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Alexa was sitting cross legged before Sassie, with Aiov lying casually on the German Shepherd’s back. She had a metal bowl in her lap with chunks of fresh meat for Aiov and cooked meat for her large canine protector. It had been a difficult time as the dog had missed Aaron more and more, to the point that she had begun to refuse food. Aiov's enthusiasm, however, seemed to help slightly in countering that refusal, and Alexa had found that feeding them together at least got some food into the lonely Earth ambassador.
She scratched at the dog’s head as Aiov happily chomped on another scrap of meat. “Look at that! You won’t be outdone by a leokit now, will you?” She placed a cube of seared meat before Sassie’s nose. She sniffed it twice before eating. “You’re going to be so spoiled by the time we get him back. We’ll both get in trouble.”
Aiov snuggled into the thick black and tan fur, using her paw to guide the next morsel into her mouth. Sassie managed a few more pieces before turning her head away with a grunt. Satisfied with what she had achieved Alexa gave a few more scraps to Aiov before placing the bowl into the recycler. The loudspeakers throughout the Rinoxian vessel blared a loud message announcing they had now crossed into Hive space and that their readiness was being moved to level three.
Her door chimed. Opening it, she found Allistan in his new Terran Wolves uniform. “You need to come quickly, the Porkchop Express has arrived.”
As she grabbed Aaron's old leather jacket, Sassie immediately rose to follow which caused Aiov to roll to the floor. "You come," she spoke to the dog, then turned to the distinctly unhappy leokit who had just lost her warm pillow. "You stay, sorry.”
They walked briskly through the corridors of the Rinoxian warship towards a secure meeting room which had two Terran Wolves outside the door. Their black uniforms and red collars were easily identifiable and they gave sharp salutes as Alexa approached. “I told you not to salute.”
The two guards lowered their hands sheepishly as the doors opened. Sassie immediately surged past Alexa to happily greet the returning crew members. She moved from Ranjaz to Jaym, receiving many scratches and hugs. Even Eruwenn and Cygna received a quick examination, but she soon stopped when no sign of Aaron could be found. The German Shepherd forlornly returned to Alexa's side as the Awakened took a seat at the meeting table. “Is the room secure?”
Cygna, now in a smart black uniform with white collar, stood. “We have taken additional precautions due to the sensitive information we will be discussing.”
Tilting her head, Alexa took in the Fae’Dan’s new clothing. “You’re one of us now?”
Eruwenn gave a slight chuckle. Aside from Alexa, she was the only one not in uniform. “She lost a game of dalcho, or two.”
“Seven.” Ranjaz said with a wicked grin. “Don’t worry, she’s actually been a fairly competent assistant. Aside from her gambling issues, obviously.”
Her head drooping to look at her feet, Cygna replied, “I swear by Tulseria’s right hand, I will get you back for this!”
The Kittran’s grin grew more predatory. “Wanna bet?”
There was a long table by the wall where Embar was fixing himself a drink, He turned, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I approve of your recruiting techniques.”
The Kittran shrugged. “She’s worth it – even broke the code on this.” He tossed the recovered device onto the table as Embar returned and took his seat opposite him. “And, you’re going to want a stronger drink, General.”
Curiosity piqued, Allistan took his seat, preparing his notepad and pen. “What did you find?”
Ranjaz was about to speak when Eruwenn held up her hand. “I think we should let General Embar read this first. He can take a moment before we all continue.”
Raising an eyebrow, Embar sat down in a nearby chair and connected the device to a non-networked datapad. “Why me?” He began scrolling through the files, tapping on icons and delving deeper. His breathing suddenly stopped, his face contorting. Disbelief morphed into anger, and as his body tensed, anger turned to white-hot rage. He placed the datapad down on the table before him and stood, walking back towards the drinks table. He lowered his head, his body radiating anger as his muscles clenched and unclenched, then raised his fist into the air and slammed it into the table. Bottles, glasses and everything else it had held went crashing to the ground as it buckled under force of his blow. “We’re going to kill every last one of those Sentinel bastards!”
No longer smiling, Ranjaz stood. “You’re Tulseria damned right we are.”
Jaym was sitting silently, but she pulled a rag from her pocket and dabbed at her tears. After they had fled from the casino she had tried to help crack the encryption on the stolen device. Part of her wished they never had, as its contents had disturbed her so much. Now that they had finally caught up with Alexa, Embar and the others who had been on the Rinoxian homeworld, she empathised deeply with the pain this information was bringing. “It’s so awful, I’m so sorry Embar.”
Eruwenn patted the young Arkellian on the shoulder to comfort her as she looked at the Rinoxian. “Please believe me, General Warbringer. The council knew nothing of this.”
Alexa picked up the datapad, using her nanites to more quickly access the information. She grit her teeth, biting back her anger, then passed it quickly to Allistan. “You need to read this. Then we need to plan our next move.” She looked at the back of the unmoving Rinoxian. “Embar?”
Embar slowly turned around, his jaw set, determination in his eyes. “We keep this quiet. We’re on an active mission and need everyone focused on the job at hand.”
Allistan went to click his pen as he read, but with a gasp the pen fell from his fingers. “We can’t keep quiet, the galaxy needs to see this.”
The Rinoxian nodded. “They will. When the time is right.”

It had been two cycles and the incursion fleet had advanced deep into Hive space. Over half of the force accompanying them were the Rinoxians under their new Galactic Federation commanders. There were over a dozen Galactic Federation ships along with six Gowe destroyers, and a dozen ships from other races including the Niham and Kah’Ree. Admiral Pelar, on board the Blazing Dawn, commanded four Ashi ships including the Righteous Fury.
The smallest craft by far was the Porkchop Express, a speck amongst titans. Its white painted hull, chrome bull bars and bright cartoon logo were a stark contrast to the military ships it accompanied. Sassie was more comfortable now that she was in familiar territory, and slept on a pile of Aaron’s clothes in his quarters.
Allistan and Alexa were sitting opposite Jar’Bek in his small office. The Ashi looked exhausted as he finally put down his datapad. “I’m sorry to have kept you.”
Allistan fidgeted in his seat. “Not at all, was that your mother again?”
Stiffening slightly at the use of the word mother the lawyer forced himself to relax again. “Admiral Pelar has informed us that they have been repeatedly scanned by the Gowe. She’s taking no action, as we’re supposed to be allies, but wanted you to be aware.” Alexa nodded and he continued. “When we arrive at the next system the commanders of each ship have been called to the Hooves of Destiny. Vice-Admiral Koo Ji has requested an in person meeting, with all senior officers.”
There were several pen clicks. “That seems unusual.”
Jar’Bek gave a knowing nod. “Extremely. To remove every ship’s command, behind enemy lines? It makes no sense.”
Alexa pushed her hair back from her face. “The Rinoxians agreed to it?”
The Ashi nodded. “Most of their command have been replaced. Anyway, they outnumber – and outgun – the other ships. Why would they be concerned?”
Allistan’s pen clicked. “They probably just put it down to Gal. Fed. protocols, or fear.”
Jar’Bek nodded. “They’ve had us stopping in random systems to scan. No doubt it’s to delay us, but perhaps also to lower the Rinoxian’s guard?”
Leaning back in her chair, the Awakened considered the options. “Maybe there's another fleet waiting to ambush us? Or following us?”
Allistan twirled his pen in his fingers. “No, no. All eyes are on the border since Aaron’s capture. It must be something else.”
Moving on to her next idea, Alexa asked, “Sabotage?”
The Ashi gave a chuckle. “That is Admiral Pelar’s conclusion. The Gal. Fed. officers have been on board the other ships, and the possibility exists that there are Sentinels working amongst them. They are all in command positions, and will all be leaving. It’s a logical conclusion.”
Allistan’s pen halted its spinning. “The Ashi ships, they can’t have been sabotaged, right?”
The lawyer nodded. “True, but, it wouldn’t matter. Their ships are old and have seen too much action. Those Gowe ships alone are more than they could handle.”
The Fae’Dan sighed and shook his head at the situation they were facing. “We should have brought more ships. The new ones.”
Alexa, staring at the ceiling, spoke softly. “No, we don’t need to show our hand just yet. But send word to Chae’Sol, make sure he has the coordinates.”
Jar’Bek nodded and made a note on his datapad. “What about the others?”
The Awakened closed her eyes. It was times like this she missed her human and his habit of taking charge. “Tell Embar to warn his contacts among the Rinoxians. The others… I have no idea, I just want to sleep.”
Allistan, a stickler for accuracy, replied, “I didn’t think Awakened slept?”
She sat up and gave a half-hearted smile. In an unusual moment of vulnerability, she replied, “I was told you can do anything in a dream. For those moments, we would all be together again.”
Allistan struggled to come up with a response to that, and the Ashi, having noticed this, stepped in to fill the gap in conversation. “We’ll find him. I can’t lose the most profitable client in the galaxy now, can I?”
Now past the moment of awkwardness, the Fae’Dan also answered. “I’m sure he’s fine. In fact, he’s probably already on his way back to us.”
Alexa gave Allistan a withering look. “You think he single-handedly defeated the Hive, stole a ship and managed to figure out how to fly it back here?”
The former Inspector paused to consider it. “No. It will most likely be something even more preposterous. Perhaps he married their Queen?”
The ridiculousness of the idea brought a chuckle to the Awakened. “Maybe. Hopefully nothing that drastic; he’d probably just turn their society upside down with some ridiculous scheme.”
Jar’Bek also smiled. “A little civil unrest, perhaps a few riots? No doubt with merchandise.”
Finally breaking into a broad grin, Alexa replied, “I think we all might be over-estimating him a little.”

Aaron stood in the trade area of Toivoa station with a contingent of Gardener Royal Guards behind him, Tsy’Lo by his side, and a very angry mob in front of him. Several well-dressed local leaders were dragged from the crowd to stand before him; Mycena, Tricinic, Procyon and a dozen other refugee races were crammed into the triple height area of the station.
One of the leaders staggered towards Aaron. “You! You caused this!”
Aaron, feigning as much innocence as possible, pointed to his chest. “Me?”
One of the Mycena he had met during his time on the station came forward. “We’ve all seen the videos! They kept us in the dark about what is going on out there! The Galactic Federation are coming! Our leaders lied to us!”
The accusatory leader, a Procyon with greying fur, pointed at Aaron. “Your... Your propaganda, has driven them mad! Your lies! They’re destroying the station!”
The human smiled and maintained his innocent expression. “My propaganda?” Several in the crowd held up datapads; Aaron’s smiling face was on every one. “Oh... that propaganda.”
Tsy’Lo tugged on his sleeve. “What did you do?!”
Aaron crouched down slightly. “Remember when I accidentally picked up the kids datapad and you returned it?”
“Yes…” The Tricinic flushed orange as realisation struck. “It wasn’t the child’s datapad!”
Aaron straightened up. “Yeah, thanks for helping bring down society.” He laughed as Tsy’Lo became a very opaque green hue. “Don’t worry, I’ve got an idea.”
The greying Procyon shook his fist at the human. “You better! They should throw you in a cage for the rest of your life for this. Hundreds of celes of peace, destroyed!”
Aaron looked down at the angry alien. “Your peace, not theirs.” He gestured back towards the Gardeners, and walked towards them without waiting for a reply. He raised his hands high, motioning for the unruly mob to settle down. “Alright, alright. Settle down, munchkins. So the wizard’s a liar? Welcome to reality. The Gardeners have been fighting and dying to keep you safe from the flying monkeys, while you all hide in your Emerald City and get on with your lives. That shit ends now. You’re crying out for change? Then welcome to the revolution, baby! We’re opening up the borders, we’re rejoining the rest of the galaxy! No more hiding!”
The crowd was already worked up, and cheering came easily despite the large lack of understanding. The human nodded — he was enjoying this far too much — and then gestured again for quiet. He spoke quietly at first, adding excitement to his voice as it built in power. “So prepare for a chance of a lifetime! Be prepared for sensational news!”
The Procyon official’s mouth opened and closed silently before he managed to shake his mind free of the initial shock of the human’s words. “No! Stop! What are you even saying?”
Aaron didn’t care about the official. He put the palm of his hand on their face, which easily dwarfed it in size, and gently pushed them slowly backwards. He then leapt up onto a crate; his showmanship on camera was nothing to his on-stage presence. “A shining new era is tiptoeing nearer, and where do you feature? Just listen to teacher! You’ve stagnated here for long enough. Lied to and kept in the dark, well, no more!”
The crowd was his, he knew it. The official knew it. Tsy’Lo knew it and was a nervous shade of blue. Aaron clambered from the crate to the roof of a stall, standing high above the crowd. The cheers followed every rambling sentence and, drunk on power, Aaron was loving it. “Spread the word to every planet, every station, every colony and every ship. Change is not coming, it’s here and it is now!”
The crowd roared again, and the desperate official turned to Tsy’Lo. “What in the nine moons is he talking about?”
“I’ll tell you what I’m talking about.” Aaron snapped. He stood looking out over the crowd. “I am the Ambassador of a world called Earth. I have taken ownership of a small star system that is being colonised as we speak. These colonies are a coalition of races, from within the Federation, as well as without. We rule ourselves, but have treaties and agreements with the Federation itself, as well as various individual races within it.”
Several questions were called out from the crowd, but one voice was louder than the others. “How does that help us?”
With a smile, the human walked back and forth across the roof of the stall as he spoke. “Good question my friend.” He pointed vaguely at where the voice had come from. “I do not have contact with my homeworld at this time. To ensure that all of whatever Earth has become would be included we put in place clauses for future territories, dominions, settlements etc, etc…” The crowd was quiet now, trying to follow the human’s explanation. Looking out at the blank faces Aaron realised he needed to get to the point. “Congratulations, you’re now a protectorate of Earth!”

He was met with utter silence.

Suddenly, there were several angry yells from the crowd, some claiming this was a joke while others were simply confused. The official was the one who dared clamber to the crate below Aaron in order to yell up to him. “Are you insane?”
Aaron’s smile made Tsy’Lo shudder, as it was the same one he had given as he had explained his idea to the Gardener Queen. The human stepped forward to stand at the front of the stall roof. “I declared war on the Gardeners. The war lasted seven Earth minutes, and was quickly resolved when the Queen surrendered to me in person.”
Silence fell once again, and Aaron found himself half-yearning for the sound of crickets to emphasize the moment.
The crowd erupted once more, outrage at the ridiculous claims the strange alien was spewing forth. Tsy’Lo released a deafeningly loud harmonic whistle which was followed by another momentary quiet. They paled as the crowd's attention fell on them. “You need to listen, all of you. He is speaking the truth, sort of. He held the Queen and the Gardeners council hostage with a bomb.” Small grey particles filled the Tricinic at the memory of being used as a weapon. The crowd began to grow rowdy at this news, causing Tsy’Lo to let off another sonic blast. “It is all a human trick; once we are part of his alliance we fall under the treaties he already has in place.”
The crowd looked back up to the human. “Like I said, congratulations. You just walked in through the backdoor of a peace treaty with the Galactic Federation, and over a dozen separate treaties with other races.”
The crowd were now arguing amongst themselves. The official - who Aaron was now mentally calling Gobshite - once again challenged him. “At what cost, though? What do you get out of this?”
The smile of mischief once more graced the human’s lips and Tsy’Lo considered pulling him down from his stage. They had been on their way to the border when news of the riots on Toivoa reached them. Aaron’s presence had been demanded and he had happily accepted. The human looked almost as gleeful as that moment of acceptance when he spoke again. “Me? I get to go home. I get friends with big sticks. I get to trade openly with you, and believe me, I have a lot of crap to sell you.” He chuckled. “You get to be part of the galaxy again. You get to travel and trade. Our rules are simple and fair; everyone is equal under the law. You have exactly the same rights as everyone else who joined us. And the cost?” He paused for effect, making sure they were all paying attention. “You stand on your own two feet.” He glanced around, noting the sheer diversity of the crowd. “Or one foot... or four... Or whatever it is you’re balancing on.”
The crowd was a buzz of conversation, and Gobshite once again chimed in. “You think they’ll let us back without a fight? We can expose them! Those bastards tried to exterminate us!”
The crowd jeered along with the old Procyon. Aaron held up his hands. “Woah, woah. Only some of them. That’s the thing, there are a lot more members now. So here’s the plan: shut up. If you don’t say anything, they sure as shit aren’t going to out themselves, are they? While everyone is staring at the former Hive terror that they all feared, you guys just start working and trading, nice and quiet.”
A few murmurs of agreement came from the crowd. Gobshite, however, was more than a murmur. “You want us to forget our ancestors suffering?”
A little irritated, Aaron was more harsh than he intended. “You’ve wallowed in it long enough. Look at you, hiding for generations, keeping your communications to a minimum to avoid detection. Is this all some master plan as you build an army to seek revenge? Fuck no!” He saw the shame on their faces. “You’re happy to leave this status quo to future generations? You want to remember the suffering of your ancestors, fine, build a fucking statue. But don’t hold back your children to do it.”
The crowd were growing louder again as they discussed his words. “Look!” the human yelled. “I’m not saying you forget, or forgive. I’m saying you keep your mouths shut. We won’t announce your presence to the Federation. Instead, I want those of you looking to start something new to come join the new colonies. No big fanfares, just get on with it. In a place filled with different races, you’ll just be another stranger.”
He saw the crowd looking at each other, and knew was a lot to take in all at once. “We gather evidence, build trust. Get yourselves established, forge friendships and alliances, and become accepted as part of the new colonies. Let those in the know think their past crimes are forgotten. And when we are ready, we burn down their false history and anyone who tries to defend it!”
The crowd cheered once more, and Aaron smiled triumphantly down at Tsy'Lo as he leapt casually from the roof. As he landed, many hands patted his back and many questions were yelled, but it all ceased as one of the Gardeners stepped forward. It was Eridor, as there was no mistaking the red cape he wore. "We need to leave, the Federation have entered our space.”
Next

Rough Night at The Running Bear Casino (PAGE 2 of 2)

PAGE 2 of 2
**** * ****
Hussein nudged his brother Iqbal and aimed his chin toward the bar. “Look, a fat, stupid American has finally managed some success.”
Iqbal smirked, “It is the only way the infidels can succeed. They have no education and no skills to do anything useful. They don’t even worship their own God anymore, only money and fame. They will soon learn better…”
The brothers were out enjoying a night of revelry, with a few more planned when they reached the city. The celebrations were a last reward before they fulfilled their mission and achieved True Paradise through martyrdom. Hussein was superstitious and hoped to find success at gambling before they took the great risk that if successful, would help to sustain their cause. They’d grown up in this land of debauchery and foolishness but had been taught from the first to honor their own Beliefs and culture above anything the Americans professed.
Hussein was on roll number five of what he intended to be a short run. He wished to win five times for the Five Pillars of Islam, the name of his cell in the latest great Jihad. He blew on the dice and tossed. The small cubes bounced against the back side of the pit and tumbled end over end as he watched breathlessly. “Another ten!” the barker called. And pushed the winnings toward Hussein. He placed a minimum bet and rolled once more. He had already left the table before the barker called, “Snakeyes! Next roller please.”
He held up his chips triumphantly, “Iqbal, more money from roll number five! I kept the bet in place for five rolls, I left only the minimum for the last roll, it is a Sign! We are fated to succeed. We will meet the others tomorrow, go over the plan, and then have a few last nights to revel in this world…”
Iqbal patted his brother on the shoulder, “There is something I would like more than winning chips. He nodded toward the bar and the attractive and sinuous young local who worked behind it, steadily polishing glasses.
Hussein watched for a moment, unsure whether his brother meant the alcoholic drinks that had been forbidden until now or the woman. Knowing Iqbal, he assumed both. “As you wish brother. Take your mortal enjoyments while you can. She looks a little sullen though, frown, lowered brows, I like the happy ones.”
Iqbal’s serpent-like smile widened, “She will look better when I have freed her from the miseries of the uncircumcised. She will enjoy a real man. Who knows? Maybe I will convert her so that we can meet again in Paradise.” With that, he surged away from his brother and slithered up to the bar opposite the young First Nations maid. “Good evening, I noticed that you do not have many customers at the bar. It seems odd that so beautiful a creature as yourself would not attract more company.”
The woman ignored him, intently focused on her task. He tried again, “Perhaps I must order a drink to remain at the bar? If so, a gin and tonic if you please.”
She continued to polish the glass. He leaned forward, “Did you hear me?” he inquired in an annoyed tone. “Perhaps you have no business because you are surly and unhelpful.”
She looked at him and delivered a smirk that appeared to be far more evil than anything he could ever hope to muster, despite his thin, reptilian lips and predatory mind, “We don’t want customers to linger at the bar, getting drunk and building from misery to anger over their losses. We want them playing… and losing.” She leaned toward him and glared into his own eyes that he normally considered flinty and daunting. “You know about losing, don’t you?”
Hussein noted that the large man at the end of the bar in the “Security” shirt had begun stumping toward them. “Iqbal, perhaps it is time to go look for other entertainment.”
Iqbal ignored him, he was trapped in the serpent’s gaze, like a mouse dropped into a snake’s tank to be devoured while its owner watched with perverse interest. Hussein reached for his brother to tug at his arm but never got the chance. The big security officer seized his hand, drew it to his too wide chest and turned. The weight of the man drew him away from his brother and caused him to spin around so that he ended up facing the goon with his brother beyond the man and in the clutches of the Serpent Woman. The ham-fisted gargantuan continued to twist the hand he gripped until the pressure caused Hussein sever pain. He grunted and bent into the angle of his wrist to relieve the distress. He found himself bent forward and looking up desperately toward the man’s face.
The security staffer smiled, his square, blunt teeth showing dark behind an almost lipless mouth. His wide back and chest, covered in body armor under his shirt made him appear like a monster-sized… Turtle. Hussein felt himself lifted and placed behind the bar. His brother soon slithered over the top and fell to the floor beside him, smiling beatifically. Hussein opened his mouth to scream for help, but a large, blunt fist crashed into the side of his head and he saw stars… seven of them, like the Holy... The fist descended once more, and he saw only darkness.
**** * ****
Fr. Danilo Bayani was immensely enjoying his latest trip to the continental USA. He had visited Hawaii many years ago, and New York City more recently, but this was his first tour of the grand landbound spaces that this country offered. He’d managed to roam so far from his origins in Manila. Now, in his twilight years, he longed to see what he could of God’s Green Earth. All on the payroll of The Vatican while they cleanse the records of those hateful… allegations. The bitter thoughts raced across his mind. Of course he was a sinner, he was only mortal. He’d been expiated of those sins and had paid an enormous price to continue serving in his capacity as a parish priest. He forced his mind to return to the moment and more enjoyable pursuits.
He noted the hirsute and similar appearing pair of men who had gone to the bar and wondered why the Security officer approached them, but his attention was called once more to the round of Texas Hold’em and his table mates. When he again had a moment to look, no one was at the bar, in front or behind… curious, he thought, but he quickly refocused his attention on the fascinating new game he was in the process of learning. He was familiar with Poker, so it wasn’t difficult to learn. He liked the high level of interaction that this version of the old game allowed. He’d done well, certainly gained enough to fund extracurricular activities during the rest of his current sabbatical.
He’d been disturbed by the overall atmosphere of this place when he’d arrived. He did not care for the numerous paintings and sculptures of Ancient Native Deities and Spirits. They seemed to be mostly images of the Dark Beings of various Tribal cultures. He loved to study diverse cultures, but this place was an amalgamation of cultures, built for mutual support by several Tribes in the region. Much of the artwork was schlocky and clearly intended to cater to the garish and sordid tastes of the vapid gambling set. Some part of him did not feel… welcome, as though he had intruded on some private Place, set aside for Other Gods.
He shook off the depressing musings… There are NO Other Gods, he reassured himself. He soon stepped away from the table to take care of personal needs and to decide what he should do with the rest of his night. Perhaps he would visit the White Dove Restaurant & Ballroom on the other side of the hotel lobby from the casino. It boasted a good reputation according to online reviews, even though it was a simple buffet style with a dance floor to one side. He liked the name, it was… peaceful he decided.
He soon had a selection of food piled onto a plate and was seated near the dance floor. The place was sparsely occupied, so his hopes of being able to watch dancers as he ate were dashed. Still, the food was good enough. A little bland, but that was necessary in a place that acted as a crossroads of cultures. There was a spice table at the end of the primary row of entrees. He’d helped himself, yet nothing seemed to attach to his taste buds. The combination of eating nearly alone, having no one with energy around him, and the tasteless food soon had him growing restless. He finished up his repast and left the table to go out to the final section of the complex he had not visited, the River Overlook.
As he passed the table nearest the entrance, he saw a stout man in a rumpled sport coat, who glared daggers at him, eyes focused on his crucifix, the only outward sign of his profession. The man appeared to be so hostile, that he paused for a moment to determine whether he’d done anything to offend the fellow. “Excuse me sir, have I offended you in some way?”
The man looked startled. He was apparently unused to being confronted about his demeanor or behavior. He scowled, “Don’t like that thing you have around your neck. You Catholics are all Hell-bound. No concept of righteousness. Not that you’d understand, you people don’t even read The Book. You listen to your priests and pope and disregard The Word. All the kneeling and ritual prayers in the world won’t save you in the end. Go back to your idols and beads and leave me alone to seek Heaven.”
Fr. Bayani was startled by the vehemence with which the man spoke. He hadn’t been attacked directly for his Faith in years. “Sir, I’m not sure what Religion you practice, but I am a man of God, a consecrated priest of the Holy Church. I assure you that I understand more than most, if not as much as I would like. I meant no harm and wish you a peaceful night.”
With that, he started to walk past the man, but the man rose from his table and pointed his finger, “Your pope is the Anti-Christ, and your Church is a place of Satan! Look to the Bible for your salvation before it’s too late.”
Fr. Bayani increased his pace and continued on his journey to the River Overlook. He would need the peace and tranquility that nature and the sound of flowing water would provide to settle his roiling mind.
**** * ****
Pastor Bill resumed his seat and shook his head, “Fool, doesn’t know that he’s risking his soul, courting Damnation.” He’d had a bad run at the tables over at the casino. His Denomination frowned on games of chance, but he had needed the money. One of his congregation had come up pregnant and they had to get it resolved before the three-month deadline for abortions. He knew that if his wife found out about Carmen, then she would divorce him. He was here to break every major rule that he professed to hold dear each week. His plan for quick money had failed, so he’d visited the bar. Now he hoped that eating would guide him back to sobriety. He had to think of another plan.
Seeing that… priest had annoyed him. Had he not been inebriated, he would never have said what he did, nor stared so rudely in the first place. Yet he wanted someone on whom to vent the anger he felt, that arose from fear and he’d always disliked the papists. If his wife divorced him, if the scandal involving the woman who cleaned the church all week and then occupied the back pew every Sunday ever broke; he would lose his ministry, his livelihood. His degree in Theology would be worthless. He might be able to get a job teaching, at some secular school, but most would not hire fervent Christians like himself.
He stared dejectedly at his plate of food that had contained more spice and flavors than he liked, a shadow passed in his periphery. It was low-slung and blurred just a bit as it loped along the wall. He thought he heard an odd laugh, somewhere between human and… canine? Maybe a little like a hyena might sound, or so he imagined. There was a manic quality to the laughter. A jest that was on him so that only the other Entity knew what it was. It was the wicked laughter of children at play, who’d decided to target a fat kid with glasses. A kid whose parents had been abusive addicts but who later “got right” through religious-based recovery programs. Their faith had led him to his own, but he’d never really lost those early traumas of being unaccepted by his peers and being beaten by people who later professed faith above all.
A mocking whine, definitely doggish, his now sobering consciousness informed him. Something was making fun of him, teasing him from the shadows. He looked around for staff members or other customers but found himself alone. The dining area and the dance floor were deserted. It was odd, there was almost always someone at the buffet service tables. He looked over to the kitchen doors in hopes that one of the employees would burst through with a fresh serving of chicken wings or whatever tray had been emptied. He saw dark figures move past the clouded round windows on the swinging doors and temporarily occlude the bright kitchen lights within, but they were indistinct blobs, and appeared to be focused on tasks of their own choosing rather than service of his needs.
He stood and realized that he was more intoxicated than he’d realized. He immediately resumed his seat and bent forward to regain his balance and bearings… and to swallow his rising gorge. When he sat up again, a dark, shaggy form perched in the chair across from him. The figure was no more than a silhouette, a raggedly hewn shadow. Yet there were eyes. Sinister golden gleams appeared and blinked at him. He heard a heavy, panting sort of breathing and a gust of foul-smelling carnivore breath assaulted his olfactory senses. “Who? Er, what are you doing at my table?” he asked in a mushy, confused manner. Still fighting off waves of nausea.
He could not see it very well in the poorly illuminated dining room, but his impression was that the... Being… smiled at him: a gaping, lolling smile, with a tongue dangling out to one side and sharp canines gleaming. “I thought I would check on you my righteous friend. You seem to be upset, unhappy. You nipped and barked at that other person who shares your Faith. I thought perhaps there was a deeper concern preying on your conscience?”
Pastor Bill had to force himself to think through what this… person? Had said to him. Likely some hippie-dippy weirdo. “That guy was a Catholic priest, we’re nowhere near the same Religion.”
Once more he heard the chortling laughter that was now very clear, “I’m sure you think it’s different. Those of his specific religion, came to these lands many years ago. They were the first of you Christians to arrive. The rest have been simple variations on a theme. The problems began, when your co-religionists assumed that only your God exists; that all of the local Gods and Spirits were instead Demons and Dark Powers. Instead of trying to show that yours is a better Way, you Christians insisted that yours is the only Way. You’ve forgotten that in Ancient Times, people held True to Deities who were attached to local communities or to the land and features around them; geographically and ethnically relevant. You have gone from subsuming and incorporating Older Gods as Angels and Saints, to Demonizing Them, and now in your hubris, to denying Them altogether.” He shook His head. “Too bad really, it creates an Adversarial relationship.” He chuckled at some joke that Pastor Bill was still too drunk to comprehend.
Pastor Bill had grown increasingly fearful as the Voice intoned Its Philosophies. He wanted to refute that Voice, to deny Its very Existence. Yet he feared Its Wrath more than anything he’d ever feared, even the Fires of Hell. Instead of making a stand and arguing his faith, he staggered to his feet and ran, stumbled, blindly toward the kitchen and the pale, ghostly figures within. Surely someone within would save him! The sardonic laughter chortled after him and chased him into the too bright lights, descending into the yips and howls of Coyote even as the doors swung shut behind him. He looked around at the glowing white figures who halted in their various progresses to stare at him. Their eyes! There were none, just empty sockets, faces slack, with gaping, lamprey maws. He heard a new sound as they swarmed him… his own forlorn screams of ultimate agony.
**** * ****
Fr. Bayani stood out on the River Overlook platform and enjoyed the solitude that had so recently left him restless. There were plenty of noises out across the flowing torrent: the water itself, as it passed over hidden objects, fish as they leapt from its embrace to kiss the night air, frogs and insects, and the warbling, mournful sounds of a loon, and the soft sigh of the wind as it passed through the verdant landscape. This is much more peaceful than the White Dove he thought. He had some trouble shaking off ruminations on the verbal assault from the strange, possibly drunken man in the restaurant. He decided that he would pray for the man, that he would one day soon find The True Faith. Sometimes that was all one could do for the short-sighted.
He heard a deep, coughing hiss out in the dark. He was startled but quickly realized that it was an American Alligator, cousin to creatures he had observed in many places around the planet. He was truly content, at one with Nature in all Her Glory… in all the natural splendor of Creation! he immediately corrected himself. A sound impinged on his senses as it slowly rose and obscured the others… it was a lapping sound at first, more like ocean waves on a beach than the banks of a river. Waves, at cross purposes to the flow of the river, slapped at the base of the platform. Soon they sounds evolved into splashes, as if something very large approached the River Overlook platform. He leaned over the rail to have a closer look. Perhaps it was a large water creature or a boat… maybe a ‘gator as the locals called the big reptiles.
He peered down at the dim rippling surface below. At first, he was unable to discern anything but small reflections on the water as it swirled and lapped; then from below the surface, he spotted an eye, a too large eye! It glowed from within with a sickly luminescence akin to that produced by deep growing fungi. As he stared in horror, he saw a mouth gape below the eye, and enormous frog-like opening with no teeth but serrated lips, like some monstrous catfish. As he stared, too much in shock to act, he suddenly felt his body wrapped in strong, leprous flesh and he quickly lost his ability to breathe. The last sight he saw before he plunged over the safety rail was the thin, grey, first light of dawn.
**** * ****
Chief Harry Whitehorse gazed around at his fellow chiefs and Shamans from various local Tribes, “So, are The Dark Ones satisfied once again? Have They sated their appetites on strangers so that our peoples will be safe for another year?”
Affirmative rumbles muttered around the conference room. Red Wolf, a Shaman, spoke from near the back row, “They are not only satisfied but Coyote assures us that the prey people will not be linked with our premises or business operations.”
Most of the fresh mutters sounded pleased, but old Harry had to ask, “Can we trust Him?”
Chortling laughter sounded throughout the conference room and ascended into thunderous yips and howls of hysterical glee.

Sabacc with standard deck of cards

I want to play Sabacc, but can't print or afford a real deck. So I made some rules for a standard deck of cards. I wanted to make it simple to start, but add the ability to add rules as people get familiar with playing. I used other people's variants for inspiration and I take no ownership for these rules and want no credit for them. I just wanted to share them so someone else might enjoy them.
Sabacc - Terran Deck Variant
Items needed: Standard Deck of Cards (with Jokers), 2 Six Sided Die, 23 Credits per Player (Counters, Tokens, Chips)
Card Values: Black Suits are Positive, Red Suits are Negative, Ace is worth 1, 2-10 is worth their number, Jack is worth 11, Queen is worth 12, King is worth 13, Joker is worth 0
Start of the Game: Each player gets 23 credits.
Start of a Hand: Choose a dealer. The dealer deals two cards facedown to each player and places the rest of the deck in the middle of the table. This is the draw pile.
Ante: Each player places one credit in a pot to the side of the cards. This is the Sabacc pot. The first round starts after everyone adds the pot.
Length of Hand: A hand is played at least three rounds.
Round of Play
Betting Phase: The person to the dealers left starts the bet. The minimum bet is one credit. The maximum bet is equal to the total number of players. The betting moves clockwise and each player may do nothing, raise the bet, or forfeit any credits bet, discard their cards, and leave the hand. After each raise, all players must match the current bet or forfeit the hand. The Betting phase ends after the dealer's turn.
Shift Phase: During the Shift phase the dealer rolls two dice. A shift occurs if the numbers on the dice match. If a shift occurs then all cards discarded and replacement cards are dealt to each player equal to the cards the player discarded.
Call Phase: After the second round and between the Shift phase and the Deal phase, any player may call and end the hand.
Deal Phase: Dealer deals one card facedown to each player in turn. After being dealt a card, the player may discard any card in their hand. A player must have a minimum of two cards, but there is no limit to the maximum number of cards a player can have.
Winning Hand
Winning: After a hand is called, each player adds their black suit cards and subtracts their red suit cards. The winner is the player closest to positive 23 or negative 23 without going over wins. The winner wins the bets of all players.
Pure Sabacc: If a player gets exactly 23, either positive or negative, they have a Pure Sabacc. A Pure Sabacc wins the bets of all players and the Sabacc pot.
Sudden Demise: If there is a tie either positive or negative then the person with the most cards wins. If there is still a tie then the dealer gives each player who has tied a card. The scoring for all players is recounted, and a new winner is declared. If there is another tie, resolve as above.
Reverse Sabacc: If all players are over 23 then all bets go to the Sabacc pot.
Dealer Shift: After each hand the Dealer's role is taken by the player to the former dealer's left.
Sabacc Pot: If the Sabacc pot is not won in the current hand it moves to the next hand.
End of the Game: The end of the game occurs when a player loses all their credits and the latest hand is over. The player with the highest total of credits wins. If the Sabacc pot is higher then all players, no one wins.
Advanced Rules
Advanced rules are decided on by players before the game starts. The variants below are only examples. Different players have their own variants.
Interference Shield: Before the Shift phase, any player may place any cards from their hand face up. That card is now considered locked. During the Shift phase, if a shift occurs any cards locked are not discarded. A locked card can still be discarded by a player after cards are drawn during the Deal phase.
Junk: During Deal phase, a player can take the top card from the discard pile instead of being dealt a card from the top of the deck. The player may still discard a card from their hand.
Bombing: If a player ends the hand with more than 23 or less than -23 then they bomb. If a player bombs then they add to the Sabacc pot a number of credits equal to total they bet in that hand. Should a player that tied bomb after an extra card, then that player must also add to the Sabacc pot.
Null Sabacc: In addition to 23/-23 being a Pure Sabacc, a player who gets a total of zero has a Null Sabacc. A Null Sabacc beats anything but a Pure Sabacc.
Idiot's Array: If a player has a hand of only a joker (0), a two of any suit and a three of any suit then they have an Idiot's Array. An Idiot's Array beats any other hand including a Pure Sabacc. In the event two players get an Idiot's Array each player draws a card. Card closest to zero wins.
Alternate Arrays
Specific arrays of cards can be specified before play begins. These Arrays beat any hand of equal value and make the player eligible to claim the Sabacc Pot if they win. Some examples:
The Queen of Air and Darkness: Any hand containing a Queen and Ace.
Endurance: A hand of all black or red suits except for a king card of the opposite suit.
Balance: Hand has equal number of red and black cards.
Demise: The value of the hand is any points over 23 (positive or negative). If the bombing rule is being used then the player must follow those rules and add to the Sabacc pot after winnings are distributed.
Moderation: A hand with a red ten and a black ten.
The Evil One: A hand containing the Ace of Spades and the Ace of Clubs. All cards count as negative.
The Star: Any hand containing an Ace and only numbered Diamonds count toward total.
Alternate Variants
Corellian Spike
Corellian Spike is just one of many variants of Sabacc, but it is also one of the most popular. The rules for it are the same as normal Sabacc, except for the following:
Dealing the Spike Card: Before the first draw phase, the dealer deals one card face up in front of each player. This is the Spike card.
Drawing Cards: In the Draw phase, players may buy a new card for two credits which is added to their bet. If the player buys a card, they may either add it to the cards in their hand or swap it with the Spike card. The player may then discard a card if they wish.
Shift Phase: In shift phase, if double ones are rolled then the Spike card and hand cards are discarded and replaced by the dealer. Doubles of any other number result in only hand cards being discarded and replaced.
Winning Hand: The winner is the player closest to zero. A Pure Sabacc is a total of 0.
Sudden Demise: Ties are resolved by the player with the lowest card in their hand winning the hand. If both players have the lowest card then the player with the most cards wins. If there is still a tie then players draw a card. Lowest card wins.
Corellian Spike Arrays
An Array beat any arrays below them in the list.
Idiot’s Array: A joker, two of any color, three of any color.
Fleet: Four of a kind equaling zero.
Yee-Haw: Pair with red and black of the same number and a joker that equals zero.
Rylet: Black three of any kind and red pair, or vice versa.
Gee-Whiz: Black 1 to 4 and red 10, or vice versa.
Straight Khryon: Run of four cards (eg. 4, 5, 6, 7) that equal zero.
Bantha's Wild: Three cards of a kind and other cards that equal zero.
Rule of Two: Two pairs of that equal zero.
Alternate Variants (cont.)
Casino Style Betting
Casinos and private games alike can be very high stakes. In those cases the following rules can apply.
Ante (A Big and Small Blind): The player to the dealers left puts in five credits into the Sabacc pot. The player to that player’s left puts in three credits into the Sabacc pot. All other players add one credit to the pot. Values can be changed by players or casio.
Bidding: Minimum bid of one credit. Maximum bids are ten credits. Minimum raise is one credit, no limit to raises until max bid is reached. Values can be changed by players or casio.
No-Limit/All-In: Players or the casino may choose to have no limits. In the case that one player does not have the credits to stay in a hand then they are considered All-In. The player with the lowest chips bets all their chips. The other players match that total. Any betting that goes on from then on is a side pot that goes only to players who pay into it. If the All-In player wins the hand then any side pots go back the players who contributed to it.
End of Game: Game ends once only one player who can ante.
Null Sabacc: If a Sabacc pot remains at the end of the game the pot goes to the house. If it is a private game then pot goes to the winner.
Bombing: Bombing is treated the same, except the amount added to Sabacc pot. Bombing requires the player to add the total of all bets for the hand to the Sabacc Pot.
Corellian Spike: Cards are bought for twice the initial ante (not big or small blind).

Rough Night at the Running Bear Casino (PAGE 2 of 2)

**** * ****
Hussein nudged his brother Iqbal and aimed his chin toward the bar. “Look, a fat, stupid American has finally managed some success.”
Iqbal smirked, “It is the only way the infidels can succeed. They have no education and no skills to do anything useful. They don’t even worship their own God anymore, only money and fame. They will soon learn better…”
The brothers were out enjoying a night of revelry, with a few more planned when they reached the city. The celebrations were a last reward before they fulfilled their mission and achieved True Paradise through martyrdom. Hussein was superstitious and hoped to find success at gambling before they took the great risk that if successful, would help to sustain their cause. They’d grown up in this land of debauchery and foolishness but had been taught from the first to honor their own Beliefs and culture above anything the Americans professed.
Hussein was on roll number five of what he intended to be a short run. He wished to win five times for the Five Pillars of Islam, the name of his cell in the latest great Jihad. He blew on the dice and tossed. The small cubes bounced against the back side of the pit and tumbled end over end as he watched breathlessly. “Another ten!” the barker called. And pushed the winnings toward Hussein. He placed a minimum bet and rolled once more. He had already left the table before the barker called, “Snakeyes! Next roller please.”
He held up his chips triumphantly, “Iqbal, more money from roll number five! I kept the bet in place for five rolls, I left only the minimum for the last roll, it is a Sign! We are fated to succeed. We will meet the others tomorrow, go over the plan, and then have a few last nights to revel in this world…”
Iqbal patted his brother on the shoulder, “There is something I would like more than winning chips. He nodded toward the bar and the attractive and sinuous young local who worked behind it, steadily polishing glasses.
Hussein watched for a moment, unsure whether his brother meant the alcoholic drinks that had been forbidden until now or the woman. Knowing Iqbal, he assumed both. “As you wish brother. Take your mortal enjoyments while you can. She looks a little sullen though, frown, lowered brows, I like the happy ones.”
Iqbal’s serpent-like smile widened, “She will look better when I have freed her from the miseries of the uncircumcised. She will enjoy a real man. Who knows? Maybe I will convert her so that we can meet again in Paradise.” With that, he surged away from his brother and slithered up to the bar opposite the young First Nations maid. “Good evening, I noticed that you do not have many customers at the bar. It seems odd that so beautiful a creature as yourself would not attract more company.”
The woman ignored him, intently focused on her task. He tried again, “Perhaps I must order a drink to remain at the bar? If so, a gin and tonic if you please.”
She continued to polish the glass. He leaned forward, “Did you hear me?” he inquired in an annoyed tone. “Perhaps you have no business because you are surly and unhelpful.”
She looked at him and delivered a smirk that appeared to be far more evil than anything he could ever hope to muster, despite his thin, reptilian lips and predatory mind, “We don’t want customers to linger at the bar, getting drunk and building from misery to anger over their losses. We want them playing… and losing.” She leaned toward him and glared into his own eyes that he normally considered flinty and daunting. “You know about losing, don’t you?”
Hussein noted that the large man at the end of the bar in the “Security” shirt had begun stumping toward them. “Iqbal, perhaps it is time to go look for other entertainment.”
Iqbal ignored him, he was trapped in the serpent’s gaze, like a mouse dropped into a snake’s tank to be devoured while its owner watched with perverse interest. Hussein reached for his brother to tug at his arm but never got the chance. The big security officer seized his hand, drew it to his too wide chest and turned. The weight of the man drew him away from his brother and caused him to spin around so that he ended up facing the goon with his brother beyond the man and in the clutches of the Serpent Woman. The ham-fisted gargantuan continued to twist the hand he gripped until the pressure caused Hussein sever pain. He grunted and bent into the angle of his wrist to relieve the distress. He found himself bent forward and looking up desperately toward the man’s face.
The security staffer smiled, his square, blunt teeth showing dark behind an almost lipless mouth. His wide back and chest, covered in body armor under his shirt made him appear like a monster-sized… Turtle. Hussein felt himself lifted and placed behind the bar. His brother soon slithered over the top and fell to the floor beside him, smiling beatifically. Hussein opened his mouth to scream for help, but a large, blunt fist crashed into the side of his head and he saw stars… seven of them, like the Holy... The fist descended once more, and he saw only darkness.
**** * ****
Fr. Danilo Bayani was immensely enjoying his latest trip to the continental USA. He had visited Hawaii many years ago, and New York City more recently, but this was his first tour of the grand landbound spaces that this country offered. He’d managed to roam so far from his origins in Manila. Now, in his twilight years, he longed to see what he could of God’s Green Earth. All on the payroll of The Vatican while they cleanse the records of those hateful… allegations. The bitter thoughts raced across his mind. Of course he was a sinner, he was only mortal. He’d been expiated of those sins and had paid an enormous price to continue serving in his capacity as a parish priest. He forced his mind to return to the moment and more enjoyable pursuits.
He noted the hirsute and similar appearing pair of men who had gone to the bar and wondered why the Security officer approached them, but his attention was called once more to the round of Texas Hold’em and his table mates. When he again had a moment to look, no one was at the bar, in front or behind… curious, he thought, but he quickly refocused his attention on the fascinating new game he was in the process of learning. He was familiar with Poker, so it wasn’t difficult to learn. He liked the high level of interaction that this version of the old game allowed. He’d done well, certainly gained enough to fund extracurricular activities during the rest of his current sabbatical.
He’d been disturbed by the overall atmosphere of this place when he’d arrived. He did not care for the numerous paintings and sculptures of Ancient Native Deities and Spirits. They seemed to be mostly images of the Dark Beings of various Tribal cultures. He loved to study diverse cultures, but this place was an amalgamation of cultures, built for mutual support by several Tribes in the region. Much of the artwork was schlocky and clearly intended to cater to the garish and sordid tastes of the vapid gambling set. Some part of him did not feel… welcome, as though he had intruded on some private Place, set aside for Other Gods.
He shook off the depressing musings… There are NO Other Gods, he reassured himself. He soon stepped away from the table to take care of personal needs and to decide what he should do with the rest of his night. Perhaps he would visit the White Dove Restaurant & Ballroom on the other side of the hotel lobby from the casino. It boasted a good reputation according to online reviews, even though it was a simple buffet style with a dance floor to one side. He liked the name, it was… peaceful he decided.
He soon had a selection of food piled onto a plate and was seated near the dance floor. The place was sparsely occupied, so his hopes of being able to watch dancers as he ate were dashed. Still, the food was good enough. A little bland, but that was necessary in a place that acted as a crossroads of cultures. There was a spice table at the end of the primary row of entrees. He’d helped himself, yet nothing seemed to attach to his taste buds. The combination of eating nearly alone, having no one with energy around him, and the tasteless food soon had him growing restless. He finished up his repast and left the table to go out to the final section of the complex he had not visited, the River Overlook.
As he passed the table nearest the entrance, he saw a stout man in a rumpled sport coat, who glared daggers at him, eyes focused on his crucifix, the only outward sign of his profession. The man appeared to be so hostile, that he paused for a moment to determine whether he’d done anything to offend the fellow. “Excuse me sir, have I offended you in some way?”
The man looked startled. He was apparently unused to being confronted about his demeanor or behavior. He scowled, “Don’t like that thing you have around your neck. You Catholics are all Hell-bound. No concept of righteousness. Not that you’d understand, you people don’t even read The Book. You listen to your priests and pope and disregard The Word. All the kneeling and ritual prayers in the world won’t save you in the end. Go back to your idols and beads and leave me alone to seek Heaven.”
Fr. Bayani was startled by the vehemence with which the man spoke. He hadn’t been attacked directly for his Faith in years. “Sir, I’m not sure what Religion you practice, but I am a man of God, a consecrated priest of the Holy Church. I assure you that I understand more than most, if not as much as I would like. I meant no harm and wish you a peaceful night.”
With that, he started to walk past the man, but the man rose from his table and pointed his finger, “Your pope is the Anti-Christ, and your Church is a place of Satan! Look to the Bible for your salvation before it’s too late.”
Fr. Bayani increased his pace and continued on his journey to the River Overlook. He would need the peace and tranquility that nature and the sound of flowing water would provide to settle his roiling mind.
**** * ****
Pastor Bill resumed his seat and shook his head, “Fool, doesn’t know that he’s risking his soul, courting Damnation.” He’d had a bad run at the tables over at the casino. His Denomination frowned on games of chance, but he had needed the money. One of his congregation had come up pregnant and they had to get it resolved before the three-month deadline for abortions. He knew that if his wife found out about Carmen, then she would divorce him. He was here to break every major rule that he professed to hold dear each week. His plan for quick money had failed, so he’d visited the bar. Now he hoped that eating would guide him back to sobriety. He had to think of another plan.
Seeing that… priest had annoyed him. Had he not been inebriated, he would never have said what he did, nor stared so rudely in the first place. Yet he wanted someone on whom to vent the anger he felt, that arose from fear and he’d always disliked the papists. If his wife divorced him, if the scandal involving the woman who cleaned the church all week and then occupied the back pew every Sunday ever broke; he would lose his ministry, his livelihood. His degree in Theology would be worthless. He might be able to get a job teaching, at some secular school, but most would not hire fervent Christians like himself.
He stared dejectedly at his plate of food that had contained more spice and flavors than he liked, a shadow passed in his periphery. It was low-slung and blurred just a bit as it loped along the wall. He thought he heard an odd laugh, somewhere between human and… canine? Maybe a little like a hyena might sound, or so he imagined. There was a manic quality to the laughter. A jest that was on him so that only the other Entity knew what it was. It was the wicked laughter of children at play, who’d decided to target a fat kid with glasses. A kid whose parents had been abusive addicts but who later “got right” through religious-based recovery programs. Their faith had led him to his own, but he’d never really lost those early traumas of being unaccepted by his peers and being beaten by people who later professed faith above all.
A mocking whine, definitely doggish, his now sobering consciousness informed him. Something was making fun of him, teasing him from the shadows. He looked around for staff members or other customers but found himself alone. The dining area and the dance floor were deserted. It was odd, there was almost always someone at the buffet service tables. He looked over to the kitchen doors in hopes that one of the employees would burst through with a fresh serving of chicken wings or whatever tray had been emptied. He saw dark figures move past the clouded round windows on the swinging doors and temporarily occlude the bright kitchen lights within, but they were indistinct blobs, and appeared to be focused on tasks of their own choosing rather than service of his needs.
He stood and realized that he was more intoxicated than he’d realized. He immediately resumed his seat and bent forward to regain his balance and bearings… and to swallow his rising gorge. When he sat up again, a dark, shaggy form perched in the chair across from him. The figure was no more than a silhouette, a raggedly hewn shadow. Yet there were eyes. Sinister golden gleams appeared and blinked at him. He heard a heavy, panting sort of breathing and a gust of foul-smelling carnivore breath assaulted his olfactory senses. “Who? Er, what are you doing at my table?” he asked in a mushy, confused manner. Still fighting off waves of nausea.
He could not see it very well in the poorly illuminated dining room, but his impression was that the... Being… smiled at him: a gaping, lolling smile, with a tongue dangling out to one side and sharp canines gleaming. “I thought I would check on you my righteous friend. You seem to be upset, unhappy. You nipped and barked at that other person who shares your Faith. I thought perhaps there was a deeper concern preying on your conscience?”
Pastor Bill had to force himself to think through what this… person? Had said to him. Likely some hippie-dippy weirdo. “That guy was a Catholic priest, we’re nowhere near the same Religion.”
Once more he heard the chortling laughter that was now very clear, “I’m sure you think it’s different. Those of his specific religion, came to these lands many years ago. They were the first of you Christians to arrive. The rest have been simple variations on a theme. The problems began, when your co-religionists assumed that only your God exists; that all of the local Gods and Spirits were instead Demons and Dark Powers. Instead of trying to show that yours is a better Way, you Christians insisted that yours is the only Way. You’ve forgotten that in Ancient Times, people held True to Deities who were attached to local communities or to the land and features around them; geographically and ethnically relevant. You have gone from subsuming and incorporating Older Gods as Angels and Saints, to Demonizing Them, and now in your hubris, to denying Them altogether.” He shook His head. “Too bad really, it creates an Adversarial relationship.” He chuckled at some joke that Pastor Bill was still too drunk to comprehend.
Pastor Bill had grown increasingly fearful as the Voice intoned Its Philosophies. He wanted to refute that Voice, to deny Its very Existence. Yet he feared Its Wrath more than anything he’d ever feared, even the Fires of Hell. Instead of making a stand and arguing his faith, he staggered to his feet and ran, stumbled, blindly toward the kitchen and the pale, ghostly figures within. Surely someone within would save him! The sardonic laughter chortled after him and chased him into the too bright lights, descending into the yips and howls of Coyote even as the doors swung shut behind him. He looked around at the glowing white figures who halted in their various progresses to stare at him. Their eyes! There were none, just empty sockets, faces slack, with gaping, lamprey maws. He heard a new sound as they swarmed him… his own forlorn screams of ultimate agony.
**** * ****
Fr. Bayani stood out on the River Overlook platform and enjoyed the solitude that had so recently left him restless. There were plenty of noises out across the flowing torrent: the water itself, as it passed over hidden objects, fish as they leapt from its embrace to kiss the night air, frogs and insects, and the warbling, mournful sounds of a loon, and the soft sigh of the wind as it passed through the verdant landscape. This is much more peaceful than the White Dove he thought. He had some trouble shaking off ruminations on the verbal assault from the strange, possibly drunken man in the restaurant. He decided that he would pray for the man, that he would one day soon find The True Faith. Sometimes that was all one could do for the short-sighted.
He heard a deep, coughing hiss out in the dark. He was startled but quickly realized that it was an American Alligator, cousin to creatures he had observed in many places around the planet. He was truly content, at one with Nature in all Her Glory… in all the natural splendor of Creation! he immediately corrected himself. A sound impinged on his senses as it slowly rose and obscured the others… it was a lapping sound at first, more like ocean waves on a beach than the banks of a river. Waves, at cross purposes to the flow of the river, slapped at the base of the platform. Soon they sounds evolved into splashes, as if something very large approached the River Overlook platform. He leaned over the rail to have a closer look. Perhaps it was a large water creature or a boat… maybe a ‘gator as the locals called the big reptiles.
He peered down at the dim rippling surface below. At first, he was unable to discern anything but small reflections on the water as it swirled and lapped; then from below the surface, he spotted an eye, a too large eye! It glowed from within with a sickly luminescence akin to that produced by deep growing fungi. As he stared in horror, he saw a mouth gape below the eye, and enormous frog-like opening with no teeth but serrated lips, like some monstrous catfish. As he stared, too much in shock to act, he suddenly felt his body wrapped in strong, leprous flesh and he quickly lost his ability to breathe. The last sight he saw before he plunged over the safety rail was the thin, grey, first light of dawn.
**** * ****
Chief Harry Whitehorse gazed around at his fellow chiefs and Shamans from various local Tribes, “So, are The Dark Ones satisfied once again? Have They sated their appetites on strangers so that our peoples will be safe for another year?”
Affirmative rumbles muttered around the conference room. Red Wolf, a Shaman, spoke from near the back row, “They are not only satisfied but Coyote assures us that the prey people will not be linked with our premises or business operations.”
Most of the fresh mutters sounded pleased, but old Harry had to ask, “Can we trust Him?”
Chortling laughter sounded throughout the conference room and ascended into thunderous yips and howls of hysterical glee.

Stars Slots casino playing guide

It took me 7 days primarily low betting the whole time to reach level 100. (9 to reach level 110.) Whenever I bet higher than 350-450K, usually, my coins just plummeted within minutes. I think anyone who reached level 100 within 1-3 days bet higher and lucked out tremendously.
Slow and steady guide:

Join a club. The higher AND more active the better. Absolute highest is Master 1. From what I've seen, Master I, II and III required players to be a minimum level (like 100+) to join and/or a request to join (mine was never accepted). Unlike similar casino games, Stars Slots won't let you do an advanced search. You can search for a specific club if you know any names, however. So you are left with the option to join the first club on the list that currently has the most collective coins made and which allows members of your current level to join. Either that or create a club (don't recommend). So go ahead and join that first one, but change later based on step #3’s information. Also, the higher the club the bigger percentage of extra free coins you get from different sources within the game. So it goes Master I, II, III, World Class I, II, III, Expert I, II, III, and last is Pro I. Since I couldn't join Master clubs I did best in World II and World I.
Collect coins. The FB group, free coins from https://www.peoplesgamezgiftexchange.com/stars-slots-free-chips/gifts or similar website, starting with the most recent and going back as far as you can. Within the game: Once daily spin the wheel; Star Bonus every 60 minutes from far bottom left side of home screen; Huuuge Heist (unlock at level 35) every 15 hours (beside Star Bonus) (the 15 hours increase the higher a level you are at for longer wait)... make sure you've gathered bucks (can see next to dollar image under coin image at top left) (amount of bucks needed increase the higher a level you are at) in case you get an empty box and want to keep what you've won so far with boxes. Tip: An empty box for one round, for example the first one, can also be the empty one in the very next round; it's random each round. I was terrible at this game and should've clicked "give up" sooner than keep gambling; Lottery (ticket to play) every 6 hours (some say value goes up at level 70, so to save them. User batmanbnb below states to save bronze tickets until level 70. It’s up to you whether to save tickets or not.); click on Shop (top middle in green) and on the top right you can click and collect free coins every 8 hours; at the bottom of the Shop screen OR to the right of the Shop image on the home screen you click and watch a video to collect coins, until you can no longer watch, every 8 hours. Also collect coins from club members every time they hit a jackpot and 1 million coins just for first time joining any club through Stars League (middle bottom of home screen).
When you join a club click on a team member's profile and connect and you'll get an option to connect/friend every member in the club. I did this and connected to as many people during games I played until I reached my limit. I figured people in the clubs I joined, even lower level clubs, may leave and join higher ones like I did. Probably would be a good idea to go to a tier II game (the middle option for higher betting than Beginner called High Limit once you've unlocked it) and connect to players currently playing it since they have high enough coins to play that. You don't have to play yourself if you don't want to: just drop in, connect, and leave. Then, at the bottom right of the home screen click on Social and you'll see every friend you have. What I did was click on those who had the highest coins at the time and see what club they were a part of: If the club was World II or higher I joined it. Question: What if you want to do better than this club you found (either through this method or the Join Club list) either because its level is too low or not active enough players? Click on Stars League (middle bottom of home screen) then click on Seasons (to the right of Members). This shows you where your club is currently placed. If you see higher placed clubs with available space AND you can join AND it's World Class II or higher then join it. Remember your old club’s name if you ever want to go back, just in case. If you attempt to join a club and you can't get in (maybe you're not at high enough a level) you are also kicked out of your current club for attempting to leave (for some reason), leaving you club-less. My favorite clubs were Polacy2019 (currently World Class I), pour tous (World Class I), and A.Y.M.K.N. TEAM (World Class I).
Betting: The general rule of thumb I found was to bet when you have a minimum of 10-20 million, which I agree with. But you can wait, collecting as many coins as you can, to start betting when you have more. The tip I read (and stuck with) was to follow the 1% bet rule: bet 1% of your current chips or even lower (like half of that).
Games: Everyone has a different favorite game. Some games are passive (can do Hold for Autospin and not babysit the game) while others you need to be engaged with*. Passive games: God of Sky, Steam City, Neptune's Mistress. *Note: User DilutedDante below stated all games are passive; for the games I saw that wanted my input (choose numbered cards for spin the wheel, etc.) I didn't wait long enough to see if the game would perform the action for me. Recommended games from other users here on Reddit: Wheel of Wins, God of Sky (one of my favorites), Speedy 777 Spins, Retro 81 (one of my favorites), Fortunes Jackpots (never played), and Jackpot Mania (never played). Of course, more games are unlocked the higher the level you reach. I recommend that if you are under 30 million to play God of Sky or Speedy 777 (which didn’t work too well for me, but others like it when trying to gain coins). Remember to do minimum betting or 1% or lower betting. Occasionally I would switch games and play Retro 81 or Wheel of Wins. Do this until you reach level 38 and unlocked Steam City and level 40 to unlock Neptune’s Mistress. I almost exclusively played these two, passively, to reach level 100. My method was betting 100K or 125K (if I had a minimum of 40-50 million). I didn’t feel secure enough to bet 250K or higher until I had a minimum of 100 million because otherwise I would run out of coins too quickly. I rarely bet higher than 500K. I think it took 2 hours or so, minimum betting, to level up each time. So that’s why it took me a week to do this and reach level 100. I found Steam City to be the best game overall as another user did. Sometimes, even at lowest betting and even with 100+ million coins and leaving it to play on its own, I would lose all coins. But that’s OK - just collect coins again and play again. It’s all luck. Another time I started with 15 million and it jumped to 125 or so million in a short amount of time with 100K betting playing Neptune’s Mistress.
I don’t recommend Daisy’s Challenges (far bottom right of main screen). The games to be played either rarely had wins for me or the minimum bet required to unlock a box was higher than I was comfortable doing. See user DilutedDante's comment below for benefit of doing Daisy's Challenges.

If anyone has any other tips or corrections on what I've said (I've read other users got into Master clubs, but they all seemed to be for very high level players?) please share! This is just my conservative and mostly passive playing guide based on how the experience was for me. Some users do recommend Daisy's Challenges or betting higher playing the 2nd tiemiddle High Limit slot machine and had better luck with those than I did.
I gathered many other tips from various users from the Swagbucks Reddit thread not mentioned here. If anyone wants me to include some of them I can.
See below for user Kpheark1's additional tips.

How To Play At The Ethroll Casino

The Ambling Sapient

NEXT
->>>-
The roar of the crowd hauled my awareness out of the abyss and into my prone form. My limbs were sluggish to respond as I shimmied and stretched myself awake, but something at the back of my mind told me to treat things with a sense of urgency.
Wait... roar of the crowd?
I cracked an eyelid and confirmed that I was nowhere near my bed. Scratch that, I'm not even near the living room couch.
Scuffed metal plates and rusted grating. What the hell?
I opened both eyes, and a booming voice nearly caused me to jump out of my skin.
"Look at that folks! Our competitor rejoins us in the world of the living! For now..."
The roaring ambience redoubled at the commentary. Whatever this is, it's filmed in front of a live studio audience. The speakers started out blaring gibberish, but it was quickly cut over by English. Must be some sort of translator in here.
I hauled myself into a sitting position and looked around with bleary eyes. This has gotta be a dream, right?
"Ah and now it moves! This, [ladies and gentlemen] is a bilaterally symmetrical [warm-blooded] pack omnivore from a little [yellow-sunned] backwater in the [Orion-Cygnus arm]. Let's hear a big round of applause for the retrieval crew folks. This particular specimen had a vicious quadrupedal guard-symbiont inhabiting its lair, and I am told the casualties were... significant."
If you did anything to my fucking dog I swear I'll...
"Alas, their sacrifices were not to be in vain. This will be quite a show, [people]. Remember folks, this species is from a truly out of the way system. We're going to be learning about this organism in real time alongside you. The science team tells me this thing is a true generalist, within a standard deviation of the average for intelligence, speed and strength. A lack of natural weapons is somewhat disappointing, but we're excited to see the ways in which it compensates.
That's great news for the fans. Our experts estimate this specimen will be in the 80th percentile for time-to-kill, which means incredible bang for your buck, folks. Really. People are going to be furious that they paid full price for next cycle's show when they see how long this one runs for. What a treat."
Time-to-kill? Fuck that, it's time to get some answers. I looked around, but I was alone in here. Announcer must be working from a booth somewhere. I addressed the rough centre of my cell.
"Hey, uh, announcer dude?"
Just as I began to worry that 'dude' might be sufficiently gender-specific to cause offense, the voice begins again.
"Your [audio senses] do not deceive you, folks. Our next contestant speaks!
Greetings, biped. Welcome to the Arena. You're a hapless primitive, so this is no doubt the single most impressive place you've ever seen."
So far as I can tell Roman architects had these guys beat 4000 years ago, let alone the guys who design the space casinos in New Vegas, but I'm just a hapless primitive so what the fuck do I know. It would just be snarky to interrupt him when he's on a roll.
"You have been granted the tremendous honour of being selected as a contestant for this cycle's iteration of The Ambling Sapient!"
Contestant? No way, pal. I didn't sign the release, and I am most certainly suing you the moment I can get in touch with my lawyer.
"Well, consider me... tremendously... honoured... by that, but what exactly does 'The Ambling Sapient' entail?"
The announcer chuckled disdainfully at that. I don't know where exactly one is supposed to punch disembodied voices, but his tone made me want to find out.
"Oh, you quaint little thing. The Ambling Sapient is the most thrilling, most visceral, most state-sponsored form of entertainment this side of the galaxy! Each cycle we take a smattering of primitives like you from undeveloped worlds across the [Skryrn Empire], bolster their ranks with the incarcerated, the destitute, and other dregs of society, and turn the whole lot of you loose in the Arena's urban simulator to contend with an army of our murderous bounty hunters. Last sapient standing wins! Unless it's a bounty hunter, which it usually is, in which case the Empire wins!"
The crowd went nuts again.
Fuck. I managed to sleepwalk my way into organized, alien bloodsport. My therapist is gonna have a fuckin' field day with this. Maybe I'll omit the 'drunken blackout' factor in my retelling.
"I didn't agree to this."
The smug bastard actually guffawed at this, like it was a goddamn affront I'd take issue with being drafted into playing the most dangerous game for some jagoff xeno emperor.
"Well no, you wouldn't have. If we cared what you thought you'd be a citizen of the Empire and you'd have actual rights and freedoms. We don't, because you're a shithead primitive from a civilization that can't even crack lightspeed, and we are like unto Gods to your puny backwater minds.
See folks, this is half of the fun for an old windbag like me. This little monkey is still coming to terms with the realization that any sense of agency it ever enjoyed was a condescending illusion.
There are greater forces at work in the galaxy, contestant, and you should be thankful to be borne along in their wake. This is an opportunity to transcend your ignominious existence and provide [minutes] of precious entertainment to a being so grand the very stars are shaped at his behest."
I was starting to get a pretty good idea of the sort of asshole I was dealing with, so I chose my next words very carefully.
"Gee, thanks. I'm humbled."
"Now I understand that this is simply an artifact of your flailing attempts at proto-language, but my auto-interpreter just tagged that with 'ambiguous tone'. Do you mind reaffirming for the cameras just how humbled you feel to have been selected for Lord Pha'Gouad?"
I hope the windbag's auto-interpreter caught the meaning of my smirk before I spat out my reply.
"Hell no. This sucks sweaty taint, and you people are fucking barbarians. The last 'enlightened' human civilization to practice bloodsport also openly practiced pedophilia. Tell Lord Fuckwad he can eat my ass, right after I win your stupid game show."
I could hear the gears failing to catch in the announcer's head as he struggled to process my little tirade.
"I... excuse me? Why you insufferable little... Lord... what does [copulation-gobbet] even mean?"
I couldn't help but chuckle as the smug douche went into fits. That'll teach the folks at home to watch with the kiddos.
"It's what I'm going to blow, in your mom, after I'm done winning this thing and skullfucking your boss."
"Cease this insolence AT ONCE!"
I'd better cool it with the snark lest they execute me before it even begins.
"You will remain silent whether you like it or not, contestant. I have cut your feed. I had intended to excite the audience for your brief tenure in the Arena, but now we're all united in hoping for your swift, painful death."
Sure, buddy. I bet half the people in here hope I stick it to your smug alien ass. Something tells me this Lord Fuckwad isn't exactly the pinnacle of statesmanship.
"We will begin ignoring you now. You will receive a final briefing from the holoscreen in your cell."
I flipped off the centre of the chamber and started stretching. There was no telling when the contest was going to start and I wanted to hit the ground running.
The holoscreen flared to life, projecting what was unmistakably one of those dry, HR-produced training videos into the air in a lattice of dancing light.
"Welcome, contestant. Please pay careful attention to maximize the entertainment provided to the good spectators of The Ambling Sapient."
I swear to God, these buffoons. They seriously added an echo and a thunderclap sound bite to emphasize the name of their stupid bloodsport. In their defense, whoever did the voiceover's monotone is bad enough that it might kill me via boredom before the door to my cell ever opens.
"Your containment cell will be lifted and deposited via field-friction directly into the Arena, where it will open in synchronicity with the cells of all other contestants. Bounty hunters will be waiting for you, and a second wave will be released an indeterminate amount of time after the contest commences. You must use your environment, and your own natural gifts to evade the bounty hunters and eliminate rival contestants."
I am not looking forward to killing other unwilling participants in this nightmare gameshow. Can't blame them for trying to off me though... I'll have to try and avoid everyone. Endurance is my most obvious natural gift, surely I can win this if I turn it into a war of attrition?
"This cycle's theme is [Marathon]. In each contestant's cell there is a totem. Any contestant who can deliver their totem to a totem-specific receptacle hidden around the Arena will be released from the competition. Contestants who do so forego any other potential contest rewards, and count as eliminated for the purpose of determining the contest's winner. They will be granted Proletariat-class membership in the [Skryrn Empire].
The totem will periodically emit light to help usher the contestant in the direction of the receptacle. The minimum distance-to-travel is a staggering [5500 metres], with some totem-receptacle pairs requiring as much as [7000 metres] of foot travel, thus ensuring that contestants who attempt to exit the contest are not able to do so trivially."
I try to maintain a cool exterior as inside my head I frantically celebrate being abducted by the laziest fucking aliens in the galaxy. I haven't had the wide-open space to run that I'd like to since I took that job starside, but my treadmill with elevation settings has done an admirable job of simulating the ground. I'm not 22 anymore, unless I want to identify as the number of alcoholic beverages I consume every weekend, but 5-7K is still a warm up and not a workout unto itself.
"That concludes our The Ambling Sapient tutorial video. Good luck, contestant."
The fucking thunderclaps. Good luck to you too, narrator, because if I get out of here I'm finding you and tearing out whatever passes for a larynx for your species, and I'm starting to get pretty darn confident that I'm getting out of here. At least the windbag with the audience had some theatrical flair.
The cell lurched suddenly and I tumbled to the ground. I suppose the tutorial ending should have been a clue, but I'm processing a lot right now. I can forgive myself for a small lapse in foresight. I braced myself so as not to slide across the floor as an undignified heap, but besides the inertia of their friction-fields or whatever grabbing my cell it was a relatively smooth ride.
I glanced around and spotted the totem. I think it must have been unlit before, or else I'm really not very perceptive while my brain is still waking up, because it was pretty much the cell's only obvious feature apart from the windows. It was a small baton, maybe a third of a metre in length and about as big around as a broom handle. It looked sturdy enough to hit someone with, I noted hopefully. If they arm me for my little warmup jog this will go down as the easiest life-or-death struggle in human history.
Eventually the sensation of motion stopped, and I only stumbled a little as my balance adjusted. I hefted the totem and, sure enough, it would make for a great bludgeon in a pinch. I wasn't sure what sort of electronics they packed into the thing, but resolved only to risk breaking my ticket out of here if the alternative was death.
The cell doors opened with a soft hiss. Swallowing the bubbling, subversive anxiety that was churning my guts, I stepped out into the streets of the Arena. The air smelled pretty much like a city's should. Dirty, artificially hot and packed with all the creatively diverse pollutants that any arrogant society is willing to lace their atmosphere with in the name of prosperity and advancement.
I was reasonably sure the ambient light level was increasing, which meant I had maybe half an hour before the sun first peeked over the Arena's artifical horizon. The totem lit up just once, projecting a faint beam of light off into the city streets.
Well, I thought, it's now or never. Time to show these assholes who they're messing with.
->>>-
NEXT

Sabacc with regular cards

I want to play Sabacc, but can't print or afford a real deck. So made some rules for a standard deck of cards. I wanted to make it simple to start, but add the ability to add rules as people get familiar with playing. used other people's variants for inspiration and take no ownership for these rules and want no credit for them. just wanted to share them so someone else might enjoy them.
Sabacc (Simple Variant)
Items needed: Standard Deck of Cards (with Jokers) Six Sided Die (2 Die for Interference Shield variant) 23 Counters per Player
Card Values: Black Suits are Positive Red Suits are Negative Ace is worth 1 2-10 is worth their number Jack is worth 11 Queen is worth 12 King is worth 13 Joker is worth 0
Start of the Game: Each player gets 23 counters.
Start of a Hand: If there is no dealer then a dealer is chosen. The dealer stays the dealer for the whole hand. The dealer deals two cards to each player and places the rest of the deck in the middle of table.
Ante: Each player places one counter in a pot to the side of the cards. This is the Sabacc pot. The first round starts after everyone adds the pot.
Length of Hand: A hand is played at least three rounds. (Use an indicator of some sort to show round number)
Round of Play
Betting Phase: The person to the dealers left starts the bet. The bet is a minimum of one counter and a maximum number of counters equal to the total number of players. After each bet the person to the bettor's left either matchs the bet, may raises the bet if it has not yet reached the maximum limit, or discards their cards, leaves the hand and forfiets any counters bet. All players must match the current bet or forfeit the hand.
Shift Phase: Dealer rolls a six sided die. If a 4, 5 or 6 is rolled then nothing happens. If a 1, 2 or 3 rolled then the player to picks a card in the hand of the player to their left. The selected cards are discarded and the dealer deals a new card to each player.
Call Phase: At the end of the third round and at the call phase of every round for the rest of the hand any player may call and the hand ends.
Deal Phase: Dealer deals one card to each player. Each player can discard any card in their hand. A player must have a minimum of two cards, but has no limit to the maximum number of cards.
Winning Hand
Winning: After a hand is called, each player adds their black suit cards and subtracts their red suit cards. The winner is the player closest to positive 23 or negative 23 wins without going over. The winner wins the bets of all players.
Sabacc: If a player gets exactly 23, either positive or negative, they have a Sabacc. A Sabacc wins the bets of all players and the Sabacc pot.
Sudden Demise: If there is a tie either positive or negative then the person with the most cards wins. If there is still a tie then the dealer gives each player who has tied a card. The scoring for all players is recounted, and a new winner is declared. If there is another tie, resolve as above.
Reverse Sabacc: If all players are over 23 then all bets go to the Sabacc pot.
Dealer Shift: After each hand the Dealer's role is taken by the player to the former dealer's left.
End of the Game: The end of the game happens when a player loses all their counters and the latest hand is over. The player with the highest total of counters wins. If the Sabacc pot is higher then all players, no one wins.
Advanced Variants
Advanced variants are decided on by players before the game starts. The variants below are only examples. Different players and casinos have their own variants.
Interference Shield: Before the Shift phase of a round a player may place any cards from their hand face up. That card is now considered locked. During the Shift phase, instead of one die, two dice are rolled. A shift only occurs if the numbers on the dice match. If a shift occurs any cards not locked are discarded and replacement cards are dealt to each player equal to the cards the player discarded. A locked card can still be discarded by player after cards are drawn.
Jawa's Choice: During Draw phase, a player can take the top card from the discard pile instead being delt a card from the top of the deck. The player may still discard a card from thier hand.
Bombing: If a player ends the hand with more the 23 or less then -23 then they bomb. If a player bombs they add to the Sabacc pot a number of counters equal to the number they bet in that hand. Should tied players have hands that bomb after an extra card, then the player must pay to the Sabacc pot a number of counters equal to the number they bet in that hand.
Pure Sabacc: In addition to 23 being a Sabacc, a player can get zero. A player who gets a total of zero has a Pure Sabacc. A Pure Sabacc beats a normal Sabacc.
Idiot's Array: If a player has a hand of only a joker (0), a two of any suit and a three of any suit then they have an Idiot's Array. In the event two players get an Idiot's Array each player draws a card. Card closest to zero wins.
Alternate Arrays: Specific combinations of cards specified before play begins beat any hand of equal value and may make the player eligible to claim the Sabacc Pot if they win. Some examples: The Queen of Air and Darkness: Any hand containing a Queen an Ace. Endurance: A hand of all black or red suits except for a king card of the opposite suit. Balance: Hand has equal number of red and black cards. Demise: The value of hand is points over 23 (positive or negative). If bombing variant is used then player must follow those rules after the winner is decided and winnings collected. Moderation: A hand with a red 10 and black ten. The Evil One: A hand containing the Ace of Spades and the Ace of Clubs. All cards count as negative. The Star: Any hand containing an Ace and any numbered Diamonds.
Corellian Spike: Before the first draw phase, the dealer deals one card and places it face up in front of each player. In draw phase, players may buy new cards for two counters. If the player buys a card, they could either discard the new card, swap it with one of the two cards in their hand, or swap it with the spike card. In shift phase, if a one is rolled (double ones if using Interference Shield) the card placed in front of player is discarded and replaced by one dealt by dealer instead of a change to the player's hand. The winner is the player closest to zero instead of 23. A regular Sabacc is now 0. Variations can beat a regular Sabacc. Fleet is a four of a kind equaling zero. Yee-Haw is a pair with red and black if same number and a joker that equals zero. Rylet is black three of any kind and red pair, or vice versa. Gee-Whiz is black suit from 1 to 4 and red 10, or vice versa. Straight Khryon is run of four cards (eg. 4, 5, 6, 7) with red and black suit that equal zero. Bantha's Wild is three cards of a kind and other cards that equal zero. Rule of Two is two pairs of two card of a kind that equal zero. Ties are resolved by the player with the lowest card in their hand winning the hand. If both players have lowest card then player with most cards wins. If there is still a tie then players draw a card. Lowest card wins.
Real Betting
When money instead of counters is used, the following changes are made to the rules.
Ante: A big and small blind are added. The player to the dealers left puts in an agreed upon big blind to the Sabacc pot and player to the left after the big blind player puts in a small blind that is half the big blind to the Sabacc pot. Intial bet and raises should also be decided.
Bidding: Minimum and Maximum bids are agreed upon before the hand starts.
End of Game: Game ends once no Sabacc Pot remains and players who can still ante and make a minimum bet decide to end game.
Null Sabacc: If only one player can play then that player receives the remaining Sabacc pot.
Bombing: Bombing is treated the same, except the amount added to Sabacc pot. Bombing requires the player to add the total of all bets forgot the hand to the Sabacc Pot.
Corellian Spike: Cards are bought for twice intial bid.
Idiot's Array: When determining the winning hand an Idiot's Array does not end the game and is considered better then a Pure Sabacc and wins player bets and the Sabacc pot.

What does a rebuild look like? (Overly High Effort Post)

So I’ve been thinking about this a lot since the end of the season, and after we heard a bunch of the talk from the Yohe/Rossi/Madden hot take crowd about the supposed fact that this team is fundamentally flawed, has something wrong with the room, needs to be completely rebuilt, etc. “I know what’s coming this summer” horseshit aside, it’s really been bugging me to think about what these people really expect a rebuild to look like. So, since it’s the offseason and there’s nothing else to do, I figured I’d put on my amateur talent scout/horrible GM prediction skills and analyze what, exactly, the Pens could do, and what they’re likely to do in the offseason. Keep in mind that I’m literally nobody and have no inside information beyond what’s public and I have no credentials on this front either, but I’m also completely an expert and fuck you if you disagree with any of my opinions. I’ll break this down into tiers from most likely to be with the team next season to the UFAs who are almost certainly gone.
Tier One: The Stars
Sid – Goes without saying… right? I mean, maybe not – maybe you blame Sid for the lack of leadership on the team, or you think he’s contributing to an environment that is no longer conducive to winning. But, does anyone really believe that? Plus, and this is actually more important than that kind of tripe that nobody truly believes – can you even begin to think of a trade that would be for equal value to what Sid is worth to this franchise? That last reason is the biggest reason why none of this tier should – or will – be traded: you can’t possibly get equal value back to what they’re worth. Either the team trading for them would be foolish to do it (they’re still young enough that they’re not on their farewell tours, but they’re old enough that you’d have to be in win-now mode, and none of those teams who would fall under that category are going to give up the kind of assets it would take to make an even trade).
Geno – Geno started Game One like a wrecking ball and I was convinced that his line would end up being the turning point in that series. Boy was I right – but also wrong. Instead of dominating the Habs’ lack of depth, they looked listless at times and like they just never got back in sync. That’s led to the yearly talk about trading Geno and Letang, but frankly, JR has already committed to both and you’d never get equal value for Geno. He’s worth too much to the franchise and probably will retire a Penguin unless he leaves as a UFA.
Letang – GMJR has already committed to him so he’s not being traded in all likelihood, and there’s really no trade package that would bring back equal value for what he’s worth to the team. He plays 25 minutes a night, and even though he makes infuriating turnovers at times, they’re usually because he’s trying to be creative and doing something physically gifted that we, as fans, take for granted – even when he fails at it. Do yourself a favor and watch the tape – when there’s a breakout pass out of the defensive zone, watch when Letang fires the pass and then watch when Jack Johnson or even Marcus Pettersson throws the pass and see the difference. Letang makes this offense tick, even when that offense sucks and doesn’t put up any goals against a trash tier team like Montreal. He’s not going anywhere, like his hair or not.
Tier Two: Not Quite Stars, but basically untouchable
John Marino – I’ll eat… something if they trade Marino.
Jake Guentzel – I struggled a bit trying to figure out where to put Jake on this list. The thing is, like it or not, he was Not Good in that series against Montreal. Still, give him a pass because he was coming off of a long term injury that I’ve had and can personally attest to the fact it sucks and takes a while to recover from.
Tristan Jarry – I mean, I’d say he’s PROBABLY in this tier, but who knows; maybe GMJR gets a sick trade package for him and keeps Murray instead. I find that REALLY hard to believe, so I’m keeping him here, but I’d allow for the possibility.
Tier Three: We literally just signed these guys, so why the hell would you trade them?
Brandon Tanev – So his contract still seems a little too long and for a little too much money, but after watching him basically be the only dude on the ice skating hard for long periods of that Montreal series, I can’t imagine trading him even if you could. There’s probably a market for him somewhere if you want to retain salary, but that would be taking a big L on someone who arguably does help the team, so I don’t see it happening.
Jason Zucker – So, Zucker wasn’t nearly the impact player we were hoping to get after he scored a billion goals with Sid after acquiring him, but then again, who was? He’s with the team fairly long term, and while his acquisition price is a sunk cost, it still seems stupid as hell to trade him away at this point. He’s a useful top six forward, even if he’s not a top liner.
Tier Four: Entry Level Contracts/Very Inexpensive Contracts That Make Little Sense to Move
Dominik Simon – Simon is a possession demon, and even if his hands seem like they’re as bad as mine playing beer league sometimes, he’s a valuable part of the team and he costs 750k. I can’t see him getting traded.
Sam Lafferty – He’s still on his ELC and even though he was shit in the one game he got in the playoffs, the coaching staff and JR think highly enough of him to at least try to play him in a playoff game. I doubt he’s going anywhere.
Teddy Blueger – He’s a useful defensive forward making very little money. If you don’t end up needing him for your roster, you probably lose him on waivers, but I doubt trading him is terribly likely. He’s probably still in the bottom six next season.
Chad Ruhwedel – He makes pocket change and seems to be fairly useful #8 defenseman. He’s cleared waivers in the past and probably would in the future again.
Tier Five: I wouldn’t trade them, but GMJR might if he loses a bunch of money at Rivers Casino and wants to shake shit up
Brian Dumoulin – I’m prefacing this with the fact that I really like Dumoulin, and I do value advanced and/or fancy stats so I know he’s not the problem. But, he’s not nearly as untouchable as any of the guys above, and he’s someone with a tradeable contract who could probably fetch some assets back in return. I know absolutely nothing about the locker room culture and I don’t pretend to know anything about it, but if Dumoulin is anything but a model citizen in the room, I could see him getting moved. Still, I wouldn’t do it.
Bryan Rust – Rust seems to be a pretty standard GMJR whipping boy, and I don’t understand it at all. His advanced metrics are pretty amazing and he added the goal scoring touch this year to round out his overall game. If he’s on almost any other team, he’s probably one of their focal point stars but he gets buried a bit here given how talented the lineup is. Still, would anybody be surprised if GMJR goes on a bender and decides to move him?
Tier Six: Trade Possibilities, but what’s the point?
Marcus Pettersson – I know what you’re thinking here – he wasn’t the problem, and I agree. But, he has rather middling advanced metrics, and if I’m being honest, I am not excited to start paying him 4 million next season. Still, of this tier, he’s the least likely to go because… we’re paying him 4 million next year. But he’s very, very far from untouchable and nor should he be untouchable. His pairing was largely buoyed by stellar play from Marino and I’m not sure he’d have been remarkable at all without being tethered to that rocket. Still, with the contract… probably not going anywhere.
Zach Aston-Reese – ZAR was at fault for some pretty bad goals against during the Montreal series, and of that buzzsaw fourth line, he’s probably the most tradeable and replaceable. You could likely get value for him, since he’s only making $1m for another year. I probably would keep him, though.
Jared McCann – He’s probably going to be at least tendered as an RFA because he’s too valuable to let walk without getting anything in return, but the fact that he was the first guy on the bench when things started to go south doesn’t bode well for him – neither does the fact that he was on the single worst line during that shit show of a series. For a while, he looked like one of the future stars of the team as he was riding with Sid, but when he’s been separated from the gravy train, he hasn’t been as productive or looked nearly as irreplaceable. Could you get some value out of him by moving him? Maybe. Maybe not.
Tier Seven: Please God someone take these guys
Nick Bjugstad – He’s not totally useless, but he’s on a horrible contract that’s already gotten him traded once and he’s currently injured. I think it’s fairly unlikely the Pens will be able to move him unless they retain salary, which… sigh. I guess if you have to. At least he’s only got one more year left on his contract. Speaking of which…
Jack Johnson – 3 more years at $3.25m. If you can trade him, you do it. But you probably have to retain salary and you probably have to package something with him to offload him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s still a Penguin next season for that reason.
Tier Eight: More Likely Trade Candidates
Patrick Hornqvist – Horny has had a great career with the Pens, is by all accounts a great locker room dude and a good powerplay guy, and is completely useless at fives. I think you could get some value from trading him to a team who’s in GMJR’s Tom Wilson Fever Dreams Mode (NEED MORE GRIT). I wouldn’t be happy to see him go at all based on what he’s provided over the years, but I would understand and I actually do think it’s time.
Matt Murray – A lot of blame has always been heaped on Murray because he’s the guy who took over for the guy a lot of us liked. I personally don’t buy the exorbitant contract demands talk, but who knows. The bottom line, though, is that his metrics have been suffering for a few seasons now and for better or worse, it doesn’t make much sense to keep both goaltenders and he doesn’t save enough of the highest danger shots. Should he have to? No. But he isn’t really stealing games for us at this point and Jarry sometimes does. There are enough horrible goalie situations in the league that you should be able to trade him somewhere, but I wouldn’t expect to extract a ton of value out of the trade. Hopefully I’ll be pleasantly surprised, though.
Tier Nine: RFA Non-Tender Candidates
Evan Rodrigues – He didn’t really flash when he got a chance, even if that wasn’t much of a chance. He’d be cheap to keep in all likelihood but I wouldn’t be surprised to see him non-tendered.
Jusso Riikola – I kinda doubt you can find much better than him at that price point and I can’t imagine him fetching more than league minimum to be honest. Still, it’s possible GMJR has had enough of the Riikola experiment and is ready to move on. I’d probably keep him, for what it’s worth, but the staff started Jack Johnson over him for four games in the playoffs. Clearly they don’t think terribly highly of him.
Tier Ten: UFA’s
Justin Schultz – And now… starting for your Washington Capitals… Seriously though, JR threw him solidly under the bus and I can’t see him sticking around. And also seriously, I bet he signs with the Caps.
Conor Sheary – They literally just traded for him again, which shows they think he has some value, so it’s possible they throw him a reasonable contract offer. It’s even possible that he decides to stick around. Let me be clear: I actually really liked his game in the playoff series and I say that unironically. He was buzzing a lot, made some creative passes, and was in the right spot pretty often. Still, they lost, and he didn’t score, so he’s an obvious candidate to move on from.
Patrick Marleau – Press F to pay respects.
Conclusions:
So, what’s left? What does a real “rebuild” look like for this team that’s already fairly tight to the cap? Let’s say they move on from everyone I listed in tiers 8-10… your starting lineup looks like this (I have no idea what wings people play so I’m making this up and I fully admit that – this is just an exercise to show you that not much changes, spoiler alert):
Guentzel – Sid – Simon
Zucker – Geno – Rust
X – McCann – X
Tanev – Blueger – ZAR
Letang – Dumo
Marino – Pettersson
Johnson – X
Jarry
X
Extras: Bjugstad, Lafferty, Ruhwedel
Cue “Is This Rebuilding?” meme – even if we started dipping into the less-likely-to-be-traded tiers, this roster really doesn’t feel like it’s being changed much, unless GMJR panics and decides to turn this into Grit City™ again. My prediction is that we don’t see a lot of turnover this season – maybe a few trades here and there, but this roster is mostly the same on opening night in December or January or whenever.
What do you guys think?

ACHIEVEMENTS GUIDE WITH ROYALTY UPDATE

[REPOST of this.]
LAST UPDATED: 09/13/2020 ~ Lion Tamer achievement has link to a new post I created with notes and how-to guide.

Royalty:

Monarch: become a king or queen.
- Optional: in god mode, you can select the royalty status of a new life. Select prince/princess, and kill your parents later in life or wait until they die until you inherit the throne. If you happen to have older siblings, kill them off.
Executioner: execute 20 people. It can only be done as king or queen. Edit: this can be done multiple times in one year. Depending on the country, people may revolt against you which can lead to exile. If you want to avoid this, be a king/queen in Saudi Arabia. Thank you u/Scarlet_Hare.
Napoleon: get exiled by repeatedly executing people or selecting public disservice. Do this until your respect is at 0%. The people will revolt against you, and you will be exiled.
Reign Over Us: reign as a monarch (king/queen) for 100 years. To do this, become king/queen. Have a child, and kill your spouse immediately. Then surrender. The child will automatically become the king/queen. Live for 100 years by keeping your health up by following the steps under the Longevity section. Make sure to keep your respect high by doing public services.
Markle: be a female, live in the UK, have high looks to become a famous (edit: you can become a famous actress but it's not required. Thank you u/notoriousbaby), and use the ~~dating app~~ REGULAR dating tab, NOT dating app, to date and marry into the royal family.

Longevity:

Keep your health up by going to the gym, meditating, taking walks, and going to the doctor when you're sick.

Wealth:

The fastest way to become wealthy is to become a famous actor or famous writer. I also recommend living in countries that don't have estate tax such as Germany, Sweden, Monaco, & Norway. Start off with high looks for actor or high smarts for writer. Join social media & post every year. When you become famous, do a commercial every year.
While there are other high paying jobs such as porn star, model, and music composer, I do not recommend these because you won't be able to make much extra money on the side. For porn star and model, you can do photo shoots, but they don't pay nearly as much as commercials do.

Real Estate:

Become wealthy using the advice for wealthy achievements. For flipping houses, buy equestrian properties & keep renovating them when necessary. If you buy an equestrian property in your 20s, by the time you're in your 70s-80s, the net worth of the property will increase by a few millions.

Social Media:

Become famous and post every year. When your fame bar is at 75%, request verification.

Animal:

Animal rescue: take an animal to a shelter.
Deaf leopard: buy a leopard from the exotic pet dealer & yell at it when it misbehaves.
Gorilla: buy a gorilla & mistreat it.
Hippo: try to pet the hippo. You'll die from it.
Lion Tamer
Unicorn: completely random.

Career:

Follow this career guide.

Jack of all trades: have 10 different jobs in one life. Apply for jobs that don't require a degree and stay for a few years (I stayed for 2 years).
Candy-writer: be born in MIAMI (NOT Tuscon) with high smarts. Major in computer science and get a job as an app tester with BITLIFE. DO NOT GET A JOB WITH CANDY-WRITER. THE COMPANY SHOULD SAY BITLIFE.
Last resort: have high looks. Use god mode to edit your boss to have 0% professionalism, 0% strictness, 0% willpower, and 100% coolness.
- While you have good performance at work, seduce your boss.
- If done successfully, lower your performance percentage bar by insulting and pulling pranks on coworkers.
- When a pop up shows up saying you've been fired, beg your boss for another chance, & try to seduce them again.
People person: if you have trouble befriending your coworkers, use god mode to set their craziness to 0%, coolness to 100%, willpower to 0%, and low professionalism.

Combat:

Medieval weapon: insult people until someone attacks you with a medieval weapon.
Armed & Dangerous: Tiger Claw Strike (Kung-Fu) seems to be the most deadly. Aim at the person's skull or throat.

Disease:

Bubonic plague: random.
Rabies: pet stray animals that you come across. One will eventually bite you & give you rabies.
Witchcraft: avoid taking raw egg, venom, & green bubbling liquid as these are the deadliest things you can consume.
Addicted: accept all substances offered to you. Go clubbing (with high looks & low smarts) to get more access to substances.
Sickly: Get sick with 10 diseases in 1 life.
- Do this by going clubbing as soon as you turn 18. Accept substances that are offered to you & hook up with random people.
- Try to get as many STDs as you can including but not limited to: chlamydia, syphilis, gonorrhea, and genital herpes.
- Go to the gym every year to get other illnesses such as: ringworm, staph infection, athletes foot, etc.
- Note: you can also get HIV and Hep B from hook ups, but make sure to keep your health up so that you don't die from complications.

Entertainment:

BitBoi: watch YouTube with friends until Bijuu Mike pops up.
BTS ARMY: go to a concert with a friend every year until BTS shows up.

Fame:

Brightest Star: get max fame by having high looks, posting on social media, & doing commercials or photo shoots.
Centerfold: do photo shoots every year until you do one for Wank magazine.
Endorser: become a famous actor & do a commercial. These typically pay about $4,000,000
K-Pop: be born in South Korea. Have high looks, & get a job as a background singer. Work hard every year & get promoted to lead singer. Post on social media. You'll eventually become a famous pop star.

Fertility:

DNA donor: have high looks &/or high smarts to be allowed to donate your sperm.
Fertile myrtle: be born a female. Get pregnant as soon as you turn 18 by artificial insemination or unprotected sex. Do this every year until you have 25 children.
Smart seed: Be a female, graduate high school, and have a decent amount of money ($45k). Check the artificial insemination option. If a lawyer doesn't show up, close out of the app and restart it until a lawyer (NOT judge or paralegal) pops up.
Super sperm
Triplets: increase your chances by using artificial insemination.

Love:

Fake it: use god mode to lower your fiance's smarts to 0%, then propose.
Bejeweled: marry someone rich or use god mode to adjust your SO's money bar. Keep your relationship bar full.
Black widow: use a dating app to marry men 80+.
- Optional: use god mode to set their health to 0%.
Diamond Anniversary: marry young & keep your health bar up. Use god mode to set your SO's health to 100% so they won't die quickly.
Family planner: set your SO's smarts & willpower to 0% & convince them to go off birth control.
Wedding planner: be born in an African country such as DR Congo. Wait until your parents arrange a marriage for you & accept. Gender doesn't matter.

Military:

Career military: serve a full career in the military. Avoid deployments by closing the app & restarting.
General: enlist as an air force, army, or marines officer. Work hard every year until you become general.
Admiral: enlist as a navy or coast guard officer. Work hard every year until you get promoted to admiral.
AWOL: get addicted to alcohol by going clubbing. Once you get addicted, go to rehab.
Excavator: to clear 10 minefields, it's best to practice minesweeper until you're good at it. This DOES NOT need to be done in one life. You can do this over multiple lives.

Prison

Escape from prison: get arrested for a petty crime & get sent to minimum or medium security prison. Use this guide to escape.
Justice: be wealthy & apply for an appeal.
Aftermath: riot every year. Each year, the number of prisoners you need increases by 5. The max is 25. Once you hit 25, keep rioting every year until you can escape.
- Rioting will lower your health. Keep your health bar green by bribing the guards, going to the infirmary,working out, & meditating.
- You can only escape when your health is green.
In-mating: get arrested in a minimum or medium security prison. Arrange a conjugal visit. Make sure your spouse has a high crazy level.
Mercy Me: follow the steps in the wealth achievement section. Get arrested with a long sentence. Be on good behavior by meditating every year, ignoring prisoners, & being respectful to the warden. Appeal your sentence. Note: while in prison, DO NOT join gangs, incite riots, or bribe guards.
Theseus: the easiest way to escape is by following the instructions to the aftermath achievement. Otherwise, you can check out this guide.

School:

Naughty child: easiest way to get expelled is to enroll in college & get bad grades by not studying & skipping class.
Brothers Forever: join a frat in college by having high looks. When you graduate & look for a job, you'll be hired by a frat brother.
Earning that A: seduce your teacher by having high looks. Use god mode to change the teacher's professionalism & willpower to 0%.
Swimming Star: have high health & join the swim team in high school or college. Practice hard every year to become captain.

Vehicle:

Get rich using the steps in the wealth section above. Obtain your pilot & boating license to complete these achievements.

Antiqued: buy a car. Get maintenance done every year. Do repairs when needed.

General:

Cliff diving: spend time with family & friends every year until you go cliff diving.
Hero: save someone from choking.
Skeezy: insult people until someone calls you skeezy.
Snake snack: go to the witch doctor every year until she offers a snake.
Emigrate to Canada/Visit Winnipeg: check the emigrate/vacation list every year until they show up.
Zap: this one is random.
All Along: change a parent's sexuality to gay using god mode & hope they come out.
Begone: become an exorcist & buy a haunted house. Age up one year & exorcise the ghost(s).
Dignified Donor: find a $1m heirloom (random) & donate it.
Flamin' hot: sign up for the hot Cheetos diet. Keep your health up by going to the gym, meditating, & walking every year.
Flee the country: escape from a minimum or medium security prison using this & emigrate.
Frankenstein: go to a low-rated plastic surgeon and get a botched penis enlargement surgery or breast augmentation.
- Note: DO NOT GO FOR A BRAZILIAN BUTT LIFT. A BOTCHED ONE CAN KILL YOU!
Human Dictionary: select the book option under mind & body until Merriam Webster Dictionary shows up, then read it.
Low-roller: lose money at the casino until you have a negative bank balance. Run from the guards. You may serve time in prison or successfully evade the guards. Try returning to the casino. You will be denied.
Nightmare: be wealthy by following the steps in the wealth section. Buy an airplane, jet, or helicopter and fly every year. Eventually a bad situation will come up and you need to pick an option. Sometimes it will turn out that the situation was just nightmare. Credit to this post. MAKE SURE TO BY A USED PLANE IN BAD CONDITION. WHEN A POP UP COMES UP, SELECT SIT BACK AND ACCEPT FATE.
Para-nightmare: live in a haunted house. When encountering a ghost/paranormal event, scream. Make sure your health is very low. You can do this by going on unhealthy diets such as Hot Cheetos or High Calorie. You can also drink alcohol. Avoid drugs so that you don't accidentally overdose.
Player perks: [will update]
Resourceful: marry a rich person that's 80+ & wait until they die OR have a low net worth & divorce them.
Rich justice: be wealthy by following the steps above in the wealth section. Sue a plastic surgeon who botched your surgery or an ex-spouse (both tend to have a decent amount of money). Sue for $1 mil and pick the most expensive law firm to represent you.
Roswell: Be wealthy by following the steps in the wealth section. Buy an airplane or jet. Fly every year OR if a prompt does not show up, close the app and restart the game until an alien encounter pops up when flying. Credit goes to this post and this comment.
Run Bitizen: go to a horse race & bet on Bitizen the horse & hope it wins.

Crime:

For burglary achievements: have high smarts to increase your chances of stealing successfully.
For murder achievements: if a pop up comes up saying you've been arrested/taken to court, close out of the game & restart, then try killing again.

Pet:

Adopt don't shop: follow the steps in the wealth achievements section & buy a large property (equestrian/ranch/farm). Then adopt all the pets at the shelter. There is not a limit to how many pets you can adopt if you have a large property.
- Note: you will not be able to adopt if you have a criminal record.
Horsing around: buy an equestrian property so you can buy horses. Buy 50 horses in 1 life.
Just keep swimming: get a gold fish from the pet store & release it.
Natural selection
No Probllama: buy a llama by having an equestrian property & going to the exotic pet dealer. YOU MUST LIVE IN A SOUTH AMERICAN COUNTRY (e.g. Argentina, Chile, Peru, etc.)

Economic Symbiogenesis

Visuals
Economic Evolution Thomas J Novak
Disclaimers 1. I wish to contend that Micro and Macro Economics each constitute a hidden branch of evolution. To be clear, I’m not arguing for an analogy, I’m arguing each branch is an evolutionary process; and with this comes the mathematical framework needed to scientifically objectify success (major goal for every Capitalist). 2. The quantitative aspects are partially rooted in Game Theoretic Evolution. I do not expect this theory will garner majority support or understanding. It is only an esoteric theoretical ideal; but it is my hope that this will gradually change until one-day we have a Utopia. 3. The mechanism is voluntary through rational self-incentives. It advocates for a change in perspective for optimal decision making purposes. 4. Dollars and other fiat currencies are still completely necessary. Fiat currency constitutes a valuable technology that eliminates the need for bartering, yielding considerable savings in life’s prime asset - TIME. 5. I apologize to the reader in advance for the long essay. I hope it is "worth" your time.
Key Conclusions
Present day humanity is full of capitalists that have the right idea but are missing some key math. This is causing them to behave inefficiently in the context of their own self-interests. Ideal Capitalism is Pareto Optimal and should be practiced by all; and it should lead to maximal economic growth. I also wish to conjecture that a new Nash Equilibrium is available to our race: Perpetual peacetime under the individual Pareto Optimal Strategy of Ideal Capitalism as every individual looks to maximize their self-fortune and troll farms are voluntarily dismantled. If this sounds too good to be true, note that it very well may have been for all of human-history save the last few decades. Key developments are nuclear weapons and the internet. Discussed more in the last section.
Introduction
The "science" of Economics is not yet a science. Don't get me wrong - micro-economics is just about there; but macro-econ is a totally different story. Some call it “The Dismal Science” because it makes many quantitative claims that are inconsistent with empirical data. An example is the claim that John Rockefeller’s fortune could be made comparable to contemporary fortunes by adjusting his dollars for inflation and real growth. In fact only adjusting his hours for real growth does the trick.
In general macro-econ has a zero-sum-dollar-centric structure that does not allow for input of things like maternity and child rearing - two fundamentally "valuable" human activities. Another problem is that planetary-wide risks like war, (and that which is assured by "Mutually Assured Destruction" (MAD)), are not naturally measurable in dollars.
Some concepts from financial mathematics and science can generalize economic measurements into a co-compatible theory that almost seems too simple to be necessary. Basic results agree with common sense in every way. Some conclusions are so obvious the calculation seems pointless. Others might be beyond common sense similar to the notion that the Earth on which one walks is anything but flat. The former supports credence for the latter. All examples of human stupidity supports a need for all of it.
Ideal Capitalism
Most powers past through present can be thought cold, "calculating”, and self-interested; and most presently embrace association with Capitalism. Paradoxically, human history, (even recent), is a litany of fighting and stupidity and hurt feelings. These are inefficiencies from the Capitalist perspective, so something must be wrong with these “calculations”.
The argument will start with a Micro-Economic exercise intended to provide quantitative framework to measure just how unCapitalistic many present-day capitalists are acting, by unitizing all their actions in a scientific manner. Any Capitalist wishing to maximize their net-worth will be made more materialistically rich simply by maintaining complete indifference about others, understanding the entire picture, and trusting numbers. Wall Street can confirm this is its goal.
“Complete indifference” means precisely 0 concern for anything other than material-self-worth and 100% concern for material-self-worth. Nonzero concern for others, positive or negative, is suboptimal since it distracts from the objective of maximizing self-worth. Footnote 1: “Others” does not include the friends and family category. All intentional altruism can be represented easily by having those individuals' interests summed and grouped together so as to be viewed as part of the Capitalist’s “self-interest”. All reasoning forward is unaffected by how many friends and family are now implied to be included.
The results can empower all decision makers to calculate in the only way possible: with actual mathematics. The numbers will sometimes disagree with intuition; but the numbers will always be correct. The optimal strategy will hardly change except for sufficiently wealthy individuals. The proof can be seen empirically by back-testing the model in history on the domain in which all success is measured: quality-weighted-time (qwt). The definition of qwt will leverage Game Theoretic Evolution and is discussed more below.
Some conclusions may be counterintuitive similar to the way natural selection favored Symbiogenesis; but maximum profit calls for absolute “trust” in numbers above all else - exactly as exhibited in microbial evolution. Any call for “selfless” acting resulting in benefits to others is strictly incidental; and any less is unselfishly selfish in that it renders this inefficient capitalist less wealthy than maximally possible.
Step 1 - Any political bias about aiding others should be deleted. An “Ideal Capitalist” expresses precisely 0 concern for others and what others think - no more, no less. As long as an individual is correctly acting in their own best interests, they are acting as a Capitalist. Contra-positively one can claim to be a capitalist and act inefficiently against their own interests as many “capitalists” will be shown are doing today. I suggest a new term “Maximalist” to mean an Ideal Capitalist and avoid the need for case sensitivity.
Step 2 - Success Spawns Success. What is meant by quality-weighted-time? The definition comes from the only objective arbiter possible: Evolution through Survival of the Fittest. Something is “fit”, or “successful”, if it results in more quantity (Q) or more quality (q), where more quality means it produced more Quantity faster - which renders it more successful. This is The Tautology of Evolutionary Game Theory (The Tautology). For any evolutionary process, quantity is the metric which quantifies success. Quality is measured in quantity per unit of time (q=Q/t). Note that multiplying q=Q/t with t yields Q=qwt: the metric of success that necessarily satisfies The Tautology. Footnote 2: The word “tautology” is meant in the propositional logic sense. No negative connotation should be inferred.
Step 3 - How to connect economics with evolution?
Micro-economic decision strategy for trading time (t) for dollars ($), (or $ for t), amounts to a “phenotype”, (or observable trait), coded for by genetics inherited or mutated, and ideas learned or created. Respectively: - Inherited genetics constrain every rational human to be “risk averse”, regardless of self-perception, because natural selection favored and continues to favor risk aversion. Defined below and proven further below. - Mutated genes are almost never favorable for a human so this case will be discarded (although this force is quite powerful over quintillions of human-hours). - Richard Dawkins creatively postulated ideas to be “memes”: new evolutionarily viable packets of information, subject to selection forces, as they spread from person to person with varying levels of success overtime. Respectively gene inheritance and mutation is analogous to meme learning and creation. Furthermore the economy can be seen as a subsection of the biosphere governed primarily by evolution through forces of selection. The economy evolves through selection of both genes and memes, and memes are more abstract; but this should not change anything about the evolutionary game theory. After all humanity itself is naturally occurring, so Artificial Selection of Genes and Memes can be seen as a more complex extended phenotype coded for by the evolution of genes through Natural Selection. Any argument that “Artificial Selection” constitutes a meaningful difference from “Natural Selection” must first come to terms with the observation that humanity is itself, naturally occurring.
Step 4 - What is the definition of “risk averse”? The mathematical definition of risk averse simply requires diminishing returns to be experienced on assets like dollars. For example: an additional $1M adds less “utility” if you presently have $2B, compared to if you presently have $2M. If a person is not risk averse, then more success encourages more risky behavior. This is inconsistent with the observation that more success means one has more to lose. Therefore any risk-inclined individual cannot be an Ideal Capitalist as they will almost surely go broke gambling.
Step 5 - What is “utility”? Utility is the abstract micro-economic concept that, by definition, quantifies value. The unsettled question of how to actually do this is addressed below.
Total Utility = True Material Self-Worth = “well-offness”. All have one-to-one correspondence with each other. All are “mutually inclusive”. For example: twice the quantity of utility, by definition, means twice material self-worth; and so, the individual is exactly twice better-off. Diminishing returns do not apply to quantities of utility.
Step 6 - How to define an objective function to maximize utility? Per Wikipedia: “Consider a set of alternatives facing an individual, and over which the individual has a preference ordering. A ‘utility function’ is able to represent those preferences if it is possible to assign a real number to each alternative, in such a way that alternative A is assigned a number greater than alternative B if, and only if, the individual prefers alternative A to alternative B.”
Keynote: dollars are not material wealth, dollars buy material wealth, with diminishing returns, limited by genes, memes, and the quality and Quantity of the Marketplace (respectively qQMP).
To illustrate this, consider how rich you would be with $1T cash on Mars in the present day marketplace. Personally as an oxygen breathing Capitalist, I would view my self-worth as constituting a liability - measurable in my personal subjective frame of reference in units of time, weighted by some self-knowable quality of life representing the quantity of misery per hour that I experience dying alone. Presently the quality of the marketplace on Mars is exactly 0 because 0 quantity is available for purchase. Footnote 3: The quality of life purchasable given the Time and Place is shown below to be bounded from above, although it is by no means bounded from below.
Back to Earth. If sufficiently rich, then maximizing material wealth calls for buying everything in desired amounts to maximize present quality of Life (qoL), holding ample dollars in reserve to spend on future qoL (like new inventions) and future quantity (like new medicine), and allocating the rest to increase future qQ which is not presently available for purchase. In keeping with The Tautology, qoL enhancements will provide for faster consumption of Quantity (Q=qwt). Note how perfectly this fits with The Tautology.
Ideally a good Capitalist with sufficient dollars would employ a strategy so as to maximize qoL at every point in time by exhausting most/all dollars by death. Any argument that an individual cannot meaningfully increase future qQMP fails. As an example: a medical breakthrough for genetic predispositions could yield considerably more time for any one capitalist, with expected returns modeled via actuarial mathematics. Consider just how far Humanity has come since the birth of The Enlightenment - it is easy to see how the not-so-distant future may include considerably more qQoL for sale. (Conversely the future may include far less qQoL if macro-decision-public-policy modeling continues to fail to quantify/unitize the cost of war - discussed more in the Macro Economic qwt section below.)
qQ enhancements, although more subjective, can be substantially accelerated by one talented individual. Examples include Albert Einstein, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Jeff Bezos, and Elon Musk. All are responsible for inventing and/or producing new things which I personally enjoy - the qQoL that I can purchase is greater as a result of their work. My time and money could not purchase such things if they were not invented. As discussed next, micro-economic quality weights are quality of Life (qoL) weights. They have an upper bound that can be “objectively” unitized and measured by the self-interested party's own frame of reference.
Step 7 - How can an individual objectively define an upper bound for these inherently subjective quality weights with any mathematical rigor? Is it possible that more dollars does not always result in more utility? Yes!
Proof Reductio ad Absurdum
Ripping off an idea from one of the greatest thinkers ever - I propose a financial thought experiment: pretend it is possible for you to pause all of society and gamble once at the “Name Your Winnings Casino”.
Here you can choose entering into an even bet: 50% of the time you win the largest number of dollars you can mathematically express = $P; or 50% of the time you suffer absolute ruin: the casino takes everything of material value and your dollars and returns you to the real world where no insurance policies exist for you and no friends or family are able to ease your loss by lending a couch to sleep on or pulling strings for a job offeinterview. If you lose you reenter the world a naked homeless person “worth” exactly $0.
Four observations follow:

The decision to bet is made independent of any consideration of others, consistent with the Ideal Capitalist.
Any sane human with the smallest capacity for self-honestly could conservatively estimate a walk-away number A, (denominated in dollars), such that if present “net worth” is greater than $A then no bet.
No rational person choosing to bet would play more than once because either they’d lose or they’d win $P and have received the payout they named. “Letting it ride” constitutes an obviously dumb decision born out of the unwillingness to simply express the larger number in the first bet; however, a risk-inclined individual always values more over what they have and so they would be compelled to keep betting. Therefore rationality is mutually exclusive with risk-inclination. Furthermore if the betting person is risk averse, then $A is strictly less than $P for some minimum value of $P.
Some confident rational individual might argue no such number $A exists for them because they’re so good they can start all over if they lose and earn a new fortune; and it would at first glance seem this individual is correct.

Many logical conclusions result:
A. An honest estimate for $A irrefutably reveals a hidden upper bound for this individual’s “Utility Curve”. Specifically if the function A’($A) = A’ maps to utility derived by $A dollar denominated “wealth”, then no amount of dollars even exists for this individual to choose to bet. Mathematically: “Net worth” &amp;amp;gt; “Bet value” =&amp;amp;amp;gt; “Net worth” &amp;amp;gt; “50% times upside minus 50% times downside” =&amp;amp;amp;gt; A’($A) &amp;amp;gt; .5A’($A+$P) - .5A’($A) =&amp;amp;amp;gt; 1.5A’($A) &amp;amp;gt; .5A’($A+$P) =&amp;amp;amp;gt; 3A’($A) &amp;amp;gt; A’($A+$P) for all values of $P (The left hand-side must be greater or the bet would not be declined by a rational individual.)
B. 3A’ is not presently purchasable with any amount of dollars. 3A’ may be purchased in some future marketplace, (possibly with less than A future dollars), in the form of a medical breakthrough or buying future children birthday presents, but it is not currently purchasable in the present as demonstrated by the individual’s refusal to bet. Conversely A future dollars may lose “purchasing power” of just A’ if the future marketplace is inferior. Therefore true material-worth is fundamentally a function of the marketplace and cannot even be expressed in terms of dollars.
C. Most choosing to bet would logically express the upside payout $P as a sequence of 9s. Many more would know to use powers of powers. Knowledge of Knuth’s Up Arrow Notation could simultaneously save time and yield considerably “more upside”. Due consideration for exactly how much time should be spent writing out fantastically large numbers reveals an irrefutably objective hidden limiting factor: this person’s lifetime - measurable in units of time. This reveals one of two hidden domains on which value must be measured - TIME!
D. From this it directly follows that the confident individual in (4) is wrong. Some number $A&amp;amp;amp;lt;$P must exist, EVEN FOR THEM. However this individual is sure $A doesn’t and keeps writing numbers out for $P until they die. Therefore $A for them equals the number they have written out at time of death, never having played the game. I believe this is the definition of a Darwinian unfit capitalist - completely inconsistent with the Ideal Capitalist.
Analysis
The argument above establishes a horizontal bound for utility – lifetime measurable in units of time. It also establishes a finite upper bound for utility itself (represented by the area of the “utility rectangle” - see spreadsheet). This implies a finite upper bound for the rectangle’s height must exist; and this is empirically supported by the observation that billionaires are not known to blow through their life fortune in any short-period of time.
So why does any sufficiently wealthy capitalist focus on earning more dollars and die before exhausting most/all of their dollars (last death if family inheritance involved)? If sufficiently wealthy, material wealth is necessarily a bounded function of The Time Period, or the “quality and Quantity of the Marketplace”. TTP = qQMP &amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;= qQoL. In other words, the marketplace itself is secretly an asset for every Capitalist!
qMP(TTP) = Max quality of life, or “max utility per hour” available for purchase in TTP QMP(TTP) = Max Quantity of life, or “max utility” for purchase in TTP (IE a longer vacation or medicine)
Thus on the micro level, quality weights are utility weights; and utility weights are capped by The Time Period. Thus it is the case that for every (finite) individual, a finite upper bound for utility is self-measurable in Time Period-Weighted Time (qwt = TPWT). For example: 2020 hours have far more value to any sufficiently rational and wealthy individual (SRWI) than 1920 hours. And as the earlier questionnaire (hopefully) shows, this is realizable by most middle-class people today. In other words, today’s middle class is sufficiently wealthy to the extent TPWT resolves the Rockefeller paradox. Footnote8: The size of the middle class itself is unfortunately shrinking. This has potential to result in negative externalities for all.
Since an Ideal Capitalist maximizes self-material-wealth above all else, then if they were also sufficiently wealthy, they would measure value in Time-Period-Weighted Hours since they would always purchase maximum utility per hour. This is by definition, since any SRWI has all necessary means to purchase max utility available per hour. (Note just how important quick access to true information would be.) Footnote 9: Neuroscience could use Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI) to objectively measure the Micro-Economic utility unit as “Neurotransmitter-Molecular-Count Weighted Hours”. Consideration for how to weight different neurotransmitters (like Serotonin vs Dopamine) would be necessary. For now, we are all similar enough for “time” to suffice, at least for short run measurements. For example: what is the penalty for severe crimes? “Time in jail” or death (all the person’s time).
Quantifying the Marketplace
Given the average life expectancy now is more than twice that of prehistoric man, the marketplace itself is worth strictly more than 50% of any sufficiently wealthy individual’s “asset portfolio”. Just note “time is money”. Footnote 10: They need not be rational to "realize" this time, so long as their doctor is sufficiently competent. "Realization" will come in the form of living longer, quite consistent with the accounting definition of gain/loss realization.
Keynote - a Maximalist will do more than just maximize present qQ purchased. They will also divert unneeded dollars to maximize future qQMP so that more qQ is available for purchase. Thus the Maximalist calculation includes due consideration for additional dollars that will be needed given future qQ becomes available.
Squaring Theory with Reality
Most already know most of this, at least on the common-sense level. So why don’t sufficiently wealthy Capitalists invest maximum dollars with less strings attached to maximize the future? Is it because that would help everyone else and constitute socialism? No! In this context socialism is Adam Smith’s “Invisible Hand”. A good Capitalist aims for precisely 0 concern about others, and any concern for implied socialism would constitute nonzero concern. Such concern would amount to incomprehensible irrationality far beneath any good Capitalist. So what else could it be?
Perhaps it’s simply the fact that much of humanity is still measuring their net-worth in the wrong dimension for the inefficient purpose of feeling superior to others with less money. Anyone currently doing this quite literally knows the price of everything and the value of nothing, not even their own self fortune, because they are using the wrong dimension of measurement. quality-weighted-time is the objectively correct way in which real value should be measured, and quality weighting is limited only by The Time Period in which time and money are being spent.
More noteworthy, any human mistaking dollars for qwt for this scorekeeping reason is still violating the prime rule of being a good Capitalist - they are demonstrating nonzero-concern for what others think of them. Implicitly and inefficiently, these individuals are expressing negative concern for others, as now is measurable by how worse off they are in units of their time. Specifically this is calculable as the opportunity cost of not investing more dollars for an enhanced future marketplace, measurable by others in said marketplace by the cost to this imperfect capitalist’s life expectancy, (all unitized in units of time).
Equity Miracle Swap Instruments
Perhaps the above explanations are not exhaustive of the full truth. Maybe some sufficiently wealthy Capitalists simply do not have the means to invest their dollars in a way that can reliably pay greater dividends. Therefore I propose a new type of financial derivative instrument called an “Equity Miracle Swap”. These would be voluntarily issued as contracts from the mega-wealthy. Here is a hypothetical example:
Rational (and thus risk averse) Billionaire-G (BG) possessing $100B in dollar-denominated-capital can now do research and will likely find they are genetically predisposed to a (presently) incurable illness (let’s say Small Cell Lung Cancer = SCLC). BG could use the chancy math in the proof above and might determine that Billions $91-$100 have minimal true value to him/herself when converted to qwt. Therefore BG could decide to start up an enterprise to find a cure for SCLC and use a $10B Equity Miracle Swap = EMSSCLC-$10B, or just “EMS” for short. The purpose is to maximally incent the researchers, who might otherwise just be employees. The contract would stipulate that all equity in the enterprise transfers over to the research team only upon successful development of the cure.
When measured in dollars, the payoff for BG is represented by the performance of the stock, which is greater than -$10B if no cure; or -$10B if the miracle cure is found. The former is greater than the latter. Which do you think BG will prefer? Obviously the latter, especially if they wind up contracting SCLC in the future! But the former was greater measured in dollars? How to reconcile?
This can be quantitatively reconciled by using the correct unit of measurement - qwt. Here is how: the newly discovered cure might empower their remaining dollars to purchase considerably more qwt in the future. The real expected return on investment for BG could be calculated actuarially as follows: Expected ROI = { Expected Return }/{ Investment } = { E(Δqwt | Miracle) * [ P(Miracle | EMS) - P(Miracle | no EMS) ] }/{ A’($100B) - A’($90B) } Where: 1. A’($D) maps to utility measured in quality-weighted-time presently purchasable by D dollars 2. E(Δqwt | Miracle) = Expected change in purchasable qwt given miracle cure occurs in lifetime 3. P(Miracle | Event X) = Probability of Miracle given Event X
Note that because BG is risk averse, diminishing returns render billions $91-$100 worth very little qwt. Therefore the cost in the denominator = A’($100B) - A’($90B) constitutes a very small amount of qwt, rendering the expected ROI very large, even for relatively small changes to P(Miracle). Obviously the lawyers could tinker with the terms of the contract. Finally note that society is incidentally made better off if the cure is found.
Macro-Economic qwt
Please now consider the benefit of a qwt-centric model from a Macro-Economic standpoint in the context of the Doomsday Clock, where as always, economics can objectively measure value (or “GDP”) in units of quality-weighted-time. On this Macro scale, the quantity unit will be "Healthy Human Hours", calculated as always by multiplying quality weights of presently healthy humans, with units of time, where any human is healthy if he/she produces more future human hours. Note how naturally maternity and child-raising now fit into GDP.
This may also help resolve the argument over which crimes should be punishable with incarceration - specifically only crimes where the individual is deemed likely to contribute less negative future qwt to GDP when in jail vs when out of jail. Also there is a natural extension of this for the death penalty, although I do not wish to make such moral judgements. Footnote 10: Any argument that population overgrowth leads to mass death is correct. Policy models need only step back and estimate healthy human hours in the more distant future. Calculus can be used to model public policy decisions from present-day infinitely far into the future and compare infinite relativities for different policy options.
Also consider that actuarial modeling could be used to objectively estimate the cost of disinformation posed to every Capitalist on the planet, measurable of course, in units of time. Specifically calculated as expected changes to Humanity’s Expectation of Life on the Doomsday Clock, plus individual life expectancy given Midnight, times the probability of midnight. Also observe the need and means for due discount in modeling the "decrease" in the future qQMP (which might include radiation).
The Emergence of Economic Symbiogenesis
Try to arrive at the conclusion any good Capitalist must. Here is a hint - genetic Symbiogenesis resulted in the planetary-wide cooperation of all plant and animal life to regulate Earth’s Oxygen concentration. Note the immense success is, of course, measured in qwt. Weighting in this context needs to satisfy the same tautology as always. Therefore the final answer on this Mega-Macro scale comes in organism-count-weighted units of time. This is the current game strategy that genetic Evolution has concluded on Earth to date. It came from pitting individual selfish microbial interests against one another in the 0-rules game of survival of the fittest. The result is the current marriage between the Plant and Animal Kingdoms! (Like all great marriages there are still a few mentionable skirmishes.)
Also observe the micro-macro relational analogue between Chloroplasts and Mitochondria with Plants and Animals. Consider how this might analogize individual decision making with the marketplace as a whole.
If you are religious, consider just how correct this implies your understanding of God’s wish for the general wellbeing of every individual to be.
My conclusion is that there is a trail of breadcrumbs for our species to follow and we’ve had the right idea all along. We’ve just been doing the math wrong. Now every decision maker can better understand how to measure their own self-fortune and get to growing it faster!
Also interesting is the game theoretic argument for why every person must be allowed full forgiveness - it is the only way world leaders who are concerned for their own wellbeing could possibly embrace such a model. Astonishingly full forgiveness is 100% consistent with every major religion’s claim of what God hopes all of us can achieve. In economics, any desire for revenge can now be seen as The Sunk Cost Fallacy, measurable as always in units of qwt.
Finally, I wish to conjecture that a new Nash Equilibrium is available to our race: Perpetual peacetime under the individual Pareto Optimal Strategy of Ideal Capitalism as every individual looks to maximize their self-fortune and troll farms are voluntarily dismantled. If this sounds too good to be true, note that it very well may have been for all of human-history save the last few decades.
Key Technological Developments 1. The advent of nuclear weapons which align all of humanity's interests in a way which never used to exist. Even survivors of a nuclear war will be far worse off, now as measurable by decreases to the quality and Quantity of any future radioactive marketplace. Less qwt for purchase! 2. The advent of the internet renders information around the globe nearly free and instantaneous. If we can learn to be more self-interested, the only conclusion which rationally follows is to dismantle all troll farms for the simple purpose of maximizing Macro Time until Doomsday. The New Nash Equilibrium available to our race could be quantitatively modeled with actuarial techniques, and the optimal solution is to push Midnight infinitely far into the future by allowing every rational decision maker the means to make rational decisions with 100% true information. The internet sets up a worldwide analogy with our nervous system.
Footnote 11 - The Micro-Economic Model is now consistent with John Lennon's definition of life success: happiness. When asked what he wanted to “be” when he grew up, John responded "happy". John’s teacher thought he misunderstood the question. If John's teacher had instead followed up with the question to quantify: "How happy do you want to be?" - John could have replied: "as happy as possible for all my years.”
Footnote 12 - Warren Buffet's advice to "do what you love so you never work a day in your life" is quantified naturally by the model. I hope that more will start to take this advice. The qwt-centric-micro-model shows they will quite literally be made richer as a result. Given that richer people tend to contribute more to GDP, society will be made incidentally better off as a result. Star Trek almost had it but missed two words: “we work to better ourselves, and incidentally, the rest of mankind”.

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Unleashed pt. 52