I live in Los Angeles and have been in the same unit for 18 years. Over the past year or two, the smell of cigarette smoke has been coming through my vents, which I am assuming is from my downstairs neighbor. I have called our building's security on them multiple times to stop smoking, but it continues to persist. I sometimes just wake up angry because the smell of smoke would just wake me up. I've covered my vents with plastic and tape so that I won't smell the smoke, but it's inefficient since I need to take it off every time I want to turn on the AC.
Ever since quarantine has started, I've been working from home and realized just how much they smoke in their unit (at least 3x a day).
What can I do to either make them stop smoking in their unit or another way to deodorize the scent without really spending much?

I saw someone else share their one year streak and figured you all might find my inspirational as well.
Up until age 35, I never ran more then a mile in my life. I just didn't think it was enjoyable to force myself to run that distance (or longer). But after gaining about 70 lbs from age 18-35 I realized I needed to do something.
So my wife and I started running. Over the next six years we worked ourselves up to running a marathon. And I lost about 50lbs of that 70 I have gained since HS. But not being satisfied with my accomplishment, I searched for something else to do. So on January 1, 2016 I started my streak of at least one mile every day.
Overall, it has been a huge positive to my life. I tell people all of the time that it is easier then you think. Getting up in the morning knowing you need to run at least a mile, takes so much pressure off of your life. Get up, run, feel better.
Over the past five years I have been lucky enough to do most of my runs in Florida, with great (hot) weather. But here are some of the highlights if you will.
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• Have run on three different continents
• One ocean - cruise ship
• 12 different countries
• 15 different states
• Ran outside during two different hurricanes
• Ran one week when the temperature was about 5 degrees Fahrenheit
• 13 marathons - 9 of them different (Ran Disney a lot)
• I get migraines a lot, so my best guess is I have run with a migraine about 80-100 times. The running actually helps with the pain, but it comes right back after I stop
• I have run over 2,000 miles in a year twice (that I tracked) and my guess is about 9,000 miles in total
• I have run with a fever (cold/flu) about a dozen times.
• Ran with a broken hand and cast for 6 weeks. Ran with a broken hand and no cast for one day. Also ran a marathon during this time (against the opinion of my Dr)
• Ran before a surgery on broken hand (above) and then again 24 hours later with a numb arm after the surgery.

The best runs during this period were those runs on vacation in new areas. Going someplace you have never been before and waking up before the rest of the world and seeing "everything". Here are some of my most vivid memories
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• Historic Anacostia - Waking up early enough that it is just me and a few remaining drug dealers left on the street. As a white male in a predominately black neighborhood, the number of times I heard someone mention the cops when I was running past was very humerous.
• Vegas strip - Similar to Anacostia, but with prostitutes. At 5am you tend to see a lot of women walking out of the casinos by themselves. They are all dressed well, and are carrying handbags with high heel shoes sticking out of the top of the bags
• Salzburg Austria - had the opportunity to run through the hills and see sheep wandering around
• Munich Germany - Outside of Munich had the opportunity to run through a few small villages and talk to a few locals that early. Also found a cemetery that overlooked three different villages. It was a spectacular view in a very serene environment
• Paris - This is the city I have run the second most miles in. During runs you can go from parks to quaint little streets with bakeries that have been there for hundreds of years. The smell of flowers to flour be prepared. Everything about all of these runs has been spectacular.
• NYC - This is the city that I have run most in. This is the only place I have run were I have been overwhelmed with people and distractions. It is one of my favorite places to run for that reason, but not somewhere I could run every day (that is relegated to my rural home in Florida).

Edit to add...
Thanks for all the love. So here is a little bit more backstory to this.
In my profession (Actuary) we have a professional journal that used to be printed on a bi-monthly basis. Years ago (maybe 2005) they did a feature on an actuary who had a running streak for 40+ years. At the time I was not a runner. But the story has stuck with me. His story was obviously much more extraordinary then mine. I do hope that I could encourage someone to take a similar journey.

Ramtidings, dear friends! It is I, your dutiful lord and master, the eternal GM. My sabbatical proved most fruitful, having figured out some depth mechanics for 3 dimensional combat in my pet project, Blood & Thunder, a maritime piracy RPG that has been both a joy and a nerve-wracking nightmare to create. If you want to see what's going on with that, you can swing by patreon.com/BlackFlagPrintingPress to take a look or support my endeavors. But I digress, because I did not come here today to talk about Blood & Thunder, no. I came here with something else in mind, good friends, for while I have been writing my bread and butter, you have gone without your beard and butter, and this is unacceptable! And so, I have trawled the depths of my memory to bring you yet another TAAAAAALE FROM THE TABLETOP, lovingly subtitled A Prologue Into Poverty.
Life is not an easy thing. There was a time when life was very difficult for me. I had far less than most, and I went without frequently, my entire life loaded into a backpack of bare necessities. Joys were few and times were hard, but I made the best of it. I traveled the countryside, mostly alone, making friends where I could amongst the other forgotten souls who haunt the streets of the United States. I met a good number of people, many of them listless drifters in their own right, who became fast friends. We would hang out for a time, but like all drifters, we would eventually part ways, called to different places to do different things. I had just come from North Carolina. I had been in Asheville, playing bluegrass to make money with friends who eventually proved dishonest, and so I parted ways with them. While in Asheville, I had met a girl, also on the road like myself, and I developed a massive crush on her. Fortune would have it that our time together was short lived, as she disappeared on a freighter down the train tracks, and I layed curled up in a bush sick as a dog for the next 3 days.
You can't get a ride from a freighter with 8 people without getting pulled off by johnny law. Our group had fractured, and myself and one other soul continued on our own, until we parted ways in Atlanta. Now, on my own, clueless and green, I wandered aimlessly, until a friend of mine at the time reached out to me by way of the internet. He had work for me, back in California, if I could just make it there. What's 3000 miles? I've got this. I walked out of Atlanta, hitched a series of rides to Arkansas, and then caught a freighter myself, all the way back to the west coast while UP did the driving. I laid on the back of that train for 3 days until I finally ran out of water and decided to get off. I was in Los Angeles. After a bit of panhandling, I got a bus into the central valley, and my friend came and scooped me up. I worked on my friends farm for a bit, building green houses and stacking money until the time came for me to once again depart. During that time, my crush from North Carolina had found me on Facebook. We got to talking.
She told me she had gone back home to Wisconsin and was working in some greasy spoon trying to save up money to afford a bus. She'd been back for awhile now, but wasn't making any headway. Her vices were getting the best of her, and she couldn't seem to get ahead. I told her she needed to knock that shit off and clean up her act. After a long enough time talking, however, things started to get flirty and dirty.
I wanted to see her, and it's actually amazing what a guy will do for love. You're how far away? Piece of cake. Hold my beer. With the work season coming to a close, I took my pay and my leave of my old friend, and he dropped me off in Modesto at the Greyhound. On the way out, he loaded me up with gifts for my travels - a new backpack, socks, a sleeping bag, some snacks for the ride... and naturally, he gave me a gift that I always treasure. He gave me a set of RPG dice. I gave my boy a hug, wished him well in his endeavors, and promised I'd be back in the fall to help him with the harvest and gathering firewood. So I went on my merry way.
I absolutely despise Greyhounds. Have you ever been on one? It's miserable. There's no room to stretch out unless you sit in the back, right by the toilet. Some asshole is always blaring garbage mumble rap on his phone all day long. It doesn't matter who you are - at the end of the trip you exude the pungent aroma of a neckbeard. This didn't bother me too much - personal hygiene suffers when you have no way to bathe regularly, so I was used to being dirty, and my friends from the road were usually very dirty people in their own right at the time, so I could handle a certain degree of grossness... within limits. I did shower at my friend's farm before I boarded that bus, though, and was feeling rather spiffy - clean body, clean clothes. Life was good and I was on my way to see my woman.
I did my best to zone out. I tried to sleep as much as I could and ignore the general atmosphere of the bus, but that was no longer an option after a layover in Las Vegas. We boarded the bus once more after an almost 24 hour delay on our schedules, and finally got moving again. I sat in the back near the toilet, as I was no stranger to this game and wanted that bench seat, and foul smells at the time didn't bother me much... or so I thought. With the bus filling up and the seats reducing to slim pickings, it dawned on me that my coveted back seat bench was going to get shared. Then, I saw him... the Busbeard.
I'm usually a pretty nice person, but I did not want my coveted backseat benchseat getting taken up, let alone by this massive lardass that now lumbered towards me. I did everything in my power to seem as big and hostile as I could. This was all in vain, however, as some people cannot read social cues. I stared at him, dripping hostility, mentally repeating sit somewhere else like it was a Zen mantra. However, nobody wanted him to sit by them either, and so, he made his way, closer and closer, as he asked people if seats were taken until he got to me at the back. He shifted to sit into the seat, angling his ass in the general direction of my face. The smell of soggy feces-laden underwear wafted up as he slid his bulk onto the bench.
Did I mention that personal hygiene suffers on a greyhound bus ride, especially when you've been riding for days? I've taken my fair share of Greyhounds, and it's unlikely that this new arrival had been riding for awhile. He was eastbound, like the rest of us, and we were in Las Vegas. His point of origin was... not very far east. I had only been on the bus for approximately a day so far, minus the extended layover time of course, so I was getting a ittle sweaty myself, but this guy smelled as if he not only lived on this bus, but was born in the blue poop goop of the latrine. It was a question worthy of debate as to whether this man had actually employed the use of a speed stick in his life. His patchy jowels jiggled at me as he said, hi.
I responded with a gruff and monotone hello, and then turned my attentions to the window, watching the bus depot workers loading up suitcases beneath. My fate was sealed. This man was to be my travel companion all the way to Denver. I decided then that maybe it would be best to ignore him. I plugged in my phone, booted up an emulator I had downloaded, and started to play some Pokemon to whittle away the hours. It didn't take long, however, before I could feel his olfactory looming become physical looming as he examined the screen upon which I played from over my shoulder.
Busbeard: Pokemon? I fucking love Pokemon! I didn't know you could play it on a phone. How are you doing that?
His heavy respirations were like an infusion of green spearmint and halitosis.
GM: Emulators.
I went back to my game, trying to angle myself away from him in such a way that he couldn't lean over my shoulder and watch me as I trained my team, but I was effectively sandwiched between him and the wall, forced to sit straight as he leaned over and watched me play. I debated then, what I ought to do. Playing Pokemon would make the time fly, but I would be crushed between the window and a sweaty fat man. Not playing Pokemon would save me the physical agony of being squished, but I would be painfully bored for seemingly endless miles, and he may use it as an opportunity to interact further. A decision needed to be made.
I shut the emulator off and put away my phone, turning my attention back out the window as the bus pulled out of the Las Vegas terminal and began down the freeway. It was not long after we had pulled out of the station, however, when that wheezing, rasping voice chirped up again.
Busbeard: So where are you going?
I ignored him, focusing on the casinos towering in the distance of the skyline, pretending as if I hadn't heard the question, or as if it weren't addressed at me. With insistance, he repeated his question at my turned back again, searching for a response within my stony exterior. I mumbled, the Midwest, and he questioningly grunted, and asked me to repeat myself. I guess we're doing this.
GM: I'm going to the Midwest.
Busbeard: Where in the Midwest?
GM: Wisconsin.
Busbeard: I've never been to Wisconsin before, but I know they got really good cheese! Hyuk hyuk... Is that why you're going there?
Judging by his smell, he must have been an excessively avid connosieur of fine Wisconsinite cheese. However, cheese was the last thing on my mind at the time.I was enamored with my lady love.
GM: I'm going to see an old friend.
Busbeard: Oh, that's cool... who is it?
The odds of this man knowing the person who I was on my way to visit were astronomically low. Your odds of getting struck by lightning, winning the lottery, and becoming president in the same day were probably higher than this cretin knowing the one specific person whom I was going to go visit in some backwater Wisconsin town. Still, I humored him, and in the same flat voice, answered his question, and told him I was on my way to see my sweetheart.
This caught Busbeard's attention. For a grown man in his mid 30s, he let out a loud "oooooooo" like a middle schooler would when he finds out his friend has a crush. I contemplated execution methods and the subjective severity of their barbarism as he excitedly asked me where she was from.
GM: Wisconsin.
Busbeard: Yeah... but, where in Wiconsin?
GM: Fuck off, dude. I'm not going to tell you the town where she lives.
Busbeard: Heh! I'd be terrified of telling a superior male like me where my girlfriend lives, too. A little kid like you wouldn't stand a chance next to a man like me. Her panties would hit the floor from one whiff of my pheromones. It happens all the time, bro, I swear. I could have any woman on this bus. They just can't resist me. They can sense my manhood, I know it.
I shouldn't stir the pot. All common sense tells me that I should just stop myself while I'm ahead, but sometimes... sometimes I just can't help myself. I've always been a pretty reserved and self-contained person for the most part, and I just want to be left alone 90% of the time to do my thing. Apparently, that's a lot to ask, because every now and then, somebody comes and invades my personal space with their protruding belly, bad breath, and self-aggrandizement, and then I find it really hard to resist my inclination to fuck with them. I know, I know, it's wrong of me to do that, but I'm human, damnit, and something good was cooking in the kitchen. What's the harm in dipping a spoon into this self-important concoction of body odor and bravado?
GM: Any woman, huh? Tell ya what, Busbeard, I just got paid, and you seem really confident in the power of your, ahhhhh, pheromones, so... how about a wager.
I laid out the terms of my devil's bargain. With a wager of 100 dollars, I would pick a lady on the bus at the next break. Busbeard would then have to seduce her. He MUST "present" his pheromones to her, naturally. If he recovered her phone number, or anything in excess thereof, like a kiss or a consensual toilet stall consummation, it would suffice to meet my criteria and loose my grasp from the freshly printed Franklin in my wallet. He agreed enthusiastically to my terms, insisting I was going to loose and he was going to get his dick sucked in a Greyhound portajohn "blumpkin style".
We rode along in silence for the next hour or so. The sun was high in the sky when we made our next stop at some gas station in Utah, and everyone filed off the bus to stretch their legs and get their snacks. I wandered around, huffing down my smoke, chatting it up with people and making friends, seeing just who they were, asking them questions - where they were going, who they were going there with. I got to talking with one guy and his girlfriend.
The guy, who we will call Sarge, was built like a brick shithouse and was a former infantry man who served 2 tours of duty in the middle east. He was traveling with his wife, a young and pretty little thing who we will call Alexandra. They were on their way back to the east coast to stay with family. Alexandra's mom was getting old and had asked them to move in to help take care of her. They were on their way out there to steward her aging mother's estate. I remarked that that was awfully kind of them, and sincerely wished them the best on taking care of Alexandra's aging mom. I told them a little bit about myself, as well... that I was effectively living on the road, playing life by ear, and on the way to see a loved one of mine for a bit before the wind blew me somewhere else.
Eventually, the bus driver gave everyone a 5 minute warning before departure, and we all filed on board. I moved back to my seat and waited for Busbeard to arrive. He came back, cradling piles of gas station sandwiches, bags of chips, and a couple of sodas in his massive paws. He sat down beside me with a loud "oof" and offered me a drink, saying that it's the least he could do before he took my money. I took that beverage. It was both cold and delicious.
GM: Well, Busbeard, I've done my rounds, and I've come to a decision.
Busbeard: Who is it? She better be hot. I swear to God, if you make me waste my time on some dried up roastie, I'm gonna be so fucking pissed at you dude.
GM: Why would I do that dude? Naturally, I only want the best for you. No, she's very pretty. You see that girl over there, in the aisle seat? That's the one. Make your move whenever you're ready.
I pointed out Alexandra to him. I already knew this was going to end very poorly. There was no way in Hell that Alexandra would express any interest in this disgusting lardass whatsoever when she had a stable and solid man like Sarge, and Sarge wasn't about to take guff from anyone. Add on to it that Sarge was easily the size of, if not bigger than, the prodigious Busbeard himself. Sarge was also trained to kill and hardened by years of combat in the graveyard of empires. I can fight - I've fought a lot - and I would not want to square up against him under any circumstances. Busbeard was going to get the snot beat out of him and pay me 100 dollars for that privilege.
The bus took off and I listened to the disgusting sounds of Busbeard inhaling the equivalent of 5 pounds of gas station food. I was only halfway through my soda, when Busbeard emitted a satisfied belch that rumbled the seats, and the feeding frenzy had ended in an effervesence of curdling bile and preservatives just as fast as it had begun. He then started to pump himself up for the task at hand. He started to sweat with excitement and latent cardiac arrest as he prepared his pheromonal aura about himself, and then with a gruff, alright, let's do this, he stood up from his seat and waddled down the aisle, his greasy belly bumping into everybody who had chosen an aisle seat.
He approached Alexandra. They were near the front end of the bus, and so I couldn't hear a word that they were saying. I watched Busbeard as he extended an arm and held on to the overhead luggage rack, exposing the damp miasma of corn-syrup infused armpit sweat to his unsuspecting victim. His pheromones were beginning to work their magic over the unsuspecting Alexandra who would soon be enraptured by its juicy spell. I waited, leaning forward intently, when a loud shout broke the silence.
Sarge: BACK THE FUCK UP.
Alexandra started to shout, too, yelling "get the fuck away from me!"
The driver turned back and yelled for everyone to sit down and shut the hell up or he would pull the bus over.
Sarge: Please do! I'm gonna beat this fucking lardass into the pavement! Saying shit like that to my wife? Who the fuck do you think you are?
The bus driver repeated his warning, and Busbeard began to shout his protests, insisting upon his innocence.
Busbeard: B-but, I was put up to it! It was that guy, in the back seat! He said---
He pointed back at me. I yelled back, I don't fucking know that guy.
The bus driver meant his threat, and pulled the bus over. We were on a long and empty stretch on the I-15 somewhere in rural Utah. The last town I had seen was about 20 miles back. It was late spring, and it was getting hot outside that afternoon. The bus driver got out of his seat, walked up to Busbeard, and told him to get the Hell off of his bus. Busbeard kept protesting, when Sarge moved past his wife, and started forcing Busbeard towards the front door.
I've heard the threat of getting kicked off maybe a thousand times on a Greyhound, but I had never seen it play out before. Busbeard was thrown off the bus. Sarge did not join him outside and pummel him into the asphalt, regrettably, as I would have loved to have watched it. Busbeard kept pleading with the bus driver as the driver shut the door on him, sealing him out on the shoulder of a lonely stretch of highway. I breathed a sigh of relief, and stretched out my legs. It was another 15 miles before we saw signs of civilization. A part of me felt bad for Busbeard, but the other part of me said, "if I can walk 20 miles in a day with 60 lbs of shit on my back, he can do an unencumbered 15 and be fine."
The ride continued on in sweet, reclined silence for me until we reached Denver, werein there was another changeover, and this bus was much, much more desolate. The rest of the Greyhound voyage passed without incident, and I spent my time flirting with my lady love and training some Pokemons. At long last, I finally arrived in Wisconsin. She came to pick me up at the bus station, and when we approached each other, we made out like long lost lovers for a good 5 minutes before we finally caught our breath enough to say hello. I got in her car, and spent maybe a week or so with her, before it was time to take my leave. I couldn't live there forever, and so, as fast as I had drifted into her life, once again, it was time for me to disappear. We said goodbye, and she dropped me off at a lonely interstate overpass on the edge of town. I put my thumb out to catch a ride to Anywhere But Here USA.
I planned my next move, and I figured that there were some friends of hers and mine that lived not too far away in the Dakotas, and maybe I would pay them a visit next. I was in the neighborhood, and figured that I might as well say hello. I reached out to them online, and then made my way west again. They were excited for me to come see them. It was only a day into the voyage when I received a message from Janet. It said, "wait for me, I'm catching up." She had packed her backpack again, and was coming after me, hot on my tail. I told her we could meet up at our mutual friend's house.
I dialed ahead to our friends, who we shall call Sarah and Queenie. Sarah used to travel together with Janet for many months before she stabilized, and then settled down. Queenie was one of my friends from North Carolina. He was a loveable chucklefuck of a drifter, missing a few teeth, wore a skirt, and spoke in the most haggard voice you could imagine. Still... he insisted on being called Queenie. He had settled down with Sarah after they hooked up, and they were living at Sarah's house. He was on thin ice there, however, and she was threatening to kick him out.
I arrived at Sarah's and Queenie's, and spent the next few days waiting for Janet to come up on my heels. During that time, Queenie and I played a lot of Magic (he had just gotten into it), and I remembered the dice that my friend in California had given me that were laying unusued in my backpack. I asked him if he had ever played tabletop RPG's before, to which he answered no. I told him that, maybe next time I see him and I'm in a better spot, we could run a game. Eventually Janet caught up, and we prepared to leave Sarah's for good towards our own new horizons. Queenie, however, had finally broken through the thin ice upon which he skated, and was getting thrown out. On the day of our departure, we asked him if he wanted to join us in our travels so he wouldn't have to go it alone.
Thus we began from Sarah's house out into the unknown once again, a cheerful trio, and true to my word, I began to teach not only Queenie, but Janet as well, the joys of tabletop RPGs.
As I'm sure you can surmise, dear friends, that this is not the end of our story, but only the beginning of another chapter. Is Busbeard still alive? What does the future hold for Ramtide's love life? How do a gaggle of vagabond drifters play tabetop games without a table? Some of these questions will be answered, my dear friends, in our next installment of TAAAAAALES FROM THE TABLETOP.
A shoutout to my lovely patrons, Tatoferret and Sillibits. You guys are wonderful. Thank you for believing in the dream.

TL;DR - I use the craft beer industry as a way to understand Capitalist Propaganda, how Capitalism and Socialism are inextricably linked to each other, and how through the use of propaganda, companies use the "illusion of choice" to coerce you into believing that you prefer the products that are most favorable to them. In order to change this into the consumer's favor, you need to be an informed consumer in the free market, and raise class consciousness to overthrow the tyranny of Capitalist Propaganda, that is called "Marketing".
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You can't understand Capitalist Propaganda unless you have a solid understanding of what Capitalism is beyond the literal definition of the word, which is just an abstract ideal. Propaganda plays off of the discrepancies between the ideals of Capitalism, like the free market, which is another abstract ideal, and the reality of Capitalism in practice in America, which can be characterized as Trickle Down Economics. Capitalism sought to be a pragmatic alternative to its economic predecessors, a fact which drives Capitalist Propaganda. However, through layers of abstraction throughout the years, it has become more of a religion, as critics refer to the increasingly ideological concept as "Supply Side Jesus", meaning you give all the money to the rich, it'll trickle down to the poor, and they can "vote" on the actions of the capitalists through monetary interactions in the free market.
Capitalist Propaganda is engrained in America, because at the time of our founding, Adam Smith wrote "Wealth of Nations", which is considered the Bible of the Free Market. This groundbreaking work utilized Newton's Laws of Physics, which were en vogue at the time, to describe how interactions in the marketplace would balance each other out, just as the laws of Newtonian Physics do.
The very noble purpose of Wealth of Nations was not create the oligarchy we have today, but to do the opposite. He wanted to describe a system that would protect individual freedoms and be truly democratic. Just as Lenin and Stalin bastardized the works of Marx, so too have capitalists in America bastardized the intentions of Adam Smith.
Capitalism and Socialism are best learned side by side, in my opinion, to avoid falling into the trappings of either ideology that our brains like to do. Which one is better? It depends on the market, but the answer is almost always somewhere in between.
Through learning how Socialist concepts can be applied to problems in Capitalism, you can cut through the propaganda and will see for yourself that these problems can be solved if we just drop the labels and do what's best for society and the individual. The problem is always finding the proper balance.
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WHAT? CAPITALISM AND SOCIALISM ARE JOINED AT THE HIP?
Yep. You can never live in a pure economic system. Purity is always an illusion. If you want something to be pure, you have to put a lot of energy into making it that way. Nature likes to mix stuff up. This is why ideologies around racial purity and fascism always fail. There are people who want a "pure" economic system, but they are usually the people at the top and would only get richer from more purity while the rest of society loses freedom and slowly starves.
In a nutshell, Capitalism promotes laws that benefit those with money, while Socialism promotes a safety net that benefits everyone. Every single human is born into Socialism. As a baby, you need food, someone else works for it and gives it to you, but then at some point, you are expected to exchange labor for capital, and buy your own food. See? The two are forever bound as the yin and yang. You can also grow your own food, but for that you need land, which is capital.
These interactions are very tricky. I only want to tell you enough so that you can start to see Capitalist Propaganda, because right now, you're like a fish in water that can't see water. I often use this line to describe a person who can't see their own homegrown propaganda. The best way I found to study Capitalism is by relating it Socialism, the "air" above the "water" of Capitalism, if that makes sense.
I always find it best to look at a microcosm to understand these concepts. And today, that microcosm is beer.
Mmmm....Beeeeeeeeeerrrrrrr.....
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CONFLICT OF INTEREST AND THE ILLUSION OF CHOICE
Before I poison your mind with my own propaganda, picture you're on vacation and you walk into a bar and want to order a beer. If you really want to understand the power of propaganda in your own life, really think of this before we break this all down. Really think, what makes you decide which beer to order? Do you like to look at the labels on the tap or bottle? That's obvious propaganda. It has absolutely nothing to do with the taste or quality of the beer itself, but sways your opinion toward logos you've seen before, which is why you see so many beer advertisements, which means that money that could've gone into quality is instead going into propaganda, and you're already biased towards an inferior product. Interesting. You really can't help being swayed by marketing, but at least you can be conscious of that fact, and that's important in order to be an informed consumer.
Do you ask the bartender for a recommendation? Why would you do that? You don't know the bartender any better than the beers in front of you. How do you know they aren't paid more to offer you a beer that sucks and is 12 years old and the owner wants to get rid of it? Do you ask for a certain style of beer? Do you ask for a local beer? And once you finally narrow it down to a few choices, do you ask for samples so you can make up your own mind? You should always do this. Then we get into "flavor propaganda", which we'll discuss later. Jeez. Did you every realize there was so much complexity behind being an informed consumer and just ordering a simple beer? Maybe you'll give in and just tell the bartender to pour whatever. Choice is difficult sometimes.
If you really visualize this and take a minute to let this sink in, you'll start to understand how external forces hijack the processor in your mind to manufacture desire through the illusion of choice. However, your health and enjoyment of the beer is not the goal for these external forces, they only want you to purchase. The perfect example is fast food. They know their product sucks, but they know you'll keep buying it, but that doesn't keep them from lying about how delicious it is in their ads. There is far more at play behind the curtain. There is a science behind addicting you to things, this is reinforced by a corporate tax and subsidy system that contorts the free market pushing centralization of production through homogenization and use of chemicals to hide the homogenization, and simply because there is more than one option, they make you feel like you have choice. This, in a nutshell, is how the illusion of choice works in the free market. It's not about what YOU want. The producer manipulates you to think you want what they have. Through this, they deceive Americans into buying products with a list of ingredients that a person would never freely choose to consume. So if you want to order a beer with no shit in it, then you're shit out of luck in America. You could in Germany, but we'll discuss that later.
While you're standing at that bar, you aren't conscious of the fact that your interests are in direct opposition to those of the bar owner's. Capitalists hide this fact with their perfect smiles, but Marx described this in detail. You want the best beer for the cheapest price, and the bar owner wants to sell you the cheapest beer at the highest price you'll pay. It doesn't stop there. The bar owner flips roles in the same situation with the beer distributor, who does the same with maybe another level of distribution, and continues to the brewer, then goes to the brewer versus supplier, supplier to farmer, and even though you'd think it stops there, the farmer has to deal with suppliers of equipment and seeds, and on and on.
Add to this list their auxiliary staff of HR, drivers, managers, brewers, bottle/keg makers, and of course owners, none of them care whether you actually like the beer you're drinking as long as you keep buying more. That's the big driver here.
Did you ever realize that every time you buy a beer, your own capital is partially responsible for creating and sustaining all of these jobs involved? You, my dear beer drinker, are the true job creator. Budweiser can brew all they want, it means nothing without buyers, who are the true engines of capitalism. Instead, you're treated as a rube by suits in a boardroom somewhere.
Capitalist Propaganda tells us the billionaires are job creators, but this is a lie. Jeff Bezos can't drink enough beer to sustain all these jobs. So why do we let him hoard all the money? Wouldn't the economy do better if we spread out Jeff's money so more people could buy more beers and more jobs would be created? According to Socialist Economics, yes. That's actually, quite simply, a Socialist Free Market. Did you even know that existed? The power hungry greedy people who are too lazy for manual labor go to such great lengths to make sure you don't learn it. They want you to think that only Capitalism allows you choice in the market. I'm sure you can guess why they say that.
Capitalism maintains itself by exulting the wealthy who use their economic power to punch down. The only way this system won't fall into fascism and fail is if the consumers start to punch back. Where Marx envisioned the Dictatorship of the Proletariat as they usurped power from the Bourgeoisie, a modern alternative is just teaching people to understand the system we live in, so that we can just start making changes in the way we live and to whom we give our money.
See that? Capitalism and Socialism can get along nicely, so long as the consumers are informed.
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CLASS CONSCIOUSNESS AND THE ALIENATION OF LABOR CAUSING LONELINESS IN SOCIETY
What I described within the previous section is what Marx called "Alienation of Labor". Each step in the process of making your beer is isolated from the others, so no one feels ownership over the end product or a true connection to the consumer, or job creator. Even the bartender selling it is alienated from the profit of their labor in serving the beer, so they only focus on the service aspect of giving you the beer, because that is where they earn their tip. They can't really fix anything about a shitty beer other than to offer you a different brand. The capitalist owner is usually not there. Their only interaction is setting the rules for everyone in the bar to follow, and pay themselves more than everyone who has to follow those rules. This is part of the conflict between the classes. I'm not saying it's right or wrong, I'm just pointing it out. The bar owner themself has to spend money on propaganda to attract customers that could be spent in other places, so has to find ways to cut costs. Unfortunately, they buy cheaper beer...and this is why you end up with IPAs. No one is connected to the products, so they only look at prices and find the cheapest, passable product. This is the race to the bottom of Capitalism.
Compare this to when brewpubs were a new thing. The brewer would come out and talk to you about the beer, you would give feedback that could effect future batches and it connected everyone to each other through commerce. It makes business "social" and I think nearly everyone enjoys that, but it is losing out in competition with chain breweries that enforce isolation and make cookie cutter propaganda and cookie cutter business models so they can turn owners into managers and suck all the profit back their corporate headquarters and offshore accounts. They kill the experience and make everything transactional. And all the kitsch they hang around their cookie cutter chain bar is just to hide the fact that no one in that place cares about anything other than not getting fired. Everyone is effectually alienated from everyone else. It's worth a read to check out this page on Marx's Theory of Alienation.
This alienation is the root of a lot of misery in society. Humans are communal animals forced to live in a society of individuality and alienation. As they mope around, they seek an escape. And that is why advertising is so nefarious. It seeks to manipulate you in that state. Imagine driving home from your alienating job to you empty home, but looking up and see a billboard with bunch of actors laughing and drinking beer. They take pictures that make these actors look like friends. It's just for show. They aren't selling beer to those laughing people in the picture. They're tempting lonely people to drown their sorrows. Capitalist Propaganda is used so your brain doesn't understand what it wants. It wants friends, then sees the words Bud Light. So when the bartenders asks...Make it a Bud Light. Look at how much money they spend to manipulate and capitalize on people's suffering.
Propaganda in Communist countries is controlled by the government, so it's clear who the enemy of your freedom is. Capitalist Propaganda hides behind the layers of complexity of the same economy you rely on to survive, so you never know what's propaganda or where it's coming from. Marketers find every way imaginable to get their disinformation in front of your eyes, even enlisting your friends on Facebook in annoying MLM schemes. Propaganda invaded everything that can be legally monetized. It's in the media, and not just commercials anymore. There's product placement, stories injected into the news, and even movies and social media created an entire industry of "lifestyle propaganda", telling you how to live your life and indulge in overconsumption. It's REALLY hard to get away from Capitalist Propaganda. There is so much money and research behind it and so much depth, even this long post is only barely scratching the surface. I just want to open your eyes to it.
I can't make you see all this. No one can. I can only describe it as best as I can. What you will experience when you understand this is what I call "Economic Enlightenment", similar to what Marx called "Class Consciousness". Once it happened to me, the world looked amazing, and the shitty propagandists selling us false hope all look like clowns in a very odd circus of vanity, despair and mediocrity.
Once I understood this, I saw clearly how we are increasingly trapped in a form of Corporate Slavery, led by seriously ridiculous oligarchs like Mark Zuckerberg, who thinks he's the reincarnation of Augustus Caesar or something. That's why he has that haircut! This is a guy who stole a company and hired "screen psychologists" from Las Vegas to get you hooked on Facebook the same as casinos do with slot machines. He wants to be the funnel for propaganda throughout the world. He wants to be the kingmaker, decide what people buy, who they like, what views they hold. He can only do this because so many companies spend so much money to put their propaganda on that platform. They can only have this much money because the free market is not actually free. It's bought and paid for on platforms like Facebook and Amazon. The money that was supposed to "trickle down" is instead being spent on Capitalist Propaganda on these platforms, to get the proletariate to trickle their money up through endless, nonsensical online purchasing and local businesses who send the town's money to people who can't do anything with it but buy up properties that increase your rent and cost of living.
When people get drunk on the power of propaganda, they forget the lessons of the past. Propagandists always fall prey to their own delusions over time. In reality, your life is better without Facebook. There isn't anything on there that is healthy. Even if you just want to talk to a few friends, you are going to fall for the propaganda there. You can't help it. And if your bar advertises on Facebook, just think, that money could've gone into purchasing higher quality beer then sold at the same price, instead of going to Mark Zuckerberg so he can drop $30 million to buy the houses around him so no one can spy on him while he spies on you. You really gotta watch out for a guy who combines spying and propaganda all into a single app and thinks he's going to bring 200 years of peace to America. History is littered with knuckleheads like that. It's best to get off Facebook and encourage everyone else to do the same. Zuck only wants to lead himself to the Promised Land, and he's using your ignorance to fuel his own delusions by deluding you into thinking you want what he has to offer.
Let's get back to beer.
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IPAs AND THE FREE MARKET VS THE RACE TO THE BOTTOM
I like beer. When I worked in Germany, it was easy to walk into a bar and, like Farva, just order a liter o' beer. Often, there would only be two choices, light color or dark. As a matter of fact, even at the most famous beer festival in the world, Oktoberfest, people mostly drink the same standard type of beer, and no one complains about the lack of choice. It's quite easy. You can order with one finger. No need to see a menu or ask what's in it. It's simply beer. This worked for centuries. Consumers are fine with it. Prost! Have you ever shared a story like this and people say, "Oh, that would never work in America. Americans want choice." Yeah. Because we are flooded with Capitalist Propaganda.
So if consumer choice isn't pushing for a selection, why would a free market call for it? Imagine there are two bars and one of those bars says "30 beers on tap" and the other doesn't. You're more likely to choose it, and the other bar will have to compete in some way, often by copying. This forms trends, and people mistake this for something customers wanted. Trends are always marketing. Don't believe me? What happened to fidget spinners? So now you have a bunch of beers that no one asked for, yet will now demand. Competition creates more Capitalist Propaganda to create demand for something you never even wanted, but makes you think you do. And that's the best propaganda. You think you are thinking for yourself. This is the fallacy of consumer choice.
If you want to understand just how important that last paragraph is, consider this, "consumer choice" is the same propaganda they used to get you to carry around a device that spies on you 24/7 and sends that data to people you don't know, and you can't stop it, can you? You chose that. You wanted it. Not only that, but you paid $1,000 for the device to opt into their spying program, for the privilege of being mind controlled by the propaganda their AI selects for you. Did you read the Terms of Service? As bad as you may have thought Communist Propaganda was, Capitalist Propaganda is far better, and far stealthier. You believe you have freedom of choice. But your only choice is usually take it, or leave it. Oh, you need it for work? Maybe find a different job. Or just succumb to mass surveillance, and next year, you can drop another grand on a device with a marginally better camera.
There is a way to free yourself. You just have to understand the nature of propaganda. It took me a while, but I eventually broke free. Under Socialism, there would be laws against the exploitation of consumers. Capitalist Propaganda tells you that this takes away your freedom. This is a lie. Regulations give you the freedom to not have to worry whether the beer you're drinking has poison in it.
Germany has a lot of regulations on beer. It has the Reinheitsgebot (purity order), a law passed in 1516 that states that beer can only consist of water, hops and barley. Note, this is a different use of the word "purity" from earlier, as beer is itself a mixture of things. Historically there have also been regulations where beer could only be sold regionally, so no matter what part of Germany you were in, you only got a certain brand of beer at the bar, but it didn't matter because they all had the same ingredients. They could make wheat beers or unfiltered, but they were generally variations of pilsners and lagers. One meaning of the word "Lager" in German is "storage", meaning the beer was brewed in a way that it could be stored, allowing them to brew in bigger batches and store it.
Lagers use a more complex brewing process, so only larger breweries would make them, but this worked because of protected territories. America has a similar system, because each state has its own regulations on alcohol, but this is changing as corporate lawyers fight to homogenize the rules favorable to them, but the consumer loses control. Big brands tend to be lagers as they have general appeal to a wide audience. Did you notice this is the second time I pointed out that corporations create homogeneity? Without regulations, corporations create Fascism. That is why I tell people that we already live in the NWO but corporations rule the world instead of governments. Why do you think so few conspiracy theorists make this connection? Propagandists are paid a lot of money to keep even our small community confused about the reality of what's happening. Now, check out conspiracy and you'll see what I mean. They are spreading propaganda for the NWO over there and don't even know it. I tried to point that out and they finally banned me. Oh well. They'll figure it out in their own time.
In America, in 1978 it became legal to brew beer at home. This is what led to the explosion of new beers in the US decades later. Americans don't have purity laws, so could test new recipes. But people didn't generally like IPAs before, so how did they become so popular that they control 30% of the market? Marketing, of course. Create the market and tell people what they want.
IPA stands for India Pale Ale. It was invented by the British as an easy way to make a beer that they could drink in India. People only drank it out of necessity, as the other beers couldn't make the trip. IPAs are very easy to make and very forgiving, because if you mess it up, it already tasted bad anyway. As people started trying to get into microbrews, they often didn't have the capital to make lagers at small scale, and also wanted a simpler process so they didn't have to hire or train expert brewers, IPAs are cheap and easy to make at smaller scale.
In order to make it drinkable, brewers experimented with many different flavorings. This created a cult following of craft IPAs, where people would drive hours to stand in line for hours to try the newest concoction. The trendy nature of the craft beer world kept people training their palate to adapt to the taste of an IPA, making people start to actually like them. The flavorings made people think they were different, so even if they didn't like it, marketing tactics kept people coming back to try the latest blend. Your palate can adapt A LOT. Swedish people love Surströmming, but watch this video of Americans trying it for the first time. They tried to get me to eat it several times, but I would rather sit in a sauna until Tuesday to avoid smelling it while watching them eat it. It really smells that bad.
IPAs enticed people with popular, aromatic ingredients like bananas and pineapple. This is what I call "flavor propaganda". It's not bad in and of itself, but it can be easily misused to cover issues with quality or hide the taste of preservatives. Since we don'e have laws like Germany, you're left to rely on the knowledge and honesty of the bartender to find out. They don't make this info readily available, which is another form of Disinformation.
So if you think you actually like IPAs, just remember, you are just like a Swede eating rotten fish. A lot of propaganda went in to making IPAs popular, but it's the cheapest, easiest product to make that can be sold at the highest price, so they become popular. This is what business students call a business plan. To overcome the bad taste, IPAs were marketed as "classy" to shame you if you choose the more expensive to produce and more appealing pilsners and lagers, which were given a bad name due to being associated with major brands like Bud Light. This makes it harder to market microbrew lagers, which can only fetch a certain price due to association. And this is what is referred to as the "race to the bottom" in Capitalism.
Instead of trying to innovate ways to produce the beers you want, they just figure out how to get you to pay more for an inferior product, just like they do with BBQ. They make you think you want it. From this you can understand why "food" is full of junk that you wouldn't feed your dog. Whatever legal poison helps cheapen the product is considered "smart business", another propaganda term designed to hide the reality of doing immoral and harmful things to other humans for profit. If you make money on it, it's good. As if there aren't better choices we could come up with if there truly were a free market with an informed consumer.
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STRENGTHEN THE FREE MARKET BY BEING AN INFORMED CONSUMER
We don't need a Communist Revolution to make positive changes, so take off your ski masks and put your Antifa flags down. I like microbrew culture and still enjoy IPAs, but understanding the marketplace is how I do my part as an informed consumer and job creator to help create the world that I want to live in. I encourage you to do the same. Vote with your dollars. Don't let the Zuck-type sociopathic, corporate people in a distant land decide what you consume by looking at ads on his platform. Visit local breweries and talk to the brewmaster. Don't reinforce alienation from labor. Connect with the people who make the things you buy. Support independent entrepreneurship. These are the paths to a brighter future where we share in the abundance of wealth.
Discover Economic Enlightenment for yourself and realize that We The People are ultimately in control. Wealth inequality is greater than it was in France before the French Revolution. Don't let this train take us into the depths where another Lenin will arise and spend the night shooting people.
How you choose to spend your money today is what decides what will become the society of tomorrow. And remember, you always have the choice to buy nothing at all. I never saw a billboard that said that.
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LET THEM DRINK BEER!
I hope this gave you a glimpse behind the curtain of Capitalist Propaganda. Propaganda isn't just political, it has invaded everything and it's at full blast right now. I hope you can piece together how Capitalist Propaganda is actually designed to make you subservient by controlling what you want so they can maximize their own profit and teach you to accept whatever they offer, the homogenization of choice. However, your life is your own and you should remain in control of all aspects of it, including your desires.
Richard Wolff is an economist who studied at three elite universities in America and discusses how he was not able to even learn about Socialist Economics in the ivory tower, even though Capitalist Propaganda calls universities leftist. He found no department in America that is even willing to teach it or study it. Capitalist Propaganda censors these ideas, especially at the university. People in power don't want the serfs to learn about themselves. Check him out on YouTube. You'll realize that unchecked Capitalism leads to Fascism and Slavery, which is why they want to get rid of the minimum wage, so that we can return to sharecropping which is already increasingly happening in America under different names, like "student debt", "mortgages" and "insurance". Don't you think it's odd that a person has to go into debt so they can generate profits for corporations who really ought to be paying for this education themselves? If you have to go into debt before they'll hire you, it's much easier to negotiate against you.
If you want to see other examples of propaganda, check out this random tweet from one of America's Top Capitalist Propagandists. These are very odd pictures, and the only thing I can see in them is that they must be promoting those outfits, likely the blue dress, maybe those men's outfits as well. One thing you know is that she didn't become a billionaire by letting any single opportunity to enrich herself at the expense of others pass her by. I didn't look it up, but I am certain they sell that blue dress, or whoever does paid her to post this.
That's the main reason celebrities use social media. It's marketing. Their whole schtick is to sell garments made in a sweatshop in a foreign country by people who can't even afford a beer to Americans who are facing bankruptcy and homelessness themselves.
Read the replies of the tweet. These people have influence that vastly outsizes their understanding of their impact on the world. There are guillotines in the comments. There usually are. I'm seeing them a lot lately.
This type of propaganda is everywhere. And it's destroying America. Just like propaganda led to the demise of Nazi Germany, we could be looking at the same thing, but worse. It could start off as famine.
If you're having trouble deciding between the beers you are being offered, it's probably because you don't want anything at all, in which case the proper choice is: nothing. Or, try tap water. Maybe you're just thirsty. Now ask yourself, when you envisioned yourself at a bar, did you ever think to order water instead? Did you entertain the idea that you didn't even want a beer. That's the power of suggestion.
What if the rest of the world just cut America off from the means of production outsourced to areas with cheap labor? We would have our own famine and likely war. And if we have a revolution here, with the masses in the country being so disinformed about everything and not having any sort of class consciousness at the moment and instead stuck in alienation, the leader that rises here will likely lead to something horrifying. And we censor ourselves from pointing out the simple fact, that the only way America will survive is to tax the deluded royalty like Kim and Mark back to reality, so they can't indulge their reckless, childish delusions by selling off the very fabric of our nation to the highest bidder.
That doesn't make me a Socialist, that just makes me honest.
Enjoy your beer!
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Thanks for reading and I hope I helped you understand how you can empower yourself. I'm excited about the one I wrote for Election Day tomorrow to keep our NOPOL spirits up while all the politics clouds the airwaves. Cheers!

“...and walk away with a trip to beautiful Las Vegas Nevada! Enjoy a complimentary 5 day 4 night stay at any MGM casino resort all on us! No nonsense, no gimmicks. Just a bit of your precious time! Call today!”
Yes. A vacation extravaganza all on the arm. Courtesy of the Hibou Timeshare Corporation. All it cost was your time and cooperation for a timeshare presentation. Simple enough yes? I wish I would have realized how much better a couple of overtimes would have served me, than taking myself to that horrid building.
I was living in Phoenix AZ with my parents. Still half way bullshitting my final semester at college. I’ve got to be honest, I was checked out. It was summer..I was going to graduate and I had these final two classes in the bag. I could have failed my finals and still walked out with a C. Yes but that kind of luxury came at a price. My social life was the casualty in all of this. While I did have a tight knit of pals, my attendance to social gatherings were...well..less than punctual. I was usually doing work for one of my advanced classes. If not that, then I was pulling a shift at either of my jobs. Yeah..you could say I gave up the glamour of late night pizzas, puking in my friends car and hooking up with a random ASU frat sluts for a heavier wallet...except I was paying everything out of my own pocket. My gas, insurance, cell, college. I wasn't exactly hiding cash in the walls. My parents worked hard but..never did make a living to give me and my siblings an extravagant lifestyle. We were grateful though.
So when I heard that AD of how I could get a long needed vacation to party central Las Vegas, all for watching some BS timeshare I knew I wasn’t going to buy into, you bet your ass off I made that call. The phone only rang once before I got an answer,
“Thank you for calling the Hibou Timeshare Corporation, how can we help you?” a voice rang through the phone. The voice sounded shrill and sickly.
“Hi, I'm calling about the vacation in Vegas? Says that you need people for a presen..”
“Yeessss.” the voice interrupted “The timeshare presentation, well...we would be so honored to have you”
“Uhh..yeah...anyway I’d like to sign up? Is there a form online or do you take the information here?” I said..now feeling a bit tense.
“Well I'll tell you what...pack your things for the vacation. When we are finished presenting..we can send you on our way to Vegas. We just need..a bit of your time.”
That was that. He gave me the address, date and time of the meeting. The area was in a place called Amargosa Valley in Nevada. Luckily it was just about an hour away from Vegas. Before we parted ways on the phone, the operator said something...he said something that should have been a MAJOR red flag.
“Okay then, you’re all set...we will see you July 28th at 4:30pm. Not a moment later” he laughed
“Oh..and..one more thing, if you have some more specimens like yourself that might be interested in the free vacation...bring them along. They’ll all receive the same prize and you will receive $100 cash for every person you bring. We look forward to presenting you, Austin. Good day.”
I never gave him my name.
Still, my young dumb brain didn’t hear anything past $100 dollars. So I rounded up a few of my best pals and we were set to meet the reps over at the timeshare. The days leading up to the trip I couldn't get a hold of myself. It was so exciting. My first real vacation in...i couldn't remember how long. I longed for this type of adventure with my friends. We packed a truck full and set off to Amargosa Valley.
I brought Luke, Larry and Adam. We’d been friends since the 3rd grade. We all moved to AZ from different parts of the country that summer, so being new kids we naturally ganged up together. Luke was from Texas..we called him Tex. Real big guy. Loved to work out but definitely was a bit of a boozebag. Larry was from Ohio. Quiet in public but probably the loudest of us all. Always had some political conspiracy to talk about. Then Adam..Adam was interesting. He was from Florida...or Georgia...or Nebraska. Adam never could keep it straight about where he was from. He always had some sort of story and backtrack about where he’d come from. I personally thought he was probably from another part of AZ and just wanted to fit in...so we humor him and let him be the nomad of our group. I myself was originally from California...things got pricey so we made the move to blistering AZ.
That was my crew. No matter how long it had been, we were always as tight as ever. The ride was filled with laughing and gags. Stops at fast food joints and all around bullshitting. Yes it was an amazing time just driving there, we couldn't wait to get on with the meeting and head down to Boozeville USA. As we approached our destination...something felt off. Amargosa Valley had been a bit of a ghost town the whole drive. A gas station here. A small outlet there...but otherwise unpopulated. When we hit our destination we were met by a Chrome building. Smack center in the middle of the highway. As we parked at the only stall..we all took a look at each other.
“Well this is...odd.” Luke said plainly.
“Yeah man...are we really going there?” Adam shook out. Barely containing his fear.
“Look guys, I know it looks weird. This place is really clean and bright in the middle of a dusty desert but c’mon. It's like what...an hour of our time? Within 2 hours we’ll be on our way to the dopest guys trip ever.” I said...selfishly.
The guys all agreed. We got out, locked the car up and walked in through the sliding glass doors. The cool air hit us like a wave. Each of us breathing in the refreshingly cold air. The inside of this lobby..was also immaculate. Chrome everywhere. Right down to the sofas and chairs. A woman came from around the front desk.
“You must be here to be presented. I see you brought more specimens! What a joy! Will you gentlemen please follow me?” She said.
Specimens. Ugh. Her tone. That word still makes me shutter.
Me and the boys looked at each other..all with the same should we do it look on our faces. Maybe it was the cold air enticing our sweaty brows. We’d been a poorly AC’D truck for a couple hours. Or maybe it was the ice cold drinks she presented in front of us. Whatever the case we followed her through a door behind the front desk and were met with a grand auditorium. It looked as if it could hold maybe 50 people. And all they had was me and my knucklehead friends. As we sat down, sucking down sodas and waters, a mans voice came over the intercom.
“Welcome my friends to the Hibou Timeshare Corporation presentation. Today you will be examining the lifetime of these vessels. Determine whether or not you think they are a smart investment and make a choice if you would like to partake!” I recognized the voice. It was the same shrill tone that I set up the appointment with.
“Now my dear friends, it's time to sit back with your favorite drink...and listen..”
With that, a large projector screen came down from the celine. An old timey countdown began winding down.
BEEP3...BEEP2...BEEP1
From what I can remember, I heard the screams of something...unnatural. A scream so high tone that I felt as if my ears would burst with blood. I tried clasping my hands over my ears but to no avail. The screams were too overpowering. As soon as it started, I passed out.
I awoke looking at the lights on the celine. Unable to sit up. I could tell I was bareass naked on a metal table. I moved my head, the little that i could to see Adam next to me on another table. Naked as the day we were born. He was encased in what looked like a light purple energy field. Looking more in depth, I too had this field in front of me. Before I could speak the tables raised up. Bringing me upright. Bringing me face to face with Tex. To the left of me..Larry. “My friends, I present to you: Terramite 99-0 specimens.” a voice rang out. The same voice from the auditorium.
“They are..of the male species. Strong. Cunning and above all loyal...if raised properly.”
“HEY, you bastards. WTF is this! LET US GO!” Tex cried out. Before he could continue, the energy field tightened around him. Tex let out a scream that will haunt me for the rest of my life. The smell of burned flesh and hair filled the area. I would have puked had the horror of seeing my best friend being burned alive wasn't keeping my attention away from the smell. When the field lifted, Tex was stripped down to the muscle fibers. Hair burned down to the scalp. Tex convulsed until he finally relaxed into a hanging position on the table.
“Now see..specimen is now sedated. Reduced to a weaker position. With the energy field keeping him contained and the Auto-Reversal Time Warp engaging, we can have this specimen back into working shape immediately.”
There was an electrical hum in the air. As before my eyes, Tex’s skin began to heal. His hair growing back. And all burns subsiding. It was as if nothing had happened to him. He still hung in limbo, but we could see the breath return to his chest.The rest of us let out bits of gasps of horror and astonishment.
I could see Adam crying a bit in the corner of my eyes.
A figure appeared from behind me. A tentacle graced my shoulder, not even phased by the force field. I caught sight of the creature. It stood around 7foot tall. Skin that looked human but a head that was elongated. No nose. And eyes that were black as coal. It had two tentacles for hands. I could not see its feet, as it was covered by a long gown.
Larry screamed in anger. “Your...your...a...a…” he managed to get out before the creature silenced him.
“Shhhh….I am...a salesman is all. Now my friends I will demonstrate the life cycle of the Terramite 99-0’s.”
With that, Larry's forcefield began to hum. Right before my eyes Larry began to get...smaller. Not in stature necessarily, no, but in age. He went from being a young man..to a teenager..to that kid i met in 3rd grade..to an infant. His cries were extremely loud. Unaware of the horrors around him. At that moment I could hear Adam's field begin to hum.
“Please no! Please!” Adam begged.
“If you will direct your attention to our third pod:”
Adam then began to scream as he went from a young man..to middle aged man...to retirement age and finally...to a decrepit old man. Hair as white as snow. Wrinkled beyond recognition. Each breath looking to nearly be his last.
“From birth to the declining ages of 70 and beyond the Auto-Reversal Time Warp pods are the perfect tool to use when training your armys, your children, your slaves. Imagine...never having to replace workers. Never worrying if your training methods or punishments might go too far. Never losing a prisoner to death. And though the Terramites look to be difficult to control, I can guarantee their cooperation once put through the proper training.” The creature said. Full of glee in his dead eyes.
Between the crying of baby larry and incoherent babbling of old man adam, the room felt like it was spinning. Just when I thought things couldn't get any stranger, the rest of the lights came to life. The room we were in were surrounded by seats, similar to the ones we sat in. However, sitting in these seats were ghastly creatures of different varieties. Some looked like the salesman creature. Others were ogreish. Large bodied creatures covered in a film of slime. Some of them even looked human. It was the eyes though...their eyes were a teal color with white pupils. Many many creatures looked up me and my friends. All of them began clapping their hands and cheering in unison. The claps were deafening. The cries of the baby felt as if a baseball bat was ramming my head. Adams babbling was terrifyingly disturbing. And Tex...hanging there. Eyes rolled back into his skull. I couldnt imagine the hell he began to feel. At this point I wondered what awaited my fate. The clapping stopped abruptly.
“Oh...Austin...yes, well if you want to know what fate awaits you just shut your eyes. Shut your eyes and quietly count back from 3.” the creature said...was he reading my mind?
Suddenly the urge to close my eyes overtook me. Almost as if I had no choice, I began counting down. 3….2….1….
Everything went black. I wasn't sure if i was alive or dead...or somewhere in between. I saw nothing but black for what felt like a lifetime. And in an instant...I heard that same shrill scream. Only this time I could not cover my ears. I couldn’t feel my body but I felt an unimaginable amount of pain. As the scream grew to its peak, I slammed my eyes open. Trying to catch my breath.
I was back in the car...we were all back in the car. The engine was on. Shitty ac blasting. The others were still out. I sat up in my seat. Not wanting to move too suddenly. The sun was beating down on us. I looked over at the time on the dash…July 28th 4:34 pm. I reached into my shirt pocket and I found several vouchers for the MGM hotels in Vegas along with $300 dollars. I also found a card that simply read “Hibou Timeshare Corp. would like to thank you for a bit of your time”
The boys came too. All feeling rather groggy.
“We all fell asleep huh?” Adam laughed. “We here?”
They didn't remember a thing. Not one thing. Not going in...not the reception area...not the freaky timeshare presentation...not one bit. I lied...i told them that while they were sound asleep, we arrived a little earlier than expected. The presenter had an emergency and left our vouchers at the front desk and apologized profusely.
“Wow, what a gentleman!” Tex laughed. “We definitely owe it to him to sit through another timeshare, probono.” Larry added.
I think it's safe to say that I will not be returning to this or any other timeshare. As I drove away I could see the building disappear in the rear view mirror.
So if you’re traveling deep within the southwest of the United States and hear an ad for a free vacation that's too good to be true...do yourself a favor..turn off the radio, call into work and ask for some overtime..because nothing is ever given for free.

(Previous parts of this series include: Jack Eichel Takes Over the Sabres, Jim Benninging the Canucks, Mike Milburying the Islanders, Don Cherry Drafts the Leafs, Tom Wilson-Proofing the Penguins, Dundon DIYs the Hurricanes, Re-Chiarelling the Oilers, Moneyballing the Sens, Covertly Tanking the Wild, and Frenchifying the Canadiens.)
​
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Part I

It’s June 18th, 2017. There are three days before the National Hockey League’s first expansion draft in seventeen years, and the boardroom of T-Mobile arena, the future home of the Vegas Golden Knights, is buzzing. Months of scouting, speculation on who might be available, and discussions about possible trades are finally nearing their fruition.
Bill Foley, the team owner, steps out to grab another cup of coffee when a thought suddenly strikes him. He works it around in his brain for a second, then runs back into the boardroom. A pro scout who focuses on goaltending is making his pitch to General Manager George McPhee.
“...Well, if we don’t take Grabovski, Jaroslav Halak is available as a potential backu-“
“Don’t you DARE speak that bastard’s name to me!” McPhee screams. He quickly snaps out of the PTSD flashback that the goalie’s name inspired and moves on. “We’ll take the centre from them and... what about that Rangers backup instead? That Raanta guy?”
On the whiteboard behind them is a set of handshake deals that they have made, pending registration with the National Hockey League's office.

Anaheim trades: Shea Theodore for Expansion Draft Considerations. (Clayton Stoner)
Columbus trades: 2017 1st, 2019 2nd, ^{jack johnson}, for Expansion Draft Considerations (William Karlsson)
Florida trades: Reilly Smith for Expansion Draft Considerations (Jonathan Marchessault) and a 5th round pick
Minnesota trades: Alex Tuch for Expansion Draft Considerations (Erik Haula) and a 3rd round pick
New York trades: 2017 1st round pick, 2019 2nd round pick for Expansion Draft Considerations (Mikhail Grabovski)
Tampa Bay trades: Nikita Gusev, 2017 2nd, and 2018 4th for Expansion Draft Considerations (Jason Garrison)
Winnipeg trades: 2017 1st round pick and 2019 3rd round pick for Expansion Draft Considerations (Chris Thorburn) and Columbus 1st

Foley interrupts the goaltending conversation - this can't wait. "George, can I talk to you quickly?"
They take a sidebar. "George, I just had a thought. These deals you made - you just traded 'expansion draft considerations,' right?"
"Yes, we'll select the player that they want us to."
"But what if you don't? What if you just take whoever you want? Would it be against the rules?"
"I... well...no. Technically we could do that. But it would be dishonest and would make everyone furious at us."
"So? I didn’t buy an NHL team to make friends. I bought an NHL team to win a Stanley Cup, and also to let people know that I went to West Point. Did you know I went to West Point?”
“Yes Bill”
“I trust you George. Now go out there and get me a championship.”

Part II

Tensions are high in the green room on June 21st. General managers are walking in and out to greet and chit-chat with George McPhee and Bill Foley, the newest members of their exclusive fraternity of NHL executives. They laugh and exchange stories: Joe Sakic tells them about the gas leak in the Pepsi Centre that they noticed as soon as the season was over; Peter Chiarelli asks them to give him a call if they draft a right handed defensive defenceman (because that Draisaitl kid isn't really working out); John Chayka asks them if they're hiring. McPhee is having a hard time keeping things light and friendly, knowing that he's about to betray all of these men. Just submitting an offer sheet is enough to get you kicked out of the GM Secret Santa, let alone dishonesty at this level.
Gary Bettman walks into the green room excitedly. “Bill, George, I am so excited for us to get going. Everyone in this building is so energized, I even just saw Evgeny Kuznetsov doing some smelling salts in the bathroom!"
~
The Las Vegas Hard Rock Hotel and Casino is packed with new Vegas Golden Knights fans. The award show itself is highlighted by the best NHL.com intern-written jokes that unpaid can buy. Host Joe Manganiello is dutifully following the Jack Johnson model on stage: he might be bombing out there but boy is he eating up minutes. After Brent Burns finishes his Norris trophy victory speech, and the PA quickly wipes the crumbs and beard hair off the microphone, the time has come for Vegas’ first picks.
"From the Anaheim Ducks, Vegas picks…”
McPhee looks out at the smiling faces in the crowd. He sees Bob Murray, sitting with his plus-one for the evening (Randy Carlyle). He sees Jim Rutherford trying to turn his blaring ringtone off with his screen brightness turned up all the way. He sees Lou Lamoriello, sitting with a slightly less murderous look in his eyes than usual. He knows that the friendships he has fostered with all of these extremely normal and competent people will never recover from what he is about to do. He takes a deep breath.
“Josh Manson!"
The Vegas fans go wild. The attached trade is announced too: they have picked up Shea Theodore in exchange for “draft considerations.” The general managers’ faces contort with fury as it dawns on them what has happened. Things only get worse as McPhee and Foley continue to announce their picks.
Instead of taking Erik Haula from the Wild, they take Matt Dumba. And they still get Alex Tuch.
Instead of taking Mikhail Grabovski from the Isles, they take Brock Nelson. And they still get a 1st and a 2nd.
Instead of taking Jason Garrison from the Lightning, they take Yanni Gourde. And they still get Nikita Gusev.
~
After the show, twenty-nine general managers storm the green room with murder in their eyes. Bettman tries to deflate the situation.
“Good evening gentlemen. I understand you’re upset, bu- Wait, where’s Jim Benning?”
“He got stuck in the revolving door somehow. But we have him on speakerphone.”
Benning's voice bellows out of Pierre Dorian's team-issued Motorola Razr.
“That was an embarrassment! A mockery! An insult to everything that hockey is supposed to be! Who even wrote those 'jokes' anyway?! And by the way, the expansion draft was bullshit too!”
Bob Murray’s face is an angrier shade of red than usual. “George you scumbag, we had a fucking deal! We only traded you Shea Theodore so that you would take Clayton Stoner!”
McPhee says “Well actually, Bob, the trade was made for “draft considerations.” And I promise you we really considered taking Stoner.”
The room erupts in anger again.
Garth Snow is irate as well: "You bastard, how could you take Nelson?! Resigning Tavares would've been a sure thing if you had taken Grabovski instead! I can't imagine how this franchise's cap situation could possibly be any worse!" Lou Lamoriello smirks.
Bettman sighs and tries to be diplomatic.
“Gentlemen, I’m sorry, but he’s right. It says in the transcripts of the official trade calls that the trades were made purely for ‘considerations’, not for the selection of specific players. There’s nothing we can do about that. That being said, George, per the NHL’s licensing agreement with EA Sports we will need to confiscate a few of your phones.”
The managers walk out of the room grumbling. On the way out, a confused Dale Tallon says “There's one thing I don't understand: If George went back on all those other deals, why didn’t he take Alex Petrovic from us instead of that Marchessault guy? And he still took that cap dump Reilly Smith from us too! What an idiot.”
~
The Knights’ players were already fired up by their respective teams’ willingness to let them go – now they’re extra motivated by everyone else in the league hating their guts.

Jonathan Marchessault – William Karlsson – Reilly Smith David Perron – Brock Nelson – Yanni Gourde Tomas Nosek – Vadim Shipachyov – James Neal Ryan Carpenter – Pierre-Edouard Bellemare – Alex Tuch William Carrier Brayden McNabb – Matt Dumba Nate Schmidt – Josh Manson Shea Theodore – Colin Miller Jack Johnson Marc-Andre Fleury Antti Raanta 

They claim the President's Trophy and the Stanley Cup in each of their first three seasons. The league's general managers conspire to exact revenge on these scoundrels, and all agree that Marc Bergevin should offersheet their best young players, a plan that immediately backfires when Bergevin inadvertently saves Vegas considerable negotiating time and helps them lock up their core at reasonable numbers. The Knights later find a loophole in the salary cap that allows them to add high-salary free agents seemingly at will. After they sweep through the bubble playoffs in 2020, it becomes clear that no other team can compete with them, and TV ratings hit a dismal low. Amid financial uncertainty caused by COVID-19, the National Hockey League officially folds in late 2020. Agent Allan Walsh, desperately trying to secure spots in the KHL for his stunned clients, soberly sums up the feelings of the hockey world:
​
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(Thank you for reading, it's been awhile!)

Just rewatched it. It's the episode where Riker, Data, and Worf transports into a patch of area on a gas giant to find a hotel replicated according to specifications in a fiction novel. When they go upstairs, they find a dude who's been dead for 283 years. The fact that he only has a single entry in his journal creeped me out beyond belief too.
"I shall welcome death when it comes."
After I watched it for the first time, I remember I had a small freakout moment that night when I was lying awake on my bed. Thinking about how long it took for that dude to die, permanently stuck in a Vegas casino hotel... sitting on a bed that has the smell of cigarettes permanently embedded into the bedsheets; the obvious fakeness of the whole situation, for however long it took him to die, probably of self-imposed starvation.
The general vibe of the episode was supposed to be uplifting overall once they figure out what the aliens wanted, but this TNG episode triggered a deep-seeded fear in me about being trapped, isolated somewhere, like being inside a coffin while I'm still alive. The fact that it's a slightly old-timey looking hotel with blank walls, stale air, and insane characters continuously re-enacting the plots to a "second-rate novel" for hundreds of years.
I enjoyed seeing Data throw dice, but this episode will haunt me for the rest of my life. Sheesh.

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

[PSYCH BUT FASHION] Hi everyone, I'm back with some more shopping research:) In this post, I draw parallels between casinos and retail stores - they both use similar tricks to keep you inside for as long as possible. Enjoy the read!
1. THE GRAND PRINCIPLE OF 'PLAYGROUND' CASINOS
Have you ever wondered why casinos are so spacious and grand? New ones built in the early 2000s are constructed according to the 'playground' (luxurious resort-like) principle. It aims to create a festive holiday feeling with entertainment, installations, art, high ceilings etc. This makes you enjoy the experience even beyond playing games so you don't want to leave - it increases the chance that you will eventually place a bet somewhere (Finlay, Marmurek, Kanetkar & Londerville, 2010).
Modern shopping malls use a similar idea to keep you inside - think Harrods, Dubai Mall, Mall of Emirates. Airy, spacious, full of art, installations, and entertainment. It makes you reluctant to leave. More time spent inside = more chance of buying.
2. LAYOUT
You will notice that in casinos, roulette tables and slot machines take up the prime space in the building - they're always the most visible because those are the most profitable games for the casino. You will find poker rooms hidden in the farthest corner of the building because poker is played against other players and not against the house. Apart from small fees, casinos do not make much money out of it because the money is circulating among the players.
In the retail world, poker rooms are sales sections. They will make you go through multiple new collections in order to reach sale - just in case a more expensive item catches your eye and you decide to buy it.
3. LACK OF TIME CUES
Casinos do everything so you lose the track of time, keep having fun and gambling. There are no clocks or windows, the doors are tinted, and the atmosphere is exactly the same regardless of what time of the day it is (Sykes, Gaffney, Sykes & Posner, 2012).
There's also quiet and ambient music - it gets overwhelmed by slot machine sounds and chips clinking together. The music is kept quiet and transitions seamlessly - the reason being that separate songs can provide time cues, which might make you realise how long you've spent inside. Casinos keep the music for atmospheric purposes but make sure you don't focus on it (Noseworthy & Finlay, 2009).
Windows are common in malls to add to the 'grand' feeling; moreover, malls are usually open during the day only anyway so they have less incentive to keep the light out. You will rarely see a clock in a mall though, and separate stores are often windowless to eliminate time cues. Stores also use quiet, ambient, seamlessly transitioning music. Research shows that loud music drives people out of the store so they spend less time inside and buy less often (fun fact: small stores play loud music inside to avoid overcrowding) (Michel, Baumann & Gayer, 2017).
4. SCENT
Casinos often have a signature scent. Fresh, pleasant smell adds to the atmosphere and leaves you wanting to spend more time inside. A study showed that people gambled on slots significantly more when the area was scented compared to when it was unscented (Hirsch, 1992).
Stores use it too - research says that ambient smell increases customer satisfaction, buying, and willingness to return (Gulas & Bloch, 1995).
5. ALCOHOL
Casinos often offer free alcohol. It adds to the feeling of hospitality but the main reason is that alcohol reduces inhibition which leads to riskier gambling (Baron & Dickerson, 1999).
[personal interpretation alert]
Luxury boutiques often offer you free champagne; however, it is less common in the retail industry. It also feels more oriented towards hospitality and luxurious experience rather than control inhibition because the context of a retail store is not particularly congruent with alcohol consumption. Regardless, even small amounts of alcohol can reduce inhibition which potentially increases how much we buy so a glass of champagne could well be a strategic trick. What do you think?
***
I hope you enjoyed the read! I regularly create content around fashion psychology (Psych But Fashion) - if you're interested to learn more, visit my profile where I have links to my social media accounts.
Thank you for reading,
​
BEA
​
​
REFERENCE LIST
Baron, E., & Dickerson, M. (1999). Alcohol consumption and self-control of gambling behaviour. Journal of Gambling Studies, 15(1), 3-15.
Finlay, K., Marmurek, H. H., Kanetkar, V., & Londerville, J. (2010). Casino décor effects on gambling emotions and intentions. Environment and Behavior, 42(4), 524-545.
Gulas, C. S., & Bloch, P. H. (1995). Right under our noses: Ambient scent and consumer responses. Journal of Business and Psychology, 10(1), 87-98.
Hirsch, A. R. (1992). Effect of an ambient odor on slot.machine usage in a Las Vegas casino. Unpublished report: Smell & Taste Treatment and Research Foundation, Ltd.
Michel, A., Baumann, C., & Gayer, L. (2017). Thank you for the music–or not? The effects of in-store music in service settings. Journal of Retailing and Consumer Services, 36, 21-32.
Noseworthy, T. J., & Finlay, K. (2009). A comparison of ambient casino sound and music: Effects on dissociation and on perceptions of elapsed time while playing slot machines. Journal of Gambling Studies, 25(3), 331-342.
Sykes, K., Gaffney, C., Sykes, T., & Posner, I. (2012). Sustainability in casino design and operation:“Green” is good for the bottom line. World Journal of Science, Technology and Sustainable Development.

As long as I could remember I've always been into gambling and betting. There's just something about it, the thrill of winning, the heart pumping stakes of losing all. It's the sensation I felt like no extreme sports, gourmet cuisine, or sex could provide.
I started way too young, living with inattentive parents. My father was a drunk and my mom was a hoarder. I spent my childhood in the playground betting with the other kids with sweets, daring each other to do stupider and stupider stuff.
Eventually those stupid things led to petty crimes. Stealing, house robbing, fighting to name a few. But as I grew older I turned my sight to a more "sophisticated" venue. Donning my best suit, meddling with higher society in casinos draped in high quality decorations, menu full of high end cuisine and beverage...it's all a façade in the end which I didn't care much for. It's the thrill...it's always the thrill that I seek.
Years went by, eventually everything went numb. I have gambled the most secretive rooms in Vegas, played with crime bosses of the east in Macao, pissed off a lot of dangerous people. None of those gave me the thrill anymore, and I felt like I died. Like a shark seeking blood, I need more blood. I needed more!
I remember that one night, casually playing online poker I browsed the usual chatroom for gamblers like myself, only something caught my eyes...
"The Church of Cajetan"
Huh, Saint Cajetan was the patron saint of gamblers. I've never heard of this place. Asking around nobody in the chat knew a lot about it. Words from the grapevine stated that it was "the place that holds everything you seek"
I raised an eyebrow. I was intrigued. I asked around how and where can I find this place. Just another rumor, but they all say "it finds you, it knows". I spent hours and more searching for any mention of it online to no use. In my frustration I fell asleep eventually.
knock knock
Knocking on my door jolted me up. Looking at my clock it was 3 in the morning. I went to my door still in daze. Nobody was beyond that door, only an envelope placed neatly on the floor.
The words "Church of Cajetan" written in front of me woke me up completely. Inside I found a note and a gold coin with no other discernable feature but the name "The Church of Cajetan".
Dear Mr. Holden Parrish, we are excited to extend an invitation to the venerable Church of Cajetan. To enter please grab hold of the gold coin encased inside and enter any door at exactly 3:33 either am or pm. Bear in mind the church requires formal attire
I was stumped but excited. Without even contemplating on how ridiculous it was I immediately wore my best suits. Italian made maroon suit jacket and trousers I won from an Italian mob in New York city.
3:32 am. My heart was beating. My palm was sweating holding the gold coin tight. 58...59...60. 3:33 am I opened my bedroom door. Beyond I found myself inside a small waiting room draped in the finest carpet matching my own suit color. Gold and silver decorations filled the room.
"Mr. Holden Parrish, I presume?"
I turned my gaze to a man in front of me. He wasn't there before...
"You can call me Val. I will be your guide tonight inside the Church of Cajetan"
I was understandably overwhelmed of the situation. Something supernatural was going on there. But a gambler that I was, poker face was my forte.
"What's the minimum bet in this place? What game do you play?"
"Oh we don't take money here, Sir. Your gold coin is your first bet. The chance to enter the Church is your first bet. We don't want any loser here, Sir. As for the game, we offer anything and everything ever conceived in the history of gambling"
Val walked to the back of the room, leading me through a large wooden door. What he showed me behind it was a large hall with similar decorations to the small waiting room.
Countless tables of games being played, chattering of people, sounds of gambling machines, that familiar smell of high end casino...I was thrilled. I've been to plenty of similar places but this...this felt different.

7 Days to Die Alpha 19 Newbie Guide (PC Version)
I've seen a number of posts looking for a "how to play," or "introduction," to the game. This is my attempt to write one.
At the beginning of the game, you wake up video-game naked (i.e., in your underwear) and completely ignorant. Your goal is to survive, which is made harder by a) your nude ignorance, and b) the fact that you're living in the aftermath of a combined zombie/nuclear apocalypse.
Your character has four on-screen meters showing your status: food, water, health, and stamina (or call it whatever you like -- fatigue, energy, etc.).
Food and water levels go down unless you eat or drink something. They go down faster if you're doing something that burns stamina (like running). They go down faster if you're too hot or too cold (which is usually only an issue in biomes like desert or snow when you're not properly dressed). They can also go down faster with certain health effects (like getting dysentery -- I'll talk about these effects in a second). Run out of food or water and you will die. (Pay attention to the status bars; in real-life survival situations, regularly getting water is more important than food, but in-game, they both matter.) (Pro tip: Food and drinks you can make yourself are better in many ways than canned goods or basic crops.)
Health is just like in any other video game. It goes down when you get hit, or fall, or step on pointy things like spikes or cacti. Run out of health and you die. Eating food, using certain medical supplies, or just waiting will cause health to go back up. Again, certain health effects may nerf your health bar.
Stamina shows when you're tired. If you run out of stamina, then you can't swing weapons or tools, run, jump, or do other elements of an active post-apocalyptic lifestyle. The good news is that your stamina comes back faster than health while waiting. Drinking improves stamina recovery, and eating gives a temporary boost to maximum stamina. The bad news is that you will be using stamina constantly as you go about your day. (Pro tip: Check out the various beverages in the game to find stamina benefits -- particularly red tea and coffee, also known as the mining combo.)
Alpha 19 has a variety of different health effects that can hamper your food and water consumption, your health/stamina recovery, your maximum health/stamina, your speed, or your ability to use tools. Dysentry comes from eating rotting flesh or drinking unboiled water. Don't do that if at all possible. (Pro tip: You can eat animal fat and snowberries -- or yucca fruit in the desert biome -- if you run out of food in the first couple of days.) Other de-buffs come from injuries. The good news is that if you click on the icon showing the effect, it will bring up your character with info on exactly what you need to mitigate the effect, e.g., put on a splint or a cast to speed healing from a broken leg. Two particular health effects worth calling out are bleeding and infection. If you're bleeding, your screen will flash and your health will keep dropping. Use a bandage, medicated bandage, or medkit to stop it. ANYBODY can make bandages from cloth, so keep some with you. Infection refers not to gangrene, but to the dreaded zombie infection...a disease so horrifying that it helped usher in the fall of civilization. The ONLY way to cure this dangerous disease is...to eat some honey or take an over-the-counter antibiotic. Really, infection should only ever be a serious issue in the first week. (Pro tip: using an ax on tree stumps has a random chance to drop honey.)
Encumbrance: You have a fixed number of inventory slots. You will note that three rows are clear at the start of the game, while the final two rows are not. Those extra rows represent encumbrance, and filling them up will significantly slow you down and increase your stamina usage. Try to avoid that outside of cleared or safe areas. You can increase the number of non-encumbered slots with clothing and armor mods, or through the Pack Mule perk. I recommend finding or making pocket mods ASAP and skipping the perk, though a single level in the early game can make things easier for newbies. (Pro tip: Some items, like most raw materials, food, drinks, medicines, etc., stack in inventory; some items like clothing, mods, and weapons do not. Smart inventory management when looting and salvaging will keep that in mind: do I really want to pick up that pair of shoes, or hold onto that dirty water that will stack if I find more?)
All right, now that the basics are out of the way, how do I get better at surviving? The answer to that is two-fold. 1) Learn how to do more things. 2) Get better stuff.
How do you learn more things? You get experience points (xp) from almost everything in this game. Eventually, when your xp bar fills, you will gain a level and get a perk point. You can use that to select perks, which all have various benefits. At the start, you will get a series of basic quests that serve as a mini-tutorial, and you will gain 4 perk points from finishing them (make sure you complete them!). (Pro tip: Upgrading blocks, e.g., turning flagstone walls into brick walls, is an exceedingly generous way of earning xp in Alpha 19; using a hammer on a block will tell you what material is needed to upgrade it.)
Which perks should I pick first? Well...as a newbie, I recommend Lucky Looter (which improves your chance of finding good stuff), either Pummel Pete or Skull Crusher (depending on whether you want to use clubs or sledges), Sexual Tyrannosaurus (which improves your stamina usage), and something from the Fortitude recovery perks. Healing faster, using less food, or running away are all useful. Ask a different player and you will get wildly different suggestions. Eventually, you will figure out your preferred style of play and pick things accordingly. Note that perks tend to be useful to different degrees based on whether you are in early, mid, or late game.
The other way to learn stuff is to find skill books and schematics. Schematics let you craft new things. Skill books give you a free perk, basically. Collect all seven of a type to get a bonus perk. Some of those are quite useful. Some of them are very circumstance-specific. Regardless, reading an unread book or schematic at least nets you bonus xp. You can tell that you've read a book by the tiny book icon (it will be open if read already). Even if you've read it, you can keep it and sell it for some cash. (Pro tip: Technically, schematics and books stack in inventory; in practice, finding multiple copies of the same one in a single POI is relatively rare.)
How do I get better stuff? There are three ways to do that: 1) Loot it; 2) Make it; 3) Buy it.
Looting: There are many objects that serve as containers in the game. Some objects, like cars, may or may not be a container. Just get close. If you get the option to search it, then it is a container. Not every container will have stuff. Searching containers takes time and makes noise. Locked containers need to be disassembled or have the lock picked in order to open them. Alpha 19 changed looting to be highly level- and time-dependent. You will not get top-tier loot in the early game. Even if you somehow fight your way to the roof of the Shotgun Messiah weapons plant on Day 1, you are likely to find stone spears and maybe a blunderbuss. (Pro tip: a pair of lucky goggles will increase your chance of finding better loot when opening a container for the first time.)
Crafting: If you know how to build something, and you have the necessary ingredients, and you have access to the correct work area, then you can create something from scratch. Perks and schematics will tell you how to build stuff, though there are a handful of things you can build right at the start (like you saw in your tutorial quests). Ingredients can be looted, or you can salvage them by destroying items. See the next paragraph for more on this. Lastly, some items require you to be at a workbench, chemistry station, campfire, or forge to create (there will be an icon next to the item in the build list telling you which). You can build all of these work areas if you know how, buy them from traders, or use ones you find scattered around the world. Traders have one of each, though they probably won't all be functional (but the broken ones can be looted, at least). Caveat: In Alpha 19, you can build up to level 5 gear (higher level gear is usually better and has more slots for mods), but level 6 gear can be found or purchased. Level 6 gear is typically better than anything you can build of the same type.
Salvage: Getting raw materials can be done in a number of ways. Use tools (axes, picks, wrenches, shovels) to extract things from blocks in the world. This is mostly fairly intuitive -- shovels work best on dirt, cement, etc., while axes are good on wooden items like tables and trees. Tools have different levels and can be modded to improve their abilities. Pay attention to the "block damage" stat of the tool to compare them. Some blocks are better sources than others. You can find mineral nodes scattered around that provide you with coal, iron, nitrate, oil shale, or lead, and those are excellent sources (Pro tip: the nodes are just the tip of the mineral iceberg; you can dig down to extract more ore.)
Another way to get raw materials is to use the scrap command in inventory (personally, I found the hotkey for this a little too easy to hit accidentally, so I remapped it). This includes most useful items of gear, as well as certain decorative items like faucets and chairs that you can pick up. Note that many metal items can be put in the forge to smelt them down for more resources than you get using the scrap command, including iron tools. (Pro-tip: Smelting radiators that you get from disassembling cars, heating radiators, and AC units is a great source of brass for crafting ammo; you can also smelt Dukes...but you're usually better off using them to buy ammo from a merchant.)
Buying: Merchants are scattered over the map. Setting up a base near one is a good idea. The post-apocalyptic currency in this game is the Duke, a brass coin that looks like a casino chip. (There are no bottle caps in this game!) If you don't have any money, then you can instead trade your labor for payment. Complete a quest and you'll get cash, xp, and a free prize of some kind (you get a choice -- ammo, meds, gear, etc.). Quests boil down to: retrieve a package, kill some zombies, kill some zombies AND retrieve a package, or dig up and retrieve a package. In the early game, in particular, quests can be very lucrative. (Pro tip: The Daring Adventurer perk can improve the rewards you get from quests if you decide you want to focus on that aspect of the game.) Merchants sell all sorts of things: food, raw materials, weapons, armor, vehicles, skill books, schematics. Their inventory resets daily-ish, so pop back on a regular basis.
Cheesy pro-tip: When you trigger a quest location, the POI will refresh to an "unexplored" state. This automatically refills all of the loot, etc., as well as repopulating the zombies. You can clear the location, then trigger the quest and clear it again for double the rewards. Just don't leave any loot inside a container that will refresh.
What about combat? Why haven't you really mentioned the z-word yet? Well, honestly, you'll probably spend a lot more time salvaging and looting than fighting (with the exception of Blood Moon horde nights, which I'll talk about below). Most zombies in the early game are slow and fairly easy to avoid. If you can avoid getting mobbed, then you will probably be all right.
Animals, however, will mess you up. You will quickly start yawning when you see a single stumbling housewife zombie, but a wolf will continue to be a threat well into the mid-game. Zombie animals are also a threat. Zombie dogs are fairly easy to kill but come in packs of 3-7. Zombie bears will soak up more damage than you can easily dish out in the early game. Zombie vultures are hard to hit and are really good and causing lacerations and bleeding. I've gotten infected by zombie animals far more commonly than I have from human zombies.
Zombie dogs, coyotes, wild cats, and wolves: running works until you run out of stamina, and then you're dead. The best bet in the early game is to find someplace high they can't reach and snipe them if you have enough arrows or ammo. These animals can and will sneak up on you. The good news is that they will make random noises that will let you know they're in the area.
Snakes: I've seen these in the desert and wasteland biomes. Good eatin', but they are quiet and can attack without warning. Luckily, they die easily.
Wild pigs: Don't bother them. Seriously, just leave them alone until you have good guns.
Bears and zombie bears: The good news is that they won't chase you as easily as some other animals. They are also not as fast and you can outrun them. The bad news is that if you get cornered, they can take and dish out huge amounts of damage.
Zombie vultures: These will attack you if you're injured, or are riding a vehicle. Shotguns are the easiest way to deal with them. Hitting them with melee weapons is an irritating chore that often ends with negative health effects. Possibly the most annoying creature in the game.
Deer, rabbits, and chickens: They don't attack, but run if attacked. They can be a good source of meat. (Pro tip: you can get quests from slips of paper you find in loot; the ones asking you to do things like, "kill a bunch of rabbits by throwing cans of Sham at them," are never worth it unless you're desperate to try something new.)
As the game advances, and as you explore some of the larger points of interest (POI), you will run across more dangerous zombies. Feral zombies have glowing eyes and always move at a full run. Crawlers will jump around like demented jackrabbits. Glowing versions of zombies regenerate health. A good rule of thumb is that if something is different about a zombie, it probably is more dangerous. (Pro tip: Quite a few POI's have alert triggers that will cause a bunch of nearby zombies to wake up at once, and stealth doesn't avoid tripping them; best to always have a clear avenue of retreat when entering a new location.)
Weapon selection: As said earlier, clubs and sledgehammers are your basic melee option. Either works well for the early game or to save ammo or hit quietly in the later game. Spears, axes, and knives/machetes can also be used, but they require more practice and really NEED perks to be fully optimized. Note that knives and axes are mostly meant to be tools. Stun batons require another source of damage, either turrets or other players, to be effective, and are also perk/mod-dependent.
Bows can easily kill basic zombies quietly with a headshot. Use the best bow or crossbow and the best ammunition that you can. Do away with stone arrows/bolts as soon as you can find or build the iron versions. You'll need to decide for yourself if you want to keep using bows once guns are available. I like them, but your mileage may vary. (Pro tip: There is a skill book that allows you to craft flaming and explosive arrows; sadly, there is no way to ride around in a Dodge Charger, shooting exploding arrows out the window while Dixie plays from the car horn.)
Guns are easily the best option in the game...and while perks can make them more effective, they aren't necessary. Don't hesitate to pull out a shotgun just because you put all your perk points into pistols if you run out of 9mm ammo. There is a fair amount of ammo in this game, and you can make more...but I always keep a club or sledge with me just in case. Having a gun makes exploring the harsher biomes a lot easier. The trade-offs for gun selection are pretty in line with any other game that has guns. Some burn ammo quickly. Some have low ammunition capacity. Some are better at long range. (Pro tip: having several loaded blunderbusses or double-barreled shotguns in your tool belt can provide an early-game rapid-fire option for dealing with tougher opponents.)
Weapon perks and skill books: Each type of weapon has an associated perk, and an associated skill book set. Maxing out both can make a fairly sizeable difference, and can have some unexpected other benefits. For example, one of the skill books gives you a 10% barter bonus if you happen to be holding a .357 while trading.
Blood Moon Horde Nights: Every 7 days (by default), the sky will turn red. When night falls (hour 22 by default), a horde will spawn near the player. Every zombie in that horde will magically know exactly where you are and will rush at you to eat your delicious flesh.
The devs of the game have made it clear that they want you to FIGHT the zombies, and have gone well out of their way to make turtling behind defenses less viable. Zombies will break down walls -- even ones made of brick and concrete. They will dig to reach you. They jump on top of each other to climb to get you (like in the Brad Pitt zombie flick). As the game progresses, zombies will appear that are capable of spitting acid, or that act as suicide bombers (can you call it suicide bombing if they're already dead?). (Pro tip: Bomb zombies, also known as Demolishers, can be taken down by head or leg shots; shooting them in the chest is a bad idea, despite the fact that shooting the glowing spot is normally the best move in a video game.)
Having said that, building defenses and traps can be very effective at delaying or channeling zombies, and can effectively thin the horde. There are pretty much two approaches people use to deal with a horde night.

1. Find a POI that prevents the zombies from reaching you and then wait out the attack. Anyplace high with enough metal or stone to last for a while will work. Large stores, fire departments, skyscrapers, water towers, etc., can all work, though the smaller the location, the more quickly it will fall to the zombies eventually.
2. Build a fortress. This is usually a setup that includes auto-turrets, traps, spikes, and walls made of brick or concrete. Often, they're set up to lead zombies into a killing zone where you can shoot or bomb them into bits. There are many YouTube videos on different approaches, and they range from lore-friendly to extremely cheesy exploitations of the AI or physics engine.

Note that these two are not mutually exclusive. It's pretty common to use POI's at first and then try building your own, or to move back to POI's if your attempt at a custom fortress is less effective than you had hoped. (Pro-tip: Don't use your home base for horde nights...at least until you've got a LOT of experience fortifying against horde nights.)
Creating a home base: Every survivor needs a place to keep their stuff. Just like with a horde base, you can either re-purpose a POI or build your own from scratch.
If you use a POI, then make sure you put down your bedroll. That will keep sleeping zombies from respawning in the area. If you want to use a bedroll as a way of regularly resetting your spawn point, then you're probably better off building your own base. That said, a good POI to use as a base has height. Using a forge on the first floor is a good way to attract random zombies. It's also good to find someplace with brick or concrete walls, as they'll last longer against wandering foes. Also, keep in mind that you'll be going in and out a lot, so you don't want it to be too hard to get in and out. (Pro tip: lone zombies can't jump to ladders that are two blocks off the ground, but you can; this doesn't work so well with hordes, as they climb over each other.)
By default, zombies are faster at night, so early game nights are a good time to huddle up in a base and craft things. When you run out of things to craft, READ the descriptions of your perks, skill books, and the built-in journal entries. You'll be surprised how much information is buried in there. You can also take the time to look at the map and plan out the next day's activity. (Pro tip: Find a cluster of close-together POI's on the map, and put a chest or storage box in the middle to serve as a temporary loot repository; inventory item stacking means that having a collection point can mean many fewer trips back to your base with the fruits of your effort.)
Vehicles: Maps in this game are fairly large. The solution to moving about to different biomes (which have different resources and different POI's) is to make or buy a vehicle. Anybody can assemble vehicles if they have the right parts, but some of the parts are locked behind perks/schematics. Taking the first-level vehicle perk can be useful, as the bicycle isn't a bad starting vehicle and the perk unlocks wheels, which every other vehicle needs. (Pro-tip: the easiest way to get gas when out-and-about is to salvage the many derelict cars.) Zombies and wildlife are pretty harmless if you can speed past them...with the exception of vultures, which can be annoying enough to make you stop your motorcycle just to shotgun them out of the sky.
Mods: There are tons of clothing, weapon, and armor mods in the game. Read the descriptions, as they can have a huge impact on effectiveness. (Alpha 19 has no vehicle mods, despite the fact that vehicles have mod slots.) If you open an item for modding, then any mods in your inventory that can be used for that item will start flashing, making it easy to see which mods go with that item. (Pro tip: There is a boot mod that reduces falling damage that is worth its weight in gold. Not only is it really easy to fall in some POI's, but the de-buff from spraining or breaking a leg when zombies are about can be utterly lethal.)
Power tools: Power tools are very powerful. Augers and chainsaws harvest materials very rapidly. They also use gas and make a ton of noise. They tend to quickly attract screamers, which are zombies that scream until other zombies show up to find out what all the fuss is about. Kill them quickly to avoid hordes interrupting your mining. (Pro tip: The physics engine of the game means that mine collapses are a thing, and they can be deadly; shoring up the ceiling with wood blocks can help prevent this, but augers can mine so quickly that you can lose track of how deeply you've gone beyond your supports.) The annoying pinging noise made by augers is an Alpha 19 addition that was generally disliked by everyone.
Repairing items: Many items like tools, weapons, and armor will degrade over time. Weapons and tools will let you know they need repair...typically when you need them the most. Armor never notifies you. It just stops working. Check your item status bars to figure out when to repair them. Simple tools and weapons can be fixed with wood and stone. More sophisticated items require repair kits. In Alpha 19, repair kits are a generic fix-all for any advanced item, which greatly simplifies things. They can be crafted with forged iron and duct tape. (Pro tip: forged iron can be made in any forge, but you can also salvage them from disassembling weight sets, desk and gun safes, and NON-FUNCTIONAL vending machines; salvaging them can be tedious in the early game but can be worth it to keep your precious firearms and armor functioning.)
Farming: You will find seeds, or you can take a perk or find a schematic to craft seeds. It takes five cobs of corn to create one corn seed, which is odd given that the whole grain is basically made of seeds...but chalk it up to game-play balancing. To plant a seed, you need a farm plot (except for mushrooms, which can grow on any surface), which you can craft with wood, rotting flesh, clay, and nitrate. Once planted, it will grow in three stages. Harvest it at stage 3 by punching the plant, and it will revert to stage 1 and deposit the appropriate food item into your inventory. If you accidentally harvest the seed, just replant it. If you want to get physically fit, do a push up in the real world every time you accidentally punch the ground or the air instead of your crop. (Pro tip: Don't harvest with a mostly full inventory, as if your tool belt slot is the last open spot, the crop will go there, and your next attempted punch will instead eat the last one you harvested.)
Electricity: Fire attracts zombies like moths. Using electric lights is a convenient way to avoid that, as zombies are Luddites and don't care for the products of industry. The most convenient way to light up your home base is with lanterns, but you need to find a certain skill book to make them. The good news is that their batteries never need recharging. You can also get flashlights, or mods that attach lights to your helmet or your weapon (press F to pay your respects...er, sorry, to turn on your light). You can also craft a variety of stand-alone electric lights, but that requires a separate energy source.
Energy sources come in three varieties. Battery packs hold up to six car batteries and drain the batteries over time. You can recharge the pack by connecting it to a different energy source. Generator banks hold up to six engines (recoverable from many derelict vehicles, among other sources) that burn gasoline to provide power. Solar banks contain solar cells and generate power as long as they are in sunlight. They also cannot be crafted and are as expensive as hell. (Pro-tip: Higher-level batteries last longer; use level 1 and 2 batteries to craft vehicles, sell, or smelt for lead, and keep the better ones for the battery banks.)
Use wiring tools to connect energy sources to energy consumers. There are some slightly wonky rules to how you can connect, but it isn't hard to learn with a little trial and error. Wiring doesn't cost you anything, so experiment freely. You can put various switches between the consumer and the source: toggle switches, pressure plates, and motion sensors being the most common, though there are other options. Switches require power, but less power than an active consumer. This allows you to, for example, conserve power in the daytime by turning off active defenses and lights so you don't waste battery charge or gasoline. (Pro tip: a solar bank charging a full battery bank will provide quiet, continuous power, at which point you can feel free to light up your place like a Vegas casino 24/7.)
Stealth: Some players will tell you stealth is impossible in this game. That is not true. What is true is that some situations negate stealth, most particularly Blood Moon hordes. Just tell yourself that the red moon makes their senses so acute that they can smell a living human from a mile away -- if you can't rationalize it away as a game balance issue. Some POI's also have event triggers that are based on your location rather than how stealthy you are being. Chalk that up to dramatic license. This is a game where zombies are real and I can carry a motorcycle in my boot. Get over it.
There are some things you need to know about stealth, though, to do it effectively. Your stealth rating is a combination of noise and visibility. Clomping around in heavy armor, waving a torch or flaming club around, or using a flashlight will make you easy to notice. Firing a gun, whacking a wrench against a metal appliance, or jumping up and down on a pile of trash will also make you easy to notice. That means using light armor, using a bow or melee weapon, and crouching are all ways to avoid being seen.
There are a number of skill books, perks, armor and weapon mods, and craftable gear that can all make you more stealthy. With diligence, you can walk up behind a sleeping zombie, smack him in the head with a sledgehammer, and not disturb the other one right next to him. Will this make the game much easier? I would argue no. It certainly makes some specific situations much easier. Clearing out a mini-horde in a POI with a bow before they wake up can be much less stressful, certainly. The lack of universal effectiveness definitely makes it a playstyle choice, however, rather than an over-powered build to avoid if you want a challenge. (Pro-tip: Stealth is never a 100% guarantee, which is why you always carry stacks of wood; wood is incredibly flexible, as it lets you drop cheap spike traps in narrow passages, climb up easily to places zombies cannot reach, make bridges across open gaps, craft doors to seal off openings that foes have to make noise to get through but that you can open easily, etc.)
That's about it. The most important pro tip is this: this is an open-world game where the only thing that matters is that you have fun playing it. It doesn't matter if you want to do single-player, or multi-player, or if you like crafting more than combat, or prefer spears over guns. You bought the game. Do what you like, as that is really the only goal.