The purpose of money
Forums › General Discussion › The purpose of money-
I know money is used to pay for upkeep, weapons, and turf, but what becomes the purpose of money once you amass billions, if not trillions, of dollars?
I just acquired Brens and other loot guns, so I was able to sell all my Tommy Guns. So now I’m sitting here with a huge pile of cash, little weapon upkeep, and nothing to spend it on.
I COULD hop across the map, but that wouldn’t even put a dent in my money.
I maxed out my attack/defense at this level of mob, so I’m not going to buy more weapons.
And even if I were to fight in a war, what’s the true “expense” of war fighting? Emergency rooms don’t cost much and I have a ton of Medkits. And like I said, turf hopping is relatively cheap once you amass billions.So what’s the “purpose” of money? Or at least, of billions or trillions of dollars?
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You might reach a point where it cost 300million to plant a single turf. And you might be planting hundreds or even thousands of them. Wars cost money.
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Can I trade Nick my Consigliere for suits?
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★DΞICIDΞ★ wrote:
☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻☝🏻 Hopping is expensive, specially on crowded areas like LAYou might reach a point where it cost 300million to plant a single turf. And you might be planting hundreds or even thousands of them. Wars cost money.
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Buy as many shanks as possible
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Willcox Killer wrote:
Ah yes. Shanks! Truly a magnificent weapon.Buy as many shanks as possible
You know, there was once a time when I had a lot more shanks than I do currently. Whenever I got extra money, I would always spend that amount on just a few extra shanks. My mob was always confused. They knew that I knew that they aren’t good enough to hold two shanks, so they did not understand why I would buy so many shanks. I told them it was “just in case thousands of people accept my mob invite at once, I do not want them to be without a weapon,” but this was a lie.
In truth, I was addicted to shanks. I was...in love with shanks.This Love did have some...detrimental effects. When faced with the choice of buying an extra turf upgrade or another shank, I chose the shank. When faced with the choice of buying a stronger weapon or buying a shank, I chose the shank. I ended up attacking other players just to scrape enough cash to buy...
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...more shanks. And then...it happened.
It was loot weekend! Brens were being given out! Luckily, from my hours of running missions to get cash to buy shanks, I had acquired a ton of loot boxes and cannolis, so I was READY to hijack some cargo ships!
Through determination, persistence, and a bit of luck, I was able to acquire tens of thousands of Brens that loot weekend (this was before the 1000/day limit was imposed).My mob was impressed. I had acquired enough Brens to insure that all of them, as well anyone else who joins my mob, would NEVER run out of Brens. We had the strongest weapons in the game, and we would not have to pay upkeep on Tommy Guns ever again. I was happy with myself.
That night, however, I slept restlessly. I realized that I had spend a lot of time and put in a lot of effort to get Bren Guns, while ignoring something important. I almost felt like, in my restless dreaming, the “spirit of the Shanks” was angry with me for not spending that loot event acquiring more shanks. I...
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...began to realize what I did. I pictured the shanks, the magnificence of the shanks, and realized how much more of them I would have had if I had put more effort in acquiring them. If I had spent more DP on cash, for instance, instead of energy refills, I could have bought a lot more shanks. Realizing what I had missed out on, I thought back to the thousands of Brens I had acquired. They gave me satisfaction before, but all the thought of them gave me now was...emptiness. Just...emptiness. I then felt another feeling...a desire...a strange, but familiar desire. I felt the urge to acquire more shanks. I tried to ignore it and go to sleep, but the urge just kept getting stronger and stronger. I kept hearing the word “Shanks” repeat and repeat and repeat in my head as I felt as if shanks were a physiological need like food or water. Finally, in an effort to quell my desires, I figured the best thing to do would be to open Turf Wars and look at my Brens again. Maybe seeing the Brens will give me...
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...satisfaction. I opened the game, went to the market, squinted my eyes so I wouldn’t see the “shanks” listed (I didn’t go to my profile since I would have had to constantly look at the number of shanks I had) and scrolled down to where the Brens were listed. There I stared at the Brens, trying to give myself much needed satisfaction. However, as I was looking, I wouldn’t bring myself to look at the “magnificence” of the Brens, since, in my mind, it was nothing compared to that of a shank. Instead, I found myself looking...no, staring...at something else. The price next to it. “750K? That’s a lot of money,” my mind said. The urges and voices had become deafening. I couldn’t take it anymore. In a swift movement, I quickly pressed down on “SELL,” and sold EVERY SINGLE BREN THAT I HAD EARNED! I then used that money to buy as many shanks I could buy, ending the transaction with only a couple dollars. The voices and urges were suddenly gone, and I was able to sleep restfully.
Problems arose the next day...
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...however, when my mob noticed that they had no Brens. “Where’d our Brens go?” they asked. I, laying in a huge pile of shanks, didn’t answer. “Um...sir?”
The crowd around me grew and grew and I was finally forced to come up with a response. “Mickey Dunn took them,” I said, still focused on my shanks, and shrugged.
“You realize I’m in your mob, right,” Mickey said, appearing from the crowd. I looked up from my shanks and realized I was in trouble.
“Okay fine, I sold them to buy shanks,” I admitted, before continuing, “but why do you care? It’s not like you can do anything about it.”
My mob was disgruntled by my response, but dispersed.That night, however, my mob grew angry. After some plotting, they snuck into my house, stole ALL my shanks, left 20 shanks under my sheets, and threw the rest of them into a river, never to be seen again.
That morning, I was horrified by what had happened, but the horror quickly subsided as I realized I no longer had any infatuation with shanks. I realized that by...
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...throwing them into the river, my mob had freed me of my addiction.
So from that point, I made a point to NEVER buy another shank again!
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Willcox Killer wrote:
So anyway, that’s why your idea is a HORRIBLE idea! Sorry, but I don’t want to be forced to sell my Brens again to buy shanks.Buy as many shanks as possible
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JPCIII wrote:
I'm happy to see I gave you a creative writing prompt😂Willcox Killer wrote:
So anyway, that’s why your idea is a HORRIBLE idea! Sorry, but I don’t want to be forced to sell my Brens again to buy shanks.Buy as many shanks as possible
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How about fight? Maybe just put up some kind of effort?plant some turf to replace the ones you lose?🤔
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