Hey all,
My fiance and I recent got *really* into Nerf (and off-brand "Nerf"). Around a year ago, we were playing with our nephews (4 and 5 y.o.) who have a bunch of blasters, and when my brother-in-law told me that they have basically standardized the dart size for most blasters, it piqued my interest. Also, I thought the bolt action on the Adventure Force Alpha Rogue was really cool, and given that they were super cheap, I went out and bought two of them for my fiance and I to play with.
Fast-forward to this Christmas when my fiance got us the Disruptor twin pack. I was so impressed with them that I decided to see what Nerf reviewers on YouTube would think. That very quickly exposed me to a variety of blasters that I was interested in. Now, through a combination of driving (sometimes up to an hour away) around to stores and sellers found on craigslist/Facebook Marketplace, we have amassed over 50 blasters that shoot darts, mega darts, discs, and rounds. I love them all. The only thing I've been avoiding is battery-operated blasters (I'll explain if anyone cares to know why).
We reached a point fairly early on where I decided I had to *do* something with these things aside from buying them exclusively to play in our relatively small living space. So, I came up with a some rules (many, I'm sure, are widely used already) and plans to host Nerf games once this whole pandemic thing is well-enough under control that it would be safe to do so.
Who Will Be Playing
I created a private FB group and invited our personal friends and family, and I'll encourage them to invite people provided we don't exceed our capacity (TBD, but I have a rough idea).
Where We Will Play
This is probably the trickiest part. The two local rec centres will not be available; one does not do private rentals, and the other requires cost-prohibitive insurance coverage. However, there are a number of "halls" that are possibilities. I spoke to the person who does booking for one of these places, and she thought it sounded like a great idea, and probably workable at her location. I also just learned that schools will rent out their gymnasiums, but I'm not sure what limitations or requirements there might be. I happen to work at an elementary school, so I might be able to work something out if I talk to to principal. This thing won't be happening for a while, so I'm not too concerned about nailing this down now. I'm just happy to know that there are local options. I do not want to play outdoors, mostly because I'd like to be able to collect as much ammo as possible, and also not have to worry about weather.
What Rules We Will Play With
This is where it gets a little weird. I have a few different ideas, but I'm most interested in one: Pooled Health games. I've been fortunate enough to run a few games like this with the kids at the after-school daycare program I work at, and it's been a blast, even though we're limited to using the small gym. It works like this: Each team must stay on their side of the gym (like dodgeball, but I split the gym longways due to the blasters being relatively weak (the one's I bring to daycare). At the back wall of each side is a pile of poker chips (red team and blue team). When you get tagged, you put a hand up (so nobody shoots you), get a poker chip, bring it to the designated "out" area, then tap on your back wall to re-enter the game. This prevents players from ever having to sit out, which is great for kids because they can be impatient. I'll probably also do "elimination" games where each player keeps a number of poker chips in their pocket, and is "out" when they loose their last one. When I'm able to have my bigger games, I'd like to have either mats or even large cardboard sheets (folded) for cover.
Which Blasters We Will Use
I admit that I'm almost definitely setting my expectations too high for the level of complexity people will tolerate when it comes to game prep, and I'll come up with some simpler rule set at least for the first few times that we play. Still, I can't help but to over-think this and try to find a way to make almost every kind of blaster fit in somehow. Basically, I'd like to use a "shop" system where I'll decide upon a limit for how many "points" can be spent on blasters and ammo. My system is far from perfect, but I want it to be something that can be applied with relative ease to any blaster. A blaster's "cost" is determined by its ammo type, it's "ready to fire" capacity, and its storage capacity. A basic Elite-sized dart is worth one point, mega darts are worth two (getting hit with one counts as two points of damage), discs count as half a point (because they are slow... but I love them), and rounds count as 1.5 (because of their speed), and missiles are five (five points of damage, plus I have a rule with them regarding taking down cover). Any "storage" ammo is calculated by dividing the total point value in half-- a recent modification that I was avoiding, but felt compelled to deal with once we got the Heracles (5 ready, 10 storage) as it would have had the same value as the Roundhouse (15 ready) which doesn't make any sense. Additional ammo can be "purchased" for the storage value. I need to consider that it's unlikely that most other players will be as reckless in their spending on a vast Nerf arsenal as I have been, so they may need to make up points by having an excess of ammo. Also, I'd like to use a variety of blasters, so I don't want to make games strictly "dart", "rival", or "disc", although I do have enough blasters to share with quite a few people. Side note: All of these considerations have been for springers only. I want to allow players to use flywheelers if they want, but I'll need to come up with a way to balance them so that they aren't the only viable blasters.
When I first came up with this system and started using it with my fiance at home, our highest capacity blaster was the X-Shot Crusher (maybe my favourite blaster) which has a 35 dart chain. So, I was setting our max point limit at 40, allowing Crusher users to have a side-arm as the chain is a little cumbersome to reload. Then, about a week ago, we scored a fully-loaded Rival Hades for $50 (CAD), which, according to my system, has a point value of 90-- way above any maximum we've been using. Rather than increasing the maximum, I decided that you can go over the max under two conditions: 1) You only use one blaster, and 2) You take a 1HP penalty for going over, then an addition 1HP penalty for every 10 points that you go over. We've done a few of our living room games like this, and it has felt reasonably fair.
To mirror our living room games, I'm envisioning that each team will have a boxed off (with cardboard walls or mats) corner where spare blasters will be kept. These will be blasters that are part of each player's current "loadout", so players can go back there to swap out as they want or to take ammo from their stockpile. The only limitation is that only one player can go back there at once.
If all of this sounds ridiculous, that's fine. For what it's worth though, I've been slowly patching together an app that will streamline the "shopping" process. My fiance and I have just been using a white board to do the math by hand, referring to a spreadsheet I made on my phone, and it doesn't take too long. Realistically, I'll probably end up telling players to bring whatever they want (stock only), and then I'll divide the teams to make things a fair as possible. It's just fun to come up with this stuff. What do you think? Totally nuts? Any suggestions for tweaking my system? I feel like I'm going a little nuts with this Nerf craze while having very few outlets to get that energy out-- daycare with the kids and 1-on-1 living room games with the fiance is pretty much it. I'm interested to hear the thoughts of anyone who bothered to read through any of this wall of a post. Thanks for your time, folks!

Cassie

Thrower
HP: 3800

Attack (1.6 sec reload, 7 tile range, 4 tile diameter): All in- Cassie throws a poker chip on the ground, dealing 1300 damage in an area once and leaving it on the ground, the poker chip will not do anything and brawlers and projectiles can go though.
Each poker chip lasts for 5 secs on the ground and a maximum of 5 can appear in the map at once.

Super (3 hits): Winning color- Cassie explodes all chips on the ground after a 1 sec delay, dealing 1200 damage in a 4 tile diameter.

Starpower:
- No more bets: Cassie knocks all enemies away from her by 3 tiles in a 5 tile diameter after using super.
- Sore loser: Enemies hit by her super's explosion loses 1 ammo, cannot stack.

Gadget:
- Sweep away: Cassie removes all active chips and then gives her a 1.6 ammo for each chip destroyed. Has 3 uses

Cassie owns a popular casino, she owns all of the games but is always managing the roulette wheel, she always laughs when people accuse her for being a cheater but not when people make fun of her height.

Cooper

Fighter
HP: 5000

Attack (2 sec reload, 8 tile range): Distribute- Cooper throws 3 cards clockwise in a 24* angle similar to bo's attack pattern, each dealing 440 damage on contact and doesn't pierce.
Enemies hit gets an effect where if the enemy hit has taken 5 cards, cooper gains 0.5 ammo. The card stack effect lasts for 10 secs, after which will remove all cards if it hasn't triggered during the effect.

Super (3 ammos worth): Shuffle- Cooper removes all of his ammo and after a 1 sec delay, converts all removed ammo to a 5% shield that lasts for 5 secs each ammo removed and refills the ammo bar to full. The shield can stack for up to a maximum of 30% and getting another stack resets the duration.

Starpowers:
- Three of a kind: After using shuffle, cooper's next attack heals 300 HP per card
- Wild card: After using shuffle, cooper's next 2 attacks gets a 4th card.

Gadget:
- Calculated gambit: Deal 1700 damage to yourself then soon activate shuffle, the shield given per ammo is doubled. Has 3 uses

Cooper is a card dealer in cassie's casino, he likes to shuffle the cards to favor the brawlers that he thinks he likes, which is mostly him, but he's not the one playing except when it's in battle.

Steven

Sharpshooter
HP: 5100

Attack (1.6 sec reload, 9 tile range): Slot machine- Steven fires 3 projectiles from his slot machine, each dealing 420 damage.
If steven tries to fire with 0 ammo, he will deal 20% of his max HP as damage to himself to convert into an attack, he cannot do this if he's at or less than 20% of his current HP.

Super (4 ammos worth, 8 tile range): Spare change?- Steven fires a projectile that cuts the first enemy hit by it by half of their HP, if the enemy hit has or less than 50% of their HP, the target will just take 1200 damage.

Starpowers:
- Jackpot: Steven's fire rate/ unload gets faster if his HP is or less than half.
- Pocket change: Steven's super heals him 1200 HP

Gadget:
- Lucky sevens: Steven removes 1 ammo or 20% of his HP if he has no ammo, after a 0.8 sec delay, grants himself a 50% shield that lasts for 2 secs. Has 3 uses

Steven loves playing the slot machines, he is cassie's number one customer and would steal other people's coins behind people's back to feed the slot machine, but he promises that if he wins he will pay them back, which is most likely never.

Air bubbles explode inside the water cooler, jolting him out of castles he built in the air. At 9 pm, the office is ghost-quiet except for the overworked air conditioner struggling to live up to its 3-star reputation. On his laptop screen, a newsletter email draft lies unfinished. "Who the hell is going to read this?" he whimpers, scratching his forehead. He makes an attempt to change the headings and design elements, but he knows that they will get him to adhere to the brand guidelines. An 'electronic focus' playlist plays in his headphones, but in vain.
The desk chair squeals after every sentence he types. Accepting his indifference, he copy-pastes text from a used draft. Sends it in. And bangs the laptop shut. He packs up and goes to the pantry for a protein bar, which would be the one thing that made him glad about his daily fiber intake. Unfortunately, someone has had his share of fiber. When will they start respecting labels here? He stomps out, hoping to grab a chicken roll in time before the eatery closes. He waves a labored goodbye to his senior colleagues who have made themselves at home on their desks.
"I need to get out of this place," he remembers whining to Salina this afternoon. The office becomes a tolerable place in her presence. A gentle pat on the shoulder followed by cheery morning wishes from her is a remedy for facing the monotonous day. He admired that they didn't need small talk to have a conversation. 'How are you doing? How's it going? How was your weekend?', none of that crap. "You need to take a break," she reminds him every day as she brings two cups of coffee, and they head out for a walk.
She talks about how she'd rather be on a beach, go for a trek or play the piano at a café than be here. She reveals a little more about how she ended up in this place each day. The scanty shocks that sprout up when their hands brush against each other validate his futile existence. Walking with Salina on blazing concrete around the corporate neighborhood is the highlight of his day. "If only I could walk with her forever..." Since he is learning to lower expectations these days, he promptly puts an end to his wishful thinking. Asking her out would be a swift ax to a treasured friendship, he assumes. Why are they stuck together in the same place, escaping their stale present while coping with their distressful pasts?
Trap songs about money, drugs, and bitches play in his earphones as he shoulders through a huddle of white collars on the pavement. "I could use a smoke. It's been a long day," he assures himself, avoiding the gaze of the loosie seller on the corner. "No, not again. Can't give in every other day." He acknowledges the loosie seller with a faint smile and hurries past him.
Through the cuboid canyons of skyscrapers and shopping malls larger than factories, he walks in compliance with his navy blue formal attire whenever the glass panes reflect him. The retina-burning halogens on billboards illuminate the poker-faced barbie models of elite fashion brands. Dating apps and condoms have replaced advertising spaces once reserved for chips, biscuits, and sodas. ATMs outnumber dustbins at every corner.
He crosses the road and heads under the overpass where lost vehicles and forgotten people sleep, wrapped in the dust. The other side of the town fades in and engulfs him in its chaos. The pallor of the chawls in juxtaposition with the warm hues of hawker stalls develops into an eerie ambiance of despair. Yellow tungsten bulbs dangle inside stores, and the odor of overused cooking oil lingers. Dirt and sweat clothe everyone here, and one cannot tell the immigrants apart from the natives. He notices the miniature temple built below an enormous and friendless banyan tree. Islamic prayers echo above the never-ending urban noise. The people here, albeit their misery, have time for God. They make the food that gets delivered to the offices on the other side of the overpass. The masses help each other survive, and the classes remain in check.
The chicken roll eatery being on this side of town does put its hygiene standards in question. But it's something he looks forward to after an awful day at work. When it comes to street food, ignorance is bliss.
He glances at his watch to calculate the hours of sleep he will be getting tonight. The lack of it doesn't surprise him anymore. Once home, getting ready for bed is another strenuous routine.
That reminds him of the discussion the guys were having in the smoking-room this morning: deepfakes, which, in a matter of minutes, became a gabble about deepfake porn. As immoral as it sounds, it piqued his interest. Maybe he will check it out tonight; another attempt to spice up jerking off to sleep every night. Which hasn't been great either because every time he achieves the point of sweet release, his ex-girlfriend's face pops up in his head. And she happens to be getting hideous with each passing day. He doesn't remember her being repulsive, or he didn't realize it then. "Good riddance, I guess?"
At this late hour, the eatery has a dense, diverse crowd upfront. The eatery owner, a stout, middle-aged man, welcomes him with a familiar smile. The owner hands him a menu card with its laminated corners crumpled up. He pretends to go through it, then orders a chicken roll with cheese and chilies, pays the owner, and steps away from the booth.
A friend from university who gives company for dinner is conveniently absent when smoking weed isn't involved. Fuck fake friends, sure. However, getting stoned by yourself suggests that you have a problem. He checks his cellphone: no new notifications or messages. "I wish I could just quit tonight and disappear." What will he do after leaving his job? He doesn't know that yet. He plans to paint every weekend. Years of delaying and hesitation later, he is now oblivious to the liberating sentiment of creating art.
A furry waggle against his shin startles him; a ginger-spotted cat marks its territory. When he decides to take in the scenery around him, the eatery owner going about his business intrigues him. The owner addresses his work with impressive gusto, makes a lasting impression on customers, introduces new flavors to the menu, manages his kitchen without a slip in quality. In a way, they both share the same job: marketing. Except, the owner has an immense passion for his work.
A server calls out his name, and he proceeds to grab his roll. He takes out a decent piece of meat and tosses it to the cat; it meows back with gratitude. A deep inhale, a huge bite, and - an explosion of flavors. The soft, grilled flatbread crumbles as the blended sauces flood his taste buds. The cool veggies bring the extra crunch, the chilies and cheese tickle the roof of his mouth. The zesty, peppery, slow-cooked chicken with all its juicy tenderness melts in, filling his parched soul. Worth every penny spent, another terrible day saved.
In her overbleached nightgown, a middle-aged woman emerges from the back of the booth. She places her cellphone over the owner's ear. She must be his wife. The owner expresses annoyance for being disturbed from his work, but the voice on the other end gets his attention. The owner's wife rests her hand on his shoulder as his face loses its color. Maintaining his composure, the owner gestures to the jumpy customers to excuse him.
"Oh...What stage is it?... What did the doctor say?... Don't worry; everything will be fine. I'll be there soon."
The owner and his wife share a brief gaze, eyes filled with sanguine hope. The kitchen comes to a halt, and the assistants stare at their boss with concern.
"It's my sister," the owner answers, "She's diagnosed with cancer, pancreatic."
Before he can gauge their reactions, the owner turns to his wife, nods at her, and leaves the booth. The owner's wife takes over, gets the kitchen up and running, and attends to the swarm of customers with the same commitment.
Having eavesdropped on their private conversation, he stands appalled, and his self-centered musings come to a pause. At that moment, his life shrinks down to a freckle in time. Why does fate strike its rusted sword and inflict irreparable wounds on us all? His appetite vanishes, and he gives the leftover bits to the cat. Does being at that place, time, and listening in on their conversation mean anything for him?
A heartfelt impulse ignites, which propels him towards the booth. He scans the QR code sticker of a payment app and transfers a few thousand bucks. Before the owner's wife figures out the unusual transaction, he disappears into the throng heading towards the train station.
When the rush of spontaneous action fades away, he understands that his well-intended offering won't be a notable contribution. But it was worth having this occasional feeling of contentment. This disease had robbed him of his aunt and wrecked the lives of quite a few of his friends. The people living in these chawls, how do they handle being diagnosed with cancer? Despite their chances of survival, one foot's always in the grave without the necessary funds and healthcare.
He walks on a narrow and sludge ridden alleyway, surrounded by a sequence of putrefied wooden planks, cobalt-blue aluminum sheets, and chipped brick walls. He turns around for a peek; there is no horizon, but more people, more vehicles, and a curtain of concrete elevations. Above this cityscape, however, the ethereal moon shimmers in the inky skies. Pleased about catching its glimpse, he looks forward to appreciating it some night.
Reaching the train station, he collapses on the first bench he finds. "I can't believe I'm panting like a bitch from that walk." The dreadful realization of your health slipping out of control. He recalls his university days of admirable stamina, appetite, and libido. Aware of their absence now, he rubs his eyes. A long weary sigh. Followed by a blaring horn, the train whooshes by the platform; the gust cools the sweat off from the eager commuters. He trots towards a first-class compartment and hops in.
In the compartment, men play cards and mobile games, eat rice puffs, sleep like invertebrates, and watch raunchy movies on their phones. Amidst them, he sits pondering over the events of the day against the railroad noise. "There isn't enough luck for everyone out here." The train seems full of mindless zombies, existing in their constricted, conformed lifestyles, innocently diverted from their realities. Drooping heads, slouching shoulders, and protruding bellies. But who's he to judge, for he belongs to the same spectrum of the living dead. Alas, a self-aware zombie doesn't cease to be an abomination.
An automated voice announces his destination over corroded speakers. He gets down at a deserted platform; the indicator for visually impaired passengers beeps with an unsettling tempo. As he heads home, chirping crickets and dogs howling afar welcome him. The air here is crisp, with trees arching above him. Streetlights make dainty amber halos, and he walks under them ruminating over the absurdities of his life. A quarter of his presumed lifespan has passed by him with nothing to show for it. If he dies tonight, who would care to attend his funeral, and who would miss him years later?
The error of his ways begins to froth his spirit. Why does he sabotage the chances of getting his shit together by procrastinating? Why does he give in to distractions instead of getting better at things that matter? Why does he fail to check up on his loved ones until it's too late? Why does he spend money on stuff he doesn't need? Why does he comply with peoples' opinions who don't have their own lives figured out? Why does he fall into relationships only to become desperate to end them? And expect them to solve all his problems and fix him? Why doesn't he realize valuable lessons right away and avoid this perpetual regret?
Why don't epiphanies occur when you need them?
Keys turn a rusted door lock open, and he steps into his studio apartment. He drops his laptop bag and sinks into the sofa. His house appears to be what a failed minimalist would have, but there's some niceness about it. He stretches his swollen toes that pop out of socks' holes. While he garners the strength to shower and call it a day, his eyes land on a puffed-up spot on the ceiling. The longer he stares at it, a crack in the paint becomes visible to him.
He stands engulfed by steam as the warm water hits his body and rejuvenates him. Newfound courage courses through his veins to break out of this self-built prison and get back on track. He must live on his own terms. Life is about the choices we make, and hence he's going to make the right ones from now onwards.
He opens up his laptop and emails a sick leave, the well-deserved break he needs. "I should draft my resignation letter as well...Maybe too soon for that. Better to wait for a few months' worth of paychecks."
And now, to end this night on a high note, he's going back to his calling. His passion. His art. A wide drawer hoards brushes, palettes, paint tubes and bottles, canvases, and other tools wrapped in plastic with cobwebs surrounding them. Taking them out, he dusts them and assembles the set up in a nook. He adjusts the lighting of the room to his desire. He takes a seat in front of the canvas, his fingers tingling with hope. His prowess is coming back to him.
It's a new beginning. What will he paint tonight? Should he paint something that pays homage to the surrealists that inspired him? Or pour out his emotions through colors to create an abstract composition? Or should he focus on forms using a monochromatic color scheme? There are plenty of options. A little too many.
The fatigue of a long day starts kicking in. An empty canvas is intimidating; his anticipatory anxiety magnifies. Legs bounce with unease. A fluttering heart; sweat cascading inside his nightwear. "This looks harder than I thought." If only there were a way to calm his nerves down.
Memory serves to be a curse when he remembers - deepfake porn. Like a moth to a flame, he grabs his cellphone and advances to the bedroom. Smack! A frail hand clasps his neck from behind and holds him down. Slender arms reveal a pale, sickly woman; struggling to hold herself up on the floor. Her sapped eyes mirror what once used to be her alluring figure. "Resist, you fucker!" she wails, clawing into him.
It's been quite a while since she showed up. She is his muse. They used to be at one with each other as she guided him through chaos and nurtured his gifts with innocence. Her breathtaking charm inspired works of art. She was an embodiment of his creative expression and ambition.
He can't stand watching her starved to the brink of death. It's a lost cause. With no effort, he shakes her arm off of him and leaves the room for his frivolities. Her bones crack as she drops to the floor. Blood trickles out of her nose.
Minutes turn into hours. Unrequited, she waits. Silvery hair soaked in blood, her chest wheezing.
She rests in peace, at last. Her existence dissipates from the room. The paints remain caked, and the canvas lies barren.
A momentary relapse for gratification foreshadows his continual turmoil, and another 'could have been' artist bites the dust.

Written By: Purple.Musings

Air bubbles explode inside the water cooler, jolting him out of castles he built in the air. At 9 pm, the office is ghost-quiet except for the overworked air conditioner struggling to live up to its 3-star reputation. On his laptop screen, a newsletter email draft lies unfinished. "Who the hell is going to read this?" he whimpers, scratching his forehead. He makes an attempt to change the headings and design elements, but he knows that they will get him to adhere to the brand guidelines. An 'electronic focus' playlist plays in his headphones, but in vain.
The desk chair squeals after every sentence he types. Accepting his indifference, he copy-pastes text from a used draft. Sends it in. And bangs the laptop shut. He packs up and goes to the pantry for a protein bar, which would be the one thing that made him glad about his daily fiber intake. Unfortunately, someone has had his share of fiber. When will they start respecting labels here? He stomps out, hoping to grab a chicken roll in time before the eatery closes. He waves a labored goodbye to his senior colleagues who have made themselves at home on their desks.
"I need to get out of this place," he remembers whining to Salina this afternoon. The office becomes a tolerable place in her presence. A gentle pat on the shoulder followed by cheery morning wishes from her is a remedy for facing the monotonous day. He admired that they didn't need small talk to have a conversation. 'How are you doing? How's it going? How was your weekend?', none of that crap. "You need to take a break," she reminds him every day as she brings two cups of coffee, and they head out for a walk.
She talks about how she'd rather be on a beach, go for a trek or play the piano at a café than be here. She reveals a little more about how she ended up in this place each day. The scanty shocks that sprout up when their hands brush against each other validate his futile existence. Walking with Salina on blazing concrete around the corporate neighborhood is the highlight of his day. "If only I could walk with her forever..." Since he is learning to lower expectations these days, he promptly puts an end to his wishful thinking. Asking her out would be a swift ax to a treasured friendship, he assumes. Why are they stuck together in the same place, escaping their stale present while coping with their distressful pasts?
Trap songs about money, drugs, and bitches play in his earphones as he shoulders through a huddle of white collars on the pavement. "I could use a smoke. It's been a long day," he assures himself, avoiding the gaze of the loosie seller on the corner. "No, not again. Can't give in every other day." He acknowledges the loosie seller with a faint smile and hurries past him.
Through the cuboid canyons of skyscrapers and shopping malls larger than factories, he walks in compliance with his navy blue formal attire whenever the glass panes reflect him. The retina-burning halogens on billboards illuminate the poker-faced barbie models of elite fashion brands. Dating apps and condoms have replaced advertising spaces once reserved for chips, biscuits, and sodas. ATMs outnumber dustbins at every corner.
He crosses the road and heads under the overpass where lost vehicles and forgotten people sleep, wrapped in the dust. The other side of the town fades in and engulfs him in its chaos. The pallor of the chawls in juxtaposition with the warm hues of hawker stalls develops into an eerie ambiance of despair. Yellow tungsten bulbs dangle inside stores, and the odor of overused cooking oil lingers. Dirt and sweat clothe everyone here, and one cannot tell the immigrants apart from the natives. He notices the miniature temple built below an enormous and friendless banyan tree. Islamic prayers echo above the never-ending urban noise. The people here, albeit their misery, have time for God. They make the food that gets delivered to the offices on the other side of the overpass. The masses help each other survive, and the classes remain in check.
The chicken roll eatery being on this side of town does put its hygiene standards in question. But it's something he looks forward to after an awful day at work. When it comes to street food, ignorance is bliss.
He glances at his watch to calculate the hours of sleep he will be getting tonight. The lack of it doesn't surprise him anymore. Once home, getting ready for bed is another strenuous routine.
That reminds him of the discussion the guys were having in the smoking-room this morning: deepfakes, which, in a matter of minutes, became a gabble about deepfake porn. As immoral as it sounds, it piqued his interest. Maybe he will check it out tonight; another attempt to spice up jerking off to sleep every night. Which hasn't been great either because every time he achieves the point of sweet release, his ex-girlfriend's face pops up in his head. And she happens to be getting hideous with each passing day. He doesn't remember her being repulsive, or he didn't realize it then. "Good riddance, I guess?"
At this late hour, the eatery has a dense, diverse crowd upfront. The eatery owner, a stout, middle-aged man, welcomes him with a familiar smile. The owner hands him a menu card with its laminated corners crumpled up. He pretends to go through it, then orders a chicken roll with cheese and chilies, pays the owner, and steps away from the booth.
A friend from university who gives company for dinner is conveniently absent when smoking weed isn't involved. Fuck fake friends, sure. However, getting stoned by yourself suggests that you have a problem. He checks his cellphone: no new notifications or messages. "I wish I could just quit tonight and disappear." What will he do after leaving his job? He doesn't know that yet. He plans to paint every weekend. Years of delaying and hesitation later, he is now oblivious to the liberating sentiment of creating art.
A furry waggle against his shin startles him; a ginger-spotted cat marks its territory. When he decides to take in the scenery around him, the eatery owner going about his business intrigues him. The owner addresses his work with impressive gusto, makes a lasting impression on customers, introduces new flavors to the menu, manages his kitchen without a slip in quality. In a way, they both share the same job: marketing. Except, the owner has an immense passion for his work.
A server calls out his name, and he proceeds to grab his roll. He takes out a decent piece of meat and tosses it to the cat; it meows back with gratitude. A deep inhale, a huge bite, and - an explosion of flavors. The soft, grilled flatbread crumbles as the blended sauces flood his taste buds. The cool veggies bring the extra crunch, the chilies and cheese tickle the roof of his mouth. The zesty, peppery, slow-cooked chicken with all its juicy tenderness melts in, filling his parched soul. Worth every penny spent, another terrible day saved.
In her overbleached nightgown, a middle-aged woman emerges from the back of the booth. She places her cellphone over the owner's ear. She must be his wife. The owner expresses annoyance for being disturbed from his work, but the voice on the other end gets his attention. The owner's wife rests her hand on his shoulder as his face loses its color. Maintaining his composure, the owner gestures to the jumpy customers to excuse him.
"Oh...What stage is it?... What did the doctor say?... Don't worry; everything will be fine. I'll be there soon."
The owner and his wife share a brief gaze, eyes filled with sanguine hope. The kitchen comes to a halt, and the assistants stare at their boss with concern.
"It's my sister," the owner answers, "She's diagnosed with cancer, pancreatic."
Before he can gauge their reactions, the owner turns to his wife, nods at her, and leaves the booth. The owner's wife takes over, gets the kitchen up and running, and attends to the swarm of customers with the same commitment.
Having eavesdropped on their private conversation, he stands appalled, and his self-centered musings come to a pause. At that moment, his life shrinks down to a freckle in time. Why does fate strike its rusted sword and inflict irreparable wounds on us all? His appetite vanishes, and he gives the leftover bits to the cat. Does being at that place, time, and listening in on their conversation mean anything for him?
A heartfelt impulse ignites, which propels him towards the booth. He scans the QR code sticker of a payment app and transfers a few thousand bucks. Before the owner's wife figures out the unusual transaction, he disappears into the throng heading towards the train station.
When the rush of spontaneous action fades away, he understands that his well-intended offering won't be a notable contribution. But it was worth having this occasional feeling of contentment. This disease had robbed him of his aunt and wrecked the lives of quite a few of his friends. The people living in these chawls, how do they handle being diagnosed with cancer? Despite their chances of survival, one foot's always in the grave without the necessary funds and healthcare.
He walks on a narrow and sludge ridden alleyway, surrounded by a sequence of putrefied wooden planks, cobalt-blue aluminum sheets, and chipped brick walls. He turns around for a peek; there is no horizon, but more people, more vehicles, and a curtain of concrete elevations. Above this cityscape, however, the ethereal moon shimmers in the inky skies. Pleased about catching its glimpse, he looks forward to appreciating it some night.
Reaching the train station, he collapses on the first bench he finds. "I can't believe I'm panting like a bitch from that walk." The dreadful realization of your health slipping out of control. He recalls his university days of admirable stamina, appetite, and libido. Aware of their absence now, he rubs his eyes. A long weary sigh. Followed by a blaring horn, the train whooshes by the platform; the gust cools the sweat off from the eager commuters. He trots towards a first-class compartment and hops in.
In the compartment, men play cards and mobile games, eat rice puffs, sleep like invertebrates, and watch raunchy movies on their phones. Amidst them, he sits pondering over the events of the day against the railroad noise. "There isn't enough luck for everyone out here." The train seems full of mindless zombies, existing in their constricted, conformed lifestyles, innocently diverted from their realities. Drooping heads, slouching shoulders, and protruding bellies. But who's he to judge, for he belongs to the same spectrum of the living dead. Alas, a self-aware zombie doesn't cease to be an abomination.
An automated voice announces his destination over corroded speakers. He gets down at a deserted platform; the indicator for visually impaired passengers beeps with an unsettling tempo. As he heads home, chirping crickets and dogs howling afar welcome him. The air here is crisp, with trees arching above him. Streetlights make dainty amber halos, and he walks under them ruminating over the absurdities of his life. A quarter of his presumed lifespan has passed by him with nothing to show for it. If he dies tonight, who would care to attend his funeral, and who would miss him years later?
The error of his ways begins to froth his spirit. Why does he sabotage the chances of getting his shit together by procrastinating? Why does he give in to distractions instead of getting better at things that matter? Why does he fail to check up on his loved ones until it's too late? Why does he spend money on stuff he doesn't need? Why does he comply with peoples' opinions who don't have their own lives figured out? Why does he fall into relationships only to become desperate to end them? And expect them to solve all his problems and fix him? Why doesn't he realize valuable lessons right away and avoid this perpetual regret?
Why don't epiphanies occur when you need them?
Keys turn a rusted door lock open, and he steps into his studio apartment. He drops his laptop bag and sinks into the sofa. His house appears to be what a failed minimalist would have, but there's some niceness about it. He stretches his swollen toes that pop out of socks' holes. While he garners the strength to shower and call it a day, his eyes land on a puffed-up spot on the ceiling. The longer he stares at it, a crack in the paint becomes visible to him.
He stands engulfed by steam as the warm water hits his body and rejuvenates him. Newfound courage courses through his veins to break out of this self-built prison and get back on track. He must live on his own terms. Life is about the choices we make, and hence he's going to make the right ones from now onwards.
He opens up his laptop and emails a sick leave, the well-deserved break he needs. "I should draft my resignation letter as well...Maybe too soon for that. Better to wait for a few months' worth of paychecks."
And now, to end this night on a high note, he's going back to his calling. His passion. His art. A wide drawer hoards brushes, palettes, paint tubes and bottles, canvases, and other tools wrapped in plastic with cobwebs surrounding them. Taking them out, he dusts them and assembles the set up in a nook. He adjusts the lighting of the room to his desire. He takes a seat in front of the canvas, his fingers tingling with hope. His prowess is coming back to him.
It's a new beginning. What will he paint tonight? Should he paint something that pays homage to the surrealists that inspired him? Or pour out his emotions through colors to create an abstract composition? Or should he focus on forms using a monochromatic color scheme? There are plenty of options. A little too many.
The fatigue of a long day starts kicking in. An empty canvas is intimidating; his anticipatory anxiety magnifies. Legs bounce with unease. A fluttering heart; sweat cascading inside his nightwear. "This looks harder than I thought." If only there were a way to calm his nerves down.
Memory serves to be a curse when he remembers - deepfake porn. Like a moth to a flame, he grabs his cellphone and advances to the bedroom. Smack! A frail hand clasps his neck from behind and holds him down. Slender arms reveal a pale, sickly woman; struggling to hold herself up on the floor. Her sapped eyes mirror what once used to be her alluring figure. "Resist, you fucker!" she wails, clawing into him.
It's been quite a while since she showed up. She is his muse. They used to be at one with each other as she guided him through chaos and nurtured his gifts with innocence. Her breathtaking charm inspired works of art. She was an embodiment of his creative expression and ambition.
He can't stand watching her starved to the brink of death. It's a lost cause. With no effort, he shakes her arm off of him and leaves the room for his frivolities. Her bones crack as she drops to the floor. Blood trickles out of her nose.
Minutes turn into hours. Unrequited, she waits. Silvery hair soaked in blood, her chest wheezing.
She rests in peace, at last. Her existence dissipates from the room. The paints remain caked, and the canvas lies barren.
A momentary relapse for gratification foreshadows his continual turmoil, and another 'could have been' artist bites the dust.
Written By: Purple.Musings

Hi Folks,
Throwaway account here providing the full Article: https://theathletic.com/2115449/2020/10/06/manchester-united-jadon-sancho-transfer-window/ since it's behind a paywall.

United’s hopeless pursuit of Jadon Sancho – the real story
^{Laurie Whitwell, David Ornstein and more} (Other contributor: Raphael Honigstein)
Ole Gunnar Solskjaer identified Jadon Sancho as his principal target this summer in what was seen as a vital opportunity for squad enhancement following Champions League qualification.
But after 10 weeks of opportunity for talks, Sancho remains a Borussia Dortmund player and the simple truth is that United never got close.
The Athletic has been told that Solskjaer urged Ed Woodward to keep trying, and financial concerns meant other signings were pushed to the periphery until the final 48 hours of the window.
Donny van de Beek arrived on September 2 but sources say United waited to pull the trigger on other purchases until it became clear Sancho was not arriving.
So for the third window in a row, United were active on deadline day, completing the signings of Edinson Cavani, Alex Telles, Amad Diallo and Facundo Pellistri. In January, it was Odion Ighalo, hot on the heels of Bruno Fernandes. Last summer, the club were trying to sign Mario Mandzukic or Paulo Dybala.
The cause for this year’s unedifying sense of late freneticism appears to centre on the priority given to the Sancho move and, fundamentally, a misunderstanding by United of Dortmund’s intentions.
Essentially, United did not believe Dortmund would stay firm on the price-tag of €120 million or their deadline of August 10, embarking on a long-running game of poker without realising that the Bundesliga club weren’t even at the table. United effectively sat still in the hope Dortmund would blink first and place the call they were ready to do business. Intermediaries attempted to broker a deal but were waiting on United to move, which did not happen.
Some sources felt Woodward was holding until the last moment to place an all-in bet, giving the impression of resistance in the ambition of driving the price down. But instead, United kept their chips and stayed true to their valuation. By never ruling themselves out of the deal though, United’s actions seriously annoyed Dortmund’s executives, who became even more entrenched in their position as the weeks went on.
When Dortmund sporting director Michael Zorc stood at the side of their training pitches on August 10, the first day of pre-season, and said the decision on Sancho staying was “final”, one alarmed United director made a call to check whether the statement was genuine. The response was along the lines of, “What did you expect? You knew the terms.”
Hans-Joachim Watzke, Dortmund’s chief executive, is said to have personally phoned United at the start of the summer and explained very clearly how much the deal would cost and when it needed to be done by.
United privately argue that the continued conversations after that point, conducted via intermediaries Emeka Obasi and Marco Lichtsteiner, were evidence of Dortmund remaining open to a sale. But the reason for the involvement of agents is hotly disputed.
United insist Dortmund wanted talks done through Obasi and Lichtsteiner, and some believe this was so Dortmund could stick to their public stance while having a backchannel to a potential resolution. United held lengthy discussions and made known what they were willing to pay, which held a firm limit given the current economic environment.
Sources say Dortmund reject that idea and deny they ever appointed agents. Previous deals with Arsenal and Barcelona for Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang and Ousmane Dembele respectively were based on face-to-face meetings with club counterparts.
On this occasion, they believed that they had provided the fee to United and since Woodward failed to match it by August 10, there was no need for further direct discussion.
United felt there was tacit encouragement to keep lines of communication going but the only way they could have got the deal on after that date was with a “crazy” offer along the lines of Neymar’s £200 million transfer to Paris Saint-Germain. Sources told The Athletic that if United had come in with an offer of €140-£150 million then Dortmund might have done business. Conscious of their reputation having set their position out so publicly, Dortmund would have been able to sell that as a turnaround made in extraordinary circumstances.
United argued that the €120 million price tag did not take into account the financial hit caused by the pandemic. Executives genuinely felt it should come down, given the full total of the transfer was potentially enormous. The Athletic has been told initial calculations rose to €250 million including wages and agent fees. United made what has been described as a “calm decision” to refuse that amount and felt vindicated when the government postponed the return of fans to stadiums costing the club another £50 million in lost revenue.
But it is understood that Dortmund originally planned for the €120 million as a “minimum” — and ideally wanted nearer the €147 million fee that Barcelona paid for Dembele — so it was an adjustment to even consider a bid that could reach that figure in installments.
In any case, United never got near to that guaranteed sum. One offer, submitted by chief negotiator Matt Judge through the agents in the final week of September, amounted to £80 million, plus add-ons. Once passed to Watzke, it was immediately rejected as too little too late. There was a sense at the Westfalenstadion that United did not take Dortmund’s demands seriously or were acting without full intentions to actually complete the signing.
All proposals were said to have been relayed to Dortmund via the agents knowing full well they would be turned down.
Sancho himself is believed to have felt undervalued by the offers and even if United had placed the right bid late on, it is understood he would have questioned why it did not come earlier.
Sancho was never going to agitate for a move unless United came close to Dortmund’s demands. Illness kept him out of the squad for Saturday’s 4-0 win over Freiburg but Sancho then attended a house party in London with Tammy Abraham and Ben Chilwell, in breach of lockdown rules, and will join up late with England as a result. He has since apologised.
The forward was prepared to join United but not “desperate” to move this summer. He was relaxed either way. That was the sense drawn by England team-mates at the September camp.
That being said, others close to United were under the impression he “would walk to Old Trafford”. Sancho texted Marcus Rashford about United, and the pair were said to be excited at the prospect of linking up. Sancho has many friends in Manchester from his time at Manchester City.
Other United players were in touch too and so was Solskjaer, who as long ago as January wanted to ascertain Sancho’s willingness to join and to get a personal sense of his character. Having privately acknowledged the possibility of a sale, Dortmund were aware of the conversations, which are standard for most transfers.
There had actually been dialogue with Sancho’s representatives dating back to when he left Manchester City for Dortmund in 2017, but talks commenced in earnest this year once United had secured Champions League football on July 26.
United’s exit from the Europa League was disappointing, but some close to the club felt it would at least reinforce the impetus for signings — a reminder to the Glazer family that funding was required to take the next step. “But extending the window to October 5 is probably the worst thing for Solskjaer,” said a source. “I can see United taking talks to the wire again.”
There were some raised eyebrows at United over reports of Sancho’s lateness to training and fines for breaching lockdown regulations in Germany. But United viewed the indiscretions as attributable to a desire to move on from Dortmund. “We’ll make Carrington a place where he wants to come to work every day,” one member of staff told a colleague.
Solskjaer had determined Sancho would be his main target, with one source saying in April: “We are ready to go, we know who we want, the people at the top are now certain.”
But that conviction was not found in the pursuit, with Dortmund soon frustrated at United’s reluctance to commit to a fee or structure. There were allegations of “freestyling”, a refusal to provide a top line, and when pushed for answers, Judge suggested the issue lay with “the owners”. Agents proposing other players were told of a £50 million net spend budget. Executives feel they have a responsibility to protect the long-term strength of the club by not over-paying.
The Athletic has previously reported how Joel Glazer, in daily contact with Woodward, is involved in all major signings and paid particularly close attention to the Sancho deal. There were accusations of a split in opinion between the pair over the price to be sanctioned, with Woodward advocating a higher fee, but United insist board members were united on their view that €120 million was too much in the post-COVID-19 climate. Recruitment staff were told about a significant budget being allocated to Sancho but later the internal line back from Woodward was that the deal was “too much money”.
Privately United suggested the €120 million figure could be reached including some unrealistic bonuses, which may have allowed Dortmund to save face with a headline figure. Dortmund were resolute in their stance though and believed a higher price could be achieved next summer. The cause for their confidence was revealed when Zorc announced a previously unknown extension to Sancho’s contract, meaning it did not run out until 2023.
United insist they knew all those details and were for a long time frustrated by what they perceived to be the slow process of dealing with Dortmund through Obasi, Sancho’s agent, and Lichtsteiner, the brother of former Arsenal player Stephan. The two intermediaries are described as “very close”. Lichtsteiner previously assisted on the departures of Aubameyang and Dembele to Arsenal and Barcelona respectively, and has vast experience of difficult transfers. He is said to be well-regarded and very discreet with information.
United have in the past worked on deals through agents, and last summer placed an offer for the Newcastle United midfielder Sean Longstaff in this manner. Sources at Newcastle suspected this was so United had deniability if unsuccessful.
On other occasions, the technique has worked well. Woodward conducted the purchase of Juan Mata from Chelsea without one word to his counterparts at Stamford Bridge to block any chance of Wayne Rooney being brought into the conversation. Chelsea wanted to buy Rooney that window.
Before any fee could be finalised this time, there were difficulties over wages and agent fees.
It has been suggested to The Athletic that the opening contract offer to Sancho was actually slightly lower than his Dortmund salary. As is customary in Germany, Sancho’s contract was heavily incentivised and contained bonus payments for each point Dortmund achieved.
Conscious of maintaining a certain wage structure, United’s initial proposal was less than Sancho’s total pay packet at Dortmund. Van de Beek joined on £110,000 a week, for instance, and his representatives were told that was in line with a refined structure given Fernandes signed for £150,000 a week.
A second offer to Sancho, in early August, is said to have achieved parity with his Dortmund deal, with the potential for a fractional increase based on performance. This was not accepted. Sancho’s representatives, who carefully organised a move away from City in 2017, were clear in their view of Sancho’s worth and expected to be recompensed as such.
Though not asking for money equitable to David De Gea, who signed a deal worth more than £375,000 a week within the final 12 months of becoming a free agent, the terms desired were thought to be in the region of Paul Pogba’s £250,000 a week.
There were reports that wages had been sorted in the first week of August but this was not the case. United believed leaks to that end emanating from Germany were an attempt to “put pressure” on the process.
Still, there was positivity about a solution. Sources say the Liverpool manager Jurgen Klopp was keeping himself abreast of Sancho’s situation and around this stage told friends he believed the player would end up at Old Trafford.
There was eventually a breakthrough on Sancho’s salary in the second week of September.
Running parallel were negotiations over agent fees. Some have suggested an initial proposal for a payment to the agents put United on the back foot. After negotiations, a lower sum was agreed. But that still left the transfer fee and, as the gap remained, other options were considered. A prospective loan deal for Gareth Bale was set up but the Wales international declined to wait as a reserve for Sancho. He had the emotional pull of Tottenham Hotspur in any case.
Watford’s Ismaila Sarr, previously not regarded as a genuine option, came into the reckoning in the final fortnight of the window when United explored a loan move. With Watford in the Championship, Sarr has until the domestic deadline of October 16 to join a Premier League club.
Talks also commenced over Dembele. An original inquiry for the Barcelona forward was made in July but at that stage, Dembele was not interested. Sources say Liverpool also made a check back then.
But while Liverpool instead signed Diogo Jota on September 19, it was United returning in the dying embers of the market to investigate whether Dembele might join on loan. It was a late move. A source close to the Barcelona dressing room said at the time: “He intended to stay at Barcelona. In pre-season, his attitude was really different and the players were super happy to see how he was training and how involved in the routine. Therefore, everything has to have changed a lot for him to have decided to go to United.”
In the end, United only wanted a loan. Barcelona demanded a sale, so the situation looked unlikely to develop until a late change of stance by the La Liga club on Monday evening. Barcelona indicated they would agree to a loan but only if Dembele extended his contract at the Nou Camp, and the deal was off.
Industry insiders reported numerous other inquiries and proposals put to the club by representatives, such as Real Madrid’s Luka Jovic, Inter Milan’s Ivan Perisic and Juventus’ Douglas Costa. There was exasperation among some at Carrington that United were leaving business so late again and having to work down their list to second and third options. “Looks like a panic buy,” was the assessment by one source close to the dressing room of the Cavani signing.
United did ask Bayer Leverkusen for Kai Havertz in January but were put off by the €100 million fee and never made a follow-up call this summer, clearing the path to Chelsea.
Meanwhile, the Sancho failure represents the third time Dortmund have got their way over United this year, after the signings of Erling Haaland and Jude Bellingham — two episodes that have caused lingering frustration.
Some agents who have worked with United on other deals believe the club should have halted talks on Sancho much earlier if €120 million was seen as too much and pursued alternatives. There are accusations the delay speaks to a fundamental issue in recruitment, which sources call a paralysis of decision-making. But given how much Solskjaer wanted Sancho, United wanted to try for their No 1 target for as long as possible.
United accept they have missed out on a top player but insist they have not over-extended their finances. The signings of Diallo and Pellistri, both 18-year-old wingers, are regarded as viable options for the first-team once bedded into England through the under-21s side. Diallo’s cost of €21 million plus €20 million is not insignificant, however, inevitably inviting questions about why United refused the extra money for Sancho. Diallo has been scouted since 2016 and is considered one of the most exciting prospects in Italy. There are echoes when Anthony Martial signed for big expense and little experience and became Joel Glazer’s favourite player.
Sancho will stay in the crosshairs, for the next time trading opens. It’s understood he long since shifted his focus to a future transfer rather than moving in the current window. But it is anticipated more clubs will be in the reckoning for his signature by then.

Air bubbles explode inside the water cooler, jolting him out of castles he built in the air. At 9 pm, the office is ghost-quiet except for the overworked air conditioner struggling to live up to its 3-star reputation. On his laptop screen, a newsletter email draft lies unfinished. "Who the hell is going to read this?" he whimpers, scratching his forehead. He makes an attempt to change the headings and design elements, but he knows that they will get him to adhere to the brand guidelines. An 'electronic focus' playlist plays in his headphones, but in vain.
The desk chair squeals after every sentence he types. Accepting his indifference, he copy-pastes text from a used draft. Sends it in. And bangs the laptop shut. He packs up and goes to the pantry for a protein bar, which would be the one thing that made him glad about his daily fiber intake. Unfortunately, someone has had his share of fiber. When will they start respecting labels here? He stomps out, hoping to grab a chicken roll in time before the eatery closes. He waves a labored goodbye to his senior colleagues who have made themselves at home on their desks.
"I need to get out of this place," he remembers whining to Salina this afternoon. The office becomes a tolerable place in her presence. A gentle pat on the shoulder followed by cheery morning wishes from her is a remedy for facing the monotonous day. He admired that they didn't need small talk to have a conversation. 'How are you doing? How's it going? How was your weekend?', none of that crap. "You need to take a break," she reminds him every day as she brings two cups of coffee, and they head out for a walk.
She talks about how she'd rather be on a beach, go for a trek or play the piano at a café than be here. She reveals a little more about how she ended up in this place each day. The scanty shocks that sprout up when their hands brush against each other validate his futile existence. Walking with Salina on blazing concrete around the corporate neighborhood is the highlight of his day. "If only I could walk with her forever..." Since he is learning to lower expectations these days, he promptly puts an end to his wishful thinking. Asking her out would be a swift ax to a treasured friendship, he assumes. Why are they stuck together in the same place, escaping their stale present while coping with their distressful pasts?
Trap songs about money, drugs, and bitches play in his earphones as he shoulders through a huddle of white collars on the pavement. "I could use a smoke. It's been a long day," he assures himself, avoiding the gaze of the loosie seller on the corner. "No, not again. Can't give in every other day." He acknowledges the loosie seller with a faint smile and hurries past him.
Through the cuboid canyons of skyscrapers and shopping malls larger than factories, he walks in compliance with his navy blue formal attire whenever the glass panes reflect him. The retina-burning halogens on billboards illuminate the poker-faced barbie models of elite fashion brands. Dating apps and condoms have replaced advertising spaces once reserved for chips, biscuits, and sodas. ATMs outnumber dustbins at every corner.
He crosses the road and heads under the overpass where lost vehicles and forgotten people sleep, wrapped in the dust. The other side of the town fades in and engulfs him in its chaos. The pallor of the chawls in juxtaposition with the warm hues of hawker stalls develops into an eerie ambiance of despair. Yellow tungsten bulbs dangle inside stores, and the odor of overused cooking oil lingers. Dirt and sweat clothe everyone here, and one cannot tell the immigrants apart from the natives. He notices the miniature temple built below an enormous and friendless banyan tree. Islamic prayers echo above the never-ending urban noise. The people here, albeit their misery, have time for God. They make the food that gets delivered to the offices on the other side of the overpass. The masses help each other survive, and the classes remain in check.
The chicken roll eatery being on this side of town does put its hygiene standards in question. But it's something he looks forward to after an awful day at work. When it comes to street food, ignorance is bliss.
He glances at his watch to calculate the hours of sleep he will be getting tonight. The lack of it doesn't surprise him anymore. Once home, getting ready for bed is another strenuous routine.
That reminds him of the discussion the guys were having in the smoking-room this morning: deepfakes, which, in a matter of minutes, became a gabble about deepfake porn. As immoral as it sounds, it piqued his interest. Maybe he will check it out tonight; another attempt to spice up jerking off to sleep every night. Which hasn't been great either because every time he achieves the point of sweet release, his ex-girlfriend's face pops up in his head. And she happens to be getting hideous with each passing day. He doesn't remember her being repulsive, or he didn't realize it then. "Good riddance, I guess?"
At this late hour, the eatery has a dense, diverse crowd upfront. The eatery owner, a stout, middle-aged man, welcomes him with a familiar smile. The owner hands him a menu card with its laminated corners crumpled up. He pretends to go through it, then orders a chicken roll with cheese and chilies, pays the owner, and steps away from the booth.
A friend from university who gives company for dinner is conveniently absent when smoking weed isn't involved. Fuck fake friends, sure. However, getting stoned by yourself suggests that you have a problem. He checks his cellphone: no new notifications or messages. "I wish I could just quit tonight and disappear." What will he do after leaving his job? He doesn't know that yet. He plans to paint every weekend. Years of delaying and hesitation later, he is now oblivious to the liberating sentiment of creating art.
A furry waggle against his shin startles him; a ginger-spotted cat marks its territory. When he decides to take in the scenery around him, the eatery owner going about his business intrigues him. The owner addresses his work with impressive gusto, makes a lasting impression on customers, introduces new flavors to the menu, manages his kitchen without a slip in quality. In a way, they both share the same job: marketing. Except, the owner has an immense passion for his work.
A server calls out his name, and he proceeds to grab his roll. He takes out a decent piece of meat and tosses it to the cat; it meows back with gratitude. A deep inhale, a huge bite, and - an explosion of flavors. The soft, grilled flatbread crumbles as the blended sauces flood his taste buds. The cool veggies bring the extra crunch, the chilies and cheese tickle the roof of his mouth. The zesty, peppery, slow-cooked chicken with all its juicy tenderness melts in, filling his parched soul. Worth every penny spent, another terrible day saved.
In her overbleached nightgown, a middle-aged woman emerges from the back of the booth. She places her cellphone over the owner's ear. She must be his wife. The owner expresses annoyance for being disturbed from his work, but the voice on the other end gets his attention. The owner's wife rests her hand on his shoulder as his face loses its color. Maintaining his composure, the owner gestures to the jumpy customers to excuse him.
"Oh...What stage is it?... What did the doctor say?... Don't worry; everything will be fine. I'll be there soon."
The owner and his wife share a brief gaze, eyes filled with sanguine hope. The kitchen comes to a halt, and the assistants stare at their boss with concern.
"It's my sister," the owner answers, "She's diagnosed with cancer, pancreatic."
Before he can gauge their reactions, the owner turns to his wife, nods at her, and leaves the booth. The owner's wife takes over, gets the kitchen up and running, and attends to the swarm of customers with the same commitment.
Having eavesdropped on their private conversation, he stands appalled, and his self-centered musings come to a pause. At that moment, his life shrinks down to a freckle in time. Why does fate strike its rusted sword and inflict irreparable wounds on us all? His appetite vanishes, and he gives the leftover bits to the cat. Does being at that place, time, and listening in on their conversation mean anything for him?
A heartfelt impulse ignites, which propels him towards the booth. He scans the QR code sticker of a payment app and transfers a few thousand bucks. Before the owner's wife figures out the unusual transaction, he disappears into the throng heading towards the train station.
When the rush of spontaneous action fades away, he understands that his well-intended offering won't be a notable contribution. But it was worth having this occasional feeling of contentment. This disease had robbed him of his aunt and wrecked the lives of quite a few of his friends. The people living in these chawls, how do they handle being diagnosed with cancer? Despite their chances of survival, one foot's always in the grave without the necessary funds and healthcare.
He walks on a narrow and sludge ridden alleyway, surrounded by a sequence of putrefied wooden planks, cobalt-blue aluminum sheets, and chipped brick walls. He turns around for a peek; there is no horizon, but more people, more vehicles, and a curtain of concrete elevations. Above this cityscape, however, the ethereal moon shimmers in the inky skies. Pleased about catching its glimpse, he looks forward to appreciating it some night.
Reaching the train station, he collapses on the first bench he finds. "I can't believe I'm panting like a bitch from that walk." The dreadful realization of your health slipping out of control. He recalls his university days of admirable stamina, appetite, and libido. Aware of their absence now, he rubs his eyes. A long weary sigh. Followed by a blaring horn, the train whooshes by the platform; the gust cools the sweat off from the eager commuters. He trots towards a first-class compartment and hops in.
In the compartment, men play cards and mobile games, eat rice puffs, sleep like invertebrates, and watch raunchy movies on their phones. Amidst them, he sits pondering over the events of the day against the railroad noise. "There isn't enough luck for everyone out here." The train seems full of mindless zombies, existing in their constricted, conformed lifestyles, innocently diverted from their realities. Drooping heads, slouching shoulders, and protruding bellies. But who's he to judge, for he belongs to the same spectrum of the living dead. Alas, a self-aware zombie doesn't cease to be an abomination.
An automated voice announces his destination over corroded speakers. He gets down at a deserted platform; the indicator for visually impaired passengers beeps with an unsettling tempo. As he heads home, chirping crickets and dogs howling afar welcome him. The air here is crisp, with trees arching above him. Streetlights make dainty amber halos, and he walks under them ruminating over the absurdities of his life. A quarter of his presumed lifespan has passed by him with nothing to show for it. If he dies tonight, who would care to attend his funeral, and who would miss him years later?
The error of his ways begins to froth his spirit. Why does he sabotage the chances of getting his shit together by procrastinating? Why does he give in to distractions instead of getting better at things that matter? Why does he fail to check up on his loved ones until it's too late? Why does he spend money on stuff he doesn't need? Why does he comply with peoples' opinions who don't have their own lives figured out? Why does he fall into relationships only to become desperate to end them? And expect them to solve all his problems and fix him? Why doesn't he realize valuable lessons right away and avoid this perpetual regret?
Why don't epiphanies occur when you need them?
Keys turn a rusted door lock open, and he steps into his studio apartment. He drops his laptop bag and sinks into the sofa. His house appears to be what a failed minimalist would have, but there's some niceness about it. He stretches his swollen toes that pop out of socks' holes. While he garners the strength to shower and call it a day, his eyes land on a puffed-up spot on the ceiling. The longer he stares at it, a crack in the paint becomes visible to him.
He stands engulfed by steam as the warm water hits his body and rejuvenates him. Newfound courage courses through his veins to break out of this self-built prison and get back on track. He must live on his own terms. Life is about the choices we make, and hence he's going to make the right ones from now onwards.
He opens up his laptop and emails a sick leave, the well-deserved break he needs. "I should draft my resignation letter as well...Maybe too soon for that. Better to wait for a few months' worth of paychecks."
And now, to end this night on a high note, he's going back to his calling. His passion. His art. A wide drawer hoards brushes, palettes, paint tubes and bottles, canvases, and other tools wrapped in plastic with cobwebs surrounding them. Taking them out, he dusts them and assembles the set up in a nook. He adjusts the lighting of the room to his desire. He takes a seat in front of the canvas, his fingers tingling with hope. His prowess is coming back to him.
It's a new beginning. What will he paint tonight? Should he paint something that pays homage to the surrealists that inspired him? Or pour out his emotions through colors to create an abstract composition? Or should he focus on forms using a monochromatic color scheme? There are plenty of options. A little too many.
The fatigue of a long day starts kicking in. An empty canvas is intimidating; his anticipatory anxiety magnifies. Legs bounce with unease. A fluttering heart; sweat cascading inside his nightwear. "This looks harder than I thought." If only there were a way to calm his nerves down.
Memory serves to be a curse when he remembers - deepfake porn. Like a moth to a flame, he grabs his cellphone and advances to the bedroom. Smack! A frail hand clasps his neck from behind and holds him down. Slender arms reveal a pale, sickly woman; struggling to hold herself up on the floor. Her sapped eyes mirror what once used to be her alluring figure. "Resist, you fucker!" she wails, clawing into him.
It's been quite a while since she showed up. She is his muse. They used to be at one with each other as she guided him through chaos and nurtured his gifts with innocence. Her breathtaking charm inspired works of art. She was an embodiment of his creative expression and ambition.
He can't stand watching her starved to the brink of death. It's a lost cause. With no effort, he shakes her arm off of him and leaves the room for his frivolities. Her bones crack as she drops to the floor. Blood trickles out of her nose.
Minutes turn into hours. Unrequited, she waits. Silvery hair soaked in blood, her chest wheezing.
She rests in peace, at last. Her existence dissipates from the room. The paints remain caked, and the canvas lies barren.
A momentary relapse for gratification foreshadows his continual turmoil, and another 'could have been' artist bites the dust.

Written By: Purple.Musings

(Note the connections)
CargoMetrics Cracks the Code on Shipping Data
Scott Borgerson and his team of quants at hedge fund firm CargoMetrics are using satellite intel on ships to identify mispriced securities.
By Fred R. Bleakley February 04, 2016
Link to article
One late afternoon last November, as a ping-pong game echoed through the floor at CargoMetrics Technologies’ Boston office, CEO Scott Borgerson was watching over the shoulder of Arturo Ramos, who’s responsible for developing investment strategies with astrophysicist Ronnie Hoogerwerf. At Ramos’s feet sat Helios, his brindle pit-bull-and-greyhound mix. All three men were staring at a computer screen, tracking satellite signals from oil tankers sailing through the Strait of Malacca, the choke point between the Indian Ocean and the South China Sea where 40 percent of the world’s cargo trade moves by ship.
CargoMetrics, a start-up investment firm, is not your typical money manager or hedge fund. It was originally set up to supply information on cargo shipping to commodities traders, among others. Now it links satellite signals, historical shipping data and proprietary analytics for its own trading in commodities, currencies and equity index futures. There was an air of excitement in the office that day because the signals were continuing to show a slowdown in shipping that had earlier triggered the firm’s automated trading system to short West Texas Intermediate (WTI) oil futures. Two days later the U.S. Department of Energy’s official report came out, confirming the firm’s hunch, and the oil futures market reacted accordingly.
“We nailed it for our biggest return of the year,” says Borgerson, who had reason to breathe more easily. His backers were watching closely. They include Blackstone Alternative Asset Management (BAAM), the world’s largest hedge fund allocator, and seven wealthy tech and business leaders. Among them: former Lotus Development Corp. CEO Jim Manzi, who also had a long career at IBM Corp.
Compelling these investors and Borgerson to pursue the shipping slice of the economy is the simple fact that in this era of globalization 50,000 ships carry 90 percent of the $18.5 trillion in annual world trade.
That’s no secret, of course, but Borgerson and CargoMetrics’ backers maintain that the firm is well ahead of any other investment manager in harnessing such information for a potential big advantage. It’s why Borgerson has kept the firm in stealth mode for years. In its earlier iteration, from 2011 to 2014, CargoMetrics was hidden in a back alley, above a restaurant. Now that he’s running an investment firm, Borgerson declines to name his investors unless, like Manzi and BAAM, they are willing to be identified.
“My vision is to map historically and in real time what’s really going on in economic supply and demand across the planet,” says the U.S. Coast Guard veteran, who prides himself and the CargoMetrics team on not being prototypical Wall Streeters. “The problem is enormous, but the potential reward is huge.”
According to Borgerson, CargoMetrics is building a “learning machine” that will be able to automatically profit from spotting any publicly traded security that is mispriced, using what he refers to as systematic fundamental macro strategies. He calls the firm a new breed of quantitative investment manager. In unguarded moments he sees himself as the Steve Jobs or Elon Musk of portfolio management.
Though his ambitions may sound audacious, one thing is certain: Borgerson doesn’t lack in self-confidence. Over the past six years, he has secretly and painstakingly built a firm heavy in Ph.D.s that can manage a database of hundreds of billions of historical shipping records, conduct trillions of calculations on hundreds of computer servers and systematically execute trades in 28 different commodities and currencies.
For his part, Borgerson seems an unlikely architect of such a serious, ambitious endeavor. Easygoing and fond of joking with his colleagues, he is a hands-off manager who credits CargoMetrics’ investment prowess to his team. His brand of humor comes through even when he’s detailing the series of challenges he had starting the firm. After using the phrase “It was hard” several times, he pauses and adds, “Did I mention it was hard?” Although Borgerson declines to provide any specifics about CargoMetrics’ portfolio, citing the advice of his lawyers, performance during the three years of live trading apparently has been strong enough to keep his backers confident and his team of physicists, software engineers and mathematicians in place. “Hopefully, it won’t be too long before we can make a more significant investment,” says BAAM CEO J. Tomilson Hill. Former Lotus CEO Manzi is optimistic about the firm’s prospects: “It has an unbelievable edge with its historical data.”
CargoMetrics was one of the first maritime data analytics companies to seize the potential of the global Automatic Identification System. Ships transmit AIS signals via very high frequency (VHF) radio to receiver devices on other ships or land. Since 2004, large vessels with gross tonnage of 300 or more are required to flash AIS positioning signals every few seconds to avoid collisions. That allows CargoMetrics to pay satellite companies for access to the signals gleaned from 500 miles above the water. The firm uses historical data to identify cargo and aggregation of cargo flow, and then applies sophisticated analysis of financial market correlations to identify buying and selling opportunities.
“We’re big-data junkies who could not have founded CargoMetrics without the radical breakthroughs of this golden age of technology,” Borgerson says. The revolution in cloud computing has been instrumental. CargoMetrics leverages the Amazon Web Services platform to run its analytics and algorithms on hundreds of computer servers at a fraction of the cost of owning and maintaining the hardware itself.
At his firm’s headquarters — where the lobby displays a series of colored semaphore signal flags that spell out the mathematical equation for the surface area of the earth —Borgerson leads the way to his server room. It’s the size of a closet; inside, a thick pipe carries all the data traffic and analytic formulas CargoMetrics needs. That computing power alone would have cost $30 million to $40 million, Manzi says.
CargoMetrics is pursuing a modern version of an age-old quest. Think of the Rothschild family’s use in the 19th century of carrier pigeons and couriers on horseback to bring news from the Napoleonic Wars to their traders in London, or, in the 1980s, oil trader Marc Rich’s use of satellite phones and binoculars for relaying oil tanker flow.
Other quant-focused Wall Street firms are latching onto the satellite ship-tracking data. But, Borgerson says, “I would bet my life on a stack of Bibles that no one in the world has the shipping database and analytics we have.” The reason he’s so convinced is that from late 2008 he was an early client of the satellite companies that had begun collecting data received from space and on land to build a large database of all the world’s vessel movements in one place.
That’s what caught Hill’s eye at Blackstone when he learned of CargoMetrics a few years ago. BAAM now has a managed account with the firm. “If anyone else tries to replicate what CargoMetrics has, they will be years behind [Borgerson] on data analytics,” Hill says. “We know that a number of hedge fund data scientists want his data.”
But too much reliance on big data can go wrong, say many academicians. “There is a huge amount of hype around big data,” observes Willy Shih, a professor of management practice at Harvard Business School. “Many people are saying, ‘Let the data speak; we don’t need theory or modeling.’ I argue that even with using new, massively parallel computing systems for modeling and simulation, some forces in nature and the economy are still too big and complex for computers to handle.”
Shih’s skepticism doesn’t go as far as to say the data challenge on global trade is too big a puzzle to solve. When informed of the CargoMetrics approach, he called it “very valid and creative. They just have to be careful not to throw away efforts to understand causality.”
Another big-data scholar, Massachusetts Institute of Technology professor of electrical engineering and computer science Samuel Madden, also urges caution. “What worries me is that models become trusted but then fail,” he explains. “You have to validate and revalidate.”
Borgerson grew up in Southeast Missouri, in a home on Rural Route 5 between Festus and Hematite. His father was a former Marine infantry officer and police official, and his mother a high school French and Spanish teacher. The family traveled 15 miles to Crystal City to attend Grace Presbyterian Church, which was central to young Borgerson’s upbringing: There he was a youth elder, became an Eagle Scout and received a God and Country Award. The church was across the street from the former home of NBA all-star and U.S. senator Bill Bradley, whose backboard Borgerson used for basketball practice.
When it came to choosing what to do after high school, Borgerson was torn between becoming a Presbyterian minister and accepting an appointment to the U.S. Coast Guard Academy or West Point. He went with the Coast Guard because, he says, “the humanitarian mission really appealed to me, and I had never been on a boat before.”
At the academy, in New London, Connecticut, Borgerson played NCAA tennis and was also a cutup, racking up demerits for such antics as placing a sailboat on the commandant of cadets’ front lawn and leading bar patrons in a rendition of “Semper Paratus,” the school’s theme song. Still, he graduated with honors and spent the next four years piloting a 367-foot cutter — which seized five tons of cocaine in the Caribbean — then captaining a patrol boat that saved 30 lives on search-and-rescue missions. From 2001 to 2003 the Coast Guard sent Borgerson to the Fletcher School at Tufts University to earn his master’s of arts in law and diplomacy. While at Tufts he volunteered at a Boston homeless shelter for military veterans and founded a Pet Pals therapy program for senior citizens.
Following graduation, from 2003 to 2006, Borgerson taught U.S. history, foreign policy, political geography and maritime studies at the Coast Guard Academy, and co-founded its Institute for Leadership. While there he would get up at 4:00 each morning to work on his Ph.D. thesis exploring U.S. port cities’ approaches to foreign policy. He would also travel to Boston to complete his course work at Tufts and meet with his adviser, John Curtis Perry.
Borgerson’s military allegiance runs deep. One weekend last fall he played football in a service academy alumni game. On another he attended the Army-Navy game. Still militarily fit at age 40, the 6-foot-5 Borgerson works out regularly at an inner-city gym aimed at helping youths find an alternative to gang violence; a few weeks ago he was there boxing with ex-convicts and lifting weights.
Leaving the Coast Guard was a hard decision for Borgerson, resulting in part from his frustration with the military bureaucracy’s stymieing of his bid to get back to sea for security missions. With his degrees in hand, he applied for a fellowship at the Council on Foreign Relations. During the application process he met Edward Morse, now global head of commodities research at Citigroup. Morse was on the CFR selection committee in 2007 and recommended Borgerson as a fellow.
Morse introduced Borgerson to commodities, and to trading terms like “contango” and “backwardation.” Morse himself had, earlier in career, gotten the jump on official oil supply data by hiring planes to take photos of the lid heights of oil tanks in Oklahoma’s Cushing field.
Working for the CFR in New York reconnected Borgerson with his Missouri roots. Bill Bradley’s aunt called the former senator to say: “The son of a family who went to our church in Crystal City is in New York. Would you welcome him?” Bradley did — and would later play a part in Borgerson’s career development.
While at the CFR, Borgerson became an expert on the melting of the North Pole ice cap, writing numerous published articles on its implications; this led him to co-found, with the president of Iceland, the Arctic Circle, a nonprofit designed to encourage discussion of the future of that region. Borgerson recently spoke to 50 international generals and admirals about the Arctic and is co-drafting a proposal for a treaty between the U.S. and Canada that would help resolve the differences the two countries have in allowing international ship and aircraft travel through the Northwest Passage.
His Arctic research led to an aha moment early in 2008, while he was still with the CFR, on a visit to Singapore and the Strait of Malacca with his Fletcher School classmate Rockford Weitz and their former Ph.D. adviser, Perry. Seeing the mass of ships sailing through the strait, Borgerson and Weitz decided to build a data analytics firm using satellite tracking of ships.
Like many successful entrepreneurs, the two struggled to find financing before reaching out to a network of friends and their contacts. One was Randy Beardsworth, who had sat with Borgerson at a 2007 Coast Guard Academy dinner, where Beardsworth, then the Coast Guard’s chief of law enforcement in Miami, was the guest speaker. Borgerson “made references to history and literature, and I thought, ‘Here is a sharp guy,’” recalls Beardsworth. “We have been friends ever since.”
But Borgerson didn’t turn to his new friend in his initial fund-raising. “He came to me in 2009, after he had been turned down by 17 VCs, was maxed out on his credit card, was married and had a newborn son,” says Beardsworth, who was reviewing the Department of Homeland Security as part of the Obama administration’s transition team. Beardsworth came to the rescue, not only committing to invest a small amount but introducing his friend to Doug Doan. A West Point graduate and Washington-based angel investor, Doan took to Borgerson right away. “To be honest, it wasn’t his idea, it was Scott I invested in,” says Doan, who provided $100,000 in capital and introduced Borgerson to a few friends, who added $75,000. Manzi came on board as an investor in 2009, having been asked by Bradley to check out Borgerson’s plan for a data metrics firm. (Manzi knew Bradley from the late 1990s, when the latter was considering a run for U.S. president.)
With Doan, Doan’s friends and Manzi as investors, CargoMetrics was finally able to garner its first venture capital commitment in early 2010, from Boston-based Ascent Venture Partners. That gave the start-up the capital it needed to hire a bevy of data scientists to build an analytics platform that it could sell to commodity-trading houses and other commercial users. In 2011, CargoMetrics added Summerhill Venture Partners, a Toronto-based firm with a Boston office, to its investor roster, raising roughly $18 million from venture capital and angels for its data business.
By then Borgerson had already begun to contemplate converting CargoMetrics from an information provider into a money manager; he saw the potential to extract powerful trade signals from its technology rather than share it with other market participants for a fee. Among those he consulted was serial entrepreneur Peter Platzer, a friend of one of CargoMetrics’ original investors. Platzer, a physicist by training, had spent eight years as a quantitative hedge fund manager at Rohatyn Group and Deutsche Bank before co-founding Spire Global, a San Francisco–based company that uses its own fleet of low-orbit satellites to track shipping, in 2012. “We had lengthy conversations on how to set up quant trading systems and how [commodities giant] Cargill had made a similar decision to set up its own in-house hedge fund to trade on the information it was gathering,” recalls Platzer. So Borgerson reset his course. Doan describes the decision as a “transformative moment” for the CargoMetrics co-founder. “The military trains you to be a strategic thinker,” Doan explains. “Scott had been tactical until then, making small pivots, and like a general who sees the theater of war, he moved into strategic mode.”
Borgerson’s ambition to succeed was in no small part fueled by the early turndowns by many venture capital firms and a fierce determination to best the Wall Street bunch at their own game. “There’s a lot that motivates me, including — if I’m honest — I have a big chip on my shoulder to beat the prep school, Ivy League, MBA crowd,” he says. “They’re bred to make money, but they’re not smarter than everyone else; they just have more patina and connections.” (Bred differently, he spent last Thanksgiving visiting his parents in rural Missouri. After breakfast he and his father were in the woods, shooting assault guns at posters of terrorists, with Gunny, his father’s Anatolian shepherd dog.)
Borgerson’s plan was not met with enthusiasm from the company’s then co-CEO, Weitz. CargoMetrics had been gaining clients and meeting its goals, and was on its way to becoming a successful data service provider. Weitz, who now is president of the Gloucester, Massachusetts–based Institute for Global Maritime Studies and an entrepreneur coach at Tufts’ Fletcher School, did not return e-mails or phone calls asking for comment. For his part, Borgerson says: “A ship cannot have two captains. The company simply matured and evolved into a streamlined management structure with one CEO instead of two.”
Eventually, Doan went along with Borgerson’s plan. “We believe in Scott and that shipping holds the no-shit, honest truth of what the economy is doing,” he says. But buying out the venture capital firms several years ahead of the usual exit time would require a hefty premium over what they had invested.
Once again Borgerson’s early supporters played a key role. Manzi, a fellow Fletcher School grad who had mentored Borgerson since the company’s early days, put up more money (making CargoMetrics one of his single largest investments) and introduced him to a powerful group of wealthy investors. Separately, the CFR’s Morse suggested that Borgerson meet with Daniel Freifeld, founder of Washington-based Callaway Capital Management and a former senior adviser on Eurasian energy at the U.S. Department of State. Impressed by Borgerson’s “intellectual honesty, vigor and more than four years of historical data,” Freifeld brought the idea to a billionaire third-party investor, who took his advice and became one of CargoMetrics’ largest backers. “I would not have suggested the investment if CargoMetrics had not done the hard part first,” adds Freifeld, declining to name the investor.
A chance encounter in the fall of 2012 gave the CargoMetrics team its first taste of real Wall Street trading. Attending an Arctic Imperative conference in Alaska, Borgerson met the CIO of a large investment firm, whom he declines to name. When Borgerson confided his ambition and that CargoMetrics had developed algorithms to trade on its shipping data once it was legally structured to do so, the CIO suggested CargoMetrics provide the analytical models for a separate portfolio the money manager would trade. Live trading using CargoMetrics’ models began in December 2012. Manzi brought in longtime banker Gerald Rosenfeld in 2013 to craft and negotiate the move to make CargoMetrics a limited liability investment firm. Rosenfeld acted in a personal role rather than in his position as vice chairman of Lazard and full-time professor and trustee of the New York University School of Law. The whole process took a year and a half. During that time Blackstone checked in as an investor.
Bradley, now an investment banker, has yet to invest in CargoMetrics, explaining that he is unfamiliar with quantitative investing. But he may eventually invest in Borgerson’s firm, he says, because “we are homeboys. I believe in him and that things are going to work out ” — pausing to add with a smile, “based on my vast quant experience, of course.”
Borgerson has been in stealth mode since CargoMetrics’ early days, when he moved the firm from an innovation lab near MIT because the shared space was too open. He is much more forthcoming when boasting of the firm’s “world-class talent.” The team includes astrophysicists, mathematicians, former hedge fund quants, electrical engineers, a trade lawyer and software developers. Hoogerwerf, who has a Ph.D. in astrophysics from the Netherlands’ Leiden University, built distributed technical environments for scientists and engineers at Microsoft Corp. Solomon Todesse, who works on quant investment strategies, was head of asset allocation at State Street Global Advisors. Aquil Abdullah, a team leader in the engineering group, was a software engineer in the high-performance-computing group at Microsoft. And senior investment strategist Charles Freifeld (Daniel’s father) has 40 years’ experience in futures and commodities markets, including nine with Boston-based commodity trading adviser firm AlphaMetrics Capital Management.
“All were self-made people; none were born with a silver spoon,” Borgerson notes. One of his blue-collar-background hires was James (Jess) Scully, who joined as chief operating officer in 2011, after his employer Interactive Supercomputing was acquired by Microsoft.
“The team we built treasures team success, which is Scott’s motto,” Scully says. “We want shared resources, one P&L, not ‘How much money did my unit make?’” Both Scully and Borgerson say CargoMetrics is like the Golden State Warriors, a leading NBA basketball team known for putting aside personal glory and playing as a band of brothers having fun.
Borgerson says he fosters a no-ego policy with “lots of play because investment teams are built on trust, and playing together builds trust.” Team building at CargoMetrics includes pub crawls, picnics at Borgerson’s house, poker nights, volunteer work in a soup kitchen for the homeless, Red Sox games and visits to museums.
Trips to the Boston docks or Coast Guard base are intended to remind the CargoMetrics team of the real economy. There are also occasional “touch a tanker” days. On one visit to a tanker, everyone was amazed that the ship was the size of a city building, Borgerson says. “They could smell the salt on the deck,” he recalls. “Wall Street can lose sight of the real fundamentals in the world. I don’t want that to happen here.”
Unlike the Rothschilds 200 years ago, only a small percentage of the trades that CargoMetrics makes relate to beating official government data. Most simply are aimed at identifying mispricings in the market, using the firm’s real-time shipping data and proprietary algorithms.
At a whiteboard in his conference room, Borgerson sketches out CargoMetrics’ general formula. He draws a “maritime matrix” of three dynamic data sets: geography (Malacca, Brazil, Australia, China, Europe and the U.S.), metrics (ship counts, cargo mass and volume, ship speed and port congestion) and tradable factors (Brent crude versus WTI, as well as mining equities, commodity macro and Asian economic activity). Using satellite data with hundreds of millions of ship positions, CargoMetrics makes trillions of calculations to determine individual cargoes onboard the ships and then to aggregate the cargo flows and compare them with historical shipping data. All that leads to the final comparisons with historical financial market data to find mispricings. If CargoMetrics observes an appreciable decline in export shipping activity in South Africa, for example, its trading models will determine whether that is a significant early-warning sign by considering that information alongside other factors, such as interest rates. If CargoMetrics believes a decline in the rand is forthcoming, it might short it against a basket of other currencies. “This is like a heat map showing opportunity,” Borgerson says, noting that CargoMetrics is not trading physical commodities. “We are agnostic on whether to be long or short, and let the computers spot where there is a mispricing and liquidity in the markets.” He sums up his simple, but still less than revealing, process by writing on the whiteboard “Collect, Compute, Trade.”
Borgerson says CargoMetrics is building a systematic approach that will work even when cargo cannot be identified — on containerships, for instance. It already knows a large percentage of the daily imports and exports into and out of China and island economies such as Japan and Australia. And although the firm cannot glean from its calculations on satellite AIS data the type of cargo, such as iPhones from China, it can measure total flow, which shows present economic activity. CargoMetrics’ data scientists are working on linking such activity to the firm’s data set of the past seven years to measure the evolving global economy. That will lead, Borgerson maintains, to more trades on currencies and equity index futures and, eventually, trades on individual equities. “Uncorrelated” is a mantra of Borgerson and his team. Well aware that correlated assets sent the performance of most asset managers, including hedge funds, plunging in the financial crisis, CargoMetrics is determined to come up with an antidote. Careful not to say too much, Borgerson lays out the simple principle that the process starts with placing many bets among uncorrelated strategies in different asset classes, like commodities, currencies and equities.
The goal is diversification, staying as market neutral as possible and remaining sensitive to tail risk in different scenarios. CargoMetrics’ analytic models help find asset classes that are outliers. Those may include a publicly traded instrument such as oil, another commodity or an equity for which shipping information was a leading indicator during times when other asset classes marched in lockstep. The historical ship data is then blended with this new information to seek opportunities. Identifying mispriced spreads among different trades within an asset class is another way of avoiding the calamity of correlation. Borgerson says the firm’s models will find instances where one type of oil should be a short trade and another a long one. The same goes for whole asset classes — shorting one that will benefit if virtually all asset prices plunge and buying another that will rise when oil prices gain. “We’re counting cards with the goal of being right maybe 3 percent more than we are wrong, as a way of making profits during good times and staying afloat during times of sudden, unpredictable but far-reaching events,” Borgerson says. The key, he adds, “is to know your edge and spread your risk.” CargoMetrics’ uncorrelated approach worked during the dismal first three weeks of this year, says Borgerson. Dialing down risk as volatility in the markets soared, the firm was on track in January to have its best month since it began trading.
To improve the firm’s models, eight of its data scientists hold a weekly strategy meeting, nicknamed “the Shackleton Group” after the band of sailors shipwrecked in the Antarctic from 1914 to 1917. Hoogerwerf and Ramos co-lead the group. At one recent meeting they were deciding how much risk, including how much liquidity, there was in a possible strategy; reviewing whether to keep previous strategies; and assigning who would research new ones.
The Shackleton Group’s meetings are free-form, with a lot of “I’ve got an idea” interjections that disregard official roles. “We hit the restart button a lot,” says Ramos, a former director of business intelligence and a quantitative economist at law firm Dewey & LeBoeuf who joined CargoMetrics in late 2010. “That’s why our motto is ‘Never lose hope.’” A bet on oil, related to Russia’s production, was stopped at the last minute in 2014, when Russia invaded Ukraine. Some currency-trading strategies have been abandoned in theory or after failing. Strategies the Shackleton Group likes are passed on to the firm’s investment committee of Borgerson, Scully and Ramos for a final decision. CargoMetrics has a unique set of big-data challenges. Historical shipping patterns may not be as useful in the new global economy now that shipping freight prices are plunging, a sign that trade growth rates may be changing. And analysts point out how hard identifying oil cargo can be in certain locations and instances, even in more-predictable economic times. “While it may be easy to say that ships leaving the Middle East Gulf are typically carrying crude oil, knowing the type of crude is sometimes quite difficult,” says Paulo Nery, senior director of Europe, Middle East and Asia oil for Genscape, a Louisville, Kentucky–based company that analyzes satellite tracking of ships. Borgerson maintains his team is well aware of the dangers of data mining and getting swamped by noise. “If you run computers hard enough, you can convince yourself of anything,” he says. To make sure CargoMetrics’ algorithms for identifying cargo are valid, the firm spot-checks manifest data filed at ports and imposes statistical confidence checks to guard against spurious correlations.
Getting the jump on official government statistics is likely to become tougher too thanks to the recently formed High-Level Group for the Modernization of Official Statistics. Although the U.S. is not a member, Canada is a key player helping to lead the mostly European nation group (including South Korea) in coming up with a global blueprint for measuring and reporting economic activity.
Reflecting on his journey to Wall Street — raising money, hiring employees with different skill sets, making changes to CargoMetrics’ culture, overcoming legal and regulatory hurdles — almost gives Borgerson second thoughts about whether he would do it again. “I’ve sailed ships through tropical storms, captured cocaine smugglers and testified before Congress [on his Arctic research],” he says, “but this was the hardest.”

It is a horrible time for the world, but a good time for games. As it is an expensive and space consuming hobby, I know many of us don’t have access to everything we’d like to play. Over a few years I researched for myself the best uses of a deck of cards – easily portable, easier to get people to the table (oh yes! I play cards!), usually available. It seems like the right time to share the results.
I’ve organized the below into both frame of mind (I want to Think, I want to Pass Time, I want to Laugh) and player count. Player count is focused on who you have – I didn’t put games necessarily where they are best, but rather “if I have four people, what is my best option?”
A brief calibration: I still have my 1995 first edition of Settlers of Catan. I’ve got roughly 80 games in my basement curated from the last 25 years and know the rules to twice that number. My favorite games are Tigris & Euphrates and Race for the Galaxy. This isn’t boasting (certainly not around here) - it is meant to be context so when I say these are games “worth playing” you have a better sense of what that means.
Links to rules. Hope this is helpful.
When you want to think:
For 2:
· Khmer (2 players): Khmer begins as a math and probability game, but quickly evolves into the psychology space and bluffing as you and your opponent learn the game. It gets better with more play, as it has room for different metagames and strategies, and the winner will be the one who remains one step ahead. In essence, you are trying to move cards between your hand and the table such that your total is MORE than your opponent, but LESS than the table – and you are rarely sure what your opponent is holding. The deck requires six 6’s – we use face cards for the 6’s and A-5 for the 1-5.
· Dibs (2-3 players): This is also a psychological game, where you will win by predicting your opponent and staying one step ahead. The core conceit is simple, you each have an identical deck (1-13), you are bidding on another pool of cards (worth face value), and high cards win. The twist comes because you have to use your entire deck of 1-13 to bid, and you can’t win everything. The game is more commonly known as GOPS or Psychological Jiujitsu, but I feel those names are both bad and inaccurate, so we’ve adopted this name instead.
For 3:
· Fight the Landlord (3 players): This is the best 3-player version of the “Big 2” family of games from East Asia. Big 2, or climbing games, are a race to empty your hand before your opponents. There is wide room in choosing what to play when, and how to break up your hand, meaning you will be making both difficult and important decisions throughout each and every round. Highly addictive, and good hand play will nearly always beat out a lucky deal.
The rules get a bit lengthy when it comes to what cards can be led, so you will either want to make a crib sheet or simplify the rules to mirror Tichu (below). The game will play just as well.
· 99) (2-4 players): Another trick-taking game (see note below) on my list. The mechanism for bidding in this game (in a nutshell, removing three cards from your hand) is simple, but introduces asymmetric, hidden information and requires you to make trade-off choices between your desired hand and your desired bid. This adds a bit of crunch to the model without making the game inaccessible to new or more casual players.
For 4:
· Scotch Bridge (Really 4 players, but can stretch to 3-6): Also known as Oh Hell, Pratt & Whitney, La Podrida, and others. This is a trick taking game, and I nearly universally dislike those (see note below), but it wins me over for two reasons. First, you aren't trying to win the most tricks but rather to value exactly the strength of your hand and then hit that bid - which means you are engaged in every single hand. Secondly, the handsize will range from 1 to 13, and each handsize meaningfully changes the feel of the game. 13 is a pure test of trick taking skill, 1 is a Mexican stand-off with your chips on the table, and 7 in the middle is a wild ride of big bets and lady luck.
As noted, this game has numerous variations. Most make little tweaks to the scoring, max handsize, and order of hands. In general, I prefer a positive form of scoring (10 for hitting your bid, 1 for each trick, penalty for how far you missed your bid, etc.) and playing hands from 1 to 13 and back again.
· Tichu (4 players): In my opinion, the best of the Big 2/climbing games. Same as Fight the Landlord, the goal of the game is to be the first to empty your hand, but it requires skillful play in knowing when to play, when to pass, and what to lead. You can never go on autopilot in this game. Tichu is played in 2 vs. 2 partnership and has elegant rules for scoring, both of which make this one of my favorite games of all time.
A note on the game – It is technically designed and published by a Swiss designer. However, if you research it, he played more the role of an editocurator, (quite masterfully) going through regional variants of Big 2, compiling the best, pulling in some scoring rules from other games, and polishing it all into the glistening pearl it is.
A note on the deck - it requires four jokers. You have three options 1) Find two decks with the same backs and mark up the jokers 2) Equally mix two decks so there is an even mix of two card backs, again including and marking up all four jokers, 3) Removing the jokers and using the four 2’s as the jokers, with a crib sheet in the middle of the table mapping the four suits to the jokers. Or you can buy a Tichu deck.
5-6 Players
· Fossil (4-8 player): This is an auction game using a deck of cards. Winning a bid will net you points but losing a bid will constrain your future options - as well as provide key information to your opponents. These decisions are the core drivers – what to set out for auction and when to throw down on someone else’s auction. In the end, the game is a mixture of psychology, strategy, and luck, leaving room both for clever play and for big moments when everyone groans and laughs around the table.
It can play 4-8, but plays best at 5-6. The first game or two generally feels casual and luck driven, but as the game clicks you may start seeing how you can influence the state of the table by choosing what to auction, or how the timing of your bid can win or lose you the hand. Like Khmer, this game grows on you over the first couple of games.
· Napoleon (5-6 Players): This is a Japanese trick-taking (see note below) game. What makes it stand out is the hidden role. Each player bids individually, then the winner (Napoleon) declares a Secretary card. Whoever is holding this card is secretly on Napoleon’s team, unbeknownst to everyone (including Napoleon). This leads to bluffing and deduction during play, with players uncertain about when to win a trick and when to ditch their low cards. It’s an excellent knife twist in the side or what is too often a rote playing-out-of-hands in standard trick taking, and it creates a social environment ripe for discussion and laughter at the end of each hand.
Napoleon is very similar to Briscola Chiamata, but in my opinion plays better as it removes some unnecessary complications from that latter game. It also draws comparisons to Schafkopf/Sheepshead, but again I think this one does it better.
· Skull & Roses (4-8 players): This is a pure bluffing game – think Poker without hands, only you, your opponents, and your wits. If that doesn’t capture it for you, just accept that this is amazing. You all place cards on the table until someone starts bidding, then it’s a gamble for who thinks they can flip the most cards without revealing a skull. The tension comes because, if you win the bid, you have to flip ALL of your own cards - so if you’ve played a skull, you lose. But, if you play all roses, you’re making it easy on your opponents. Choose wisely when you want to bid to win, and when you want to bid to entrap your opponents.
The game is usually played with coasters, but just as easily you can give each player one face card as their Skull and three numbered cards as their Roses. Or mark up any stack of two sided, identical objects in your house – I’ve heard of people playing with sweetener packets at Denny’s.
1) A note on trick-taking:
I don’t like it. Pure trick-taking – think Vanilla Whist – is not devoid of skill, but it IS quickly masterable and rarely surprising. A set of skilled players will play the same hand the same way every time, can guess the outcome before play even begins, and state it with certainty after 2-3 hands have revealed voids or singletons.
Most trick taking games, therefore, overlay something else to add interest. Things like complex bidding (Bridge, Skat) make the games inaccessible to new players, and turn them into objects of study more than play. Things like small hand sizes (Pitch, Euchre) throw the game into heavy luck, and often throw you into the backseat, passively throwing cards on the table until you are dealt a hand worth playing. This is fine to keep your hands busy while you drink, but isn’t what I look for when Gaming (with a capital G).
Nonetheless, I’ve included four trick-takers. My criteria are straightforward:

You have to be able to bid and play whatever hand you get. Games like Spades and Scottish Bridge don’t ask you win as much as you can, but rather to exactly value your hand. Playing a bad hand can be just as engaging and difficult as playing a good hand.
They need a single, straightforward twist to add interest. Napoleon adds a hidden role and uncertain partnerships. 99 asks you to secretly remove cards from the game, manipulating suit length, while trying to deduce what your opponents have removed. Hearts asks you to consider and risk when to win a trick and when to lose. These all give you something to think about throughout the game, sometimes require you to shift tactics midgame, and don’t require a course of study to properly learn (I’m looking at you, Bridge).

I anticipate the comments will contain passionate counter-arguments. So play and make up your own mind. I’ve played a lot and am now offering the best advice I can.
When you want to chat and pass time:
None of these games are chutes and ladders. But they do offer more luck and simpler decisions, for the most part, allowing you to while away hours and spend as much time talking to your opponent as you do thinking about the table.
2 Players
· Cribbage (2-4 players): Cribbage plays out in two acts. You and your opponent(s) lay cards on the table, trying to hit or avoid certain sums, with a few bonuses for creating pairs or runs. Then you look at your hand (and the crib) to make combinations worth points. There’s a bit of a list to remember, for what scores you points, but with that mastered the game settles into an easy rhythm of regular dopamine hits and little pegs on a board. Hitting 15 and hunting for your melds is utterly enjoyable. This is the perfect game to crack open a bottle of something together and seamlessly move back and forth between chat and play.
· Spite & Malice (2-4 players): This game feels like Spit - without the frantic pace, slapped hands, and bent cards. It’s also like multiplayer solitaire, except reverse to how that term is usually used. The rules are built on real solitaire, but you will be very much intertwined with your opponents. Hence the spite, and the resulting malice. I know couples who play this frequently, keeping a running score for the entire year.
3 Players
· Shed / Palace (3-5 players): This game goes by many names, not all of them polite. I was taught it as “Screaming Yoda” and it was over twenty years before I learned that the game was known worldwide by other names.
Anyway, Shed is a race to get rid of all your cards. Instead of a winner, there is one loser (the last one). The rules for playing cards are simple, and sometimes you’ll be forced to pick up 20 cards all at once. But it’s fine, everything’s fine. You’ll get it back.
The game plays out in multiple acts and often swings back and forth, lending it excitement and perpetual hope. Not overly strategic, but engaging and fun from start to end.
4 Players
· Canasta (4 players): The Archetypal Argentinian game. Canasta is an ageless, breezy, push your luck game of set collection and making odd faces at your partner across the table, trying to read their mind without communicating ("May I go out?" "No." "G****n you what a f**** mess why didn't you play your Canasta before.")
It feels a bit like Rummy, as you are drawing and discarding to collect sets of cards with your partner, and trying to out-collect your opponents. However, the team dynamic, the scoring rules, the wild cards, and the end-game make this an entirely different animal.
The game has a frustrating amount of rules – though they are all simple, the sheer number means some time to learn and then time to familiarize/memorize. As is the way with most longstanding, cultural games. Nothing that a crib sheet and a few run-throughs can’t solve.
· Cuarenta (4 players): Now hop over to Ecuador, and this is the national game. The central conceit is much simpler than Canasta – play one card onto the table, trying to capture the cards already on the table by creating matches or runs. But, as with Canasta, there is then a laundry list of footnotes to be memorized with edge cases and scoring.
That said, once digested, the game is simple, breezy, and endlessly entertaining. You’ll do better if you can calculate odds and count cards, but at the same time you can still enjoy yourself (and still win) by just playing your cards and sipping your drink.
· Hearts & Spades (4 players): As mentioned, I’m generally not a fan of trick taking (see note above). I include these because they don’t overinflate themselves. They know they are simple trick-taking games, they add a touch of spice for interest, and just leave it at that. The result in both cases is a pleasant way to pass the time.
For Hearts, the good bit is the shifting winds, trying to decide at each point when you are trying to win and when you are trying to lose. Each hand is a puzzle, how to throw your hearts at other people, how to win those tricks with your high cards at the right time, etc.
For Spades, the central challenge is in correctly valuing your hand, then playing to hit that value. Keep in mind that others may start tanking their own tricks to hit their bid, which makes the ground under your own feet increasingly unstable. Depending on how the cards come out, you may find yourself scrabbling for just one more trick, or suddenly shifting to trying to lose because someone had an unexpected void – it’s that agility that comes from the shifting landscape and the fact that every hand is a chance to play THAT hand that makes Spades a game worth playing.
When you want to Laugh and have fun:
Sometimes you want to laugh more than you want to win. Sometimes you just want to have fun, without taking on any stress. These are those games.
2 Players
· Cabo) (2-4 players): This plays better at 3-4 but is the only one I’ve found for the bucket that does work for 2. At it’s core, it is a bit of memory, luck, and playing the odds – you are swapping facedown cards around the table, but you don’t get to look at all your cards. So you need to figure out what you have, what your opponents have, and choose the moment to strike - when you think you have the lowest hidden total.
Cabo is a relatively modern game, but even so there are a handful of different origin stories and many minor rules variations. Play one set of rules to start and, if you like it, you can check out all the possibilities and stick with your favorite.
3 Players
· Ricochet Poker (3-8 players): It’s a light betting game – can play with quarters or crackers, whatever you like. The game is simple and draws from poker rules. Each round you get one more card and have to decide whether you want to pay to stay in or fold. It’s more accessible than poker, so is easy to “wing it,” but you still get the agony and thrills that come from winning or losing the pot.
· Manipulation Rummy (2-4 players): If you are familiar with Rummikub, this is that game exactly but with two decks of cards (instead of tiles). If you aren’t – this builds on the foundation of Rummy, but all melds are played onto the table. Where it shines is the fact that you can break, reform, and rearrange ALL the cards on the table on your turn, in order to find a place for more cards from your hand. The joy is in hunting for that one opportunity on the table so you can wow everyone when it comes to your turn.
4 Players
· Cockroach Poker (3-6 players): This is properly a game that should be purchased, but in these times you can make a deck using two decks of cards – 8 each of 8 numbers (I recommend A, K, Q, J, 7, 8, 2, 3… it’s a cognitive psychology thing, just humor me). You’ll be passing cards facedown around the table, asserting (truthfully or falsely) what the card is. The game is in correctly guessing when someone is lying or telling the truth, as well as in the politics of not being the last person at the table to receive a card (after everyone else has already seen it). Every time you lose a challenge, the card goes face up in front of you. Collect too many cards, and it’s game over. This one is amazing.
5-6 Players
· Eleusis (4-8 players): I originally learned this as “Delphi,” a streamlined version that is more appropriate for kids. This version has more teeth to it and should delight all ages. One player takes on the role of god (think Zeus) and secretly writes down a law that all cards played must follow. All the other players must then, by trial and error, figure out that law and get rid of their cards. This is harder than it sounds. What makes it work is that Eleusis has a number of scoring rules that put balance into the game – you want the rule to be hard but not too hard, etc.
This game will earn many rounds of play. What is nice is it also has a co-op feel. Yes, you are all trying to be the first to guess and play your cards, but on the other hand you are all in it together trying to decipher the divine law you’ve been given.

Introduction

Hello all, Initially this post was meant to be a highlight of 1000 Ancient Tunnel runs, which I have completed over the last few months (had a break in between). I wanted to sum it all up somehow and since I am absolutely fascinated by the entire rune concept and their drops, I decided to go a bit deeper and...create a guide with some helpful tips and in-depth analysis.

Purpose

The purpose of this guide is to show the best non-LK way to farm high runes and to highlight how many runs you need to perform before you will see some results, which is what I believe setting this guide apart from other articles I have seen so far. Also, there are at least 3 main sources for rune drop odds, each showing different numbers, so I wanted to confirm that by myself which one is good. Which means digging into text files.
I'm saying non-LK, because nothing beats Lower Kurast chest farming, mathematically it is the fastest but at the same time - the most boring way. You will turn yourself into a human bot, there won't be any experience, any items (besides charms and jewels). I did my fair share (1200 runs) and that's it.
Big shoutout to preppypoof for creating the original guide! I can confirm that vast majority of the information that can be found there is correct.

Who am I?

I am a data analyst, ex semi-pro poker player and a fan of Diablo II of course :) I like numbers and statistics - that is exactly why runes are so fascinating for me.

Definition of a High Rune

Many say it starts from Vex, I would say it starts from Gul, since it is the first rune you can't get from Countess (from her special drop). On the other hand, Ist is rarer than Gul, but then again - it doesn't make sense to transmute two Ists into Gul, especially since Ists are quite valuable for MFing.

A quick recap

For those who don't understand how this rune drop system works, there are essentially 3 main steps that have to be fulfiled before you will see your rune. If you are not interested, feel free to skip to the next paragraph.
>!1. Select the "Good" category Depending on act, difficulty level and monster type (melee, range, wraith, cow, etc.), each monster has its own category, based on which game will decide what items it can choose from upon its death. Most popular will be most likely Act 5 (H) H2H C, which is common for melee monsters in Level 85 areas. There are the following possibilities: - NoDrop 100 - gld 21 - Act 5 (H) Equip C 16 - Act 1 (H) Junk 21

- Act 5 (H) Good 2

sum or probabilities: 160!<
We won't go into any more details, all you need to know is that: a) you want to hit Act 5 (H) Good (2/160 or 1.25%) b) ideally, you want to minimize NoDrop, so that your odds for hitting Act 5 (H) Good will increase (we will get to that later)
2. Selecting Runes 17 from Act 5 (H) Good Welcome inside the Good category.
>!- Jewelry C 60 - Chipped Gem 4 - Flawed Gem 10 - Normal Gem 14 - Flawless Gem 28

- Runes 17 14

sum or probabilities: 130!<
You see that Runes 17? This is what we aim at (14/130 or 10.8%). If you would like to know more details about what Runes 17 is, please visit preppypoof's guide.
3. Selecting rune quality Welcome inside the Runes 17 category. Now it's time to select your prize. Runes are organized in categories, two in each in all categories all the way up to Runes 16 (besides Zod, which is alone in its top tier category called Runes 17), that's why you have 2*16 + 1 = 33 runes in total.
Random number generator will go in a "stairs-like" sequence: - let me try to get you that Zod, 1 in 5171. Oh, we missed? Let's go one step down to Runes 16 (that will happen in 5170 out of 5171 cases) - Welcome in the Runes 16 category. We have 2 offerings, especially for you my friend: Cham and Jah. Every single time the top rune (here it's Cham) will have a probability of 2 and the bottom rune will have a probability of 3 (here it's Jah). The difference will be the last part, which will determine the chance to "step down". At the highest levels, this chance will be huge, but it will gradually go down.
In this example, it's 2941. Add those 2 and 3 and you have 2946 of that probabilites. So, after going down to Runes 16, now your options are: - 2/2946 to get a Cham Rune - 3/2946 to get a Jah Rune - 2941/2946 to step down to Runes 15
The sequencer will go all the way down to Runes 1, where you have El and Eld - unless it will hit something during the process (which is what we want).
>! So in short, we must hit all 3 things at once: - Good category - Runes 17 - our desired rune Multiply all those probabilities and you will get some astronomical numbers, but don't panic yet :)!<

Rune Odds Tables

This one will be almost the same as in the original guide. However, I have found a small error in preppy's calcs. I got the same numbers from Zod till Ohm, but starting from Vex and below your chances of hitting those runes are slightly smaller than in the quoted article. I found the reason: preppy took the remaining probability (if you are looking at the example above - that would be that 2941) as the total sum of probabilities, whereas the total is bigger by 5 (that would be 2946 in our example). This error continues all the way down and most likely throughout the rest of the columns (for Wraiths, Cows, Champions, etc.). I will only provide you with an updated table for Regular monsters and in a moment you will see why.
Rune odds for /players 1

Rune (Others / Regular)	Chance	Chance of ... or better
Zod	3 841 314	3 841 314
Cham	1 471 885	1 064 137
Jah	981 256	510 509
Ber	1 095 823	348 264
Sur	730 549	235 837
Lo	810 410	182 677
Ohm	540 273	136 518
Vex	569 154	110 107
Gul	379 436	85 342
Ist	401 293	70 376
Mal	267 529	55 719
Um	272 924	46 272
Pul	181 950	36 891
Lem	138 358	29 348
Fal	92 238	22 606
Ko	71 100	17 458
Lum	47 400	12 909
Io or Worse	774	758

While it is interesting to note that Ber Rune is rarer than Jah, getting a Cham Rune isn't that much far away, it is just 1.5x rarer than Jah. That "1.5x rarer only" means additional 2100 AT runs though…
It is absolutely shocking how much rarer Zod Rune is from Cham Rune (2.6x rarer). It reminds me of poker hands: AA is just miles and miles away from the 2nd most powerful hand - KK. Then the differences between the next hands get smaller, similar thing can be observed here.

Players X setting vs Rune drops

Remember first point of the sequence? Here is where the players X setting come into play. By increasing the number of players you can decrease the NoDrop value. It goes as per so called NoDropExponent, there is complicated formula behind it, but let's get down to business.
In short: every odd number will increase the player bonus, that's why you want to select players 1/3/5/7, but never 2/4/6/8 (unless you want more experience and you are a super fast killer anyways).
I think this is another mistake that I found in preppy's article. He said that increasing players setting from 1 to 3 will yield you around 30% more runes. Well...it looks like the increase is much bigger than that! Here is a breakdown for numbers up to NDE=4 (which is same as players 7/8 and is max what can be reached in a single player game where there are no party members around you. Higher NDEs are possible on multiplayer).

NoDropExponent	1 (players 1)	2 (players 3)	3 (players 5)	4 (players 7)
New NoDrop	100	38.46	19.38	10.8
Prob "Good"	1.25%	2.03%	2.52%	2.82%
Hitting Runes 17	0.135%	0.219%	0.271%	0.304%
% increase	-	62.48%	24.03%	12.11%

It means that you should farm runes on at least /players 3 setting, because I am almost sure you won't take more than 62.48% time to kill them. After that point is where the fun begins. Going from p3 to p5 is still doable, but from p5 to p7 is a tricky one.
Interpretation: if your current clear speed on p5 is 5 mins, then you should clear p7 in a time no longer than 5.6 mins (5 mins 36 seconds). In other words: increasing players difficulty setting, which will increase monsters hit points from 300% to 400% (+33.3%) cannot take you more than additional 36 seconds to clear, otherwise you're better off on p5.
Tip: players X settings does have an effect on popables (chests, urns, etc.). It is possible to first clear the area on a lower settings and then after that changing it to p7/8 and then popping the chests/urns. Whether you consider that strategy as cheesy or not I will leave that up to you. Personally I find it troublesome to constantly switch between the settings.

Expected Value - introduction

This is my favorite part and what I think sets this guide apart from the others - the expected value. Well almost, there is something similar in an absolutely great guide about LK vs Travincal vs Cows, where one guy has even used some serious high-level math (calculus etc.), but the results are still close enough so that we can use our basic approach.
So, what is that expected value? Basically I will try to answer a very frequent question: how many runs you need to complete before you will get that Jah Rune. I will give you the exact number, with one small "but": you need to understand that because of the RNG (Random Number Generator) nothing is certain for 100%. It's the same as with rolling a dice. If you want to roll a "6", you have 1 in 6 chances to hit it. Your expected value after 6 rolls is 1 (1/6 / 6 = 1), meaning that after 6 rolls you expect to hit that 6 once. However, it is totally possible that you will hit that 6 in a first roll or that you won't hit it in your 12th roll. Same with runes. Below are your chances (or if you will: confidentiality levels) per each EV (these values are similar to almost every drop in Diablo II):

# of EVs	Confidentiality Level
1	63.212%
2	86.466%
3	95.021%
4	98.168%
5	99.326%
6	99.752%
7	99.909%
8	99.966%
9	99.988%
10	99.995%

The way I calculated the EV includes normalizing everything to a regular monster (for which we already know the rune drop odds). We need to do this first before coming back to the EV.

Normalization

I will Ancient Tunnels as an example. What you need to do is to calculate how many "regular kills" you can get per one full clear (full clears are better if you are looking for runes). That means, you need to translate every champion/unique, every urn, every chest, every boss and what not - into a regular monster. How to do that?
For champs and bosses you can use drop calculators, even though they show incorrect values (way too high, in reality your chances are better), but the proportions are maintained. I will use preppy's tables since I have confirmed them so I know they are good to use. Small note: this is a third and last mistake that I found in preppy's guide. He claimed that players settings increase will have a very small effect on rune drop odds for champions and bosses. The answer is: it doesn't have any effect (just like your Magic Find %), since there is no NoDrop value, so there is nothing to be decreased. I will use a Zod Rune as an example, but you can use any rune that you want.

Regular p1	Regular p7	Champ	Champ p1 proportions	Champ p7 proportions	Unique	Unique p1 proportions	Unique p7 proportions
3 841 314	1 700 319	1 600 548	2.4	1.07	744 255	5.16	2.29

As you can see, if you play on p1, then killing a champ or a boss makes a massive difference in terms of runes. Once you switch to p7, there is almost no difference between a regular and a champ. I measured the average number of bosses and champions over the course of ~~ 30 runs. Same for regulars and urns. Last thing that might be coming to your mind: how the heck can you know what are the drop odds for urns and chests?!
There is another great guide made by Urlik. It was for 1.10, when rune drop odds were less optimistic, so I can't rely on exact numbers, but...I can rely on proportions. In his guide, Urlik has found out the mean number of runes produced per kill at p8 (which is same as p7). Like I said, we cannot take these numbers directly, but we can copy/paste them into Excel and then get our proportions. Our baseline will be the first line: Melee/Cast/Missile. Let me present you the rest of the important proportions.

	vs Regular
Special Chest	16.64
Special Chest - Locked	22.29
Sparkly Chest	37.60
Type IV (like Urns, Jars, Baskets)	1.16
Type III (like Rat Nests, Goo Piles, Jugs)	5.55
Type I (regular chests) - Locked	11.09
Type I & II	4.16

There is way more than that, but these are the objects that you will mostly encounter. As you can see, Sparkly chests and special chests (like those in LK or behind Mephisto or in River of Flame) = are your best friends. So essentially: popping one special chest is the same as killing 16.64 or 22.29 regular monsters, depending whether a chest is locked or now (no wonders people like LK chests, although their dropped is bugged). There is a table for that too. In AT, chance for a chest to be locked is 16.5%.

Total regular kills and kills per minute

We are almost there. Now we are at the most crucial point of this article - calculating total kills normalized to a regular. You can do the same for your own map (The Pit, Chaos, you name it). Here is how it looks like for my Ancient Tunnels at p7. What you are looking at are the average numbers of monsters/urns/whatever I have encountered over the course of 15-30 measured runs, it is time taking, you need to count it and then write it all down somewhere. Kind of self data collection. Remember: each map seed is different and my AT map won't be the same as yours. Map rolling is actually another interesting topic, AT holds few secrets which I will reveal later.

	Nominal	Normalized
Regular (x1.0)	86.7	86.7
Champ (x1.07)	3.5	3.73
Unique	5.2	11.92
Sparkly (x37.6)	1	37.6
Type IV (Urns) (x1.16)	38	44.25
Type III (x5.55)	3	16.64
Type I	1	5.3
TOTAL		206.13
Average time per full clear		3.6
P7 kills per minute		57.26

The way I derived that 5.3: = (0.165 * 11.09) + (1-0.165) * (4.16) = 5.3
Okay folks, the number required here is 206.13 and 57.26. Remember, that's on p7. You can do the same for p5 and compare your results with p7, but one important thing: first you will need to translate all p7 kills into p5 kills. One regular p7 kill is worth 1.12 regular p5. So in my example, that 86.7 would translate to 97.2 p5 kills. Don't forget that player bonus doesn't apply on champs/bosses, it's just the proportions will be different.
Kills per minute is in my opinion your main metric you should be monitoring in order to gauge your progress and make a decision whether to step up the players settings or not. Going from p5 to p7 will of course bring you some more runes, but it can decrease your normalized kills per minute. Make sure to maximize kills per minute by: - choosing the right players settings (As a rule of thumb, if you can already one shot everything on a current setting, then it's usually good idea to increase players X) - equip your max killing gear (MF doesn't matter, although it's still good to have some! I have 182)

Expected Value - # of runs required per rune

Time for the final results you've been waiting for :) Just some small remark: all objects "kills" in Act 2 can be calculated towards your final result up to Lo Rune, because Lo is max what these objects can drop in Act 2 (Act 1: Vex, Act 2: Lo, Act 3: Ber, Act 4: Cham, Act 5: Zod). In my case, they make for the ~~ 50% of the total "kills" which is both good and bad.
Good, because there is no there is almost no way you can kill 11 monsters faster than you can pop 10 urns (if you can, then most likely AT is not for you anyways, Cows will be faster).
Bad, because that means AT is not that great of a place to hunt for Sur+ runes, you will see what I mean when I will compare it against Chaos Sanctuary.
Assumptions: - p7 - One AT run # of regular kills up to Lo: 206.13 - One AT run # of regular kills up to Zod: 102.35 (substract all objects from the total result) - Number of AT runs: 1000

Rune	EV	Actually found	# of AT runs to realize one EV
Zod	0.060		16 613
Cham	0.157	1	6 366
Jah	0.236	1	4 244
Ber	0.211		4 739
Sur	0.317		3 159
Lo	0.574		1 740
Ohm	0.862	1	1 160
Vex	0.818		1 222
Gul	1.227	1	815
Ist	1.160	1	862
Mal	1.741	4	574
Um	1.706	1	586
Pul	2.559	5	391
Lem	3.366	4	297
Fal	5.049	3	198
Ko	6.55	10-12+
Lum	9.82	10+
Io or Worse	601.83

And there you have it :) How to interpret these results? I think it went quite well. Clearly, Cham Rune destroyed everything in this run! Normally, there is a 63.2% chance to find it within one EV (6366 runs), but the lucky run was run #571 :) Jah Rune was found in Drifters Cavern, so technically it wasn't in AT, but I since I did that run kind of "in between" and for fun, I decided to include it anyways. That was before run #546.
Fact: I got plenty of runes from the urns/chests/jugs: Gul, Um, Mal, Pul, Lem and countless Ko, Io, etc.
Q: Ok, so you are saying that after 1000 runs I am guaranteed to get an Ist Rune (EV: 1.16), right? A: Not quite, you are guaranteed to fulfil your EV for an Ist Rune after 1000 AT runs (1.16 runes after 1000 runs or 1 rune after 862 runs to be precise), which gives you 63.2% confidence to get it. Wanna 86.5% confidence? Do 2000 runs. Wanna 95% confidence? Do 3000 runs. Wanna 99.995% confidence? Do 10000 runs.

Ancient Tunnels vs Countess

For runes up to Ist, Countess is your best source. I will use the results from 1000 Countess Runs done by dbrunski125, who has inspired me to my own Human Bot Project (love that name!). Worth noting is the fact that it is possible to do one Countess run in 30-40 seconds, so you will complete 1000 Countess runs ~~ 6x faster.

	1000 Ancient Tunnels	1000 Countess Runs
Zod
Cham	1
Jah	1
Ber
Sur
Lo
Ohm	1
Vex
Gul	1	1
Ist	1	0
Mal	4	6
Um	1	8
Pul	5	10
Lem	4	9

That shouldn't be a surprise, after all - this guide is about high runes especially, but that is just out of curiousity ;) But then again, it's kind of robotic, just killing one single boss on p1, almost no items, no challenge.
In AT, I can constantly challenge myself, tweak with the gear, keep on improving my run times, get those elusive ethereal items, find mythical TC87 items and then also find some runes. Pure Diablo experience at its finest.

Ancient Tunnels vs Chaos Sanctuary

Assumptions: - players 7
- One CS run # of regular kills up to Zod: 408.91
- 1000 runs

Rune	EV AT	EV CS	CS/AT	# of AT runs to realize one EV	# of CS runs to realize one EV
Zod	0.060	0.229	3.81	16 613	4 361
Cham	0.157	0.628	4.00	6 366	1 593
Jah	0.236	0.941	4.00	4 244	1 062
Ber	0.211	0.843	4.00	4 739	1 186
Sur	0.317	1.264	4.00	3 159	791
Lo	0.574	1.14	1.98	1 740	877
Ohm	0.862	1.71	1.98	1 160	585
Vex	0.818	1.623	1.98	1 222	616
Gul	1.227	2.435	1.98	815	411
Ist	1.160	2.302	1.98	862	434
Mal	1.741	3.453	1.98	574	290
Um	1.706	3.385	1.98	586	295
Pul	2.559	5.077	1.98	391	197
Lem	3.366	6.677	1.98	297	150
Fal	5.049	10.015	1.98	198	100

As you can see, on average CS will provide you 2x more runes up to Lo (or same number but 2x faster), but I am not really sure you can run it in a time no longer than 2x AT time. You can try to compare it against p5 CS, which will be definitely faster and will yield only ~~ 12% less runes. Very interesting :)
However, from Sur onwards CS is clearly better. CS collects additional points for a high monster density (roughly 200, out of which around 60-65 are wraiths, which have 3.5x the chance compared to a regular).
I am currently 59 runs into CS. For now, I will stick to AT, until I will find ethereal Colossus Blade for runeword Death (the EV for finding that thing is ~~ 1477 runs). Once done, I will switch to CS, since I need Lo, but specifically Sur for runeword Pride for my merc (it required Cham as well, which I already have).

Farming Lo Runes - time efficiency

I will take Lo as an example to illustrate. I will assume that you want that Lo Rune at all costs to the point that you sacrifice each Ohm, Vex, Gul. I will calculate each Ohm as 1/2 of a Lo, Vex as 1/4 of a Lo and Gul as 1/8 of a Lo - this isn't a fully correct approach, but I don't feel like doing calculus :)
My EV for Lo (farmed directly or cubed up) is: = 1 * 0.574 + 0.5 * 0.86 + 0.25 * 0.82 + 0.125 * 1.23 = 1.363 or after 733 runs
Currently, my average run takes 3.6 mins (massive improvement compared to like 7-8 minutes on p3/p5 back in the days). This translates into 44h or AT running. How does that compare vs LK / Travincal / Cows? I'm going to quote numbers from this great article:
Area: LK p7/8 Average runs to cube/farm Lo: ~1433 runs Average run-time and time needed to farm Lo: 25s: ~9.9h 21s: ~8.4h 18s: ~7.2h
Area: Travincal p3 Character: sorceress - for barbarian 55% hork divide numbers of runs by 1.597, and for 56% hork divide by 1.608 Average runs to cube/farm Lo: ~1725 runs Average run-time and time needed to farm Lo: 26s: ~12.5h 22s: ~10.5h 18s: ~8.8h
Area: Cows p5 Cows killed per run estimate: ~400 Average runs to cube/farm Lo: ~281 runs Average run-time and time needed to farm Lo: 4m 30s: ~21.1h 3m 30s: ~16.4h 2m 30s: ~11.7h
And now AT p7: Average runs to cube/farm Lo: ~733 runs
3m 36s: ~ 44.0h
If you are ready to become a human bot, then clearly there are better options out there :)

Why AT/CS and not LK?

LK is too robotic and mind numbing. Plus, finding a Sur Rune or Ohm Rune is like: oh, okay, cool. Finding Mal/Um in AT is like: wow! Finding Ist+ is like: OMG !!!! Much much more excitement :)
Experience, socketables and TC87 items. Pretty much everything that contributes to Diablo being Diablo. Turning yourself into a human bot can be the fastest way, but in my opinion brings no joy and can only lead to getting burned out and bored with this game.
Travincal is a much better choice, at least there is some fight involved, though it's a short one (if you can't clear the council and get back to act 4 in like 30-35s with a non-hork character then I am not sure it's worth it). You also need a very high-end gear, p3 Trav council can apply some serious punch, especially under nasty mods/auras. They drop from TC84, so forget about TC87 items.
Cows can be good for a fast killer, but in my opinion they are also quite boring and irritating (moo moo, moooo!).

Is it worth to cube up?

Generally yes, but not when you cube up two more popular runes to get one rarer rune. Examples: 2 Ber into Jah, 2 Lo into Sur, 2 Vex into Ohm, 2 Ist into Gul, 2 Um into Mal = my advise is: don't do that, unless you desperately need that Lo Rune and if you think you won't need those Vex Runes anymore.
Also, I wouldn't care much about runes below like Sol or Io - it will take you ages to cube up to Pul, it takes a lot of time to collect these runes and then stash them, you need to return to the stash more frequently = massive time loss. Also, you need lots of chipped gems, which are very hard to find on Hell difficulty. I personally had tons of Amn runes and no Chipped Amethysts, which are necessary if you want to cube up to Sol Rune, you Amn was kind of "choke point". Actually, I would seriously question collecting charms as well, since upgrading your damage from +2 to +3 won't really change a lot if you already have good charms, but might hurt your run times. The odds for hitting a skiller+life or re-rolling it are similar to hitting a high rune.

Best non-LK areas for rune farming

Sur+ runes = Chaos Sanctuary and possibly Worldstone Keep, since after Lo Rune AT loses its primary weapon, urns. WSK can be very dangerous though. Cows if you are a fast killer.
Up to Lo = AT might be better than Chaos, unless you can clear Chaos in no longer than 2x the AT time.
Chaos has one big advantage: high amount of Wraiths, which can be killed over the ground vast majority of the time (in comparison to Arcane Sanctuary, where it's not possible).
Chaos sucks for socketables and for items too (especially TC87) for the very same reason, since a decent part of monsters are Wraiths which won't drop any items actually.
Chaos runs will provide more experience because of Diablo (there won't be any exp penalty). WSK is worse, it takes way longer to get to Baal, CS wins.
AT is a great balance for everything: lots of TC87 stuff, good chance for runes up to Lo, easy monsters, no cold immunes, no Lord de Seis/Archer-like monsters that can one or two-shot you, fast clear time.
CS won't provide as many TC87 (Wraiths drop nothing, Diablo and his 3 seal bosses drop up to TC84), though it provides a good chance for any rune up to Zod, monsters are tougher though, Decrepify curse is a pain and you need to watch out for Lord De Seis - one wrong move + bad combination (fanaticism + Extra Strong + Extra Fast + AMP curse) = and your life bubble can reach the bottom in like 0.2s.
Cows will be probably even better for socketables than AT, but they totally suck for magic items, chances for TC87 items are like 15x smaller.
Cows require more hassle: go to Tristram, get that leg, get tome of TP, clear a huge, wide open area. Whereas AT/CS are much more "restricted" by walls and objects = easier crowd control and navigation.

Q: What about the Pits? A: Haven't run them a lot, but I think they will be worse than AT. Hardly any popables, that can drop max up to Vex. Lots of monsters though, yes, but archers who can one/two-shot you are a pain. Entrance is also located way further from the waypoint in comparison to AT (if you get a good map, mine has trap door super close to WP, 2 teleports away).

Final Verdict

Best rune farming area is the one that will provide the highest kills per minute. Which area is this precisely will depend on your character, build, map you got and your personal preferences.
My answer for my Frenzy barb? Ancient Tunnels wins in almost every single category :)

1000 Ancient Tunnel runs

Oh, I almost forgot about my project :) You already know what kind of runes I acquired, so here are the items: 001-100: barb skiller charm, Natalya's Mark, Gore Rider 101-200: Immortal King's boots from a chest, Thundergod's Vigor 201-300: Mara's, Dragonscale
301-400: Dracul's Grasp, Kira's Guardian, great small charm (+3 max dmg, 20 AR, 16 Life), Bartuc's Cut-Throat, IK Ogre Maul, Carrion Wind 401-500: Rainbow Facet, Tal Rasha's armor
501-600: Arreat's Face - my personal holy grail :) , Tomb Reaver, Templar's Might 601-700: ethereal Berserker Axe, Crown of Ages 701-800: Lightsabre, Amazon skiller +36 life, Reaper's Toll 801-900: Tal Rasha's Lidless Eye, almost perfect Annihilus (19 all stats, 16 all res, +10% exp) 901-1000: Ormus Robes with Blizzard, Death's Web (the rarest drop by far!), 2nd Dragonscale and 6 runs before the end of the project...last piece of IK set - IK Soul Cage :)
I wish you all good luck. May the EV be with you!

https://preview.redd.it/syx7g8ukn6y41.png?width=802&format=png&auto=webp&s=2abcb25b71ff2e7c08f1c349f72ff52ec87fb30c

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[Guide] 1000 Ancient Tunnels runs + Comprehensive Guide to High Rune Drop Rates - part 2

Introduction

Purpose

Who am I?

Definition of a High Rune

A quick recap

- Act 5 (H) Good 2

- Runes 17 14

Rune Odds Tables

Players X setting vs Rune drops

Expected Value - introduction

Normalization

Total regular kills and kills per minute

Expected Value - # of runs required per rune

Ancient Tunnels vs Countess

Ancient Tunnels vs Chaos Sanctuary

Farming Lo Runes - time efficiency

Why AT/CS and not LK?

Is it worth to cube up?

Best non-LK areas for rune farming

Final Verdict

1000 Ancient Tunnel runs

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