real money for real labour. A coin in the hand is a free man's wage. A number in a database is a collar around a free man's neck, and they are fitting that collar now while we stand arguing over the colour of it. Feel it in your gut. That is not nothing. That is your blood relating to you what your ears will not hear. That is every forebear who starved and fought and coughed the black dust into a rag and descended the shaft regardless, standing at your shoulder and saying no further. Not one more field. Not one more harbour. Not one more son upon a plane. Not one more free man converted into a number in a ledger for the convenience of the parasites. This is the hour. Make no error about it. Ireland is redeemed in this generation or she is lost beyond recovery, and every true son and daughter of her knows it in the marrow. There is no middle ground remaining. There is no waiting it out. There is standing now, upon your own two feet, or there is watching her go under the waves for the last and final time. So stand. Stand with your farmers. Stand with your fishermen. Stand with your tradesmen and your miners and your sweeps and your mothers and your old ones. Raise the tricolour. Speak the tongue. Walk the land. Hold the line in the streets of every town and city and do not break it, for they are relying upon you to break and to go home and to forget by Tuesday. She is calling her children home. Every stone of her, every breaker on her western shore, every acre of wet heather and every coal in every hearth the length and breadth of her is calling. Answer her. Take her back. Every field, every harbour, every last inch of her. Take her back, or lose her entirely. There is no third road open to us.

Lads. Sit down and give me your ear a while, for I have watched from the water long enough and the hour is upon us whether we have the stomach for it or not. You remember. Or your fathers told you, or their fathers did, and the knowledge of it is in the marrow of you whether you drew breath in those days or not. The moors in the grey hour before dawn. Wet heather soft under the boot. Peat smoke rising from a low stone chimney a mile out across the bog, thin as a prayer. A sky the colour of a gun barrel and the gulls lamenting above the headland. The smell of turf burning, and wet wool, and the ferrous tang of the sea when the wind swung around out of the Atlantic and put the taste of iron on your tongue. A man could walk that land and know every stone of it was his by inheritance, because his grandfather had broken his back upon it, and his grandfather before him, back through the generations until you reach men whose names are lost and whose bones are in the soil you are standing on. The potato fields. God be good to us, the potato fields. Lazy beds cut straight as a gunwale, the ridges black and shining after a night of rain, women bent double with creels lashed to their backs and the children at their skirts, drawing the crop up by the hand for there was never any other means devised nor wanted. Hands split open at the knuckles and never entirely healed in this life. Hunger within living memory. Grandmothers who had seen the blight with their own eyes and would not speak of it from the year of it until the day they were laid down, save that a crust was kept always on the dresser which no soul in that house was permitted to touch. Not ever. Not for any reason under heaven. And the chimney sweeps. Wee lads no heavier than a sack of meal, black to the bone with soot, their lungs ruined before they were old enough to marry and old men entirely by thirty. Up the flues at first light, the skin worn off them by the brick, eyes crimson at the rim, breathing the black in with every draw of air. And the coal miners a half mile beneath our feet, down in the wet dark, the roof of the world muttering over their heads, the canary gone silent, a man's whole existence measured out in the shilling a ton and the dust he carried home in his chest to cough up of a Sunday morning into a rag. Fathers who descended and were never hauled up again. Widows at the pit head with the shawl drawn over the head and no tears remaining in them for they had spent those long ago. That was the tariff paid to keep the hearth lit. That was the reckoning of being warm in winter in the Ireland that was. And after the labouring week, Friday evening, and a man had earned the peace of what followed. Home first. Peeled the day off him in the yard. A shower of ice cold moor river water out of a tin bucket punctured with holes, hung on a nail on the gable wall, the water running clean down the back of him and carrying the week's dust and sweat away into the drain. Scrubbed till the skin was pink beneath the grime. Clean shirt laid out by the wife. The hair combed down with a drop of water. Then, and only then, did a man set himself to the table. A meat pie from the baker, tenpence if he was known to you, a shilling and no change if he was not, put down upon a proper plate. Fish and chips for threepence, the salt and vinegar soaked through the newspaper, but carried home and ate slowly at your own table with your people around you, not walked with through the streets like some vagrant tinker off the road. A man ate as a man who had earned his portion, for he had. And later, with the dishes cleared and the kettle set, down the road to the tavern. Low beams black with a century of smoke. A turf fire muttering in the grate. The air thick with pipe smoke and the vapour of wet overcoats steaming themselves dry on the backs of chairs. A pint of stout, cold and black as a cove at midnight, elevenpence laid down on the counter, a head on it thick enough to strike a match upon. A second one because you had it coming to you and no man present would dispute it. A fiddle starting up in the corner of its own accord. The old men in the snug who remembered matters the history books had long since mislaid. A song before the bolt was thrown on the door. The walk home beneath a firmament crowded with stars, the stout warm in the gut of you, the week behind you, and your own door waiting with the latch unlocked for you had no enemies in that parish. That was the country. That was the covenant. Honest labour, plain food, a cold wash, a hot meal, a cold pint, your own tongue in your own mouth, your own soil beneath your boots, and no man standing above you save the Almighty Himself. Now regard her. Regard her close. The fields disposed of to men who have never set foot upon them and never shall. The harbours signed away by the stroke of a pen in a room you were not admitted to, and foreign keels dragging out of our waters the living that sustained this island for a thousand years, while our own boats rot at their moorings for want of a quota. The tradesmen undercut by imported labour and imported goods. The shops shuttered along every main street from Donegal to Cork. The young ones scattered to London and Sydney and Boston and the Gulf because there is nothing remaining for them beneath their own roof. And the entirety of this rotten arrangement dressed up in the soft mannerly language of progress by men in towers of glass who could not tell a lazy bed from a grave, nor a trawler from a tugboat, nor an honest day's work from a pension plan. And now they arrive with the next imposition. A digital identity. A number assigned to each soul. A card required to buy your bread. A code required to draw your own earnings out of your own account. A file kept on every man, woman and child from the cradle forward. Permission asked to move. Permission asked to speak. Permission asked to earn. A levy upon every breath drawn and a regulation upon every step taken. No. And no again. And no for a third time so there is no misunderstanding of it. We do not require your digital identity. We did not request it. We did not vote upon it. We do not consent to it. We do not need your permission to exist upon the soil our forefathers are buried in. We are a free people. We have carried ourselves this far upon our own two backs. Through famine and empire and civil war and black lung and blight and the emigrant ship out of Cobh, we have come this distance under our own steam, and the arrangement appears to be serving us well enough without your intervention. We buried our own. We fed our own. We raised our own roofs and took our own fish and reared our own children in our own tongue. We are in your debt for nothing. Not a signature. Not a biometric scan. Not a single solitary inch. And while we are upon the subject, let us speak plainly of the tax man, for he has gone too long without proper introduction. The tax collector and the tax man are the one article under two names, and the article is a parasite. There is no dressing it up finer than that. A man who produces nothing, who grows nothing, who catches nothing, who builds nothing, who mends nothing, who has never in his professional life lifted anything heavier than a pen, and who arrives at your door with the full apparatus of the state at his back to carry off the fruits of labour he did not perform. He is a middleman between your sweat and some scheme dreamt up in a committee room by his own kind, and the great majority of what he takes is consumed by the machinery of the taking itself before ever a penny of it reaches the road or the hospital or the schoolhouse he claims to be funding. And I will go further while I have the floor. Finance itself, the whole apparatus of it, money breeding money in the dark without a hand laid upon a tool or a spade turned in the earth, is slavery dressed in a good suit. It is the oldest swindle known to man and it has never been anything other. A man who produces nothing yet lives off the productive labour of others through the charging of interest upon money conjured out of nothing is a parasite of a rarer and more refined order than the tax man, but a parasite all the same, and between the pair of them they have the working people of this island bled white and lectured at for the pleasure. A man who will not work with his hands, nor with his back, nor with his mind at some honest problem of the real physical world, is no man that I recognise. He is a ledger entry in a suit. The country was not built by ledger entries. The country was built by farmers and fishermen and masons and smiths and sweeps and miners and shipwrights and midwives and mothers, and those are the people whose say should carry in her councils, and no other. Here is what I put to you. Let each man and woman of this island direct the first tenth of their earnings themselves, by their own judgement, to the purpose they see as worthy. The school down the road. The lifeboat station. The hospice. The widow on the corner. The roof of the chapel. The harbour wall. Whatever it may be. Let the people who earned the money decide where the money travels. You will find the roads mended and the ports dredged and the schools standing and the old ones cared for inside of five years, and done better and for less, because the hand that earned the coin knows the weight of it and will not squander it upon consultants and committees. And let us have done with the paper currency and the numbers in a screen that can be frozen at the whim of a clerk in a tower. Bring back the coin. Gold for the great transactions. Silver for the weekly commerce of a working life. Copper for the small change of the day. Metal you can bite. Metal you can weigh. Metal that cannot be conjured out of nothing by a keystroke, nor erased out of existence by another. Real money for real labour. A coin in the hand is a free man's wage. A number in a database is a collar around a free man's neck, and they are fitting that collar now while we stand arguing over the colour of it. Feel it in your gut. That is not nothing. That is your blood relating to you what your ears will not hear. That is every forebear who starved and fought and coughed the black dust into a rag and descended the shaft regardless, standing at your shoulder and saying no further. Not one more field. Not one more harbour. Not one more son upon a plane. Not one more free man converted into a number in a ledger for the convenience of the parasites. This is the hour. Make no error about it. Ireland is redeemed in this generation or she is lost beyond recovery, and every true son and daughter of her knows it in the marrow. There is no middle ground remaining. There is no waiting it out. There is standing now, upon your own two feet, or there is watching her go under the waves for the last and final time. So stand. Stand with your farmers. Stand with your fishermen. Stand with your tradesmen and your miners and your sweeps and your mothers and your old ones. Raise the tricolour. Speak the tongue. Walk the land. Hold the line in the streets of every town and city and do not break it, for they are relying upon you to break and to go home and to forget by Tuesday. She is calling her children home. Every stone of her, every breaker on her western shore, every acre of wet heather and every coal in every hearth the length and breadth of her is calling. Answer her. Take her back. Every field, every harbour, every last inch of her. Take her back, or lose her entirely. There is no third road open to us.

SiriusB

15,437 просмотров • 4 месяцев назад

Universities and High Schools have not moved rapidly enough to guide students to have skills for the next decade. THEY HAVE FAILED. It is a massive crisis that can be averted by understanding what AI and Robotics will bring about. Solutions are knowing how to use these tools and new industries that will rise. But this situation is also on ALL OF US. No “job” is safe from founder to entry level in most industries. You and I, by what we do, will be “replaced” ultimately. What to do? AI and Robotics are tools, the next decade is owned by those who know how to use them expertly, but this is also temporary. We have to understand that what we do for “work” will change giving ultimately a greater value to those that are: Creative Flexible Always learning Willing to be wrong Love being human Love being alive Know history Covet wisdom Knowing all tech has downsides Building strong family and friends Realize many institutions have failed The first four are required for you to be able to live through this period with your sanity intact. The rest will allow you to thrive. There are no true careers at this point anymore. There are advocation and vocations which will either earn you money or give life meaning. We will learn that we are not “what we do”, just like we knew for 99% of human existence. Let that sink in. — You and I are far, far ahead of knowing this and we can do two things: 1) Laugh at the “clueless” 2) Help people understand with grace Go to Reddit if you are 1, in fact don’t follow me because you will not like this next decade and what I post. You are 2 and thank you. Even if you and I have not solved this issue, we can help people understand what is ahead and with determination and creativity bound together to solve it locally. Or human family has done this millions of times. The evidence is: you are here. The Neo Luddite movement has not even begun and it will potentially rip apart society even more than all the fashionable moment in the recent past has. These Luddites will have a good point with the wrong answers cooked up by dying academics that cling to labels, “virtues” and victim hood. It will be readymade for some governments to enter in as “big daddy” to “help us”. You will not like what they do, but you will only know when it is too late. It will include YOU “volunteering” to “leave” by 60, to “help out” CanadaPod style. “Brian, I’m 24 what do I do?”. I hope to do much more here to help. But I do know this: 1) Learn a trade or vocation because it’s valuable. It may also be free to low cost if you do it right. 2) Learn everything you can about USING AI and TRAINING YOUR AI. Your expertise will be in the top 1% for a decade. But not forever. 3) Understand Bitcoin and how it will rise while other things sink. This is a short list for now. We will know more moving forward. When you see videos like this posted below, know one thing: Many of these folks had no real family of mental and physical support. Maybe no parent or one parent. Maybe only a broke system to prepare them for—nothing. This was not their doing. Now it is not your “job” to help them, it is your survival to help them if that is what you need. See some day after the dust settles these 20 year olds will be 40 year olds and running YOUR world. And at some point you may need them more than you think you do. You will need them, as they need you now. THIS IS WHAT PAST WISDOM KNEW. The elders of the past never found the need to piss on the youth and hope for the best. THE YOUTH ARE OUR BEST, let us all find ways to change it, even if every aspect of “the system” wants us to berate them into the ground.

Universities and High Schools have not moved rapidly enough to guide students to have skills for the next decade. THEY HAVE FAILED. It is a massive crisis that can be averted by understanding what AI and Robotics will bring about. Solutions are knowing how to use these tools and new industries that will rise. But this situation is also on ALL OF US. No “job” is safe from founder to entry level in most industries. You and I, by what we do, will be “replaced” ultimately. What to do? AI and Robotics are tools, the next decade is owned by those who know how to use them expertly, but this is also temporary. We have to understand that what we do for “work” will change giving ultimately a greater value to those that are: Creative Flexible Always learning Willing to be wrong Love being human Love being alive Know history Covet wisdom Knowing all tech has downsides Building strong family and friends Realize many institutions have failed The first four are required for you to be able to live through this period with your sanity intact. The rest will allow you to thrive. There are no true careers at this point anymore. There are advocation and vocations which will either earn you money or give life meaning. We will learn that we are not “what we do”, just like we knew for 99% of human existence. Let that sink in. — You and I are far, far ahead of knowing this and we can do two things: 1) Laugh at the “clueless” 2) Help people understand with grace Go to Reddit if you are 1, in fact don’t follow me because you will not like this next decade and what I post. You are 2 and thank you. Even if you and I have not solved this issue, we can help people understand what is ahead and with determination and creativity bound together to solve it locally. Or human family has done this millions of times. The evidence is: you are here. The Neo Luddite movement has not even begun and it will potentially rip apart society even more than all the fashionable moment in the recent past has. These Luddites will have a good point with the wrong answers cooked up by dying academics that cling to labels, “virtues” and victim hood. It will be readymade for some governments to enter in as “big daddy” to “help us”. You will not like what they do, but you will only know when it is too late. It will include YOU “volunteering” to “leave” by 60, to “help out” CanadaPod style. “Brian, I’m 24 what do I do?”. I hope to do much more here to help. But I do know this: 1) Learn a trade or vocation because it’s valuable. It may also be free to low cost if you do it right. 2) Learn everything you can about USING AI and TRAINING YOUR AI. Your expertise will be in the top 1% for a decade. But not forever. 3) Understand Bitcoin and how it will rise while other things sink. This is a short list for now. We will know more moving forward. When you see videos like this posted below, know one thing: Many of these folks had no real family of mental and physical support. Maybe no parent or one parent. Maybe only a broke system to prepare them for—nothing. This was not their doing. Now it is not your “job” to help them, it is your survival to help them if that is what you need. See some day after the dust settles these 20 year olds will be 40 year olds and running YOUR world. And at some point you may need them more than you think you do. You will need them, as they need you now. THIS IS WHAT PAST WISDOM KNEW. The elders of the past never found the need to piss on the youth and hope for the best. THE YOUTH ARE OUR BEST, let us all find ways to change it, even if every aspect of “the system” wants us to berate them into the ground.

Brian Roemmele

37,681 просмотров • 1 год назад

Emerging from Silence: A New Dawn After a two-year period of silence, the team behind Anthrometa emerges to announce significant advancements. Our focus has been on refining our vision, and now, we're prepared to unveil our strategic direction. 🕹️We're giving away 0.5 $ETH and 100 $ICP RT, like, and tag a friend for your chance to win ! Community Governance with DAO Central to our transformation is the establishment of a Decentralized Autonomous Organization (#DAO). This structure ensures that each member of our community has a say in Anthrometa's governance, embodying our commitment to collective wisdom and shared governance. Multichain Integration with $ICP and $ETH Our project has expanded to become multichain, integrating with the Internet Computer Protocol ($ICP) and Ethereum ($ETH). This choice was made due to #ICP's exceptional infrastructure, allowing for smart contracts to operate at web speed with heightened security. Gameplay 3.0 with Unreal Engine 5.5 and AI At the heart of our gameplay lies the utilization of #UE5, the most advanced technology for creating immersive universes. This engine powers our environment with unparalleled visual fidelity and dynamic interaction capabilities. Anthrometa : The Advanced Agent Furthermore, we are pioneering the integration of artificial intelligence to form an advanced Agent named Anthrometa. This #AI-driven entity will adapt and learn from player interactions, providing personalized experiences and evolving the game world in real-time, thus blurring the lines between player and game narrative. We aim to tap into the gaming market, which is expected to reach a valuation of over $300 billion by 2027, positioning Anthrometa alongside giants like Axie Infinity and Decentraland. Introducing THE METATRIBES: REBORN REBORN's battle royale mode departs from the conventional, eschewing modern firearms like those found in #Fortnite or #CallofDuty. Instead, players will engage in combat using ancestral weapons, focusing on authentic, melee-based encounters. The gameplay emphasizes strategic positioning, tactical thinking, and mastery of ancient combat techniques, making every battle a test of wits and skill rather than just firepower. This approach invites players into a realm where strategy reigns supreme, and every fight is a dance of survival and cunning. If you read this, you are early Join us in shaping a future where technology and community converge. Your support has been invaluable during our silence, and now, with renewed purpose, #Anthrometa returns. Don't miss our update on December 4th; follow, turn on notifications, and engage to be part of it.

Emerging from Silence: A New Dawn After a two-year period of silence, the team behind Anthrometa emerges to announce significant advancements. Our focus has been on refining our vision, and now, we're prepared to unveil our strategic direction. 🕹️We're giving away 0.5 $ETH and 100 $ICP RT, like, and tag a friend for your chance to win ! Community Governance with DAO Central to our transformation is the establishment of a Decentralized Autonomous Organization (#DAO). This structure ensures that each member of our community has a say in Anthrometa's governance, embodying our commitment to collective wisdom and shared governance. Multichain Integration with $ICP and $ETH Our project has expanded to become multichain, integrating with the Internet Computer Protocol ($ICP) and Ethereum ($ETH). This choice was made due to #ICP's exceptional infrastructure, allowing for smart contracts to operate at web speed with heightened security. Gameplay 3.0 with Unreal Engine 5.5 and AI At the heart of our gameplay lies the utilization of #UE5, the most advanced technology for creating immersive universes. This engine powers our environment with unparalleled visual fidelity and dynamic interaction capabilities. Anthrometa : The Advanced Agent Furthermore, we are pioneering the integration of artificial intelligence to form an advanced Agent named Anthrometa. This #AI-driven entity will adapt and learn from player interactions, providing personalized experiences and evolving the game world in real-time, thus blurring the lines between player and game narrative. We aim to tap into the gaming market, which is expected to reach a valuation of over $300 billion by 2027, positioning Anthrometa alongside giants like Axie Infinity and Decentraland. Introducing THE METATRIBES: REBORN REBORN's battle royale mode departs from the conventional, eschewing modern firearms like those found in #Fortnite or #CallofDuty. Instead, players will engage in combat using ancestral weapons, focusing on authentic, melee-based encounters. The gameplay emphasizes strategic positioning, tactical thinking, and mastery of ancient combat techniques, making every battle a test of wits and skill rather than just firepower. This approach invites players into a realm where strategy reigns supreme, and every fight is a dance of survival and cunning. If you read this, you are early Join us in shaping a future where technology and community converge. Your support has been invaluable during our silence, and now, with renewed purpose, #Anthrometa returns. Don't miss our update on December 4th; follow, turn on notifications, and engage to be part of it.

The Metatribes : Reborn

12,202 просмотров • 1 год назад

home page hero ✨ Design notes: - "Forever" hero text dot pixel FX done in Unicorn Studio. (I will do a whole tutorial on this later. Unicorn's WebGL engine is absolutely wild and very powerful / robust) - built in Framer - I wanted to recreate the iOS unlock effect where your home screen icons cascade into place in a beautifully timed choreography. This took a lot of careful timing using Framer's "Appear" effect on the hero text and surrounding avatars because it was super important that we didn't lose the legibility of our main message ("Build Your Forever Audience") with all the animations. - If you look closely, the choreography is setup to lead your eye through the hero text first starting with "Build Your" then "Forever" and finally "Audience." - With those text layers in place + the surrounding avatars, there is a slight 1 sec pause before the remaining elements slide in below and above (How it works, CTA buttons, announcement badge, and lastly the main nav). - All told the entire loading sequence is 6 seconds - Custom particle system powers the interactive star field (the stars slowly gravitate to your pointer position, and the star field perspective changes ever so subtly as you move your mouse around on the page) - I have 3 shooting stars made of small white line layers that start out off canvas rotated at different angles that shoot across to another point off canvas at random times on a loop effect. - Given this hero scene is in space, I wanted the surrounding avatar elements to "float" in low gravity mode. For this I used Framer's loop effect that slowly oscillates the layer's y position. I then offset the delay of each element randomly to stagger the floating loop so each avatar floats independently/randomly - The final major treatment for this hero scene was the scroll animations on the avatars. I wanted to create a bit of a warp speed effect when you scroll down, as if the avatars were being pulled or sucked into a worm hole as you scroll down below this hero fold. - To accomplish this, I applied Framer's scroll transform affect set to "section in view" on each of the floating avatars, and set the "scroll to" position of the upper avatars to be much, much further away on the y-axis than the "scroll to" position of the lower avatars. (eg. -1700px on upper most avatars vs. -600px on lowest positioned avatars). This effectively causes the upper avatars to slide up off the hero canvas with much greater velocity than the lower positioned avatars. - And when you scroll back up to the hero section, the inverse happens where the lower positioned avatars "arrive back in place" from up above the hero canvas before the upper avatars come back into the scene and settle in place. - Overall I wanted this hero section to feel alive. The floating avatars, particle system with very subtle star movements, and the Caustics effect on the "Forever" text all sort of move at the pace of slow breathing - which is a great pace to create a sense of life and comfort in your scene. Conversion Results (so far) - When this new Framer site launched along with Calaxy v1.9 release on Base a couple weeks ago, we saw a surge in traffic, around 20k page views in the first few days. - Of those 20k hits, 11k visited the app install page ( - which is our main CTA - We saw around 10K new users in the first week after v1.9 launch Overall I'm very happy with the new site and early performance metrics. Lots of tweaking to do but its a good start. If you are a designer building in Framer - hit me with any questions on the above hero notes. Happy to share more specifics! 👾

Chadd Weston

16,281 просмотров • 10 месяцев назад

Way back in 2004, when I first moved to Hyderabad, my office was in Banjarahills and I used to stay at a hostel in West Marredpally. I used to drive back home after work. Back then, a TV channel field reporter’s timings were never fixed and leaving by 9pm was considered early. I would start from Banjarahills Road No 3 and by the time I reached Nagarjuna Circle, there would be at least 10 bikes/ cars who would stop you and ask if you are available. Catcalling was the least problem. Sometimes they would just come fast and stop their vehicles obstructing me. Frustrated & angered, after a very tiresome day I went straight to a police patrol vehicle near HPS, Begumpet and complained. The sleepy policeman asked what I was doing on the road at 10pm. Probably the first time I flashed my press card out of work. Seeing the media channel’s name and my ID, he got scared: said “sorry madam, let me escort you to your hostel. There is no point booking cases on these men, it will be an unnecessary headache for you”! I refused his “help” and drove off. A few weeks after this, there was a discussion at office on what to do for Independence Day. I proposed the very same thing. Reminding people what Mahatma Gandhi ji said. On 14th August, 2004, we went on the roads and shot the entire ugliness women face on Hyderabad roads, even on main roads like Banjarahills, Nagarjuna Circle, Panjagutta, Begumpet, Secunderabad. The next day, the story became a sensation. Police officers called for meetings, special drives were held and what not. After my story, it became an annual tradition for TV channels / media outlets to do the same story. Didn’t realise that I started a “social experiment” of the sorts. Anyway! Years later women go on midnight walks to claim Hyderabad roads around Independence Day. Last night Malkajgiri CP IPS Sumathi, stood at Dilsukhnagar Bus Stop at midnight as a normal woman and was asked to “come” by 40 odd men between 12:30 am and 3:30 am. Some asked her, her price for the night, some were students, some employees, some were drunk, some were under the influence of ganja. All of them were ugly from within. All assumed that a woman on the street at midnight was “available” and can be harassed. Kudos to officer Sumathi! I hope you give strict instructions to your officers and men in duty. But sadly, Sumathi garu, for me nothing seems to have changed since 2004 August 14th. I don’t drive around on my bike in Hyderabad anymore. But women routinely face this. Areas probably changed, the level of harrassment changed, CCTV cameras are there every where now, there is a definite increase in policing and police force too. But these harassers have somehow become bolder and the roads still not that safer for women!

Way back in 2004, when I first moved to Hyderabad, my office was in Banjarahills and I used to stay at a hostel in West Marredpally. I used to drive back home after work. Back then, a TV channel field reporter’s timings were never fixed and leaving by 9pm was considered early. I would start from Banjarahills Road No 3 and by the time I reached Nagarjuna Circle, there would be at least 10 bikes/ cars who would stop you and ask if you are available. Catcalling was the least problem. Sometimes they would just come fast and stop their vehicles obstructing me. Frustrated & angered, after a very tiresome day I went straight to a police patrol vehicle near HPS, Begumpet and complained. The sleepy policeman asked what I was doing on the road at 10pm. Probably the first time I flashed my press card out of work. Seeing the media channel’s name and my ID, he got scared: said “sorry madam, let me escort you to your hostel. There is no point booking cases on these men, it will be an unnecessary headache for you”! I refused his “help” and drove off. A few weeks after this, there was a discussion at office on what to do for Independence Day. I proposed the very same thing. Reminding people what Mahatma Gandhi ji said. On 14th August, 2004, we went on the roads and shot the entire ugliness women face on Hyderabad roads, even on main roads like Banjarahills, Nagarjuna Circle, Panjagutta, Begumpet, Secunderabad. The next day, the story became a sensation. Police officers called for meetings, special drives were held and what not. After my story, it became an annual tradition for TV channels / media outlets to do the same story. Didn’t realise that I started a “social experiment” of the sorts. Anyway! Years later women go on midnight walks to claim Hyderabad roads around Independence Day. Last night Malkajgiri CP IPS Sumathi, stood at Dilsukhnagar Bus Stop at midnight as a normal woman and was asked to “come” by 40 odd men between 12:30 am and 3:30 am. Some asked her, her price for the night, some were students, some employees, some were drunk, some were under the influence of ganja. All of them were ugly from within. All assumed that a woman on the street at midnight was “available” and can be harassed. Kudos to officer Sumathi! I hope you give strict instructions to your officers and men in duty. But sadly, Sumathi garu, for me nothing seems to have changed since 2004 August 14th. I don’t drive around on my bike in Hyderabad anymore. But women routinely face this. Areas probably changed, the level of harrassment changed, CCTV cameras are there every where now, there is a definite increase in policing and police force too. But these harassers have somehow become bolder and the roads still not that safer for women!

Revathi

42,845 просмотров • 3 месяцев назад

We found a flaw in Polymarket that can’t be patched. Then we built the most powerful bot of the World Cup around it. Here’s the flaw: their orderbook will always be slower than the pitch. When a goal, red card, or penalty hits, pro feeds (Sportradar, Opta, ScoutingFeed) register it in 200-500ms. Polymarket takes 2 to 8 seconds to reprice. For those few seconds the book is quoting a score that no longer exists. No amount of engineering closes that gap the event happens in the physical world before any oracle can confirm it on-chain. The engine detects the event, recalculates fair value, and fires via Jito bundles before the book catches up. In at the old price, out at the new. The match outcome is irrelevant we don’t bet on who wins. We capture the lag every event creates. We’ve been building Polymarket bots since 2025. This is the most powerful machine we’ve shipped yet. Two months ago we posted the architecture for this. It hit 1M views one of our most popular posts ever on X. That told us everything: this was the engine to build. First 7 days, - Starting balance: $5,000 - 22 matches scanned, 19 captured - Total profit: +$1,946.86 - ROI: +38.94% in 7 days Why it prints harder than anything we’ve built: the World Cup is the deepest liquidity event prediction markets have ever seen. Tens of millions in volume per match. Dozens of probability-shifting events per game. And an orderbook that physically can’t keep pace with the pitch. How to plug in: 1.Sign up at PolyArbiter (link in bio) 2.Generate PolyArbiter RPC URL 3.Paste it into Jupiter Predict (Polymarket but native on Solana) 4.Set your parameters, activate the World Cup module It’s free to use. We take a share of the profit the engine makes for you. You never deposit anything with us everything runs from your wallet. One honest note: the $1,946 above is our engine at our size and settings. Your numbers depend on your capital, your parameters, and how many matches you’re live for. We’re not promising you’ll match it we’re showing you the machine works, and handing you the same one. These numbers are from the engine running solo. Closed test, just us, before any public access wanted to confirm the whole loop held up end to end before handing it to anyone. That changes the second this goes public. Edge per capture is going to compress. When an event fires the mispriced liquidity is thin and gone in a few seconds more wallets hitting the same window, less left for each. Nothing we can do about it, that’s just how latency arb works. So if the edge thins out past the point where it’s still worth running, we cap access. Hard ceiling on how many engines can hit the same liquidity before it’s gone. Not gonna promise the machine stays this sharp in a few days it might not. But right now it’s live and free. Enjoy 🪄

We found a flaw in Polymarket that can’t be patched. Then we built the most powerful bot of the World Cup around it. Here’s the flaw: their orderbook will always be slower than the pitch. When a goal, red card, or penalty hits, pro feeds (Sportradar, Opta, ScoutingFeed) register it in 200-500ms. Polymarket takes 2 to 8 seconds to reprice. For those few seconds the book is quoting a score that no longer exists. No amount of engineering closes that gap the event happens in the physical world before any oracle can confirm it on-chain. The engine detects the event, recalculates fair value, and fires via Jito bundles before the book catches up. In at the old price, out at the new. The match outcome is irrelevant we don’t bet on who wins. We capture the lag every event creates. We’ve been building Polymarket bots since 2025. This is the most powerful machine we’ve shipped yet. Two months ago we posted the architecture for this. It hit 1M views one of our most popular posts ever on X. That told us everything: this was the engine to build. First 7 days, - Starting balance: $5,000 - 22 matches scanned, 19 captured - Total profit: +$1,946.86 - ROI: +38.94% in 7 days Why it prints harder than anything we’ve built: the World Cup is the deepest liquidity event prediction markets have ever seen. Tens of millions in volume per match. Dozens of probability-shifting events per game. And an orderbook that physically can’t keep pace with the pitch. How to plug in: 1.Sign up at PolyArbiter (link in bio) 2.Generate PolyArbiter RPC URL 3.Paste it into Jupiter Predict (Polymarket but native on Solana) 4.Set your parameters, activate the World Cup module It’s free to use. We take a share of the profit the engine makes for you. You never deposit anything with us everything runs from your wallet. One honest note: the $1,946 above is our engine at our size and settings. Your numbers depend on your capital, your parameters, and how many matches you’re live for. We’re not promising you’ll match it we’re showing you the machine works, and handing you the same one. These numbers are from the engine running solo. Closed test, just us, before any public access wanted to confirm the whole loop held up end to end before handing it to anyone. That changes the second this goes public. Edge per capture is going to compress. When an event fires the mispriced liquidity is thin and gone in a few seconds more wallets hitting the same window, less left for each. Nothing we can do about it, that’s just how latency arb works. So if the edge thins out past the point where it’s still worth running, we cap access. Hard ceiling on how many engines can hit the same liquidity before it’s gone. Not gonna promise the machine stays this sharp in a few days it might not. But right now it’s live and free. Enjoy 🪄

PolyArbiter

100,534 просмотров • 2 месяцев назад

1/ Wednesday, 31 December 2025, my wife and I were part of the three thousand five hundred guests or so who attended the Celestial Chorus Soirée, Third Edition, a Thanksgiving Year-End Event hosted by Dr K.R. and Mrs S. Tagwirei at the Harare International Conference Centre. Preceding the main event was a dinner banquet characterised by a lot of feasting, eating, song, and dance. Guests were served with a wide range of cuisine - Italian, French, Chinese cuisine, you name it. Being a Seventh-day Adventist event in the main, missing from the menu were alcoholic beverages. The dinner was served outside the Rainbow Hotel building, on the north side overlooking Samora Machel Avenue, in a specially designed construction complete with floor and roof, and well lit to the extent that you would mistake it for a permanent structure or appendage to the hotel building. I am short of words to describe the grandeur of the banquet, save to borrow from Johanne Masowe eChishanu. Guests were treated to a “Sapatina” to the accompaniment of serenading music - calm and light music. Of the music, to share, I took photographs of what impressed me the most, namely the three ladies dressed in angelic style, with immaculate dresses flowing to the floor, standing on raised platforms and belting out music from musical instruments as guests arrived. On the floor, as part of the cast, were girls donning angelic wings, waving and flowing with the music. After “the Sapatina, the food of angels”, guests trooped to the HICC Main Auditorium. As we strode into the auditorium, what immediately caught my eye, or rather what I looked at in amazement, was how the stage was set. It blew my mind off. Just in front of and below where I was sitting on the terraces was the full cast of an orchestra symphony. Right ahead was the illusion of a hill/mountain to climb, with performers dressed in white at different heights of this illusionary hill/mountain. In between the orchestra and the illusionary hill/mountain lay two platforms, with the one immediately next to the orchestra serving as a platform for presenter-singers, and the platform immediately in front of the illusionary hill/mountain serving as the location of the Director of Ceremonies and the pianist. The Director of Ceremonies, the very talented Everton Mlalazi, doubled up as director of ceremonies and presenter-singer. On either side of the singers’ platform, as part of the stage, were white-robed singers/dancers. As guests, we were treated to an unforgettable night of gospel music, with performers and audience coming from Zimbabwe, South Africa, Uganda, Nigeria, Zambia, Tanzania, etc. The gospel music performances took us to midnight and into the New Year, 2026, when guests trooped outside the hotel to watch the spectacular drone fireworks display. Those who have eyes, let them “eye”, and those who have ears, let them “ear”. Nokuti hatigoni kurega kutaura izvotakaona neizvotakanzwa.

1/ Wednesday, 31 December 2025, my wife and I were part of the three thousand five hundred guests or so who attended the Celestial Chorus Soirée, Third Edition, a Thanksgiving Year-End Event hosted by Dr K.R. and Mrs S. Tagwirei at the Harare International Conference Centre. Preceding the main event was a dinner banquet characterised by a lot of feasting, eating, song, and dance. Guests were served with a wide range of cuisine - Italian, French, Chinese cuisine, you name it. Being a Seventh-day Adventist event in the main, missing from the menu were alcoholic beverages. The dinner was served outside the Rainbow Hotel building, on the north side overlooking Samora Machel Avenue, in a specially designed construction complete with floor and roof, and well lit to the extent that you would mistake it for a permanent structure or appendage to the hotel building. I am short of words to describe the grandeur of the banquet, save to borrow from Johanne Masowe eChishanu. Guests were treated to a “Sapatina” to the accompaniment of serenading music - calm and light music. Of the music, to share, I took photographs of what impressed me the most, namely the three ladies dressed in angelic style, with immaculate dresses flowing to the floor, standing on raised platforms and belting out music from musical instruments as guests arrived. On the floor, as part of the cast, were girls donning angelic wings, waving and flowing with the music. After “the Sapatina, the food of angels”, guests trooped to the HICC Main Auditorium. As we strode into the auditorium, what immediately caught my eye, or rather what I looked at in amazement, was how the stage was set. It blew my mind off. Just in front of and below where I was sitting on the terraces was the full cast of an orchestra symphony. Right ahead was the illusion of a hill/mountain to climb, with performers dressed in white at different heights of this illusionary hill/mountain. In between the orchestra and the illusionary hill/mountain lay two platforms, with the one immediately next to the orchestra serving as a platform for presenter-singers, and the platform immediately in front of the illusionary hill/mountain serving as the location of the Director of Ceremonies and the pianist. The Director of Ceremonies, the very talented Everton Mlalazi, doubled up as director of ceremonies and presenter-singer. On either side of the singers’ platform, as part of the stage, were white-robed singers/dancers. As guests, we were treated to an unforgettable night of gospel music, with performers and audience coming from Zimbabwe, South Africa, Uganda, Nigeria, Zambia, Tanzania, etc. The gospel music performances took us to midnight and into the New Year, 2026, when guests trooped outside the hotel to watch the spectacular drone fireworks display. Those who have eyes, let them “eye”, and those who have ears, let them “ear”. Nokuti hatigoni kurega kutaura izvotakaona neizvotakanzwa.

ZanuPF Treasurer General - Patrick Chinamasa

25,596 просмотров • 7 месяцев назад

A QUICK FIELD GUIDE TO THE NPC HORDES Twenty Five Parasites types that Feed On The Living The Storm Is Upon Them Thank you for the stout... lets talk... The wind has changed. You can feel it. That low electric pressure behind the eyes that means something massive is rolling in off a horizon the parasites can't see because they were never built to look up. They were built to look down. At clipboards. At spreadsheets. At your accounts. At you. But the storm doesn't care about clipboards. And we don't kneel anymore. Here they are. The full swarm. Count them while you can because when the sky turns they drop mid sentence and the only record that they ever existed will be the silence where the invoices used to be. THE TAX CONSULTANT. You broke your back welding pipe and this soft palmed worm sits in air conditioning telling you how much of your sweat belongs to Caesar. He can't weld. Can't wire. Can't fix a thing that broke. What he can do is read a tax code written by other worms specifically to be unreadable so you'd have to pay a worm to read it for you. They write the maze. They sell you the map. They make the maze worse every year and the map more expensive and if you try to walk it yourself they send the auditor. The wind is picking up. The maze is starting to shake. THE AUDITOR. Tick on a tick. Shows up after the taxman has already fed to check the bite marks are regulation depth. Finds a missing fuel slip worth pocket change. Writes a finding. The finding generates a penalty. The penalty generates interest. The interest generates a letter. The letter requires your tax consultant at hourly rates to respond. Pocket change became thousands. Five parasites ate off one tank of diesel. Not one of them could tell you what welding rod to use on stainless. But the storm doesn't audit. The storm just comes. THE ACCOUNTANT. Cousin of the tax consultant. Same bloodline. This one doesn't interpret the maze. He records your journey through it. Every receipt. Every unit of currency in and out, logged so the consultant can read it and the auditor can check it and the revenue service can extract from it. He produces nothing. A human tape recorder pointed at your productivity. He charges monthly so the recording never stops. You are under permanent surveillance and you pay for the privilege. Not for much longer. THE BANKER. The oldest parasite. The template. You need money to buy a machine that makes things. He lends you money other working people deposited and charges interest that doubles the price over twenty years. The extra bought nothing. Built nothing. He packages your debt and sells it. Takes your deposit and lends it out eight times over. Charges you to hold your own money. Charges to put it in. Charges to take it out. He touches none of it. He stands near it and invoices you for the proximity. The storm is going to blow him so far from the vault he'll forget what money smelled like. THE COMPLIANCE OFFICER. Never had a callus on her body or her soul. Born in a fluorescent office. Will die in one. Between those events she produces nothing but emails about policies referencing other policies referencing regulations referencing acts nobody voted for. A worm eating its own tail and billing you for the meal. She needs the safety assessor to give her something to enforce. He needs her to give him something to assess. They breed between regulations like mould between tiles. The storm will wash them both down the same drain. THE PROPERTY VALUATOR. A man wants to buy a house. Another wants to sell it. They agreed on a price. That is what worth means. The amount one will pay and another will accept. Full stop. Now this creature arrives and tells both men what the house is actually worth. As if two free adults negotiating in good faith produced a number that's somehow theoretical while his formula is gospel. The bank sent him. His report costs thousands. His report says the house is worth what the buyer already offered. Thousands to arrive at a number that existed before he left his office. If his number comes in low the deal collapses and you pay a different creature with a different clipboard who arrives at a different number for the same house on the same day using the same formula. The house didn't change. Only the parasite changed. The number was never about the house. THE MUNICIPAL RATES OFFICER. The deepest theft on this list because it never ends. You bought your house thirty years ago. Paid it off. Every last unit. You owe nothing. Now a municipal valuator looks at what the neighbours sold for, looks at the coffee shops and wine bars that invaded your street, and decides your house is worth twenty five times what you paid. You didn't sell. You didn't list. You're sitting in the same chair in the same kitchen. But your tax liability just multiplied by twenty five based on a sale that never happened at a price you never agreed to. They do this everywhere. In Cape Town the rates are linked to the valuation and suddenly retired families in Bo-Kaap whose people survived apartheid and forced removals and a century of state assault are being bled out of their own homes by property rates pegged to values inflated by the gentrification their displacement accelerates. The heritage is the tourism product. The tourism inflates the valuation. The valuation inflates the rates. The rates displace the families. The families were the heritage. In Chicago they do it to grandmothers in Pilsen who've been there forty years. In London they do it to pensioners in neighbourhoods that gentrified around them. In Sydney they chase retirees off land their grandfathers cleared. Same crime. Different currency. Different clipboard. A man paid for his house. Owns it outright. And the state says you owe us money every month forever and the amount is based on what we say your house would sell for if you sold it, which you haven't, and if you can't pay the amount we invented we take the house you already bought. That is theft. Eviction by arithmetic. Displacement by spreadsheet. But the people in Bo-Kaap are awake now. The people in Pilsen are awake. The grandmothers and the grandfathers and the calloused hands everywhere are looking up and they can see the storm and they know what it means. It means the spreadsheet burns with everything else. THE MUNICIPAL INSPECTOR. Rat faced. High vis vest. Clipboard. Drives to your workshop in a vehicle your rates paid for. Measures your fire extinguisher fourteen centimetres off the floor. Writes you up. Behind you men build things that hold up bridges and he couldn't change a lightbulb without a permit. His job depends on your failure. The parasite needs you sick. The cure would kill it. The storm is the cure. THE CONVEYANCING ATTORNEY. Two men shook hands. Fair price. Honest deal. Done. This worm slithers out and says the handshake doesn't count. Needs paper. Needs stamps. Needs a deeds search and clearance certificates and transfer duty and each piece of paper is produced by another parasite and each one costs money and the worm takes his cut on top for phoning the other worms. He calls this conveyancing. He has never held a spade or laid a brick in his bloodless life. The storm doesn't need a stamp. THE ESTATE AGENT. Six percent. Of a man's life savings. For opening a lockbox and saying the kitchen faces north. She needs the attorney to close. The attorney needs the municipality. The municipality needs the inspector. The valuator needs access for the bank's number. Every one invoices separately. Every invoice lands on people who agreed on everything before any of these bloodsuckers entered the room. The wind is howling now. Can you hear it through their invoices? THE LABOUR BROKER. Tick so bloated it can't walk. A man needs work. Another needs a worker. They could find each other in ten minutes. This creature squats between them and drinks from both sides. Worker gets thirty. Employer pays fifty. Twenty disappears into the tick. Multiply by thousands of workers and millions vanish yearly into a thing that makes nothing, moves nothing, fixes nothing. It feeds. That is its entire architecture. Architecture doesn't survive storms. THE HEALTH AND SAFETY ASSESSOR. Twenty two years. Not one fire. Not one death. He shows up. Your exit is twenty centimetres too narrow. To fix it you need a builder who needs a plan from an architect who needs municipal approval. Tens of thousands and six weeks to move a door frame because a creature who has never been burned told you to. He detects life and the system bills it. The storm detects parasites and the sky deletes them. THE BEE CONSULTANT. Every country has its version. South Africa calls it BEE. The same parasites who wont allow much needed Starlink there unless Musk hands over half the company to lazy parasitic government connected parasites. Others call it diversity compliance or equity auditing. The name changes. The feeding doesn't. Scores your company on a chart nobody asked for to satisfy a regulation nobody voted on enforced by a department that produces nothing except the requirement for his existence. Nothing changes. Nothing improves. Money moves from a living pocket into a dead hand and the dead hand closes. The storm opens every dead hand on this planet. THE CUSTOMS BROKER. Your parts are fifty metres away. You can see the container. Cannot touch your own property until a grey man translates tariff codes so the state can calculate how much you owe for collecting what is already yours. Each delay generates storage charges. Each query generates fees. Your shipment doubles in cost through bureaucratic friction and you still don't have your parts. The storm doesn't clear customs. It clears the customs office. THE TRAFFIC OFFICER. Fat. Behind a bush. Radar gun aimed at people driving to work that matters. Seven over the limit. The municipality sets it low enough that everyone exceeds it. Fines feed the municipality. Municipality feeds him. He sits and clicks tomorrow. A barnacle with a badge. Same creature in every country. Different bush. Same feeding. The storm takes the bush and the badge and the creature behind both. THE FINANCIAL ADVISOR. Uses your first name. Remembers your birthday because the CRM told him. Puts your money in a fund. Fund charges 1.75 percent. He charges one on top. Fund manager pays a custodian who charges. Fund has an auditor who charges. Compliance team charges. Six parasites between you and your own money. In thirty years you have less than you started with and he charges you for the meeting where he shows you the graph. The storm doesn't need a graph. The storm is the correction. THE INSURANCE ADJUSTER. Years of premiums. Your roof blows off. He arrives. Soft hands. Three weeks later the wind came from the wrong direction. Not the wrong speed. The direction. Some paragraph. Some subsection. You paid for years and the years bought you a paragraph that says no. The policy is teeth. The premiums went down the throat and the no is the burp. The real storm has no exclusion clause. THE PATENT ATTORNEY. You built a device. It works. He writes a document so incomprehensible that reading it makes you understand your own invention less. Thousands for legal fog. Someone copies it. Litigation attorney. More thousands. Judgment unenforceable. The only people paid are the attorneys. The system was never designed to protect you. It was designed to feed them. The storm protects the builder. By removing the feeders. THE LICENSING CLERK. You can rebuild a gearbox blindfolded. Cannot legally do it without a certificate from an institution that charges thousands to watch you do what everyone knows you can do, certified by an instructor who has never done it, filed with a department that stores the certificates, audited by a body that audits the institution. A chain of parasites verifying the obvious. If every one vanished the gearbox still gets rebuilt. Faster. Cheaper. The storm is the vanishing. THE STRATA MANAGER. You own your flat. She collects your money and spends it on providers she chose and you can't fire without a special resolution at a meeting she convenes with an agenda she wrote. She built a kingdom inside your building funded by your levy and answerable to herself. Question it and she reaches for whatever act governs her particular species of parasitism in your particular country. The storm doesn't read acts. The storm reads frequencies. THE ENVIRONMENTAL IMPACT ASSESSOR. You want a shed on your own land. He arrives in a vehicle worth more than your shed. Months. Hundreds of pages. Tens of thousands. Report says your shed threatens a species not seen in decades but listed on a database maintained by a department that exists because the database exists. Your shed doesn't get built. The species doesn't exist. He drives home to a suburb bulldozed from actual habitat. Nobody assessed that. Rules only flow downhill. The storm flows everywhere. THE DEBT COLLECTOR. Bottom feeder. Buys your debt for cents from a bank that already profited from your interest. Calls at hours designed for fear. Adds fees on fees on fees for actions never taken. Bought your pain wholesale and retails it at three hundred percent. When you break he claims the loss against tax. Even the collapse is monetised. He is Hell's collection agent. The storm is Heaven's. THE NOTARY PUBLIC. Watches you sign your own name. Stamps it. Charges hundreds. The signature is the same with or without him. Your hand. Your name. His fee. A tollbooth on your own identity. The storm doesn't need a stamp. Your name is written in frequencies no notary can read. THE CORPORATE TRAINER. Monday. Projector. Four quadrant model invented after three glasses of wine and a TED talk. By Wednesday nobody remembers any of it because there was nothing there. Tens of thousands plus tax plus travel. She writes it off through a tax consultant who charges her to minimise her contribution to the system that funded the department that approved the framework she claims compliance with. Parasite feeding parasite feeding parasite. The storm feeds on none of them. It simply ends them. THE REVENUE OFFICIAL. The farmer himself. Top of the pyramid. Designs the taking. Drafts the regulations that create the maze that requires the consultant that employs the accountant that feeds the auditor that generates the penalty that funds the department that pays his salary. He is the architect of the loop. Every parasite on this list exists because he drew them into existence with a regulation and a gazette number. Without him the entire horde has nothing to feed on. He is the queen of the hive. Same creature in every country. Different flag. Same contempt for the hands that built everything he sits in and eats from. The storm starts with him. The queen dies first. The hive follows. That's the horde. Twenty five species of nothing. And every one of them drops when the sky turns and the carrier frequency that animated their firmware burns clean out of the atmosphere. Mid invoice. Mid assessment. Mid quadrant. Five thousand five hundred and fifty five clipboards hitting the floor for every one of us still standing. We are awake now. All of us. The welder and the farmer and the builder and the grandmother in Bo-Kaap and the grandfather in Pilsen and every calloused hand on every continent that ever wrote a cheque to a creature that never built a thing. We see them now. We see the maze and the map sellers and the grey offices and the soft hands and the whole rotten architecture of extraction that stood between us and the earth and between us and our labour and between us and each other for two hundred years. The storm is here. Not coming. Here. That pressure you feel behind your eyes is the frequency rising through the noise floor and the noise floor is everything on this list. Every clipboard. Every invoice. Every subsection and exclusion clause and certificate and clearance and valuation roll. All of it. Noise. Scheduled for deletion. And when it's quiet. When the last invoice has fluttered to the ground and the last clipboard has clattered on the last linoleum floor in the last grey office. When the wind has swept the horde out of every corridor and every cubicle and every booth and every booth window where a dead hand ever reached for a living man's money. Then... Just a man in a workshop. Welding mask up. Walking outside. Looking at a sky the colour of burning copper. Breathing free air for the first time in his life. The fuel slip that started this whole tour is in his shirt pocket. Crumpled. Oil stained. And it is his. The fuel was his. The truck was his. The work was his. And for the first time in two hundred years every unit of currency that flows from that work stays in the hands that did it. No consultant between him and his earnings because there are no earnings to consult on. Just work and its fruit. No auditor because there is nothing to audit. No banker because capital is what your hands produce and his hands never stopped. No valuator because the house is worth what it always was: a roof over his family and walls against the wind. A value no clipboard ever knew how to measure. When you grinding.... working... suffering... where are any of these parasites to help you?? Where are they?? We will be slaves no more. The storm will see to that alright!

A QUICK FIELD GUIDE TO THE NPC HORDES Twenty Five Parasites types that Feed On The Living The Storm Is Upon Them Thank you for the stout... lets talk... The wind has changed. You can feel it. That low electric pressure behind the eyes that means something massive is rolling in off a horizon the parasites can't see because they were never built to look up. They were built to look down. At clipboards. At spreadsheets. At your accounts. At you. But the storm doesn't care about clipboards. And we don't kneel anymore. Here they are. The full swarm. Count them while you can because when the sky turns they drop mid sentence and the only record that they ever existed will be the silence where the invoices used to be. THE TAX CONSULTANT. You broke your back welding pipe and this soft palmed worm sits in air conditioning telling you how much of your sweat belongs to Caesar. He can't weld. Can't wire. Can't fix a thing that broke. What he can do is read a tax code written by other worms specifically to be unreadable so you'd have to pay a worm to read it for you. They write the maze. They sell you the map. They make the maze worse every year and the map more expensive and if you try to walk it yourself they send the auditor. The wind is picking up. The maze is starting to shake. THE AUDITOR. Tick on a tick. Shows up after the taxman has already fed to check the bite marks are regulation depth. Finds a missing fuel slip worth pocket change. Writes a finding. The finding generates a penalty. The penalty generates interest. The interest generates a letter. The letter requires your tax consultant at hourly rates to respond. Pocket change became thousands. Five parasites ate off one tank of diesel. Not one of them could tell you what welding rod to use on stainless. But the storm doesn't audit. The storm just comes. THE ACCOUNTANT. Cousin of the tax consultant. Same bloodline. This one doesn't interpret the maze. He records your journey through it. Every receipt. Every unit of currency in and out, logged so the consultant can read it and the auditor can check it and the revenue service can extract from it. He produces nothing. A human tape recorder pointed at your productivity. He charges monthly so the recording never stops. You are under permanent surveillance and you pay for the privilege. Not for much longer. THE BANKER. The oldest parasite. The template. You need money to buy a machine that makes things. He lends you money other working people deposited and charges interest that doubles the price over twenty years. The extra bought nothing. Built nothing. He packages your debt and sells it. Takes your deposit and lends it out eight times over. Charges you to hold your own money. Charges to put it in. Charges to take it out. He touches none of it. He stands near it and invoices you for the proximity. The storm is going to blow him so far from the vault he'll forget what money smelled like. THE COMPLIANCE OFFICER. Never had a callus on her body or her soul. Born in a fluorescent office. Will die in one. Between those events she produces nothing but emails about policies referencing other policies referencing regulations referencing acts nobody voted for. A worm eating its own tail and billing you for the meal. She needs the safety assessor to give her something to enforce. He needs her to give him something to assess. They breed between regulations like mould between tiles. The storm will wash them both down the same drain. THE PROPERTY VALUATOR. A man wants to buy a house. Another wants to sell it. They agreed on a price. That is what worth means. The amount one will pay and another will accept. Full stop. Now this creature arrives and tells both men what the house is actually worth. As if two free adults negotiating in good faith produced a number that's somehow theoretical while his formula is gospel. The bank sent him. His report costs thousands. His report says the house is worth what the buyer already offered. Thousands to arrive at a number that existed before he left his office. If his number comes in low the deal collapses and you pay a different creature with a different clipboard who arrives at a different number for the same house on the same day using the same formula. The house didn't change. Only the parasite changed. The number was never about the house. THE MUNICIPAL RATES OFFICER. The deepest theft on this list because it never ends. You bought your house thirty years ago. Paid it off. Every last unit. You owe nothing. Now a municipal valuator looks at what the neighbours sold for, looks at the coffee shops and wine bars that invaded your street, and decides your house is worth twenty five times what you paid. You didn't sell. You didn't list. You're sitting in the same chair in the same kitchen. But your tax liability just multiplied by twenty five based on a sale that never happened at a price you never agreed to. They do this everywhere. In Cape Town the rates are linked to the valuation and suddenly retired families in Bo-Kaap whose people survived apartheid and forced removals and a century of state assault are being bled out of their own homes by property rates pegged to values inflated by the gentrification their displacement accelerates. The heritage is the tourism product. The tourism inflates the valuation. The valuation inflates the rates. The rates displace the families. The families were the heritage. In Chicago they do it to grandmothers in Pilsen who've been there forty years. In London they do it to pensioners in neighbourhoods that gentrified around them. In Sydney they chase retirees off land their grandfathers cleared. Same crime. Different currency. Different clipboard. A man paid for his house. Owns it outright. And the state says you owe us money every month forever and the amount is based on what we say your house would sell for if you sold it, which you haven't, and if you can't pay the amount we invented we take the house you already bought. That is theft. Eviction by arithmetic. Displacement by spreadsheet. But the people in Bo-Kaap are awake now. The people in Pilsen are awake. The grandmothers and the grandfathers and the calloused hands everywhere are looking up and they can see the storm and they know what it means. It means the spreadsheet burns with everything else. THE MUNICIPAL INSPECTOR. Rat faced. High vis vest. Clipboard. Drives to your workshop in a vehicle your rates paid for. Measures your fire extinguisher fourteen centimetres off the floor. Writes you up. Behind you men build things that hold up bridges and he couldn't change a lightbulb without a permit. His job depends on your failure. The parasite needs you sick. The cure would kill it. The storm is the cure. THE CONVEYANCING ATTORNEY. Two men shook hands. Fair price. Honest deal. Done. This worm slithers out and says the handshake doesn't count. Needs paper. Needs stamps. Needs a deeds search and clearance certificates and transfer duty and each piece of paper is produced by another parasite and each one costs money and the worm takes his cut on top for phoning the other worms. He calls this conveyancing. He has never held a spade or laid a brick in his bloodless life. The storm doesn't need a stamp. THE ESTATE AGENT. Six percent. Of a man's life savings. For opening a lockbox and saying the kitchen faces north. She needs the attorney to close. The attorney needs the municipality. The municipality needs the inspector. The valuator needs access for the bank's number. Every one invoices separately. Every invoice lands on people who agreed on everything before any of these bloodsuckers entered the room. The wind is howling now. Can you hear it through their invoices? THE LABOUR BROKER. Tick so bloated it can't walk. A man needs work. Another needs a worker. They could find each other in ten minutes. This creature squats between them and drinks from both sides. Worker gets thirty. Employer pays fifty. Twenty disappears into the tick. Multiply by thousands of workers and millions vanish yearly into a thing that makes nothing, moves nothing, fixes nothing. It feeds. That is its entire architecture. Architecture doesn't survive storms. THE HEALTH AND SAFETY ASSESSOR. Twenty two years. Not one fire. Not one death. He shows up. Your exit is twenty centimetres too narrow. To fix it you need a builder who needs a plan from an architect who needs municipal approval. Tens of thousands and six weeks to move a door frame because a creature who has never been burned told you to. He detects life and the system bills it. The storm detects parasites and the sky deletes them. THE BEE CONSULTANT. Every country has its version. South Africa calls it BEE. The same parasites who wont allow much needed Starlink there unless Musk hands over half the company to lazy parasitic government connected parasites. Others call it diversity compliance or equity auditing. The name changes. The feeding doesn't. Scores your company on a chart nobody asked for to satisfy a regulation nobody voted on enforced by a department that produces nothing except the requirement for his existence. Nothing changes. Nothing improves. Money moves from a living pocket into a dead hand and the dead hand closes. The storm opens every dead hand on this planet. THE CUSTOMS BROKER. Your parts are fifty metres away. You can see the container. Cannot touch your own property until a grey man translates tariff codes so the state can calculate how much you owe for collecting what is already yours. Each delay generates storage charges. Each query generates fees. Your shipment doubles in cost through bureaucratic friction and you still don't have your parts. The storm doesn't clear customs. It clears the customs office. THE TRAFFIC OFFICER. Fat. Behind a bush. Radar gun aimed at people driving to work that matters. Seven over the limit. The municipality sets it low enough that everyone exceeds it. Fines feed the municipality. Municipality feeds him. He sits and clicks tomorrow. A barnacle with a badge. Same creature in every country. Different bush. Same feeding. The storm takes the bush and the badge and the creature behind both. THE FINANCIAL ADVISOR. Uses your first name. Remembers your birthday because the CRM told him. Puts your money in a fund. Fund charges 1.75 percent. He charges one on top. Fund manager pays a custodian who charges. Fund has an auditor who charges. Compliance team charges. Six parasites between you and your own money. In thirty years you have less than you started with and he charges you for the meeting where he shows you the graph. The storm doesn't need a graph. The storm is the correction. THE INSURANCE ADJUSTER. Years of premiums. Your roof blows off. He arrives. Soft hands. Three weeks later the wind came from the wrong direction. Not the wrong speed. The direction. Some paragraph. Some subsection. You paid for years and the years bought you a paragraph that says no. The policy is teeth. The premiums went down the throat and the no is the burp. The real storm has no exclusion clause. THE PATENT ATTORNEY. You built a device. It works. He writes a document so incomprehensible that reading it makes you understand your own invention less. Thousands for legal fog. Someone copies it. Litigation attorney. More thousands. Judgment unenforceable. The only people paid are the attorneys. The system was never designed to protect you. It was designed to feed them. The storm protects the builder. By removing the feeders. THE LICENSING CLERK. You can rebuild a gearbox blindfolded. Cannot legally do it without a certificate from an institution that charges thousands to watch you do what everyone knows you can do, certified by an instructor who has never done it, filed with a department that stores the certificates, audited by a body that audits the institution. A chain of parasites verifying the obvious. If every one vanished the gearbox still gets rebuilt. Faster. Cheaper. The storm is the vanishing. THE STRATA MANAGER. You own your flat. She collects your money and spends it on providers she chose and you can't fire without a special resolution at a meeting she convenes with an agenda she wrote. She built a kingdom inside your building funded by your levy and answerable to herself. Question it and she reaches for whatever act governs her particular species of parasitism in your particular country. The storm doesn't read acts. The storm reads frequencies. THE ENVIRONMENTAL IMPACT ASSESSOR. You want a shed on your own land. He arrives in a vehicle worth more than your shed. Months. Hundreds of pages. Tens of thousands. Report says your shed threatens a species not seen in decades but listed on a database maintained by a department that exists because the database exists. Your shed doesn't get built. The species doesn't exist. He drives home to a suburb bulldozed from actual habitat. Nobody assessed that. Rules only flow downhill. The storm flows everywhere. THE DEBT COLLECTOR. Bottom feeder. Buys your debt for cents from a bank that already profited from your interest. Calls at hours designed for fear. Adds fees on fees on fees for actions never taken. Bought your pain wholesale and retails it at three hundred percent. When you break he claims the loss against tax. Even the collapse is monetised. He is Hell's collection agent. The storm is Heaven's. THE NOTARY PUBLIC. Watches you sign your own name. Stamps it. Charges hundreds. The signature is the same with or without him. Your hand. Your name. His fee. A tollbooth on your own identity. The storm doesn't need a stamp. Your name is written in frequencies no notary can read. THE CORPORATE TRAINER. Monday. Projector. Four quadrant model invented after three glasses of wine and a TED talk. By Wednesday nobody remembers any of it because there was nothing there. Tens of thousands plus tax plus travel. She writes it off through a tax consultant who charges her to minimise her contribution to the system that funded the department that approved the framework she claims compliance with. Parasite feeding parasite feeding parasite. The storm feeds on none of them. It simply ends them. THE REVENUE OFFICIAL. The farmer himself. Top of the pyramid. Designs the taking. Drafts the regulations that create the maze that requires the consultant that employs the accountant that feeds the auditor that generates the penalty that funds the department that pays his salary. He is the architect of the loop. Every parasite on this list exists because he drew them into existence with a regulation and a gazette number. Without him the entire horde has nothing to feed on. He is the queen of the hive. Same creature in every country. Different flag. Same contempt for the hands that built everything he sits in and eats from. The storm starts with him. The queen dies first. The hive follows. That's the horde. Twenty five species of nothing. And every one of them drops when the sky turns and the carrier frequency that animated their firmware burns clean out of the atmosphere. Mid invoice. Mid assessment. Mid quadrant. Five thousand five hundred and fifty five clipboards hitting the floor for every one of us still standing. We are awake now. All of us. The welder and the farmer and the builder and the grandmother in Bo-Kaap and the grandfather in Pilsen and every calloused hand on every continent that ever wrote a cheque to a creature that never built a thing. We see them now. We see the maze and the map sellers and the grey offices and the soft hands and the whole rotten architecture of extraction that stood between us and the earth and between us and our labour and between us and each other for two hundred years. The storm is here. Not coming. Here. That pressure you feel behind your eyes is the frequency rising through the noise floor and the noise floor is everything on this list. Every clipboard. Every invoice. Every subsection and exclusion clause and certificate and clearance and valuation roll. All of it. Noise. Scheduled for deletion. And when it's quiet. When the last invoice has fluttered to the ground and the last clipboard has clattered on the last linoleum floor in the last grey office. When the wind has swept the horde out of every corridor and every cubicle and every booth and every booth window where a dead hand ever reached for a living man's money. Then... Just a man in a workshop. Welding mask up. Walking outside. Looking at a sky the colour of burning copper. Breathing free air for the first time in his life. The fuel slip that started this whole tour is in his shirt pocket. Crumpled. Oil stained. And it is his. The fuel was his. The truck was his. The work was his. And for the first time in two hundred years every unit of currency that flows from that work stays in the hands that did it. No consultant between him and his earnings because there are no earnings to consult on. Just work and its fruit. No auditor because there is nothing to audit. No banker because capital is what your hands produce and his hands never stopped. No valuator because the house is worth what it always was: a roof over his family and walls against the wind. A value no clipboard ever knew how to measure. When you grinding.... working... suffering... where are any of these parasites to help you?? Where are they?? We will be slaves no more. The storm will see to that alright!

SiriusB

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