The Spark Report One: Over the Steppes of Trans-div-one-alia

Day 5,513, 13:35 • Published in USA USA • by Yuuka Kazami
The Spark
Reports from the Front Lines
December 24th, 2022
The Spark
Reports from the Frontlines
On the Wild Steppes of Trans-Div-One-Alia


In the late 19th century, revolutionaries against the Tsar and convicts were sent to Siberia, to work in the extremely lonely steppes and tundra. In that massive expanse is the largest lake in the world, the beautiful Lake Baikal. Thus, the land around Baikal is known to us as Transbaikalia. A poet, though nobody knows exactly who, wrote the song above you.
On the wild steppes of Transbaikalia,
Where people dig for gold in the mountains,
A vagrant, bemoaning his fate,
Is wandering with a bag on his back.

I sit in the wintery fields of Div One, getting gold as a trained convict. I am used to this work, getting about twenty something gold per day, depending on my efforts. My Tsarist overseers at the Training Grounds gleefully accept my gold, they dangle buildings in front of me, and I pay them from the sweat of my brow and the generosity of dear comrades in the Socialist Freedom Party, people like MollyMock, Hoss, Franklin, Shiloh, Goxi, good folks that keep me going. Yes, though my Commissar, PimpDollaz, has warned me of the folly of my work, I find a strange humble satisfaction in these wintery areas, and not in the skies. Perhaps one day I will go there, as I venture further and further out into the fields and mines, D2, D3, D4 even... But I know I won't compete once I hit the area there. I will finally heed the advice of my comrades, or perhaps I'll get tired, who knows. But I find, as I said, a unique satisfaction here, in D1. Let me tell you why.
He walks through the thick taiga,
Where only a few birds sing,
He carries a tin can on his side,
His feet are strapped in dry skins.



Every day or two, I see a strange sight. A pale shadowy person, surrounded by a halo of off-white grey, grabbing gold from nothing. It's... captivating. They hit for about 200 damage. Well, I hit for about 2,000, it's peanuts, but I get by. I say hi to them, and ask them how they're doing. Some of them tell me they don't know how to go to the party headquarters, or the MU. I show them to my adobe, and we talk about this and that, their journey to eRepublik, and so on. After a hearty meal, and some camaraderie, they leave. I bid them to go to my comrades, but some go, some don't, and many will simply fade away. I fade away too, sometimes. I get busy with things to do. Life's tough. Yet, I'm captivated. An e-World, an expression of people. I see folks like Jimmy, or I guess Roger, now. We all change, but some of us stay the same.
He escaped from prison during a dark night
Where he was imprisoned for defending the truth.
But he could not go any further
In front of him was Lake Baikal.

The report, right... the report. I guess I'm kinda getting into this whole thing, huh? Let me tell you about the war. There's a big one going on. Lots of crazy gunshots. They send us to the front lines very rarely, we're not very helpful, honestly - too weak. Sometimes I go out there, I man a post in D1, and hit a few people, securing some gains. I don't know how useful it is, but I like to think I'm useful, sometimes, getting a few campaign points here and there. It lets me get some more gold, get a bit stronger, and others focus on more important things. I think we're winning the war, we face little direct opposition, but my comrades tell me that our opponent is a bit preoccupied to give us their full attention. I suppose all I can do is grow, get my gold, turn it in, get my supplies for that day.
The vagrant walks to the shore
And climbs in to a fisherman's boat.
He starts to sing a sad song
Telling something about his native land.

A part of me will admit, I want to see us win. When I look at the ol' map, though, I can't tell if we're winning or losing. I don't have the eyes my comrades and superiors have, I can't tell the beauty of the provinces turning into our colors, and not theirs, when our enemy, Croatia, has the same colors as us, maybe just a bit off colored. Maybe that says something about the eWorld, or the Actual World. Am I making any sense? We've made gains, so I have to salute our leadership. Marching forward, fighting the bad guys — whoever I'm told are the bad guys. I do my duty for my community. One day, maybe I'll make a map like that, and it'll show just how much we're winning. An Asteria map. What do you all think?

"I left my wife when she was young
And left her with my small children,
Now I wander aimlessly,
God knows, whether I shall meet her again!"

But sometimes, I sit down in my little D1 trench, with my D1 friends, fighting our D1 battles in our not-so-D1 war, and I find a strange beauty in the desertedness. Gold to farm, when once that was basically impossible. What a thing, huh? So I guide some folks here and there, and I build up my four training centers, even though I know its inefficient. I like seeing the number go up, can ya blame me? It's nice. Enjoyable. Maybe one day I'll make it to the sky, like I'm told. I've heard that the sky is the most beautiful thing, where you are free, make so much gold, and help in the biggest fights of all. Your level goes up, ya hear about that? They say eventually you even get to train for free! But ya know? I'll never be in D1 again. Unless I buy a Maverick Pack, I suppose. Maybe the ClopoCrew can get me the tokens for a Mini-Mav, and one day I'll fly around to meet old friends.
He crosses the lake,
His mother comes to meet him.
”O my dear mother let me embrace you,
Are my father and my brother well?”

Well, folks. It's Christmas Eve. Do y'all think that the Generals in their caps will stop the war on what we call Noche Buena? I guess you can't. Shoot, I heard someone airstriked us on 9/11. That's tough. Can't help but get mad at that huh? I dunno, but I don't think we should go to real war in some random place over it. Maybe that's why I'm in the SFP. I guess I'm a bit naive. That's why I'm here, in Trans-Div-One-alia. Something like that.
"Your father has been dead for a long time;
He now rests in the damp earth.
And your brother is serving his sentence,
Wearing chains, somewhere in Siberia."

Honestly, the song had little to do with this rant. I was just kinda hyped up on coffee, and wanted to write a little love-letter to the weird, desolate land of D1. The song's nice, isn't it? The lyrics are pretty, but sad. Most omit the last verse, but why don't you read it, to smile a bit more?
"Let's go, let’s go, my son,
Let's go home to our house,
Where your wife misses her husband,
And all your little children are crying."

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