I agree with you! Mainly I was focusing on what they could do going forward from the fix they're currently in.

There seems to be two loud audiences in the community: The fanbois who think Identity can do no wrong, and the ragers who melt down at every real or perceived issue. But there is a third group, and I think it's a lot of us, who both acknowledge some issues, feel some disappointment, yet keep things in perspective and remain hopeful. I think I fall into that category. I'm not a game dev expert, but I do work on a software product team and I'm a liaison to the marketing and PR team so I've seen some things. Here's my 2 cents on what I'd do starting right now if I were Asylum: 1. PR move: Apologize. You're Canadians, so you're good at it. You need to acknowledge you misled people as to the playability of the module 1 release and give acknowledgement to the hard feelings in the community right now. 2. Business strategy: Freeze Steam. It is nothing but an open sore of expectation mismatch resulting in negative reviews. 3. Project management: Identify what are the top 3 issues and when they'll be patched (this will be for the benefit of the community later). Create a waterfall roadmap of the next 3-5 weeks internally. 4. Technical move: Form an Alpha or Closed Beta test (CBT) group. Offer the community some full-release swag for participating in what you will clearly frame as a buggy process (this is expectation management). 5. PR/PM move: Announce the top 3 issues and when they'll be fixed. Update daily. (Also expectation management) I've been in Alphas and Betas for other games and the entire tone of the community would be different if expectations were framed up properly. People expect a lot of bugs and limited server windows in Alpha and they feel special being a part of it. Similarly people expect some bugs in a Beta and feel special being a part of it. What happened is something presented as a limited functionality full game was released in an Alpha state, and charged for at that, and everyone is (somewhat understandably) losing their minds. Some companies have even split bets into closed betas (limited audience, limited server windows), and open betas. It all comes back to expectation management and who is really framing the narrative here. Asylum has an opportunity to take the high ground and control the narrative in a positive way. Your move.

Freedom and Prosperity Party checking in.

I too like it. Not only does it give more players something to do, more critically it increases player representation in government. Checks and balances.

I find it interesting because if this sim is worth it's salt we might see how some real world political ideas play out in a microcosm. I too have a strong Classical Liberal affiliation. I'd like to see a functional minarchy in whatever server I'm in.

https://terminal.bubbleapps.io/newswire See the top 5 companies our analysts are watching. Questions/discussion welcome.

Excellent. We could use your help. Drop in our Galts Gulch discord and introduce yourself!

Just want to drop a note to say this is a thing. We are developing the Manus Financial Terminal (think Bloomberg Terminal for Identity) right now. It will allow analysts and business leaders (that could be you) to input company performance metrics. Users can then use the tool to find where they want to direct money or talent. Stay tuned for a link. Drop in on our discord if you want to be the most up to date and influence the end result.

Excellent question. The caduceus represents commerce and trade. I find it interesting that some countries use it at their borders, because they tend to be more like obstacles to trade than anything else. I think they imagine themselves facilitating commerce somehow.

“Why are we meeting here, and why are you buying me dinner?” The fat man asked through a muffled Russian accent. Corvus Black tapped his cigarette into the ashtray. Smoking in a restaurant is typically illegal, but this wasn’t exactly a legal restaurant. “You’re moving 20 kilos of uncut to Manhattan tomorrow.” Corvus replied smugly. The fat man’s eyes opened wide. He set down his fork and knife and pulled the cloth napkin out of his collar, dropping it on the table. “Well I guess I’m not now, if the police knows about it.” Corvus took a quick puff on his cigarette. “The police don’t know. I know.” “You’re the police.” The man said indignantly. The looked at the food and his drink, and back at Corvus. “You want something.” Corvus smiled. “You just now figured that out? Yes I want something. A name.” The fat man started cutting his next bite. “What name?” “Human traffic…” “Forget it.” The man interrupted him. “I deal in powder. I don’t know any human traffickers.” “But, you see, you do.” Corvus replied, leaning forward. “Your agent who moves your powder out of Columbia. He moves girls too.” “How do you know this?” Asked the fat man doubtfully. “Well I know people.” “Your job is strapping boots on parked cars.” Corvus frowned. “That’s only… a temporary thing.” The fat man nodded, chewing his food slowly. “I can’t give you my supplier or I don’t have a supply.” “You will give me your supplier or you don’t have a business. I have plenty of friends in narcotics.” “This is bullshit.” The fat man protested. Corvus set is phone on the table. “Want to find out Eddie? I make a call, you make a call, and we’ll see if you even have a stash in five minutes.” The man frowned deeply. “It’s Eduard. You make me sound Italian.” There was a long silence. “Max” “I need more than that.” “Maxwell Sperilli.” “Ah, so we are talking Italian.” “Maybe but his crowd looks more Spanish. He operates out of Birchall Avenue.” Corvus tapped the table and stood. “Eat up. It’s on me.” Less than an hour later the 2 Train was roaring overhead as Corvus walked up to an auto repair shop that doubled as a small scrap yard. Perfect front business. Corvus thought. Corvus went around the side and let himself into the shop area. There were a few people working on cars, but they were too busy to notice him. He strolled to an office in the back. “Hey Max” he said with a warm smile to the lone man in the room. The man snapped his head up on hearing his name. That’s all the validation Corvus needed. He pulled out his M&P and pointed it at the man’s head. The man didn’t react, but after a few seconds said “Killing me is pointless. They’ll replace me by tomorrow.” “They who?” Corvus demanded as he sat in a chair to be less conspicuous to the rest of the shop. The man glanced around, as if looking for help. “Keep both hands on the desk, thank you.” Corvus instructed. “Villanova.” Max said. “I know who Villanova is. I’m talking about the girls.” There was another long pause. “Vargas. Bonita Vargas.” “A woman?” Corvus asked, genuinely surprised. “From where?” Max nodded. “Santiago, Chile” Corvus stood, picked up a file folder off the desk, rolled it into a funnel, placed it around the barrel of his gun, and fired two shots.

Laurie Strode dropped her duffel bag, hopped up and down and shook her arms to try to regain circulation after having sat in cramped quarters for a few hours. It was the first time she had ever been on a military aircraft, a A-C-130 operated by the National Guard as assistance to Medecins Sans Frontieres, or Doctors Without Borders. She shouldered her bag and trudged across the tarmac to a van that was waiting for them. Central Chile had another earthquake, and things were a mess. Laurie, an ER nurse in Philadelphia, was getting bored and wanted some adventure. That’s how she got roped into a short trip with MSF. And here she was, in a place called Puerto Montt, a place she hadn't even heard of till days earlier. She small relief tent village was packed to overflowing. Anyone not awaiting surgery were being moved back out to the streets. Laurie found herself going down the street with a few other volunteers and a translator, helping people that were queued for the relief camp. As night came on Laurie was working herself to the bone. She barely scarfed down two granola bars since she landed. As the glow of the sun faded she felt herself becoming noticeably cold. She had forgotten both that the seasons were reversed in the southern hemisphere, and that central Chile was quite a ways toward the antarctic. They began disseminating wool blankets but it soon became clear that many Chileans were in for a miserable night. Just uphill from where they were Laurie noticed a warehouse. It was rather new and clean which stood out in stark contrast to most of the dingy cement village buildings around it. Laurie began to imagine how useful this building would be. She walked up to the chain link fence, crowned in barbed wire. It was padlocked. Laurie shook the fence in frustration, the chains jingling mockingly in the crisp cool air. Light sliced across her as a door opened halfway. A man leaned out. “Yes?” he asked. Laurie wanted to just walk away, embarrassed. But she had to ask. “We need this building for emergency purposes.” She said with all of the authority she could muster. The man looked down the street, then at her. “Okay.” he replied. He stepped out the door and began walking towards the gate, fishing keys from his pocket. Laurie was stunned. “Fine.” she snapped. “I mean, okay. I mean, thank you.” The man opened the padlock, then swung the gate wide open. Then he walked over to a garage door and started to unlock that. He looked back at Laurie questioningly. She realized then she was just standing there. “I’ll be right back” she said, then turned on her heel and started for the relief camp. Three very busy hours later most of the survivors had been moved into the warehouse. Laurie noticed the man watching. She walked over to him and stuck out her hand. “Thank you, really.” She said. “This is very generous of you. I’m Laurie. I didn’t catch your name.” “Manus.” He said. “And this isn’t generous at all. This is entirely selfish.” Laurie shot him a confused look, so he continued. “This is a socialist country, Laurie. A business is only as safe as its relationship to the Mayor and the Bishop. The only way to secure my place here is to be generous.” He smiled. “And bribe a little bit.”

I like this in theory, but in practice Marie-Clare Bouchard is of questionable reputation, particularly as a person who brings unity. I think at this point the best right-coalition is the CCP.

Awesome. Feel free to hop on Galts Gulch discord and say hi when you feel like it.

Not directly but similar to how we will channel money to the best growing companies we'll also channel manpower and talent to the best companies.

Blade rapped his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently. He didn’t like waiting. At least, not this kind of waiting. He briefly took off his aviator sunglasses and wiped the sweat off his nose. Goddam Sao Paulo is hot. He had no working AC and the windows on his ‘92 F150 were down. There she is. A woman, blonde, drove by quickly in her Honda Del Sol. Behind her was a Suburban with some unhappy characters in it. He started his engine and began to follow them. After a few turns he stopped, letting them go on without him. He found a parking spot on the congested street, grabbed a guitar case, and hopped out of the pickup. 30 seconds later Blade was on the roof of the nondescript cement apartment, 5 stories up. He opened his guitar case to reveal a .300 Winchester Magnum with a sizeable scope. He wasn’t the kind of operator to carefully put a weapon together piece by piece, so the guitar case was his favorite way to move his weapons intact and ready to rock-n-roll. He picked it up lovingly, along with a towel and a clip of ammo, then made his way to the edge of the building. He didn’t bother to extend the bipod, choosing rather to rest his weapon on the towel on the ledge of the building. He peered down his scope, already ranged for 522 yards, and started to control his breathing. In a minute a woman appeared in a 5th story apartment window. She opened it, looked out nervously, then sat down beside it, facing her door. Blade gingerly let his trigger finger curl around the trigger, his calm, slow breathing made him sound like a man asleep. The door in the woman’s apartment burst open, and the two unhappy looking men stepped in and started talking angrily at the woman. <Bang> bolt-action-pump, <bang>. As he peered back through his scope, both the men were out of sight. Blood was sprayed on the door they had come through. The woman stood, slowly, and closed the window. Blade dropped his mag, pumped out his chambered round, and collected it. “This is private property.” A voice boomed behind him. Blade spun onto his back, drawing a glock from his ankle holster and pointing it at the man. “The hell do you want?” Blade demanded. “I was going to say that you get off my property.” The man said, pausing a long time. “But… uh. Hmm. You’re not government, are you.” Blade didn’t expect this. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded, shaking his sidearm a little for emphasis. “Manus. Manus Blair. I’m just a businessman here in town. And you are?” Blade sized the man up carefully. “Blade Holdin.” he answered. Manus laughed. “What were your parents thinking?” Blade frowned, but started to lower his gun, only to jerk it up again as Manus stepped towards him. “Nah nah, it’s okay lad.” Magnus extended a hand. Blade could see Magnus was carrying, but Magnus hadn’t show one sign of self-awareness that comes with a man ready to pull his sidearm in a flash. Hesitantly he lowered his piece and extended his free hand. Manus pulled him to his feet. “Well I suppose you need to clean up here. How about an early dinner? I’ll buy.”