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Indonesia might have seized its independence from its Dutch colonizers in 1949, but that didn’t put an end to external involvement on the islands. The West proved a less menacing ally than Mao’s China in those early years, so President Sukarno was willing to turn a blind eye now and then when a European or American firm wished to develop mining or timber operations on its islands. As long as a native -or a Javanese, more like- seemed to be running things, the fiercely protectionist economic policy of the new government would seem totally intact.
I came to the island of Borneo in late January of 1967 alongside a group of four prospective silver miners from Nevada, who wished to expand upon the rudimentary operations of the locals. We were kept hushed up about our purpose on the island, and it was an added selling point for our employers that not one of us spoke Indonesian- or any of the myriad other local languages, for that matter. Our overseer, a sturdy Jakarta man with the air of governmental importance, didn’t even give us his name. As I understand it, he introduced the handful of us to locals as advisors, and ensured the few villages we passed while boating into the interior didn’t get a chance to mingle with us.
The ride inland was defined by buzzing, gnawing insects and a heat so dense with moisture it seemed to catch in your throat like snot. It was a heat that somehow made the arid scorch of the desert back home seem tame, and left me feeling nauseous for the first few days of the expedition. The murky swamps along the coast gave way to rough water as we followed the river into the mountains, and we seemed to spend as much time portaging the boats around rapids as motoring steadily upstream. The muddy banks were uncomfortably thin, close to both the tepid brown water and the impenetrably thick mire of leaves, vines, and gnarled roots that carpeted the jungle. The others didn’t seem as worried as I was, but I couldn’t help but notice the Javanese porters amongst us hurried us on whenever we carried the boats along the shore, always conscious of the time spent mired in the muck and trapped in the open. The miners chattered about the job ahead to distract from the monotony of the sweat-stained trip into the jungle, but I wasn’t here for the silver, and their talk of drills and transport was a foreign language to me.
I’d been hired on as insurance against the tigers which roamed the island, and I kept my rifle close at hand throughout the trip- leaving it cradled beneath my arm when we moored in shallow riverside pools to sleep in the boats at night. No crocodiles troubled us in the lower swamps, but they tended to steer clear of motorboats, and the higher stretches of the river were guarded by rapids that kept them out. It was the cats in the trees that concerned me. Each flash of some flowered plant or tropical bird in the foliage had me gripping my gun until my eyes could process what had broken the tangle of tenebrous greens that pressed greedily in all ‘round us. These bursts of color never spat forth a tiger, but if anything, the lack of a focus for my nerves only heightened them.
The crocodiles, at least, had sunned on banks or lazily watched on from the shallows, their glinting eyes belaying a hunger they weren’t bold enough to fulfil. If there were similar glinting eyes on the landward side, slinking through the trees, not one of us spotted them. Their lurking owners might simply not be there, for the Borneo tigers were a dwindling breed even then. But, with each droning mile down the lonely, mosquito-haunted river, my own imagination left me certain there were more than jabbering monkeys behind the green shroud throttling the banks.
Our isolation didn’t help, for the bustling stilt-villages that had lined the shore closer to sea had all but disappeared, and our Javanese overseer knew little about the region through which we traveled save its name. Indeed, he and his fellows from Indonesia’s most vital island seemed almost disgusted by the locals, fretting about thieves, savages and brigands in the slums in which we occasionally docked for food. Still, for all their worry, I slept easier within earshot of the indecipherable Bornean villagers chattering and gambling their nights away than I’d ever sleep bobbing on the riverside scanning the jungle for massive slitted pupils.
A week brought us at last to the beginnings of the river, where many tiny mountain streams pooled to feed its long descent to the Java Sea. We continued on foot, tracing meandering paths uphill through the mountains. If I’d thought the press of the jungle upon the riverbank was suffocating, the little pathway through its bowels was another thing altogether- leaving us to putz single-file with me at our rear, my eyes scanning the trail behind me as often as the mountainous climes in front. Once again, my paranoia proved vain, and we reached the mouth of the silver mine just before dusk- my heart leaping at the prospect of sleeping within the sturdy little cabins the locals had cobbled together for us.
The crag in the jungle-choked mountains was small, and my companions immediately set about making plans on just how they’d get components for largescale machinery upriver for assembly near the rudimentary little silver mine. Now that they had their eyes on the place, the Javanese workmen showed them around at the behest of our overseer, leaving me to settle in and enjoy a modest meal of rice and smoked fish. The evening played out well, and after a few hours swapping stories over a low fire between the cabins, I enjoyed the first real sleep I’d had in days. The rigid wood floor beneath me did nothing to dull how rejuvenated I felt by the time the sun rose and the camp began to bustle- refreshed enough to begin feeling more at home within my alien environment, if only just a little.
When the overseer dispatched a couple of the Javanese men back to the river to fetch what was needed for the mining equipment from the towns downstream, I went along with them to the boats with rifle in hand, ensuring no tigers slunk out form the trees. My lonely walk back was tense, but I was beginning to feel at ease with the din of the jungle, and the proximity of the trees weighed less heavily on me. At home in boreal forests or New World deserts, I’d initially been drowned in the sensations of the raucous tropics, but now I began to find methods in their madness. The birds and cackling apes had rhythms and schedules to their calls, and the buzzing of insects faded to white noise once one got used to their constant drone. The jostling of branches by small animals in the underbrush ceased to make me jump, and the calls of strange frogs and crickets ceased to be strange. By the time dusk came on our second day at the mining camp, I’d begun to actually enjoy the claustrophobic beauty of the drooping leaves and interwoven vines, and I drifted off satisfied that the months ahead wouldn’t be agonizing for me after all.
This isn’t to say I let my guard down. I kept an ear out for lulls in the clamor of the forest, and kept my eyes trained on breaks in the leaves where a threat might dwell. During the second week, as more parts brought upriver for expanding the mine made it ashore, I picked out a yellow viper half-masked amongst the tree limbs overhanging the path toward our camp. The path to the riverbank became second nature to me, as did the perimeter of the clearing on the mountainside where our mine broke the moss-eaten stone. When the first month came to a close, and my companions had gotten a sizable drilling machine built to carve their way deeper into the hills, I was feeling right at home.
That comfortable security was not to last.
We’d enjoyed a comfortable relationship thus far with a small village to the west of our encampment, who sent a few armed porters each week to deliver fruit, bushmeat, and eggs. They were generally in and out, very business oriented- but always punctual. When they missed their delivery at the beginning of the fifth week, we assumed they’d been held up by a storm which had shaken the jungle the night prior. We waited, but two more days passed without word from the village, and our sparse reserves of meat began to run dry. It was only when a group returned from fetching gasoline and rice downriver that we learned the village had radioed local forestry personnel to complain of several missing residents walking the path toward our camp- presumably, the distress call had speculated, victims of a tiger.
We mulled it over, and finally our overseer let me send a message back downriver to transmit to the village. I asked for more information, and upon the boatman’s return, he told me the villagers had possessed only two serviceable rifles, and both had been lost with the missing trio of porters. The villagers had probed the trail with bows and spears, but found that a mudslide had shorn away the precarious mountainside trail during the almost omnipresent seasonal rains- forcing any who wished to walk the route between our encampment and the village to do so in the green tangle of the valley floor below.
Any area of inner Borneo which was not a sheer rockface or a pre-cleared pathway seemed an emerald prison of constricting growth to my eyes. It was no wonder a search party with bows had turned back rather than risk encountering a dangerous animal in the trees, where it might lurk within arm’s reach without betraying a single clue as to its hungering presence. Whether it were a python or a big cat, the prospect of suddenly being face to face with a predator in the leafy prison all ‘round us was no small thing, and it made my stomach lurch to hear they’d requested we walk up the trail to meet them and help in the search for the missing men. I could hardly decline, however- the forestry service on Borneo might as well have been a cartel in those days, and it wasn’t likely aid would come from anywhere else for a long while.
Four days after our missed shipment, I set out up the winding trail along the mountainside that snaked away from camp. With me came two Javanese workmen armed with their own old rifles- holdovers from the revolution, they’d eagerly told me. While they weren’t locals, they were better acclimated to the jungle than I, and knowing they’d put their weapons to good use before put me at ease. We could communicate very little, for my own handful of Indonesian words was matched by their equally sparse English vocabulary. Still, we read expressions and gestures well enough, and spent the first few hours on the steep pathway around the mountains drinking in the scenery.
The landscape was beautiful from the heights, for there were stretches of the switchback trail that climbed along stony slopes separated from the trees below, allowing me to look out across the waves of rolling, green-girdled hills and valleys. Save for occasional outcrops of sturdy ferns and woven scrub on the mountainside, there was very sparse cover for the imagination to project lurking predators into, leaving our eyes free to wander. The humidity lessened out here in the open, and the sky was clear and void of coming rain. The ascent seemed to have left the gnawing insects behind and, for the first time, I could enjoy Borneo without the observant leer of ominous trees glaring down upon me from all sides. It was a while after noon when we came across the massive mudslide- barring our path and dispelling the joyous freedom we’d felt trapsing the cliff face above the tree line.
The wooded heights of the mountain up above us had been swept down the slopes in the storm, and a half-dry morass of muck pincushioned with dead trees and jagged rocks ran the full two or three hundred yards downhill into the waiting canopy of the valley beneath us. It was as if the mud had laid siege to the stony cliff only to be devoured by the waiting jungle, which lay calm and placid below- its bustle of sounds lost on us where we stood far above the canopy.
We resolved to wait a while, to see if the group from the village which had aimed to meet us would show up soon. They’d had a shorter hike out, but we reasoned they might’ve been distracted or delayed and been unable to radio a warning given how disconnected our camp was.
The leavings of the mudslide were perhaps two hundred feet across. While it looked like it would be dangerous to attempt to scale across it without sliding down into the jungle below through the jagged graveyard of roots and upturned trunks, we could see where the path continued beyond the sprawl. We kept watch for them, but with the afternoon slipping onward into evening, the three of us grew more and more certain something was wrong.
My two companions talked among themselves, most of their words lost on me through the language barrier. They seemed agitated, arguing over something- frequently pointing across the treacherous mudbank to the farther pathway or gesturing down into the jungle below. Then, one prompted me to weigh in with broken English, asking me whether I thought the villagers had already descended the mudbank to try and find a way back up on the other side. I found it hard to believe a group of searchers so wary of the predator-prone trees in the valley would risk the slippery mire of refuse without having seen us- after all, the whole point of us meeting them out here was to hearten them for the search.
It was only when we sat exhausted an hour and a half before sunset, still at a loss for explanations and debating the best course of action, that one was decided upon for us. Up from the jungle, muffled behind the intervening carpet of greenery, a long, low wail sounded- hopeless as the cry of a hurt child, run through with gasps and stutters as if the screamer were sobbing. The three of us were at once keyed in on the forest at the foot of the mudbank, its verdant shadows already lengthening in the evening’s dying light. I had almost asked a question about descending the slope aloud when slurred words rang out, punctuating the end of the wailing, broken by the same desperate gasping that had scored the awful scream.
The two Javanese men spoke little of the myriad local languages of Borneo, but they recognized enough to tell me the garbled words had been a plea for help- help from God, as they heard it. At once we were clambering down the treacherous mudbank, half-sliding and half-crawling, catching gnarled roots and torn sticks as handbrakes all the while. We had little idea of how we might escape the valley, for the muddy slope was so steep and so slick that climbing up it again seemed impossible, but the horrible agony in the cry swept away any thoughts of hesitation we might’ve held. By the time we tumbled past the canopy into the depths of the forest with rifles held ready, the trees had fallen silent again.
Indeed, the area we entered was remarkably quiet- a hush that went far deeper than the end of the pained screams which had drawn us down from the mountain path. The birds seemed gone from this part of the jungle, and the clatter of monkeys or snakes in the trees had fallen away. The only remnant of the familiar jungle panoply which had served as a backdrop to our camp was the not-so-fond buzzing of mosquitoes and flies, more resonant now than ever before. It took us some time to realize this, for the canopy made the noise of our clumsy descent to the valley floor into a cacophony. Once one of my companions mentioned it, though, none of us could shake how strange the place felt.
The jungle around us was more swamp than solid ground. The trees here were broad but relatively sparse, and their trunks were surrounded by a murky soup of tepid water only occasionally broken by muddy islands and twisted root pathways between the bloated trunks. This part of the valley seemed a sort of drainage dump for the surrounding mountains, and it carried the sickly, paradoxically sugary scent of rotten plant matter and fungal growth. My fear of tigers fast abated, for they wouldn’t thrive in a place like this. Still, the repulsiveness of our new surroundings seemed to wash away my memory of those awful screams. The place made me wish I’d stayed put on the mountain.
It took the group of us a moment to begin picking our way through the gloom. Partly this was due to our repulsion, but even once we’d gotten underway, the stygian mire made progress slow. My companions called out in Indonesian, their words echoing out over the swamp as we skirted along stagnant pools and tested caked mud with fallen limbs to ensure it was safe to tread on. We kept an eye out for snakes, though the roots and mud in the shadowy water made certainty difficult. We were far more worried about poisonous vipers than the pythons we knew must lurk in the depths- the latter could be hacked to death with machetes before their work was done, whereas a single bite from the former would spell death for any one of us. The water seemed as vacant as the land, though, and as the minutes ticked by, our apprehension grew, with each failed call into the bent and mangled trees still going unanswered.
It took nearly ten minutes for the call to come again. The scream rang out just as we were beginning to consider retreat, reverberating out over the water from deeper in the swamp. It was deafening, amplified by the leafy roof above, and from here it sounded even more ragged. It was punctuated by those same halting, juddering rasps, which we’d taken to be sobs before. From the ground, I wasn’t so sure- they sounded more like air escaping burst tires than shuddering breaths taken amidst the scream. The vocalization culminated in another call for help, and it struck me the words sounded strange- their droning cadence seeming almost mechanical, void of the moisture of living lungs.
We stayed frozen in place until they’d ceased, their last echoes playing out into the distance through the trees and sending a distant cloud of bats skyward through the leaves. They were hard sounds to listen to, made all the more awful by the growing shadows all around us, deepened by the coming of dusk. It was easy to dream up all manner of things which could slink and sneak through those shadows as we summoned up the courage to advance and call out for the injured screamer, but we didn’t have to imagine for long.
Scaling a steep mud bank, we came through a hedge of thickly woven vines to see yet another stagnant pool, this one far deeper and wider than most of the others in the swamp. Its surface was split here and there by long, spindly things, we saw- dead trees or roots which plunged up from the muck to tower ten or twelve feet overhead. One of my companions called out once more, and his words seemed to stir up movement near the center of the pool. Ripples slunk their way across the brown liquid from the bases of the spindly plants nearest the center, drawing our eyes to them- and the things which hung atop them.
It took us only a moment to pick out the corpses through the gloom. The swarming flies and heightened stink helped us determine what it was we saw, but they were mangled beyond belief. Three men had been run through upon the spindly ‘trees,’ spiny tips protruding from their mouths- impaled like the Turks during their marches into Wallachia. Their bodies were bloated, their flesh sloughed off like hot wax, and their sodden limbs hung loose at their sides.
They shuddered again, but we saw it was not the corpses themselves who moved- rather, it was the tree-like spines on which they’d been skewered. The botanical-looking forest of branches all retracted at once back down towards the water, sinking a few feet into the murk. When they did so, the screaming began again, washing over us with a renewed vigor, its volume so intense it set my head throbbing as if I’d been physically stricken.
I’ve had far too many years to ruminate on what was happening. Those protrusions from the mud raked the interior of each corpse’s throat as they withdrew, I think. Though I can’t be certain, I imagine their rough surfaces displaced air and lacerated long-dead vocal chords in such a way that the dead were played like string instruments. They sounded a long, dismal note before surging back up to their full height once more. Not one of us could deny that we’d seen them all move, whether they bore one of the corpses or not. The whole forest of them shivered and twitched, writhed in the air with movements so slight they might have been jostled branches- like the hairy, many-jointed legs of an insect, I’d later decide.
Though it took our minds several moments to process what we’d seen, we scattered when one of the stiff limbs nearest the shore lazily bent toward us. We scrambled back over the lip of the slope the way we’d come, and I swear to this day I saw a great shape stir beneath the water as we went, darkening the opaque stew in which it brooded beneath its prey.
Reaching camp by following the base of the mountains was reasonably easy, even in the dark. It was made all the easier by the fact that tigers and snakes seemed a trifling worry to the three of us after what we’d seen in the swamp. What followed our return was confusing, for us foreigners were let in on little of what was said. The village was radioed after a hasty trip downriver, and it was agreed that the mountain pathway would be cleared- and no more searchers would be sent down into the swamp after their missing clansmen.
I talked little with the men who’d shared my experience with me. They abandoned the expedition the following week, and I was too shaken to think to consult them until after they’d gone. I didn’t last another month, for the overseer seemed to have grown wary of me- perhaps doubting my mind was holding up under the strain of the environment, or perhaps wanting to keep me from talking about what we’d seen in the swamp. A new hired gun was brought up from southern Borneo, and I was dispatched downriver to return home.
I didn’t exactly mind. The farther I was from the jungle, the better. The discharge doomed me to wonder, though- to replay in my mind again and again the events of that balmy evening in Borneo, without a way to ask locals what light they might shed on the subject. I’ve never been able to dig up anything similar to what we saw in anthropological records of folklore or local legendry, either, despite my snooping around.
I’ve reasoned it couldn’t have been something the Bornean people knew about. They wouldn’t have assumed a tiger was responsible if such travesties as what we saw regularly dwelt in the lowland swamp. That leaves me to think it was a massive sort of crustacean or insect from beneath the soil, something dredged up from the mountain’s innards during the mudslide that just happened to come to rest in the swamp, where we had the misfortune to see it.
Was it knowingly baiting us in? If so, why did it seem so languid and slow? If it was ‘full’ and simply uninterested in taking us, why make the screams at all? What was it?
I’m caught between desiring answers, and wishing I could forget the questions entirely. Whatever it was, I only hope its new home proved inhospitable. I pray it withered and died outside of the earth where it brooded in the swamp- a horrible fish removed from the water for which it had evolved.
That does little to calm my nerves about what might yet lurk beneath the mountains on Borneo. I’m old enough now that I don’t have long left to wonder, which is a small mercy. If fate is kind, I’ll never know if there’s more of them.

Indonesia might have seized its independence from its Dutch colonizers in 1949, but that didn’t put an end to external involvement on the islands. The West proved a less menacing ally than Mao’s China in those early years, so President Sukarno was willing to turn a blind eye now and then when a European or American firm wished to develop mining or timber operations on its islands. As long as a native -or a Javanese, more like- seemed to be running things, the fiercely protectionist economic policy of the new government would seem totally intact.
I came to the island of Borneo in late January of 1967 alongside a group of four prospective silver miners from Nevada, who wished to expand upon the rudimentary operations of the locals. We were kept hushed up about our purpose on the island, and it was an added selling point for our employers that not one of us spoke Indonesian- or any of the myriad other local languages, for that matter. Our overseer, a sturdy Jakarta man with the air of governmental importance, didn’t even give us his name. As I understand it, he introduced the handful of us to locals as advisors, and ensured the few villages we passed while boating into the interior didn’t get a chance to mingle with us.
The ride inland was defined by buzzing, gnawing insects and a heat so dense with moisture it seemed to catch in your throat like snot. It was a heat that somehow made the arid scorch of the desert back home seem tame, and left me feeling nauseous for the first few days of the expedition. The murky swamps along the coast gave way to rough water as we followed the river into the mountains, and we seemed to spend as much time portaging the boats around rapids as motoring steadily upstream. The muddy banks were uncomfortably thin, close to both the tepid brown water and the impenetrably thick mire of leaves, vines, and gnarled roots that carpeted the jungle. The others didn’t seem as worried as I was, but I couldn’t help but notice the Javanese porters amongst us hurried us on whenever we carried the boats along the shore, always conscious of the time spent mired in the muck and trapped in the open. The miners chattered about the job ahead to distract from the monotony of the sweat-stained trip into the jungle, but I wasn’t here for the silver, and their talk of drills and transport was a foreign language to me.
I’d been hired on as insurance against the tigers which roamed the island, and I kept my rifle close at hand throughout the trip- leaving it cradled beneath my arm when we moored in shallow riverside pools to sleep in the boats at night. No crocodiles troubled us in the lower swamps, but they tended to steer clear of motorboats, and the higher stretches of the river were guarded by rapids that kept them out. It was the cats in the trees that concerned me. Each flash of some flowered plant or tropical bird in the foliage had me gripping my gun until my eyes could process what had broken the tangle of tenebrous greens that pressed greedily in all ‘round us. These bursts of color never spat forth a tiger, but if anything, the lack of a focus for my nerves only heightened them.
The crocodiles, at least, had sunned on banks or lazily watched on from the shallows, their glinting eyes belaying a hunger they weren’t bold enough to fulfil. If there were similar glinting eyes on the landward side, slinking through the trees, not one of us spotted them. Their lurking owners might simply not be there, for the Borneo tigers were a dwindling breed even then. But, with each droning mile down the lonely, mosquito-haunted river, my own imagination left me certain there were more than jabbering monkeys behind the green shroud throttling the banks.
Our isolation didn’t help, for the bustling stilt-villages that had lined the shore closer to sea had all but disappeared, and our Javanese overseer knew little about the region through which we traveled save its name. Indeed, he and his fellows from Indonesia’s most vital island seemed almost disgusted by the locals, fretting about thieves, savages and brigands in the slums in which we occasionally docked for food. Still, for all their worry, I slept easier within earshot of the indecipherable Bornean villagers chattering and gambling their nights away than I’d ever sleep bobbing on the riverside scanning the jungle for massive slitted pupils.
A week brought us at last to the beginnings of the river, where many tiny mountain streams pooled to feed its long descent to the Java Sea. We continued on foot, tracing meandering paths uphill through the mountains. If I’d thought the press of the jungle upon the riverbank was suffocating, the little pathway through its bowels was another thing altogether- leaving us to putz single-file with me at our rear, my eyes scanning the trail behind me as often as the mountainous climes in front. Once again, my paranoia proved vain, and we reached the mouth of the silver mine just before dusk- my heart leaping at the prospect of sleeping within the sturdy little cabins the locals had cobbled together for us.
The crag in the jungle-choked mountains was small, and my companions immediately set about making plans on just how they’d get components for largescale machinery upriver for assembly near the rudimentary little silver mine. Now that they had their eyes on the place, the Javanese workmen showed them around at the behest of our overseer, leaving me to settle in and enjoy a modest meal of rice and smoked fish. The evening played out well, and after a few hours swapping stories over a low fire between the cabins, I enjoyed the first real sleep I’d had in days. The rigid wood floor beneath me did nothing to dull how rejuvenated I felt by the time the sun rose and the camp began to bustle- refreshed enough to begin feeling more at home within my alien environment, if only just a little.
When the overseer dispatched a couple of the Javanese men back to the river to fetch what was needed for the mining equipment from the towns downstream, I went along with them to the boats with rifle in hand, ensuring no tigers slunk out form the trees. My lonely walk back was tense, but I was beginning to feel at ease with the din of the jungle, and the proximity of the trees weighed less heavily on me. At home in boreal forests or New World deserts, I’d initially been drowned in the sensations of the raucous tropics, but now I began to find methods in their madness. The birds and cackling apes had rhythms and schedules to their calls, and the buzzing of insects faded to white noise once one got used to their constant drone. The jostling of branches by small animals in the underbrush ceased to make me jump, and the calls of strange frogs and crickets ceased to be strange. By the time dusk came on our second day at the mining camp, I’d begun to actually enjoy the claustrophobic beauty of the drooping leaves and interwoven vines, and I drifted off satisfied that the months ahead wouldn’t be agonizing for me after all.
This isn’t to say I let my guard down. I kept an ear out for lulls in the clamor of the forest, and kept my eyes trained on breaks in the leaves where a threat might dwell. During the second week, as more parts brought upriver for expanding the mine made it ashore, I picked out a yellow viper half-masked amongst the tree limbs overhanging the path toward our camp. The path to the riverbank became second nature to me, as did the perimeter of the clearing on the mountainside where our mine broke the moss-eaten stone. When the first month came to a close, and my companions had gotten a sizable drilling machine built to carve their way deeper into the hills, I was feeling right at home.
That comfortable security was not to last.
We’d enjoyed a comfortable relationship thus far with a small village to the west of our encampment, who sent a few armed porters each week to deliver fruit, bushmeat, and eggs. They were generally in and out, very business oriented- but always punctual. When they missed their delivery at the beginning of the fifth week, we assumed they’d been held up by a storm which had shaken the jungle the night prior. We waited, but two more days passed without word from the village, and our sparse reserves of meat began to run dry. It was only when a group returned from fetching gasoline and rice downriver that we learned the village had radioed local forestry personnel to complain of several missing residents walking the path toward our camp- presumably, the distress call had speculated, victims of a tiger.
We mulled it over, and finally our overseer let me send a message back downriver to transmit to the village. I asked for more information, and upon the boatman’s return, he told me the villagers had possessed only two serviceable rifles, and both had been lost with the missing trio of porters. The villagers had probed the trail with bows and spears, but found that a mudslide had shorn away the precarious mountainside trail during the almost omnipresent seasonal rains- forcing any who wished to walk the route between our encampment and the village to do so in the green tangle of the valley floor below.
Any area of inner Borneo which was not a sheer rockface or a pre-cleared pathway seemed an emerald prison of constricting growth to my eyes. It was no wonder a search party with bows had turned back rather than risk encountering a dangerous animal in the trees, where it might lurk within arm’s reach without betraying a single clue as to its hungering presence. Whether it were a python or a big cat, the prospect of suddenly being face to face with a predator in the leafy prison all ‘round us was no small thing, and it made my stomach lurch to hear they’d requested we walk up the trail to meet them and help in the search for the missing men. I could hardly decline, however- the forestry service on Borneo might as well have been a cartel in those days, and it wasn’t likely aid would come from anywhere else for a long while.
Four days after our missed shipment, I set out up the winding trail along the mountainside that snaked away from camp. With me came two Javanese workmen armed with their own old rifles- holdovers from the revolution, they’d eagerly told me. While they weren’t locals, they were better acclimated to the jungle than I, and knowing they’d put their weapons to good use before put me at ease. We could communicate very little, for my own handful of Indonesian words was matched by their equally sparse English vocabulary. Still, we read expressions and gestures well enough, and spent the first few hours on the steep pathway around the mountains drinking in the scenery.
The landscape was beautiful from the heights, for there were stretches of the switchback trail that climbed along stony slopes separated from the trees below, allowing me to look out across the waves of rolling, green-girdled hills and valleys. Save for occasional outcrops of sturdy ferns and woven scrub on the mountainside, there was very sparse cover for the imagination to project lurking predators into, leaving our eyes free to wander. The humidity lessened out here in the open, and the sky was clear and void of coming rain. The ascent seemed to have left the gnawing insects behind and, for the first time, I could enjoy Borneo without the observant leer of ominous trees glaring down upon me from all sides. It was a while after noon when we came across the massive mudslide- barring our path and dispelling the joyous freedom we’d felt trapsing the cliff face above the tree line.
The wooded heights of the mountain up above us had been swept down the slopes in the storm, and a half-dry morass of muck pincushioned with dead trees and jagged rocks ran the full two or three hundred yards downhill into the waiting canopy of the valley beneath us. It was as if the mud had laid siege to the stony cliff only to be devoured by the waiting jungle, which lay calm and placid below- its bustle of sounds lost on us where we stood far above the canopy.
We resolved to wait a while, to see if the group from the village which had aimed to meet us would show up soon. They’d had a shorter hike out, but we reasoned they might’ve been distracted or delayed and been unable to radio a warning given how disconnected our camp was.
The leavings of the mudslide were perhaps two hundred feet across. While it looked like it would be dangerous to attempt to scale across it without sliding down into the jungle below through the jagged graveyard of roots and upturned trunks, we could see where the path continued beyond the sprawl. We kept watch for them, but with the afternoon slipping onward into evening, the three of us grew more and more certain something was wrong.
My two companions talked among themselves, most of their words lost on me through the language barrier. They seemed agitated, arguing over something- frequently pointing across the treacherous mudbank to the farther pathway or gesturing down into the jungle below. Then, one prompted me to weigh in with broken English, asking me whether I thought the villagers had already descended the mudbank to try and find a way back up on the other side. I found it hard to believe a group of searchers so wary of the predator-prone trees in the valley would risk the slippery mire of refuse without having seen us- after all, the whole point of us meeting them out here was to hearten them for the search.
It was only when we sat exhausted an hour and a half before sunset, still at a loss for explanations and debating the best course of action, that one was decided upon for us. Up from the jungle, muffled behind the intervening carpet of greenery, a long, low wail sounded- hopeless as the cry of a hurt child, run through with gasps and stutters as if the screamer were sobbing. The three of us were at once keyed in on the forest at the foot of the mudbank, its verdant shadows already lengthening in the evening’s dying light. I had almost asked a question about descending the slope aloud when slurred words rang out, punctuating the end of the wailing, broken by the same desperate gasping that had scored the awful scream.
The two Javanese men spoke little of the myriad local languages of Borneo, but they recognized enough to tell me the garbled words had been a plea for help- help from God, as they heard it. At once we were clambering down the treacherous mudbank, half-sliding and half-crawling, catching gnarled roots and torn sticks as handbrakes all the while. We had little idea of how we might escape the valley, for the muddy slope was so steep and so slick that climbing up it again seemed impossible, but the horrible agony in the cry swept away any thoughts of hesitation we might’ve held. By the time we tumbled past the canopy into the depths of the forest with rifles held ready, the trees had fallen silent again.
Indeed, the area we entered was remarkably quiet- a hush that went far deeper than the end of the pained screams which had drawn us down from the mountain path. The birds seemed gone from this part of the jungle, and the clatter of monkeys or snakes in the trees had fallen away. The only remnant of the familiar jungle panoply which had served as a backdrop to our camp was the not-so-fond buzzing of mosquitoes and flies, more resonant now than ever before. It took us some time to realize this, for the canopy made the noise of our clumsy descent to the valley floor into a cacophony. Once one of my companions mentioned it, though, none of us could shake how strange the place felt.
The jungle around us was more swamp than solid ground. The trees here were broad but relatively sparse, and their trunks were surrounded by a murky soup of tepid water only occasionally broken by muddy islands and twisted root pathways between the bloated trunks. This part of the valley seemed a sort of drainage dump for the surrounding mountains, and it carried the sickly, paradoxically sugary scent of rotten plant matter and fungal growth. My fear of tigers fast abated, for they wouldn’t thrive in a place like this. Still, the repulsiveness of our new surroundings seemed to wash away my memory of those awful screams. The place made me wish I’d stayed put on the mountain.
It took the group of us a moment to begin picking our way through the gloom. Partly this was due to our repulsion, but even once we’d gotten underway, the stygian mire made progress slow. My companions called out in Indonesian, their words echoing out over the swamp as we skirted along stagnant pools and tested caked mud with fallen limbs to ensure it was safe to tread on. We kept an eye out for snakes, though the roots and mud in the shadowy water made certainty difficult. We were far more worried about poisonous vipers than the pythons we knew must lurk in the depths- the latter could be hacked to death with machetes before their work was done, whereas a single bite from the former would spell death for any one of us. The water seemed as vacant as the land, though, and as the minutes ticked by, our apprehension grew, with each failed call into the bent and mangled trees still going unanswered.
It took nearly ten minutes for the call to come again. The scream rang out just as we were beginning to consider retreat, reverberating out over the water from deeper in the swamp. It was deafening, amplified by the leafy roof above, and from here it sounded even more ragged. It was punctuated by those same halting, juddering rasps, which we’d taken to be sobs before. From the ground, I wasn’t so sure- they sounded more like air escaping burst tires than shuddering breaths taken amidst the scream. The vocalization culminated in another call for help, and it struck me the words sounded strange- their droning cadence seeming almost mechanical, void of the moisture of living lungs.
We stayed frozen in place until they’d ceased, their last echoes playing out into the distance through the trees and sending a distant cloud of bats skyward through the leaves. They were hard sounds to listen to, made all the more awful by the growing shadows all around us, deepened by the coming of dusk. It was easy to dream up all manner of things which could slink and sneak through those shadows as we summoned up the courage to advance and call out for the injured screamer, but we didn’t have to imagine for long.
Scaling a steep mud bank, we came through a hedge of thickly woven vines to see yet another stagnant pool, this one far deeper and wider than most of the others in the swamp. Its surface was split here and there by long, spindly things, we saw- dead trees or roots which plunged up from the muck to tower ten or twelve feet overhead. One of my companions called out once more, and his words seemed to stir up movement near the center of the pool. Ripples slunk their way across the brown liquid from the bases of the spindly plants nearest the center, drawing our eyes to them- and the things which hung atop them.
It took us only a moment to pick out the corpses through the gloom. The swarming flies and heightened stink helped us determine what it was we saw, but they were mangled beyond belief. Three men had been run through upon the spindly ‘trees,’ spiny tips protruding from their mouths- impaled like the Turks during their marches into Wallachia. Their bodies were bloated, their flesh sloughed off like hot wax, and their sodden limbs hung loose at their sides.
They shuddered again, but we saw it was not the corpses themselves who moved- rather, it was the tree-like spines on which they’d been skewered. The botanical-looking forest of branches all retracted at once back down towards the water, sinking a few feet into the murk. When they did so, the screaming began again, washing over us with a renewed vigor, its volume so intense it set my head throbbing as if I’d been physically stricken.
I’ve had far too many years to ruminate on what was happening. Those protrusions from the mud raked the interior of each corpse’s throat as they withdrew, I think. Though I can’t be certain, I imagine their rough surfaces displaced air and lacerated long-dead vocal chords in such a way that the dead were played like string instruments. They sounded a long, dismal note before surging back up to their full height once more. Not one of us could deny that we’d seen them all move, whether they bore one of the corpses or not. The whole forest of them shivered and twitched, writhed in the air with movements so slight they might have been jostled branches- like the hairy, many-jointed legs of an insect, I’d later decide.
Though it took our minds several moments to process what we’d seen, we scattered when one of the stiff limbs nearest the shore lazily bent toward us. We scrambled back over the lip of the slope the way we’d come, and I swear to this day I saw a great shape stir beneath the water as we went, darkening the opaque stew in which it brooded beneath its prey.
Reaching camp by following the base of the mountains was reasonably easy, even in the dark. It was made all the easier by the fact that tigers and snakes seemed a trifling worry to the three of us after what we’d seen in the swamp. What followed our return was confusing, for us foreigners were let in on little of what was said. The village was radioed after a hasty trip downriver, and it was agreed that the mountain pathway would be cleared- and no more searchers would be sent down into the swamp after their missing clansmen.
I talked little with the men who’d shared my experience with me. They abandoned the expedition the following week, and I was too shaken to think to consult them until after they’d gone. I didn’t last another month, for the overseer seemed to have grown wary of me- perhaps doubting my mind was holding up under the strain of the environment, or perhaps wanting to keep me from talking about what we’d seen in the swamp. A new hired gun was brought up from southern Borneo, and I was dispatched downriver to return home.
I didn’t exactly mind. The farther I was from the jungle, the better. The discharge doomed me to wonder, though- to replay in my mind again and again the events of that balmy evening in Borneo, without a way to ask locals what light they might shed on the subject. I’ve never been able to dig up anything similar to what we saw in anthropological records of folklore or local legendry, either, despite my snooping around.
I’ve reasoned it couldn’t have been something the Bornean people knew about. They wouldn’t have assumed a tiger was responsible if such travesties as what we saw regularly dwelt in the lowland swamp. That leaves me to think it was a massive sort of crustacean or insect from beneath the soil, something dredged up from the mountain’s innards during the mudslide that just happened to come to rest in the swamp, where we had the misfortune to see it.
Was it knowingly baiting us in? If so, why did it seem so languid and slow? If it was ‘full’ and simply uninterested in taking us, why make the screams at all? What was it?
I’m caught between desiring answers, and wishing I could forget the questions entirely. Whatever it was, I only hope its new home proved inhospitable. I pray it withered and died outside of the earth where it brooded in the swamp- a horrible fish removed from the water for which it had evolved.
That does little to calm my nerves about what might yet lurk beneath the mountains on Borneo. I’m old enough now that I don’t have long left to wonder, which is a small mercy. If fate is kind, I’ll never know if there’s more of them.

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Even if the Legion were to win the Second Battle of Hoover Dam and conquer the Mojave Wasteland, they'd merely be buying themselves a little extra time and simply stall their inevitable demise. Note that the following analysis assumes that the Legion won the Second Battle of Hoover Dam and that the Courier died in Goodsprings.
To start off this analysis, let's begin with a run-down of the respective weapons, equipment and gear of the respective ranks of the NCR and the Legion going into the Second Battle of Hoover Dam. Beginning with the NCR garrison at Hoover Dam. The NCR Trooper comprises the core of the Republic's colossal armies and is the prime component of the NCR Army. A superb combination of volunteers and conscripts whose degrees of training, motivation, combat experience and access to equipment vary across the ranks, they're some of the most disciplined, most professional soldiers in all of the Wastes.
They're outfitted with modern military-grade ballistic vests that offer excellent protection against small arms fire, shrapnel and melee weapons alongside steel helmets. The NCR Army battalion that's stationed at Hoover Dam in particular is fully comprised of battle-hardened, fully-trained volunteer veteran NCR Troopers that are armed with 5.56 × .45mm NATO Marksman Carbines, 5mm Assault Rifles, 12-gauge Riot Shotguns and .308 Sniper Rifles to supplement their standard-issued 5.56 × .45mm NATO Service Rifles.
The NCR Patrol Ranger is one of the finest, most elite warriors in both the NCR military and the Wastelands, overall. Having survived a brutal training regimen that's so ludicrously difficult that 8-out-of-10 aspiring recruits wash-out, these purely volunteer harbingers of death have little to no equals in terms of skill, fighting prowess and strength.
They're outfitted with a suit of hand-made First-Generation Combat sporting a knife sheath, a hydration pouch and spiked spurs for unarmed combat that is impervious to any and all small arms fire, shrapnel and melee attacks. They're armed with 5.56 × .45mm NATO Marksman Carbines, .308 Sniper Rifles and .44 Magnum Trail Carbines.
The NCR Heavy Trooper is not only the elite heavy shock infantry of the NCR Army, but is also the proverbial sledgehammer through which the Republic may crush its enemies and obliterate all that may threaten its values.
Having earned their distinctive armor through immense sacrifice in blood, sweat and most of their young lives, they're the absolute best-trained, best-equipped, most battle-hardened, most professional, most skilled, most fanatically-devoted warriors in the whole of the NCR Armed Forces (rivaled only by the legendary NCR Veteran Rangers). Warriors that are more than willing to fight to their absolute last breath in defense of the Republic and all that it represents.
They're outfitted with NCR Salvaged Power Armor, suits of T-45d Power Armor that were captured from the Brotherhood of Steel during the Brotherhood War that have had their joint servomotors removed and their back-mounted power cylinders replaced with custom-built energy modules and built-in air-conditioning units so that Power Armor Training wouldn't be needed to wear them.
And while they're no longer legitimate suits of Power Armor in that they're no longer powered, they're still some of the absolute best and most protective suits of armor within the Republic's entire mammoth arsenal. Completely invulnerable to all but the most powerful conventional firearms, highly-advanced energy weapons, specialized ammunition and high-powered explosives, they can truly absorb Hellish amounts of punishment. They're armed with 5.56 × .45mm NATO Light Machine Guns, 5mm Miniguns, Heavy Incinerators, Flamers and Missile Launchers (albeit rarely).
The NCR Veteran Ranger is a living, breathing legend walking amongst the ruins and ashes of the Old World, drawing inspiration and hope from soldiers and citizens of the Republic as well as fear and terror from enemies and all those who dare to oppose the NCR.
Fabled for their unmatched fighting prowess, envied for their flawlessly unequalled marksmanship technique, feared for their unrivaled warfighting skills, awe-inspiring for their unsurpassed pugilist talent and legendary for their innate mastery over hardcore survivalist skills, the NCR Veteran Rangers are the absolute finest, best-trained, most battle-hardened, most professional, most skilled, most-elite and all-around most bad-ass warriors in not only the entire history of the Republic military, but also the whole of the Western Wastes, as well.
Centurions and Praetorian Guards of Caesar's Legion, Knights and Paladins of the Brotherhood of Steel and even the Republic's very own NCR Heavy Troopers have learned to shudder in terror and fear at the mere mention of the mythical phenoms of the Wastelands that are the NCR Veteran Rangers
These fabled guardian angels of the Republic are outfitted with the equally legendary Black Armor, a hyper-advanced suit of Third-Generation Combat Armor consisting of a highly-flexible vest of incredibly-rigid high-impact armored plating with adjustable straps on both the sides and the shoulders and a built-in throat protector that's mounted on the vest.
Combined with the state-of-the-art rounded-shell ballistic helmet sporting built-in lamps and infrared/visible light projectors as well as the complimentary highly-sophisticated armored mask with built-in low-light optics, an incorporated locking mechanism that joins the mask itself with the helmet shell, ear covers with built-in membranes that confer additional protection without inhibiting the wearer's hearing and built-in air filters, the mythical Black Armor is well-deserving of its stellar reputation.
As you can see, the NCR's forces are extremely heavily-armed, well-equipped and armed to the teeth with the absolute latest in top-of-the-line, high-powered firearms and state-of-the-art, highly-sophisticated energy weapons as well as superbly well-protected with an abundance of different varieties of military-grade body armors with varying degrees of effectiveness and even Salvaged Power Armor.
Now it's time for an evaluation of the Legion's weapons and technology. The Recruit Legionary is the primary foot soldier of Caesar's army and comprises the vast majority of the Legion's ranks. Trained and conditioned from before they could walk to become the perfect warriors, Recruit Legionaries are incredibly well-conditioned and in phenomenal physical shape, owing to a savagely intense training regimen that even the NCR Rangers would envy. Despite said conditioning, however, they're still the equivalent of literal cannon fodder with little-to-no actual skill in firearms usage and maintenance.
They're outfitted with a suit of makeshift featherweight armor that consists of sports equipment with bits and pieces of scrap metal atop a cloth tunic that's all lashed together with leather straps. An armor that's so weak that it couldn't even protect its wearer against the likes of a straight razor.
They're armed primarily with a "Machete" (what's really a lawnmower blade that's lashed to a stick) and "Throwing Spears" (what's really even bigger sticks with pieces of sharpened scrap metal fastened and jabbed into the tips), though they can rarely get their hands on firearms (albeit damn near broken ones) such as .357 Magnum Revolvers, .357 Magnum Cowboy Repeaters, 9mm Pistols, 20-gauge Single Shotguns, 20-gauge Caravan Shotguns, 5.56 × .45mm NATO Varmint Rifles and 10mm Pistols.
The Prime Legionary is the centerpiece of the Legion's fighting force and the core component of any Legion formation. Having survived 5 years in Caesar's forces, a remarkable accomplishment in and of itself, Prime Legionaries are no longer mere cannon fodder but are now the main frontline fighting force of the Legion. With the accompanying improvement in weapons and equipment as well as adequate firearms skills to make the promotion that much sweeter.
They're outfitted with the exact same armor as before, only with a slight improvement in protection. It still can't protect the wearer from shit, however. They're armed with the standard-issued "Machetes" and "Throwing Spears" though they also have much better access to more advanced weapons than before.
Melee weapons, such as Machete Gladius', Power Fists and Chainsaws, and firearms (of decent quality), such as 10mm SMGs, 12-gauge Sawn-Off Shotguns .44 Magnum Revolvers and .308 Hunting Rifles are all available to them in significant quantities.
The Veteran Legionary is the oldest, most experienced, most elite warrior within the lesser ranks of the Legion and is also the precise scalpel to the blunt, destructive warhammer of the Recruit and Prime Legionaries.
Having survived a full decade in Caesar's service, a monumental achievement in its own right, Veteran Legionaries are the elite rapid reaction force of the Legion that's tasked with neutralizing particularly tough adversaries that their lesser counterparts can't defeat and typically remain in reserve until otherwise needed for tipping the scales of a pivotal battle or campaign in the Legion's favor.
As they're the oldest Legionaries (a lot of whom have been with Caesar since day 1), they're also the most experienced, most capable Legionaries who are in their absolute prime in regards to martial prowess and physical resilience. They're second only to Centurions in terms of skill and experience, which is reflected in their improved access to superior weapons and equipment. They can also use and maintain firearms with frightening levels of efficiency.
They're outfitted with the same armor as before, though with even better protection. Still couldn't protect you from anything meaningful, though. They're armed with the usual standard kit in addition to melee weapons such as Fire Axes and Power Fists as well as firearms (of mint condition and with virtually unlimited access to) such as .44 Magnum Revolvers, .308 Hunting Rifles, 5.56 × .45mm NATO Marksman Carbines and 12.7mm SMGs.
The Decanus of the Legion is the lesser officer beneath the Centurion and is responsible for tactical small-unit operations and squad-level leadership. While not too different from ordinary Legionaries in terms of skill, equipment and even appearance, they still have slightly better access to weapons hence they deserve a separate segment.
Recruit Decanii can get access to 9mm SMGs and 10mm SMGs unlike Recruit Legionaries, Prime Decanii aren't any different from Prime Legionaries and Veteran Decanii can get access to 12.7mm Pistols unlike Veteran Legionaries (not a real improvement, I know). Everything else is exactly the same.
The Centurion is the absolute apex of the Legion's strength and the top field commanders of Caesar's armies, second in authority only to Legate Lanius and Caesar himself amongst a tiny select few of other superiors.
Having survived 15-20 years of a long, arduous life of fighting in Caesar's name (a completely unimaginable phenomenon, indeed) before finally earning the treasured armor of the Centurion (which they can decorate with the trophies of their fallen enemies at their leisure), Centurions are the absolute most elite, most skilled, most battle-hardened and ultimately the most dangerous warriors in the entirety of the Legion.
To even BEGIN to qualify for Centurion status, one must have fought in and survived numerous Legion campaigns as well as slain countless opponents in battle alongside the time requirement. All to ensure that only the finest of Caesar's warriors ever reach that level of authority in his Legion.
As the oldest, most experienced warriors in Caesar's army, the Centurions comprise the old guard of Caesar's army, most of them having served their lord since the very beginning. Their status all but ensures that they're reserved for only the absolute deadliest, most lethal of assignments that even Veteran Legionaries can't handle. They're ultimately only deployed if absolutely necessary.
In order to ensure that his Centurions can both accomplish their missions without even the slightest chance of failure and protect themselves without difficulty, Caesar has granted them unlimited access to the absolute finest weapons in his Legion's arsenal and has seen to it that they have acquired the absolute sharpest firearms skills that money can buy as a corresponding reward for their reaching Centurion status.
They're outfitted with Centurion armor which, while legendary amongst the Legion, really isn't that special. It's actually just Veteran Legionary armor with some cool decorations on it at the end of day.
Pieces of T-45d Power Armor on the right arm, the sleeve from a suit of NCR Ranger Patrol Armor and the pauldrons from an Armored Vault Suit on the left arm, the boots and shin guards from a suit of First-Generation Combat Armor on the lower legs, the crotch/thigh guards from a suit of NCR Ranger Patrol Armor on the upper legs, gloves from a suit of Leather Armor on the hands and a Super Mutant Brute chestplate on the torso, to be exact.
Realistically speaking, Centurion armor would be just about useless against virtually any weapon in the NCR's arsenal. Even a single 5.56 × .45mm NATO round fired from a basic Service Rifle would most certainly do the job, flawlessly.
They're armed with basic melee weapons such as Machete Gladius' and Chainsaws as well as high-tech melee weapons such as Thermic Lances (which are actually just repurposed metalworking tools) and Super Sledges in addition to powerful firearms such as .308 Hunting Rifles, 12-gauge Hunting Shotguns, 5.56 x .45mm NATO Marksman Carbines and even .50 BMG Anti-Materiel Rifles (albeit rarely).
Now we must now examine what will inevitably be a huge problem for the Legion even if they were to win the Second Battle of Hoover Dam. The Legion, even though it does in fact have access to some top-of-the-line weapons, only has them in an extremely limited capacity and strictly reserves them for only the highest-ranking, most elite Legion forces and field commanders.
The overwhelming bulk of the Legion's troops have little-to-no real firearms and what pitifully little that they can get their hands on are in extremely piss-poor condition. Not that it would matter, considering the fact that they don't have the proper training that's necessary to actually use them, much less maintain them.
The vast majority of Caesar's troops rely almost entirely on primitive makeshift melee weapons and their own martial prowess to fight their battles, which inevitably means that the Legion has to avoid direct engagement with NCR forces, instead relying on subterfuge and guerilla warfare to combat the Republic.
And it gets even worse for the Legion when one considers that the higher that its troops advance up the totem pole, the fewer Legionaries that it finds at the higher levels. A direct consequence of the Legion's overprioritization of quality and individual skill in combat is that it inevitably results in an extremely small cadre of elite warriors and field commanders surrounded by a sea of lesser soldiers and officers.
Combined with the fact that the Legion is only 34 years-old by the events of F:NV (meaning that even if one were to ignore things like inevitable attrition all throughout the Legion's war-filled history of expansion and conquest, they still wouldn't have that many Veteran Legionaries/Decanii and Centurions) as well as the fact that attrition over the years must be taken into account (the First Battle of Hoover Dam and the Legion's invasion of Colorado alone absolutely devastated their elite ranks), it's only obvious that the Legion's elite forces are relatively puny.
Furthermore, we know for a fact that there's enough Veteran Legionaries/Decanii for them to form a few of their own exclusive Centuria (a Century is 80-men-strong, I might add), with the Red Okie Centuria being a prime example of this. This definitely suggests that the Legion has at least a couple hundred Veteran Legionaries/Decanii at its disposal. As for Centurions, it's a little known fact that they're so incredibly rare in the Legion that they're actually explicitly ordered to not enter combat until absolutely necessary (i.e self-defense or if they're ordered into battle by a superior).
This, along with the fact that they're never really seen in any meaningful numbers in-game until the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, strongly suggests that there might only be at most several dozen Centurions in the whole of the Legion (there definitely wouldn't be over 100 of them). Either way, however, the Legion's elite forces are so pathetically tiny that they couldn't possibly justify the Legion having any meaningful amount of high-end weaponry.
The NCR, on other hand, doesn't have these problems as 1. the NCR prioritizes protection and firepower above all else for their forces and 2. even their most basic troops have exclusive access to essentially unlimited supplies of all manner of firearms and explosives as well as highly superb protection in the form of military-grade body armor.
Meaning that the NCR not only has a hopelessly insurmountable edge in firepower, technology and protection over the Legion, but that soldiers of the NCR also have a far higher life expectancy than their Legion counterparts, as well. All but ensuring that the NCR has a vastly higher volume of surviving battle-hardened combat veterans relative to the Legion that enables for the Republic to easily distribute extremely invaluable, ultimately irreplaceable combat experience and lessons learned in battle across the entirety of their military to a far greater extent than the Legion.
Scores of battle-hardened NCR Troopers that distinguish themselves on the battlefield go on to enlist with the NCR Rangers upon receiving an invitation to do so (fun fact: the vast majority of NCR Ranger recruits and even NCR Rangers themselves are/were NCR Troopers who earned their new status while serving in the NCR Army), earn the coveted Salvaged Power Armor and become NCR Heavy Troopers or earn promotions to positions of authority in the NCR Army (prime examples being Colonel Cassandra Moore and Colonel James Hsu). All of the above information will have colossal long-term consequences for the Legion, at the end of the day.
With that out of the way, let's move on to the main argument itself. The most positive estimates of the Legion's total numbers and military strength would be at best 5,000-8,000 troops. Then we must take into account the fact that the Legion is going to suffer massive losses (easily numbering into the thousands) taking Hoover Dam from the NCR as the NCR garrison here is extremely well-defended, well-supplied and heavily-fortified by both an entire battalion of elite, battle-hardened NCR Troopers and God only knows how many NCR Patrol Rangers, NCR Heavy Troopers and NCR Veteran Rangers.
Combined with the fact that General Oliver's Compound is extremely well-defended with force fields, a turret system, NCR Veteran Rangers, NCR Heavy Troopers, elite NCR Troopers and an absolute labyrinth that's filled to the brim with all manner of booby traps ranging from rigged shotguns, bear traps and mines of all types to grenade bouquets and overhanging objects (and given that you see a pile of fresh Legionary and Centurion corpses at your feet whenever you enter the Compound during the "Veni, Vidi, Vici" quest it's more than safe to assume that Legion casualties will be extremely massive just securing this area alone), this only serves to bolster my claim that thousands of the Legion's troops will perish at Hoover Dam even if they were to take it.
With only a mere fraction of their original number (that 5,000-8,000 will have been massively depleted after the Second Battle of Hoover Dam), now the Legion has to set out and secure the rest of the Mojave Wasteland, which will prove to be completely impossible over time. The Legion will find next to no tribes to assimilate as they exterminate the Powder Gangers, Fiends, Vipers, Jackals and the Kings in all of their endings.
And while the Legion still has the Great Khans and the Boomers, they won't help much. The Great Khans are down to little more than a pitiful rag-tag band of holdouts after both their ass-whipping at the hands of Mr. House and their decimation at Bitter Springs by the NCR. A fact that only gets worse when we subtract the women and female children (breeding stock), the elderly, the sick and the disabled (killed off immediately) as well as mention the fact that the Frumentarius Karl does say in his journal that the Legion would have to decimate most of the tribe, anyways. Meaning that the Legion will at most get a couple paltry handful of warriors from them.
As for the Boomers (assuming that the "Volare!" quest isn't completed) will prove to be more than a huge cost than a real benefit to the Legion. The Boomers' artillery alone would kill hundreds, if not thousands, of Legionaries with the Boomers themselves, armed to the teeth with Missile Launchers, Fat Mans, Grenade Machine Guns, Grenade Launchers, Grenade Rifles, 5.56 x 45mm. Marksman Carbines and 5mm Assault Carbines in addition to Mr. Gutsy combat robots and Sentry Bots, killing hundreds and even thousands more before the Legion finally conquer them.
Also consider that the Boomers, who worship their artillery and weapons with a near religious reverence, will by no means let their weapons fall into the hands of savages. Thus we could easily see them sabotaging their artillery (how hard would it be to load an artillery shell and lob a frag grenade down the barrel, after all?; and given that the Boomers only have 3-4 artillery pieces it wouldn't take long to do) and munitions stockpiles (just a few bricks of C4 could easily destroy all of the Boomers' weapons and ammunition supplies) to keep them out of Legion hands, which only adds insult to injury.
Even worse for the Legion is that when we subtract those Boomers that died in battle (most likely all of the adult males), the women and female children, the elderly, sick and disabled the Legion will have only a handful of male children to their name (remember that the Boomers are a really puny tribe that depend entirely on their firepower to survive) which means that they will have achieved nothing despite their massive losses incurred from conquering Nellis Air Force Base.
Then we also consider the fact that the Legion doesn't enslave civilized communities or Independent Towns unless under extraordinary circumstances (as evidenced by Siri over at the Fort who hailed from an Independent Town in New Mexico and was a medical student there prior to its destruction by the Legion).
Of course, it wouldn't matter as even if they did, the entire New Vegas area is completely evacuated by the NCR in the event of a Legion victory at Hoover Dam as evidenced by Arcade Gannon's Legion ending where he's convinced to remain in Freeside (all of Freeside, North Vegas, Westside, East Vegas and the Strip, which is really just a resort for NCR tourists rather than an actual community, are evacuated with those few that don't make it out, Arcade included, being killed by the Legion).
And when we consider that Nelson was butchered, Camp Searchlight irradiated and Nipton destroyed by the Legion with Goodsprings being left alone and Primm just falling under Legion authority (no point in enslaving the town anyways considering how it's just one big retirement home alongside Goodsprings which is also evacuated by all save a few old, stubborn folks) then it's blatantly clear that the Legion will have very few civilized people left to enslave.
With an even smaller fraction of survivors thanks to their conquest of Nellis AFB (in addition to hundreds more casualties against the Mojave Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel, the Kings and what's left of House's Securitron police force and the Chairmen) the Legion will soon realize its folly and discover that both holding the Mojave Wasteland and continuing their advance West is literally impossible.
The Legion's logistical situation and acquisition of supplies will soon prove to be an insurmountable nightmare within mere weeks of their occupation of the Mojave. The loss of Nipton, Camp Searchlight and Nelson will serve to severely hamstring the Legion's logistics with the eventual deaths of New Vegas, Primm and Goodsprings only complicating the Legion's supply lines even further.
As 99% of the Strip's revenue comes from NCR tourists and soldiers on leave and given how the Legion will most likely tear down the casinos and ban whores, booze, chems and gambling under Caesar's law, the Strip will eventually shrivel up and die due to loss of revenue. North Vegas, East Vegas, Westside, Freeside, Primm and Goodsprings, which are entirely dependent on Republic trade and commerce for survival, will eventually suffer the same fate as NCR trade and business abandon the region out of both fear and hatred for the Legion.
Especially after the Legion's successful assassination of President Kimball which will see him martyred and ensure that the NCR will cut off all ties to the fallen Mojave Wasteland. With all of the Mojave's communities and towns dying off, the Legion's supply lines will crumble and face imminent collapse within only a few months time (Hoover Dam isn't a viable supply route as while it does allow the Legion to cross the Colorado River in force it's just too far to provide adequate, long-term support) which will only serve to doom the Legion's occupation of the Mojave Wasteland.
We must also take into account that the Legion will need every last man, Denarius and resource at its disposal if it so much as hopes to hold the region and continue the advance West. Which will force Caesar to relinquish the Legion's entire empire East of the Colorado in order to do so. In Legate Lanius’ own words, the Legion's expansion campaigns in the East have been faltering badly as Caesar's obsession with Hoover Dam, New Vegas and the West has seen the Legion's full strength syphoned off towards Hoover Dam as part of Caesar's plan to overrun Hoover Dam, conquer New Vegas and eventually invade the West.
Imagine the Hell that the Legion will have trying to secure the Mojave Wasteland, which will prove to be so bad that the Legion heartlands will have to be left defenseless, lawless and chaotic just to even begin to make such an ambitious feat even remotely feasible. Some would probably argue that Caesar would surely never abandon the East just for the tiniest, southernmost tip of Nevada and just one little city but I'd advise you to reconsider.
Caesar explicitly states that while the Legion does have their own cities back East, NONE OF THEM are ANYTHING like New Vegas. Why is that such a big deal, one might ask? It's simple, really. While the Mojave Wasteland was relatively untouched by the nuclear holocaust that was the Great War, thanks to the quick and decisive actions of Robert Edwin House, New Vegas is at best a total dump and at worst an absolute shithole.
Filled to the brim with disease, essentially overrun with Raiders, bandits and common criminals of all stripes, absolutely crushed beneath the iron heel of a colossal drug-addiction crisis, bursting at the seams with abject misery and poverty and rampant with starvation, New Vegas is without a doubt little more than a massive dumpster fire.
Things are so bad in that cursed place that you actually have children chasing rats in the streets just to survive, locals constantly complaining about hunger pains and withdrawals and scum ranging from the Fiends to random little hooligan punks constantly ransacking the place.
Westside, the South Vegas ruins, East Vegas, North Vegas and Freeside are all Hellish nightmares that are almost completely hopeless causes, at the end of the day. Even if one takes into account the diamond in the rock, the New Vegas Strip, you still wouldn't find many reasons to be impressed.
What you have is a tiny wealthy resort community that still looks like a dump (though it's still a major improvement from the rest of New Vegas), has highly dilapidated infrastructure (the Tops Casino still has a giant hole on the side of the building) and is surrounded by a wall that's held together with spit, grit and a whole lotta' duct tape.
And while the Strip is safe, orderly and prosperous by the standards of the Mojave Wasteland (a very shit standard, I might add), it's ultimately a very terrible place by the standards of the rest of the post-apocalyptic world (i.e. NCR territory and lands under Legion control). If Legion cities can't even match the standards of that shithole, what does that say about Caesar's willingness to hold them? Especially in light of what he'd be gaining in return?
Furthermore, Caesar often tends to view himself as a mere barbaric king of the Gauls, with his Legion being nothing but one big nomadic tribe of savages without a true home or purpose in his eyes, which is extremely depressing. Caesar sees New Vegas as a true city, a true capital, a true home for both himself and his Legion, a true Rome that he can rule over and could preside over a true empire in. And the West as that very true empire that he so desperately relishes.
Do you honestly believe that Caesar wouldn't trade his current empire (which he clearly holds in very low esteem and almost regrets ever conquering it) for his new Rome and a stepping stone towards eventually conquering his new Roman Empire (the stepping stone being the Mojave Wasteland)? He'd trade the whole of the East for New Vegas and the Mojave Wasteland in a heartbeat and in doing so will seal the Legion's fate and imminent doom.
With the Legion having completely relinquished the East (and therefore cutting themselves off from their resource base, source of revenue/income and escape route, in the process) their supply lines and logistical network in chaos and having absolutely no source of replenishment and reinforcements for their ranks, the Legion will slowly but surely disintegrate, trapped in a permanent holding pattern in the Mojave that'll bleed them dry and drain them of all their resources.
The NCR, meanwhile, will have simply dug in at the Mojave Outpost and fortified their defenses there. They'd have most certainly brought in the 3 VB-02 Vertibirds (which are armed with Gatling Lasers, Missile Launcher racks and Mini Nuke Launchers and outfitted with heavy armor) that were conducting combat air patrols of the NCR military base just a few miles away from the Mojave Outpost.
Far from stopping there, however, Colonel Royez (who's outfitted with the Scorched Sierra Power Armor which is a fully-operational suit of heavily-modified T-45d Power Armor upgraded with onboard medical systems capable of healing any injury and an improved back-mounted power pack from a suit of T-51b Power Armor that will be capable of resisting nearly all of the Legion's weapons and armed with a Plasma Caster chock full of overcharged Microfusion Cells so incredibly strong that it can kill a lvl. 50 Courier in Power Armor with just 2-3 hits!) and his men (NCR Heavy Troopers armed to the teeth with Gatling Lasers, Plasma Casters and Tesla Cannons as well as NCR Troopers armed with Tri-Beam Laser Rifles, Multiplas Rifles, Laser Rifles and Plasma Rifles) will also redeployed there from the same military camp, as well.
Republic artillery pieces can also be deployed there to help bolster the outpost's defenses, as well. A massive network of bunkers, pillboxes and trenches all along the hill below the outpost as well as machine gun nests, sniper nests, minefields and razorwire can also be established to further enhance the impregnable defensive perimeter of the new frontline. Once all of this is done, the NCR will then proceed to flood the outpost with tens of thousands of NCR Troopers, NCR Heavy Troopers, NCR Veteran Rangers
And when coupled with the fact that the Mojave Outpost is atop a high hill, is flanked by mountain ranges on both sides (which will completely prevent the Legion from attacking its flanks and rear), is right on the border with fully-controlled Republic territory (which will make it impossibly easy to keep well-supplied and will also ensure that Republic reinforcements are plentiful and easily available) and the fact that one could see everything up to Primm and Nipton from the Mojave Outpost (that particular area is also wide-open, completely exposed and lacks any real cover which means that any Legion force of any meaningful size would be spotted from miles away day or night which in turn will prevent Legion surprise attacks), the Mojave Outpost will truly become a 100% impregnable fortress.
To make things even worse for the Legion, there's absolutely no bypassing the Mojave Outpost either as the only areas that can allow such a short cut around the Long 15 are completely and literally impassable. The Big Empty is often described as a wall to any living thing approaching it, the Divide is little more than a death trap and is completely avoided by the Legion for obvious reasons and Death Valley is so inhospitable that even the NCR, with its fleet of military cargo trucks and Vertibirds, flat out avoids that area out of habit.
Any army stupid enough to try and cross through these areas will not return alive under any circumstances. Which in turn ensures that only through the Long 15 can the Legion hope to invade the West and given that the Mojave Outpost is purely impenetrable and that the Mojave Wasteland is completely entrapped with mountains and the Colorado River, the Legion will be completely trapped in the Mojave Wasteland and will never be freed from their holding pattern there.
The NCR simply bides its time and let's the Legion wear itself out and tear itself apart trying to hold the Mojave Wasteland, occasionally fending off Legion assaults on the Mojave Outpost whilst inflicting heavy losses on the Legion, launching several limited-scale offensives here and there so as to deplete the Legion's ranks even further and deploying NCR Veteran Rangers into the Mojave Wasteland so as to ambush Legion supply caravans and patrols to worsen the Legion's logistical nightmare.
After almost a year, the Legion will finally be vulnerable, it's forces stretched absolutely thin down to their absolute breaking point, their supply lines and logistics completely exhausted and expended alongside their supplies as a whole, the Legion's ranks reduced to little more than a tiny skeleton crew, the Legion completely scattered across the entire Mojave Wasteland unable to guard it or defend it any longer and the Colorado River at its back, with absolutely no way of escaping their inevitable demise.
At this moment, the NCR finally attacks with a full-scale assault across the entirety of the Mojave, completely and utterly destroying the Legion in its entirety and killing/capturing Caesar himself as Republic forces swarm across New Vegas and wipe out his Legion all around him within mere hours, days if the Legion is lucky. And so the NCR-Legion War finally draws to a close, with the back of the Legion broken forever and ceasing to exist.
Either way the Legion is fucked with a Legion defeat at the Second Battle of Hoover Dam being a mercy killing at best for the Legion.
(Sources are down below in the comments section).

This is an example of fundamental DD that takes place at ‘smart’ money institutions based on my professional experience in IBD, Private Equity & most recently at a HF (mods can message me for proof). Not thoroughly fleshed out b/c you autists have limited attention spans, but a summary. Figured I’d take the time to give back to this community that has provided many lolz, & should be a good measuring stick when evaluating other forms of fundamental DD posted here.
NFA.
DKNG - DraftKings, Inc.: vertically integrated US mobile betting operator that also provides retail sports betting & back-end betting solutions through SBTech. Think of SBTech as the tech ‘market-maker’ for traditional sports betting, they do all the funny math to set the betting odds & seem to be working on back-end solutions for DKNG Casino
The Big Picture

• Total annual US Gambling Revenue: ~$90Bn [1]
  • Casinos: ~$75Bn
  • Illegal Sports Betting: ~$13Bn
  • Horse Racing: ~$0.8Bn
  • Daily Fantasy Sports: ~$0.4Bn

Only ~2% of the ~$90Bn gambling revenues were placed online which is the lowest in the world where betting online is legal. For example, in other countries online gaming activity represents ~6% - ~52% of total gambling revenues, with ~12% being the average.
Wall Street expects online gaming revenue to be $20Bn-$40Bn within the next 10 years. For this to be achieved, the online gambling market will have to achieve a ~30% penetration rate on total country gaming revenues. There is an expectation that this is could be easily achievable given penetration trends overseas - see page 11 of this: https://s1.rationalcdn.com/vendors/stars-group/documents/presentations/TSG-Investor-Day_March-27-2019.pdf
Other catalysts include increasing adaptation of sports betting in more states. States that have both legal sports betting + online sports betting permitted: NV, NJ, WV, PA, IA. Sports betting permitted but no online: DE, MS, RI, MO, AR. Prior to COVID there was ongoing discussions across many States, especially ones with growing deficits to explore how permitting sports betting could create a fresh avenue of tax dollars. Post COVID there is an expectation that these discussions will be given extra focus as many States will be hungry for incremental tax dollars. Important to note that currently 43/50 States allow DFS, but given the small share DFS has on total Gaming Revenues, it increasingly looks like DKNG is banking on traditional sports betting for a variety of reasons, more later. There are entire articles on Google arguing this catalyst so I’ll end this here.
Digging Deeper
DKNG’s main offerings are Daily Fantasy Sports (“DFS”) products & traditional sports book products to its clients. Long story short, a metric to look for in my opinion (that is curiously not reported by management or remarked on) is the hold % in traditional gaming sector parlance or the ‘rake’ & compare it to the ‘traditional’ gaming products like sports betting & Blackjack.
For DFS: DKNG takes ~15% of the prize pool (note: used to be ~6-11% [2]). Curiously, their main competitor FanDuel also has moved up to a ~15% rake recently. Google searches show the smaller competitors have a rake in the ~13% range.
This ‘rake’ has grown ~2x in 6 years, but it has been a delicate move on behalf of management. Why? B/c the more ‘sophisticated’ DFS players (equal to autistic day traders on Robinhood) have noted this increase & based on some Googling, some have moved down market to the smaller players. As a side note, many live casino games have their rules altered to grow the Hold %. For example, Blackjack games with 6:5 payouts on 21 have materially higher Hold % than the traditional BJ rules that pay out 3:2. Given the findings so far, DKNG may not have much room to materially increase its hold % in DFS games in the near-term from current of 15%. More on this later.
Now why the fuck is this important? This is important b/c the typical sports book (ex-Parlays) have a ~5% hold %/rake. Parlays have up to a ~30% hold (which is why it’s commonly known as the sucker’s bet), & just for reference, the average Blackjack table clocks in 14.5%. What this means: Every dollar put into these games, the “House” or DKNG, will take 15% of your money for DFS games, for sports bets they will be pocketing ~5%, up to ~30% if you’re into parlays, & we’ll just use the standard 14.5% BJ hold for the DraftKings Casino platform.
So why the acquisition of SBTech & a foray into the traditional sports gambling market? As you can see previously, the illegal sports betting market is >30x the size of the current daily fantasy sports market. So it’s clear that the DFS providers including DKNG are foraying into the space to capture this user base & hopefully convert them into games that have a higher hold %, such as DFS/DKNG Casino.
As of May 2020, DKNG has achieved a 30% penetration rate on its ~4mm ‘monetized’ DFS clientele to its Online Sports Book (OSB), from the OSB+DFS clientele, DKNG has converted 50% into its DraftKings Casino platform.
Including non-monetized users, user base totals at 12mm. Based on these unit economics: every 1mm of additional users -> 333k monetized users for DFS -> 100k users for OSB -> 50k users for DraftKings Casino.
Some Numbers – Italicized/Bolded the important

• In total, DKNG has DFS paying clientele of ~4mm, the metric management focuses on is “Monthly Unique Payers (MUP)” which spans across DFS & online sports betting***. As of Q1’20 they reported 720,000*** MUPs, representing +16% YoY growth [3]
  • Average revenue per monthly user (ARPU) of ~$41, +11% YoY
    • Based on previous observation of Hold %, looks like ARPU growth will be limited
  • Since ’17, MUP has grown at a ~11% CAGR & ARPU has grown at a ~19% CAGR
  • As a side note: the ~4mm monetized user base was acquired at ~$122/user over 3 years. Total users cost them $41/user over the last 3 years [3].
• They are currently EBITDA negative & Wall St expects them to be positive by 2023
  • I took a dive into the math driving this, here is a summary:
    • Based on their current cost structure they will need to have ~1.7mm MUPs at an ARPU of ~$46 to break-even. This implies total monetized users of ~10mm from ~4mm currently

Numbers that represent Risks to Long Thesis

• DKNG’s user base of ~12mm is on the low end of the sector vs. its ‘brick & mortar’ competitor's user bases (online betting platforms with physical casino presence)
  • CZR with 55mm, MGM with 33mm, ERI with 10mm (in pending merger with CZR, could have a lot of overlap), FanDuel with 8.5mm
  • Is there a concern for increased marketing costs to increase user base? Let’s look at a case study of NJ, the first state to open both mobile & retail sports betting:
    • FanDuel + DraftKings have held 80%+ of the OSB market share since 12/2018 which is estimated to be driven by the conversion opportunity from DFS that is unique to both companies [4]
    • On the flipside, a case study to examine going forward is how DKNG can get OSB customers in a State that does not allow DFS. Nevada. Home to Las fucking Vegas. Prior to NV pushing FanDuel/DKNG out (highly likely due to casino lobbying), NV was a top-15 State in terms of revenue for them. NV is home to the fattest sports book in the US, & recently the gaming commission started to parse the data on sportsbook wagers done online vs. in-person, & it came out to roughly 50/50. It will be interesting to see how they try to capture market share in a state with no DFS
• Long-term EBITDA margin target of 35% requires huge growth in MUPs
  • Based on their estimated '22 cost structure: Holding ARPU of ~$46, MUPs will have to be ~5.2mm, a 7x increase from current to achieve a EBITDA margin of 35%
    • A focus on future earnings will be management's ability to shift to a more fixed-cost structure which would effectively lower the MUP requirement for profitability

Things to look for when going Long
- Progress of additional States legalizing sports betting – specifically, States with DFS already legalized
- Cost structure evolving to a more fixed mix vs. the mostly variable mix currently as this will be the forward figure that determines profitability
- Increasing User Base (Curr.: 12mm) -> Monetized Base (Curr.: 4mm) -> MUP (1Q’20: 0.7mm)

• Management seems to be focused more on the first step, but one thing to note is that the 33% monetization rate is very high when compared to something like League of Legends which isn’t entirely comparable but in 2013 had a ~4% monetization rate [5]. This, combined with the below implies that this conversion rate may be the ceiling for now
• As a side note, ~6 years ago FanDuel had ~300k monetized on an ~800k user base for a monetization rate of ~37% [6]

Share Price Target
Given the cost structure of the company, I’m going to base the price targets around Enterprise Value / Revenues (driven by MUPs & ARPUs).

• MUP sensitivity of 5mm - 6mm
• ARPU sensitivity from $41 - $47 for an average of $44, just a $3 increase from current of $41.
• Share Price targets based on 2.0x - 4.5x EV / Sales.
  • Note: Flutter Entertainment (FanDuel ParentCo) trades at ~3.6x EV/Sales

Bear Case MUP: 5mm -> $20.32 - $45.73
Base Case MUP: 5.5mm -> $22.27 - $50.10
Bull Case MUP: 6mm -> $24.21 - $54.47
These MUPs imply a monetized customer base of 28mm – 33mm. At the high-end, this implies that DKNG monetized customer base will equal MGM’s current total user base.
At yesterday’s close of $43.70, DKNG is trading at 3.5x – 4.5x forward Revenues on an expected >5,000 MUPs.
Share Price drivers / considerations:
- Continued multiple expansion

• Consideration: A 1x premium to FanDuel's 3.6x, implies a ~15% upside to current. They're bigger than FanDuel, do they deserve the premium?

- MUP Growth exceeding beyond targets

• Consideration: Stock currently implies that they should on average be growing at 40% QoQ – during 2018 they had on average +30% growth QoQ in MUPs, marking their best year

Management Team
Jason Robins, 39 – Co-Founder & CEO. Duke BA, started DraftKings from day 1 in 2011. The 2 other buddies he started the Company with are still at DKNG. Dude navigated the Company through the scandal that rocked them in ’15 & ’16, and was the trailblazer in getting DFS labeled as a non-gambling product that enabled it to open in States without a gaming designation. This shit is the stuff that gets people in history books. His accomplishments make him seem like a very competent guy. Has 3 kids now, and only ~3% economic ownership in DKNG but has 90% of the voting power through his Class B share ownership. Also he actively participates in venture investments, sitting on 10 boards.
His comp plan performance bonus target is pretty murky, but main drivers are EPS growth, revenue growth, then a bunch of margin & return metrics, along with share price returns. Overall, very open-ended & it’s safe to say as long as shit doesn’t hit the fan, he will be eligible for his max payouts year over year. I’m assuming the lawyers tried to encompass everything possible for maximum flexibility to justify him earning his max comp as long as DKNG is still around.
Since he’s got voting control of 90%, I’ll end the specific-person overview here, but want to note that they have a very bloated C-suite. 12 folks at DKNG, 8 folks at SBTech, all with C-suite designations. Whereas their main competitor FanDuel, has 3 guys with a C-suite designations & 1 EVP, but is a sub under a larger ParentCo that has its own management team of ~5 guys.
Looking through glassdoor you can see the biggest complaint among employees giving bad reviews is based on management, all of the specific issues they point out IMO are a result of a top-heavy company. Seems like a good starting point to optimize their cost structure, but given Robins' history of sticking this entire thing through with his co-founders since '11 stuff like this doesn't seem to be a part of his playbook. They’re a public company now though, so it’s going to be interesting to see going forward.
TL;DR:
If I were to initiate a position in DKNG, the stock would have to fall to the $35-$37 range for me to be a buyer of the stock, and based on this rough intro analysis I'll be considering Put options if it breaches $50. I would not touch Calls at this level.
​
[1] Wall Street Research - 6/27/19
[2] https://rotogrinders.com/articles/bang-for-your-buck-a-look-at-dfs-industry-rake-153302
[3] https://draftkings.gcs-web.com/static-files/8f3a5c5a-7228-45bf-aab2-63604111c48d
[4] Wall Street Research - 5/19/20
[5]https://www.gamasutra.com/view/news/223071/Dont_monetize_like_League_of_Legends_consultant_says.php
[6] https://rotogrinders.com/threads/how-many-people-actually-play-dfs-regularly-252044

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The Final Battlefield, June 5th 06:15 Hours, Thorson’s Fleet
Andrew Thorson stood ready on the bridge of the Fusou at first light. Across the ocean to the north lay empty water, but the sky was dotted with the silhouettes of fighters and bombers. “Well this is it then. If they don’t dislodge us from this position they’ll never be able to invade the atoll,” he murmured. Thorson took Fusou’s hand briefly before ordering his fleet to battlestations, the two surviving forces of the battle of Midway clashing at long last. “All ships, full steam ahead. All power to anti-aircraft defense and shields. Protect each other and keep Ark Royal operational!”
Just behind the Fusou, dead center in the fleet and surrounded by escorts, Ark Royal prepared her P-40 Warhawk fighters. After many weeks of practice she sent them skyward with a wave of her hand, foregoing bombs in favor of maneuverability and speed. She rested her rifle on her shoulder, her captain’s uniform billowing in the winds of early morning as the sun began to warm the waves and air around them. “All wings are airborne, Knight Commander. Ascending to altitude now.”
“Dakota, get behind me, now,” Colorado ordered, shifting her throttle to full. The three Colorado class sisters and South Dakota made up a diamond shaped tip of the spear, the front of Thorson’s formation.
“I am the shield of this fleet, Colorado,” South Dakota replied quietly. Thorson and Fusou looked at one another, listening silently as the enemy aircraft, numbering at least two hundred, drew closer.
“And when we come under shell fire I will be happy to let you sacrifice yourself for the greater good. But for now get the hell out of my way. We have better AA armaments and you know it,” Colorado brokered no argument. “Little one, escort her to my stern. There will still be plenty to do.”
“That sounds alright. Come with me please, Dakota-san?” Kasumi requested, the two vessels giving way as Colorado took point. To Thorson’s surprise, the silver haired battleship wasn’t done. He allowed her the floor.
“Maryland, how many planes do you think Enterprise and her sisters carried?” Colorado asked calmly. As with Tennessee, she preferred the deck of her ship for confrontations, standing atop one of her main forward batteries.
“Call it ninety aircraft a ship,” Maryland replied seriously. “Zed, are you ready?”
“Ja, Maryland!”
“Good, stay to my inside stern and keep yourself alive for now. We’ll get you somewhere you can use those guns eventually.”
“West Virginia,” Colorado continued. “How many aircraft do you believe were stationed at Midway?”
“At least a hundred, sister. Javelin?”
“Ready to roll! I’ll do what I can, West Virginia,” the Royal destroyer assured her.
“Some four hundred aircraft destroyed and yet they only send two hundred or so to face us?” the lead Colorado class scoffed, her brow knitted in anger.
“Oooh, Laffey’s partner is angry. She can feel it, yes yes. Laffey will stay behind her guns for now.”
“Commander Thorson!” Colorado called him directly.
“Go ahead, Colorado,” he replied sternly.
“Requesting permission to demonstrate to the enemy the power of the Big Seven.”
Tennessee scoffed, adjusting her gloves as she prepared to use what little AA was available to her in the fight. On the flanks, Pennsylvania, Arizona, Yamashiro, and California drew close to their escorts and the Union cruisers. Cleveland, on the other hand, was more than happy to play along. “Ready and able to support, Colorado! I don’t think there’s ever been this grand of a test for the Union’s anti-aircraft abilities!”
“Good. Focus on your friends and the carrier. Those that slip through are yours… we’ll try to let you have a bit of fun,” the battleship promised confidently. “Sisters?”
“All systems green, ready to fire!” Maryland reported, adjusting her heading so that the envelope of her short range AA guns would overlap suitably with Colorado’s. West Virginia did the same.
“I’m ready. Mmm, it is a beautiful morning, isn’t it?” the dark haired sister remarked as she left the safety of her bridge and proceeded onto deck. “At your command, Colorado.”
“Commander?”
“Fire when ready, Colorado. All ships, follow Colorado and Cleveland’s lead.”
“Oooh, those foxes and rabbits are in for a world of hurt,” Shigure remarked with some anticipation, having become familiar with the potential of the Union’s AA weaponry over the last several weeks.
“The enemy has rabbits? Laffey will sink them, yes yes. There will only be one rabbit for the Commander.”
From atop her guns, Colorado stretched her arm out towards the northern horizon. She could make out the red rising sun on the wings of the Sakura aircraft. Her Bofors and Oerlikons moved seamlessly at her command, adjusting their trajectory to account for the attacking aircrafts’ flight path.
“The era of the dreadnought is not over. Big Seven, fire!”
-----
Aboard the Kaga, the snowy-haired leader of the Sakura was coming to understand just how great of a coup Pearl Harbor had been. The devastation she and her sisters had wrought during that sneak attack had been immense, with the Union ships clustered tightly, thinly manned and helpless. Her body and mind screamed with pains both dull and sharp as her air wings were assaulted by impeccably placed AA fire. It had begun with a sound like drums in the distance as the highest caliber guns of the Union’s newest battleships fired at her aircraft. Losses had been acceptable, only a handful, until she and her sister realized that it had only been one ship firing at them. When the other Colorado-class ships joined the barrage, assisted by another, different class behind them, the hits felt like a wall of bullets and flak. They scattered, aiming to move around the frontal obstruction but coming into contact instead with groups of P-40s, the typically land-based aircraft armed to the teeth with more machine guns than their Zeros could ever hope to mount. She and Akagi maneuvered around them skillfully and brought down many in intense dogfighting, but the wall of steel and guns did not stop moving north beneath them.
Hiryuu and Soryuu tried an attack run on the lead ship and suffered immense losses in the chaos, their planes riddled with fire from the enemy cruisers and battleships as the shipgirls piloting them simply projected shields forward and shrugged off the occasional direct hit. Beneath the action, a single wing of swordfish biplanes, assisted by floatplanes from Yamashiro and Fusou, made short work of the torpedoes released by the rabbits’ Nakajima torpedo bombers. The planes were flying so low and slowly that no one was able to pay them any heed. Colorado sailed straight through towering columns of water from the detonations, utterly fearless and brimming with cold fury, a yin to Tennessee’s chaotic yang. West Virginia and Maryland held position on her rear flanks, ensuring that any Sakura attack against weaker points of the formation’s AA defense would have to come from the rear or sides, making the approach more time consuming and opening up bombers to strafing runs from Ark Royal’s remaining fighters which remained at altitude, away from the enemy Zeros. Commander Thorson and Fusou stood strong amidst the chaos, the human doing his best to keep tabs on the overall flow of battle while Fusou piloted her aircraft and sent the occasional volley of AA fire skyward. Like most of the Sakura she was woefully under-equipped compared to the ships of the Union, but that was the benefit of a mixed formation so far as he was concerned. The radio was eerily silent, his fleet operating like a well-oiled machine with a singular purpose orchestrated by Cleveland, Colorado, and Ark Royal, vengeance for the deaths of Oklahoma, Nevada, Prince of Wales, Exeter, and thousands of other lives both human and shipgirl.
After approximately forty minutes of fierce combat the action suddenly halted, the few enemy aircraft left suddenly plummeting into the waves below. “Damage reports!” Thorson demanded immediately. West Virginia’s voice, breathing heavily, crackled in reply.
“Those bombs pack a punch, sir. A few secondaries may not be operational when we get there, but I’m still down for a scrap. No major structural damage.”
“Damn right,” Maryland added, resting against one of her turrets as a manjuu hopped up to join her. “Huh? Where’d you come from, little guy? For me? Hey, thanks a bunch. Oh by the way, Zed, I saw that kill of yours. Nice one.”
“D-Danke, Maryland!” the Ironblood destroyer stuttered in reply. She had only managed the one aircraft kill, an Aichi headed straight for Maryland’s main batteries, and blushed crimson at recognition for such a small thing in the midst of a battle so grand. As with Maryland, she soon noticed a couple of puffy, yellow manjuu hopping about outside her bridge windows. Opening the door and allowing them in, Zed received a delivery of secret coolant, the drink soothing her overheated blood as her cube calmed itself after drawing blood in battle again after so long. The manjuus hung around for a moment, inspecting her and poking at her shoulder to get her attention. “Oh, you need something else?” she wondered, sitting on the floor to be closer to them. After a few moments of chirping and looking about her, Zed realized that they were trying to ascertain the status of her injuries. “I’m just fine with this drink, thank you!”
Thorson couldn’t help but chuckle at the evolution of his fleet’s damage control systems as Akashi revealed yet another secret weapon, the fact that as with the Langley, manjuus seemed to prefer support ships to combat vessels. As a result, a flood of the curiously competent creatures was at the minty kitty’s disposal, and she sent them to supply the ships of the fleet with coolant and to get an idea of the necessary damage control needed from her and the bulins, who numbered far fewer. Colorado and her sisters had suffered some superficial damage, with bruises and tattered capes to prove it; but beyond the dented metal and scorch marks the worst damage done had been to Yamashiro, who had allowed a bomb to slip through her shields as she defended the lead ships from torpedoes.
“Tono-sama,” Fusou began, her concern for her sister more than apparent in her tone and the way her eyes shifted constantly. The explosion on the battleship’s stern had been impossible to miss.
“Go to her. I’ll hold things down here,” Thorson assured Fusou. The younger sister had barely made a sound when the hit had come, remaining focused on her task as her stern smoldered following the impact. Several bulins were helping her with fire control.
“Thank you, tono-sama,” the elder neko battleship said with relief, leaving the lightest of kisses on his cheek before exiting the bridge at all possible speed. He radioed Colorado.
“Colorado, I want you and your sisters to change formation,” he commanded.
“Requesting an explanation, sir. I think we performed splendidly,” Colorado replied, fingering the singed hem of her cape. “We remain fully operational as well.”
“Miss Colorado should not be questioning the Commander so much, no no. Laffey has been with him from his very first day, yes she has. He has yet to do something stupid in battle even though he is a lecherous man,” the lapine destroyer insisted sleepily.
“Well I’m happy to have your conditional approval, Laffey,” Thorson groaned as multiple shipgirls took the offered occasion to have a laugh and breathe deeply after the stress of fighting off a competent air raid. He was just thankful it hadn’t involved siren aircraft attacking a fixed target this time around.
“Laffey loves her commander, yes she does.”
“Commander?” Colorado attempted to bring them back to the topic at hand as they continued north.
“I agree with you, Colorado. That was a demonstration worthy of Independence Day. However, tell me you believe the enemy will attack us with their aircraft head on again.”
“It’s a good point, sis,” Maryland insisted.
The silver haired battleship sighed in acceptance. “Very well. Your orders, Commander?”
“They would be fools to attack us with their airpower alone after what just happened,” Thorson declared. “They might, but if they do we’ll simply beat them back again. I think the next battle will be fleet versus fleet, and they’ll attempt to use their torpedo advantage to sink us. South Dakota, I want you to take point, with Maryland and West Virginia swapping with Pennsylvania and California. Arizona, I want you to stay in the middle or rear of the formation so long as you’re confident you can use those healing rounds again.”
“I will do whatever is necessary, Commander,” she promised.
“Good. Tennessee, you’re taking the position right behind South Dakota. Colorado, you and Laffey will take the rear now.”
If Colorado had any protests as Thorson finished assigning new orders, she kept them to herself. Slowly the fleet spread out, allowing the hulking Union dreadnoughts to move and shuffle their locations. He called the Yamashiro next. “Fusou, Yamashiro, are you there?”
“She will be alright, tono-sama,” Fusou explained in relief. “Akashi is assessing the damage now, but it appears that at worst she will be without a handful of secondary batteries and her floatplane catapult.
“Nee-san, they hurt my butt!” Yamashiro complained, bringing a smile to Thorson’s face in spite of himself.
“Don’t worry, Yamashiro. I think we hurt them a lot worse.”
-----
“We cannot underestimate him again, sister,” Kaga stated quietly, standing proudly just opposite Akagi on her deck. Her body throbbed with pain, but she kept it concealed behind a mask of indifference. Akagi’s face, by contrast, was contorted in rage.
“To think those lumbering, obsolete steel tubs could be capable of that kind of firepower,” the Sakura commander groused. Kaga did not have the strength to scold her.
“It must be that commander of theirs, their Knight. He’s allowed them to fight as we do. If anything we’re fortunate our advantage lasted even this long. What are your orders, Akagi?”
The brown haired kitsune stared at her sister. “What? No snide comments? No passive aggressive insinuations that had you been in command we would have prevailed?”
“No, dear sister. They shot down my planes too. When we return to eviscerating the rest of the impotent Union navy I will have my fun with them and with you, but for now we decide whether we retreat or stand and fight as one.”
“Sometimes, Kaga, your lips move and it’s your voice I hear but her words reach my ears,” Akagi said quietly, their face to face discussion allowing for privacy as their fleet continued south and east towards confrontation now that their enemy had shown his hand. “We cannot afford to simply leave now. We will meet him in battle and cut the head off of this snake before it kills us all.”
“I am in agreement, sister. Then it is time?” Kaga inquired eerily, her voice like a wraith.
“My powers will be yours, dear sister,” Akagi assured her.
“And mine will be yours.”
-----
June 5th 9:34 Hours, Thorson’s Fleet, Bridge of the Fusou
“May the gods protect us,” Fusou whispered as her fleet finally obtained a visual on the enemy after more than a day at sea. Broken aircraft littered the seas between them and the Union fleets, their fate rendered almost irrelevant by what they were witnessing. “Tono-sama?”
“Are you scared?” he asked quietly, looking through his binoculars at the small Sakura ship silhouettes on the horizon. The scene was dominated by the Akagi and Kaga, which seemed to have burst into colored flames that towered several hundred feet into the skies like funeral pyres. Blue and red swirled and shifted, acting as if one mind and one force, but the colors never bled or mixed.
“I am,” the shrine maiden admitted freely. “I have never witnessed such a thing.”
“You think we’re going to die, short stuff?” Tennessee asked Downes. She shook her head fiercely.
“Can’t. I’ve got someone waiting,” the ‘tiger of the Union’ insisted tensely.
“What should we do, Commander?” Cleveland asked, a hint of worry in her usually confident and animated voice. “You know we’re with you, and I wouldn’t back down from a fight even with the sirens… but I’m not sure my guns will work against that.”
“All ships, continue full steam ahead,” Thorson ordered, gripping the radio transmitter with a shaking hand as his fleet all listened silently, hoping for something more than onward into death. “I’m sure you all know the stakes here. The Sakura fleet is right there, more powerful than it’s ever been. Enterprise and her sisters have obviously failed.”
“Yukikaze the Great is feeling not so great at this particular moment,” the little destroyer admitted.
“I guess they didn’t feel it nearly as bad as I thought,” Shigure admitted.
“I know,” Thorson assured them. “Quite the vulgar display of power, isn’t it? But I didn’t see any other allied fleets on the way up here, did any of you?” Their silence was his answer. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the specifics of one of the Great War legends. “I want to tell you girls a story. Ark, you might actually know this one.”
“If you call me old again, Knight Commander, I’ll be quite cross with you when this is all over. But if these are to be my final moments, the sound of your voice isn’t the worst thing to listen to,” the veteran carrier admitted.
“Akashi cannot stop blushing and hiding under the steering column in fear, nyaa!” the minty kitty cried as aircraft began launching from the Hiryuu and Soryuu.
“I want to tell you all a story about the difference a single, competent soldier can make, a story about a man… from Tennessee.” At Thorson’s words, his wildest battleship tilted her head curiously. She’d been ready to dismiss his story out of hand entirely and prepare herself to kill as many Sakura as possible before they came for her, but she’d not missed his tone when he mentioned her namesake state. “This is the story of Sergeant Alvin York.”
Thorson’s ships sailed north in silence as he set the scene for them, a scene they could only identify with as their own Hill 233 loomed before them. Machine gun fire from concealed locations within the enemy lines, the Argonne forest, comrades dead and dying all around. “And so there he was, exchanging rifle fire with machine guns, alone, one against thirty at least. But he shot, killed, and kept shooting. During the battle six soldiers charged him with bayonets. He drew his sidearm and gunned them all down before they could reach him. The enemy commander emptied his pistol in an attempt to kill York, and failed. He then surrendered. In the end, the actions of one man led to the capture of the Ironblood position and 132 soldiers. And no, Sergeant York did not have any wisdom cubes at his disposal, just a 1917 Lee Enfield and a Colt 1911.”
“Damn, that’s quite the tale, eh Belle?” Downes declared as Thorson finished. Colorado and her sisters had their forward batteries trained on the enemy formation. They would be in range in moments. Tennessee said nothing in reply, however, and Downes couldn’t see the blonde battleship girl from her own position. Instead she radioed back to Thorson. “I think you’re in luck, Commander.”
“Why is that, Downes?”
“I don’t know if that York fellow was skilled, crazy, or both, but I don’t see anyone turning around. Let’s go take this hill.”
“Well said, Fire-eye!” Maryland cheered. “Girls, you ready?”
“Yes. Your target, Commander Thorson?” Colorado demanded.
“Target the carriers and battleships until you’re close enough to destroy the escorts confidently,” he replied. “All battleships fire at will upon reaching engagement range. Escorts, move outside the battleship wall and prepare to screen the capital ships and counter enemy attacks. Retreat to the safety of the AA envelope as needed. Cleveland, remain at the center with Ark. Colorado, I think it would be fitting for you to begin.”
“It would be our pleasure, Commander. Those enemy foxes aren’t the only ones capable of a lightshow. Maryland, West Virginia, prepare to fire!”
“406mm showoffs,” Pennsylvania whispered, but Yuudachi was ready with upbeat words.
“Don’t worry about it, Pennsylvania-san. If the battle doesn’t last long enough for you to get in range then it won’t matter, wan~!”
“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine, puppy girl?”
“Not when we’re in a battle Penny-san!” Yuudachi ‘complained’ as the Colorado class ships picked their target. Anyone else engaged in last minute conversations, in attempts to bolster morale or maintain sanity in the face of the raw power of the first carrier division, was silenced as twelve shells rocketed into the sky, leaving red, white, and blue wakes behind them. Even at that extreme distance, one of the massive shells managed to reach its target many seconds later, exploding against Kaga’s forcefields with a terrible sound and fury. The kitsune bore the attack and remained standing, conjuring in return a swarm of flaming spirits shaped like Sakura aircraft from the towering column of flame above them.
“So we shall cross swords at last,” she murmured appreciatively. “Come!”
-----
“Indy, more planes at three o’clock!”
“I see them, sister. California?”
“You’re too cute to deny but you know my AA isn’t great! Oh, thanks for the assist, Maryland.”
“Don’t mention it, but stay alert. We’re close to torpedo range.” The words were not even out of the battleship’s mouth when a bright blue forcefield enveloped South Dakota, the dark-skinned woman forced to her knee as a torpedo detonated beneath her hull. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself back to her feet with the help of her shield and carried on. The enemy formation was spreading out before them, increasing the angles at which torpedoes could be launched towards Thorson’s ships. Not even he had anticipated such a long range strike, courtesy of Maya.
“Spread out!” he ordered in reply, ‘showing’ Fusou what he intended thanks to the link between them. She then conveyed it via radio to the rest of the fleet, their pattern shifting in an orderly fashion from a circular formation to a broad crescent meant to shield Ark Royal, Akashi, and specific escorts like Cleveland from the brunt of the enemy attacks. Chaos reigned around them as aircraft dove and swarmed them, held in check by the fleet’s AA guns and the prodigious firepower of Ark Royal’s fighters. All the while Thorson’s battleships launched shells at the enemy, scoring occasional hits against the enemy cruisers and battleships whereas the carriers proved an impenetrable bastion. Akagi and Kaga, their abilities at fully synchronization, simply vaporized any shells or aircraft that got too close. While the detonations above made for an epic display and deafened many of the Sakura shipgirls, they didn’t score the kills Thorson desperately needed. Instead he ordered a shifting of fire to the escorts as the range closed. So long as the Sakura drew closer, he felt he had the advantage.
It was clear, however, that Akagi and Kaga felt the same, and the damage reports from Thorson’s fleet lent credence to that opinion. For every hit against Haruna, Kongou, Kirishima, or the other smaller ships outside of the protective range of the first carrier division, he suffered damage in return. Cassin took an incredibly unlucky HE shell to her superstructure, knocking the girl unconscious and taking her out of the battle completely. Downes had been distraught, but Tennessee kept her in formation as Akashi dispatched two bulins to aid the stricken ship as it fell behind the advancing formation. South Dakota was taking a beating as well, even with the help of Indianapolis’ pandora reactor and shields. She only fired a handful of volleys from her main guns before the role of defender consumed all of her strength and energy, beset upon by torpedoes. With Kasumi’s assistance and encouragement, she was able to avoid most of the further incoming ‘fishes’, but Hiryuu and Soryuu refused to be denied either. The added focus on torpedo defense had necessitated a shifting of resources away from air defense, and the lapine carriers kept launching bombers and fighters with all their remaining strength. Maryland was suffering from fires on deck, while Pennsylvania lost a main battery, the shipgirl grunting in pain as her shoulder felt ready to pop out of its socket.
On the other side of the battlefield, the attrition took its toll as well. Nagara had gone silent following a bruising volley from California and Arizona, and Nowaki was occupied with multiple fires on deck courtesy of Portland and Zed’s exceptional gunnery. They hadn’t suffered torpedo attacks, but Akagi and Kaga had not given a retreat order. The enemy fleet, situated between them and Midway, was getting closer. With grace and calm, Hiei took aim at the flagship, the Fusou, and fired a volley.
“Tono-sama!” Fusou placed her body in front of him, arms wide, and threw up her shields as the incoming shells detonated around her. One made it through and exploded on her forward decks, throwing her back into Thorson as they crashed violently to the ground. Several hails came in at once, trying to ascertain the condition of their commander, but Laffey was focused on the ship that had fired the shot.
“You… Laffey knows you from her dreams, the bad ones when she is forced to sleep somewhere other than the Commander’s chest or lap. You will not take him from Laffey today!” From her position in the center left of the formation, Laffey’s bow transformed and began charging her Annihilation Mode cannon. Crackling electricity and plasma sparked in the air and off the sea as Colorado radioed her.
“Listen up, Laffey. The commander may take it easy on you, but I won’t. If you fire that weapon and go to sleep on me, surrounded by the enemy, I’ll take you out myself,” the battleship warned. “I can’t afford to lose my escort.”
“Miss Colorado should trust Laffey,” the destroyer insisted as the volume of shells in the air decreased significantly as the enemy took notice of the impending attack. “Laffey will never rest, never so long as the Commander needs her. She will continue to escort once the enemy battleship is no more. Condition green, firing.”
Even Akagi and Kaga’s battle trance was broken as the beam of energy tore across the open ocean directly at the Hiei. Kongou and Haruna shrieked and called out to their sister in fear as Kirishima pulled down her mask to stare openly. The proud Sakura battleship’s shields slowly faltered and then broke. Hiei’s cry of anguish sent shivers through the entire fleet as her ship was left barely afloat, a charred remnant of its former glory. Aboard the bridge, the shipgirl slumped unconscious and dying to the floor, her last mote of energy dedicated to the barrier that had saved her body from instant immolation. Her cubes had simply been pushed past their limits.
“That was a damn fine shot, Laffey,” Thorson radioed, his survival sending his fleet’s morale through the roof. “Fusou’s injured but seaworthy. Press the attack! Arizona, now’s the time!”
“I understand, Andrew!” she replied, hurrying out onto her deck as she killed her engines and shifted her rudders, turning her side to the enemy as her sister and friends charged forward, the enemy ships only then restarting their attack. The resurrected battleship knelt upon her forward deck as all of her main batteries turned to face her allies and the enemies beyond. The words came easier the second time, as though her cubes compelled her to remember. “I call upon the angels again, as one who has walked the ether and returned. In service to the one named for the first-called of the apostles, I beseech you to heal our wounds. Eagle’s Tears!”
“Oh my, that is utterly delightful!” Brooklyn remarked, firing off a well placed strike against a conventionally manned destroyer as she experienced the radiating energy of Arizona’s healing ability for the first time. Even the bruised and battered South Dakota found herself standing proudly with newfound energy, the fires aboard the Maryland extinguished. Behind her, Tennessee was chomping at the bit, her secondary batteries almost in range as Akagi and Kaga began lashing out directly with bolts of spirit fire.
“Torpedoes, now!” Thorson commanded, watching as his destroyer escorts swept out of their battleship cover, Laffey included, and unloaded an aquatic salvo. “Guns silent, shields and engines to full! Break them open!”
“This is it, Belle,” Downes whispered, keeping her defenses up as best she could as a blue bolt of fire struck her rear left torpedo mount. “Oh you are so dead, goddamn carriers! I liked that hardpoint!”
With South Dakota leading the charge, Thorson’s formation tightened behind the wall of torpedoes at his command, arranging themselves in an arrowhead as Arizona was left alone with Yukikaze, Cleveland, Brooklyn, Ark Royal, and Akashi. Unbelievably, the enemy had not turned from battle, continuing to maneuver evasively but not increasing the engagement distance. Without Arizona’s assistance Thorson knew that would have been an appropriate decision, his fleet peppered with shells and the occasional torpedo as shields flared and flickered. By her grace, however, his doomed cavalry charge, a tactic as old as warfare itself, was seen to fruition. Through his binoculars, looking at the bridge of an enemy heavy cruiser, the Commander picked out a pretty, black-haired girl with yellow eyes and red, demonic horns jutting from her forehead. Her eyes were wide and white with fear. It was time. “Open fire!”
At his command South Dakota finally allowed herself to fall back as Tennessee put on a burst of speed, fueled by bloodlust and the promise of vengeance. She could see the secondary guns on the carriers that had attacked her at Pearl Harbor, she was so close. None would deny her. “Get out of my way!” she roared, turning her main batteries and secondaries on the closest ships and lashing out indiscriminately. Command towers and main batteries burned or were blown to pieces, with Downes maneuvering expertly in her wake and firing an unnaturally high number of shells into the confused and routing masses before dodging back to Tennessee’s other side. Maryland and Zed were employing a similar strategy, while Javelin led West Virginia’s way, dodging incoming fire with surprising grace and speed while the lumbering Union colossus simply eviscerated any enemies left at what was, for naval combat, point blank distance. The attack was not without its downsides, however, as Akagi and Kaga lashed out directly with their flames, inflicting terrible pain and damage on ships that found themselves unable to properly block their attacks. Despite the kitsune’s heroics, the fact of the matter remained that they were at a disadvantage, and the towering columns of fire suddenly broke as Pennsylvania, California, Colorado, Minneapolis, Portland, and Indiannapolis all trained their guns on them and fired in unison.
“Why won’t they sink?!” Akagi shrieked, biting her lip until blood spilled down to her chin. It was a fitting pain to go with the bruising her ribs had just endured. “Just die already!” While Akagi’s towering rage alone was enough to roast the superstructure of the Yamashiro from a distance, the fact remained that Thorson’s fleet had survived both torpedo and aircraft, and was now wreaking havoc, killing and maiming indiscriminately as a battleship that should have burned in the docks at Pearl Harbor bore down on a now crippled Hiryuu, her engines and rudder long disabled by armor piercing shells.
“My lords… Akagi-sama, Kaga-sama,” the rabbit coughed as Soryuu tried to launch more planes only to have them immediately gunned down. “You can still… get out.”
Kaga watched with horror as battleships that looked like a force sent from hell, charred and missing turrets, AA mounts, and secondary batteries, nevertheless carried on, alive, capable, and fueled by a rage that not even she and Akagi could understand. The Union’s remaining guns tore into her troops and decimated her ships. Hiryuu was correct, the hundreds of meters between the first and second carrier divisions would seal both of their fates. “Akagi, we need to leave, now. Any longer and we will be unable to outrun him.”
“Damnit. Damnit! DAMNIT!” Akagi screeched, conjuring another fireball and launching it directly at the Fusou. The shrine maiden yelled in pain as many of her smaller guns were melted and her forward decks set ablaze, forcing Thorson to take her up in his arms and move as quickly as he could to the stern of the ship, ready to leap overboard minutes later as the fires slowly spread. Though the attack was impressive and terrifying, it encompassed the extent of Akagi’s ability to influence a battle now firmly out of her control, a gamble that had shattered the Union and, were it not for the divine grace of a ship that should have been dead, would have ended the war entirely. “All ships, full retreat! Hold formation and return to the Sanctuary!”
With Thorson unable to command the situation, Pennsylvania took up the mantle of commanding officer as the first carrier division, their escorts, and any other ship that could break engagement with Thorson’s forces broke and fled. “They’re retreating! Stay alert, disable any enemy ships you can and try not to kill them. You know how Thorson does business. End any who fight back. Go!”
Tennessee needed no encouragement, barrelling forward over the waves at the stricken Hiryuu, continuing to pound the carrier with shell fire. No longer was she at point blank in a naval sense. She was at point blank range, period. “This is for Nevada, you bastard!” she roared as Downes was forced to back off her stern, gazing on with wonder and dreaded excitement as Tennessee shielded her bow and rammed into the Hiryuu amidships, splitting the carrier in half in a display every bit as vulgar as the first carrier division’s area denial capabilities. “Holy shit that was awesome,” the athletic destroyer murmured.
“Hiryuu-chan!” Soryuu screamed, limping along her flight deck, arm outstretched as the sounds of shearing metal carried over the battlefield. Exhausted, drained of her ability to fight, and riddled with holes, all she could do was drop to her knees and watch as her sister’s ship suffered Tennessee’s wrath. If Laffey’s attack against Hiei had turned the tide, Tennessee’s had ended the battle completely. Every gun on both sides fell silent as Akagi, Kaga, and the rest of the Sakura were forced to abandon the wounded, retreating to the north and west. Aboard the Hiryuu, the white-furred rabbit found herself contemplating how she wished to die. A proud, tanned, Union woman was advancing on her, rigging drawn as she casually leapt from her own boat and ‘boarded’ the carrier.
“Well, that explains a few things,” she agreed with herself, coughing into her hand only to come away looking at blood. “Here to finish what we started… then I will too.” Using that same blood, Hiryuu imbued her remaining talismans with her very will and threw them as far as she could off her deck. Tennessee, in no mood to play games, fired a full salvo from her rigging and knocked Hiryuu to the ground. The rabbit did not find her feet again.
“Shit, cunning little snake,” Tennessee swore as the talismans, borne by the wind, materialized into a wing of dive bombers so low to the ocean that they couldn’t be targeted, heading at full speed to the east. Behind her, Thorson and Fusou had been evacuated to the Akashi, with the majority of the bulins engaged in fire damage control aboard the flagship. Thorson could only assume the target of the aircraft.
“Javelin, Yukikaze, Yuudachi, Downes, follow those aircraft and make contact with the Union task forces! Render assistance if necessary. All ships engaged in pursuit, break off and search the area for survivors and cubes. We need those more than anything else. We will regroup at Midway itself,” he commanded, holding a hand to his head as the pains of the battle slowly left him. Being connected to Fusou when she’d sustained damage had not been the most pleasant experience, but the shrine maiden was alive, and that was all that mattered. Aboard the slowly sinking rear half of the Hiryuu, Tennessee finally loomed over the woman who had bloodied her and her friends half a year prior. She watched silently, a scowl on her face, as the bruised and beaten carrier tried to stand, another wracking cough spilling her blood on Tennessee’s boots.
“Surrender,” she ordered coldly. “Or don’t. I’d prefer that.”
“I… won’t…” Hiryuu declared, barely able to keep her eyes open. Tennessee’s once blinding anger, now a more manageable inferno, did not completely overpower her appreciation for the Sakura carrier’s sheer guts. As she slumped over on her deck, Hiryuu could only grunt as Tennessee took her by her collar and held her aloft.
“If you survive this, know that you owe your life to Commander Thorson. It’s more than you deserve,” the Union battleship insisted fiercely before throwing her to the deck and ripping her shard from her neck.
Far in the distance, Akagi gave her final murderous orders as the Sakura fleet escaped to fight another day. “Iroha, take your sisters and finish what we started here. This war no longer concerns the Union. Ensure they understand that.”
“With pleasure, Lady Akagi. We were growing bored playing at recon.”
-----
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Ever since i started playing regularly, i've researched anonymity in places. Here is what i have for each state plus a bunch of other countries. If anything is outdated or incorrect, please comment.
United States
Alabama: No current lottery. Source: https://www.wtvy.com/content/news/Lottery-bill-other-legislation-is-likely-dead-in-Alabama-legislature-569059451.html
Alaska: No current lottery/Not Anonymous. "Unlike most other states, Alaska doesn’t have a state-sponsored lottery." Source: https://www.lotterycritic.com/lottery-results/alaska/ Alaska does permit charities to run lotteries, the largest one is Not Anonymous. Source: http://www.lottoalaska.com/
Alaska's governor has proposed a bill to create an official Alaska State Lottery. Source: https://apnews.com/78cacca5137f6b47e41be2de37600044
American Samoa: No current lottery. Source: https://simonsblogpark.com/onlinegambling/simons-guide-to-gambling-in-american-samoa/amp/
Arizona: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner for all wins of $100,000 and over. Source: https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/arizona-becomes-latest-state-shield-lottery-winners-names-n995696
Arkansas: Not Anonymous/Other entities unclear. "Winner information is subject to disclosure under the Arkansas Freedom of Information Act (FOIA). A winner who receives a prize or prize payment from the ASL grants the ASL, its agents, officers, employees, and representatives the right to use, publish (in print or by means of the Internet) and reproduce the winner’s name, physical likeness, photograph, portraits, and statements made by the winner, and use audio sound clips and video or film footage of the winner for the purpose of press releases, advertising, and promoting the ASL". Source: https://www.myarkansaslottery.com/claim-your-prize
California: Not Anonymous/Only individuals can claim. “ The name and location of the retailer who sold you the winning ticket, the date you won and the amount of your winnings are also matters of public record and are subject to disclosure. You can form a trust prior to claiming your prize, but our regulations do not allow a trust to claim a prize. Understand that your name is still public and reportable”. Source: https://static.www.calottery.com/~/media/Publications/Popular_Downloads/winners-handbook-October%202018-%20English.pdf
Colorado: Not Anonymous/Anonymous via trust. “As part of the Open Records Act, we are required to release to the public your name, hometown, amount you won and the game you played. This information will be posted on coloradolottery.com and will be furnished to media upon request.” Source: https://www.coloradolottery.com/en/games/lotto/claim-winnings/ Source: https://denver.cbslocal.com/2016/01/15/in-colorado-and-other-states-lottery-winners-can-keep-names-secret/
Connecticut: Not Anonymous/Anonymous via a trust or LLC, "Certain information about our winners is public information: Winner's name and place of residence, date of claim, game played, prize amount won, and the selling retailer's name and location. While most winners claim prizes using their individual names, some winners come forward using other legal entities (i.e., trusts, business partnership) to claim their prizes. In those instances, the Lottery will promote the win using that legal entity's name. For more information about such instances, please consult your personal accountant or legal advisor.” Source: https://www.ctlottery.org/Content/winner_publicity.aspx
Delaware: 100% Anonymous if requested by winner. "Many winners have chosen to remain anonymous, as allowed by state law, but their excitement is yours to share!" Source: https://www.delottery.com/Winners and https://www.delottery.com/FAQs
DC: Not Anonymous/Anonymous via a trust or LLC. Anonymous question is not directly answered on lottery website. "In the District of Columbia, specific lottery winner information is public record." However, a Powerball Jackpot win was claimed via a LLC in 2009. Source: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/05/04/AR2009050402008.html
Florida: Not Anonymous/Anonymous via LLC. "Florida Lottery winners cannot remain anonymous. Florida law mandates that the Florida Lottery provide the winner's name, city of residence, game won, date won and amount won to any third party who requests the information; however Florida Lottery winners' home addresses and telephone numbers are confidential." Source: http://www.flalottery.com/faq
The Florida Lottery allows trusts to claim it, however winner information is still released in compliance with the law. A $15 Million jackpot was claimed by an LLC. Source: https://www.fox13news.com/amp/consumehit-the-lottery-remain-anonymous-not-in-florida Source: http://flalottery.com/pressRelease?searchID=199128
Georgia: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner for all prizes over $250,000. Source: https://www.stl.news/georgia-governor-signs-bill-allowing-lottery-winners-remain-anonymous/121962/
Guam: Anonymity appears to be an option. Source: https://www.kuam.com/story/11218413/guamanian-wins-big-in-sportsbingo-but-has-yet-to-claim-2m-prize
Hawaii: No current lottery. Source: https://www.kitv.com/story/40182224/powerball-or-mega-millions-lottery-in-hawaii
Idaho: Not Anonymous."By claiming a winning lottery ticket over $600, winners become subject to Idaho’s Public Records Law. This means your “win” becomes an offcial Idaho public record. Your full name, the town where you live, the game you won, the amount you won (before and after taxes), the name of the retailer where you bought the ticket, and the amount the retailer receives for selling the ticket are all a matter of public record." Can seek anonymity if you have specific security concerns (rarely granted). Source: https://www.idaholottery.com/images/uploads/general/winnersguideweb.pdf
Illinois: Not Anonymous/Anonymous if requested by winner for all wins over $250,000 however info will be released to a FOIA request. "However, Murphy also cooperated with the Illinois Press Association in adding an amendment that ensures that Freedom of Information Act, an act designed to keep government agencies transparent by allowing the public to access any public record by request, supersedes the privacy law, according to attorney Don Craven, the press association’s legal counsel." Source: https://www.thetelegraph.com/news/article/Hidden-riches-Big-lottery-winner-in-Beardstown-13626173.php
Indiana: Not Anonymous/Anonymous via LLC or trust. "Indiana law allows lottery jackpot winners to remain anonymous, with the money being claimed by a limited liability company or legal trust." Source: https://www.chicagotribune.com/nation-world/ct-indiana-mega-millions-winners-20160729-story.html
Iowa: Not Anonymous/Can use a trust to claim but information will be released. "When you win an Iowa Lottery prize of $600 or more, you have to fill out a winner claim form that includes your name, address and Social Security number before you can claim your winnings. Iowa law makes the information on that claim form public, meaning that anyone can request a copy of the form to see who has won the prize. We redact sensitive information, such as your Social Security number, from the form before we release it, but all other details are considered public information under Iowa law (Iowa Code Section 99G.34(5)." Source: https://www.ialotteryblog.com/2008/11/can-prize-winne.html.
For group play, "Prizes can be paid to players who play as a group. A check can be written to an entity such as a trust or to a single individual." Source: https://ialottery.com/pages/Games/ClaimingPrizes.aspx
Kansas: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner. "Kansas is one of a handful of states that does not have this requirement. If you win a prize in Kansas, you may request that your identity not be released publicly." Source: https://www.kslottery.com/faqs#faq-8
Kentucky: Anonymity appears to be an option. Anonymity or who can claim is not addressed on lottery website. But multiple instances of winners claiming anonymously have been reported in the news. "Kentucky Lottery spokesman Chip Polson said the $1 million Powerball winner claimed the prize on May 15 and the Mega Million winner claimed the prize on May 12. He confirmed that both players wanted their identity to remain a secret." Source: https://www.courier-journal.com/story/news/local/2017/05/19/two-1-million-lottery-winners-who-bought-tickets-louisville-want-privacy/101870414/
Louisiana: Not Anonymous/Anonymous via trust. "Under the Lottery's statute, all prize payment records are open records, meaning that the public has a right to request the information. Depending upon the amount won and public or media interest in the win, winners may NOT be able to remain anonymous. The statute also allows the Lottery to use winners' names and city of residence for publicity purposes such as news releases. The Lottery's regular practice is not to use winner information in paid advertising or product promotion without the winner's willingness to participate. Source: https://louisianalottery.com/faq/easy-5#35 Source: https://louisianalottery.com/article/1050/the-williams-trust-claims-share-of-50-million-powerball-jackpot
Maine: Not Anonymous/Anonymous via trust. "In the event that Maine does have a Mega Millions winner, he or she can opt to remain anonymous — but Boardman says that’s never happened. “What a winner could do in Maine is they could file their claim in the name of a trust, and the trust becomes the winner. So that’s how a winner could claim their ticket anonymously,” he says." Source: https://www.mainepublic.org/post/lottery-official-reminds-mainers-they-re-exceedingly-unlikely-win-16-billion-jackpot
Maryland*: Not Anonymous by Law, Anonymous in Practice. "However, the legal basis for this anonymity in Maryland is thin. The Maryland Lottery does not advertise that lottery winners may remain anonymous, but it posts articles on its website about winners and notes those winners who have “chosen to remain anonymous:” Source: https://www.gw-law.com/blog/anonymity-maryland-lottery-winners
*"Please note that this anonymity protection does not apply to second-chance and Points for Drawings contests run through the My Lottery Rewards program. Those contests are run as promotions for the Lottery. As such, they are operated under a different set of rules than our draw games and scratch-off games. The rules of participating in our second-chance and Points for Drawings contests state that winners' identities are published."" Source: https://www.mdlottery.com/about-us/faqs/
Massachusetts: Not Anonymous/Anonymous via trust "Lottery regulations state that a claimant's name, city or town, image, amount of prize, claim date and game are public record. Therefore, photographs may be taken and used to publicize winnings." Source: https://www.masslive.com/news/2018/05/lottery_sees_increase_in_winne.html
Michigan: Not Anonymous for Powerball and Mega Millions/100% Anonymous if requested by the winner for all other winners over $10,000. "Winner Anonymity. Michigan law requires written consent before disclosing the identity of the winner of $10,000 or more from the State lottery games Lotto47 and Fantasy 5. You further understand and agree that your identity may be disclosed, and that disclosure may be required, as the winner of any prize from the multi-state games Powerball and Mega Millions." Source: https://www.michiganlottery.com/games/mega-millions
Minnesota: Not Anonymous. Anonymity or who can claim is not addressed on lottery website but lottery blog states "In Minnesota, lottery winners cannot remain anonymous. A winner's name, city, prize amount won and the place that the winning ticket was sold is public data and will be released to media and posted on our website." Source: https://www.mnlottery.com/blog/you-won-now-what
Mississippi: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner. "In accordance with the Alyce G. Clarke Mississippi Lottery Law, the Mississippi Lottery will not disclose the identity of the person holding a winning lottery ticket without that person's written permission." Source: https://www.mslotteryhome.com/players/faqs/
Missouri: Not Anonymous. "At the Lottery Headquarters, a member of the Lottery's communications staff will ask you questions about your win, such as how many tickets you bought, when you found out that you won and what you plan to do with your prize money. This information will be used for a news release. You will also be asked, but are not required, to participate in a news conference, most likely at the store where you purchased your winning ticket." Source: http://www.molottery.com/whenyouwin/jackpotwin.shtm
A Missouri State Legislator has submitted a bill to the State House to give lottery winners anonymity. Source: https://www.kfvs12.com/2020/02/25/mo-house-considers-legislation-protect-identity-lottery-winners/
Montana: Not Anonymous/Anonymous via trust. "In Montana, by law, certain information about lottery winners is considered public. That information includes: the winner's name, the amount won and the winner's community of residence. Winners may choose to claim as an individual or they may choose to form a trust and claim their prize as a trust. If a trust claims a lottery prize, the name of the trust is considered public information. A trust must have a federal tax identification number in order to claim a Montana Lottery prize." Source: https://www.montanalottery.com/en/view/about-faqs
Nebraska: Not Anonymous/Anonymous via LLC. Anonymity or who can claim is not addressed on lottery website but a winner created a legal entity to claim anonymously in 2014. "Nebraska Lottery spokesman Neil Watson said with the help of a Kearney lawyer, the winner or winners have created a legal entity called Carpe Diem LLC." Source: https://journalstar.com/news/state-and-regional/nebraska/m-nebraska-powerball-winner-to-remain-anonymous/article_a044d0f0-99a7-5302-bcb9-2ce799b3a798.html
A Nebraska State Legislator has now filed a bill to give 100% Anonymity to all winners over $300,000 who request it. Source: https://journalstar.com/news/state-and-regional/nebraska/anonymity-for-lottery-winners-bill-would-give-privacy-to-those/article_1cdba44d-c8bb-5971-b73f-2eecc8cd4625.html
Nevada: No current lottery. Source: https://www.reviewjournal.com/business/casinos-gaming/heres-why-you-cant-play-powerball-in-nevada/
New Hampshire: Not Anonymous/Anonymous via a trust. Anonymity or who can claim is not addressed on lottery website but a winner successfully sued the lottery and won the right to remain anonymous in 2018. Source: https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/post-nation/wp/2018/03/12/winner-of-a-560-million-powerball-jackpot-can-keep-the-money-and-her-secret-judge-rules/?noredirect=on&utm_term=.bec2db2f7d2c
New Jersey: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner. Source: https://www.nj.com/politics/2020/01/win-big-you-can-claim-those-nj-lottery-winnings-anonymously-under-new-law.html
New Mexico: Not Anonymous. “Winners of $10,000 or more will have name, city, game played, and prize amount and photo on website.” Can seek anonymity if you have specific security concerns (rarely granted). Source: https://www.nmlottery.com/uploads/FileLinks/82400d81a0ce468daab29ebe6db3ec27/Winner_Publicity_Policy_6_1_07.pdf
New York: Not Anonymous/Anonymous via a LLC. Anonymity or who can claim is not addressed on lottery website but per Gov. Cuomo: "For the past 40 years, individuals wishing to keep their name and information out of the public view have created LLCs to collect their winnings for them." Source: https://nypost.com/2018/12/09/cuomo-vetoes-bill-allowing-lotto-winners-to-remain-anonymous/
North Carolina: Not Anonymous. "North Carolina law allows lottery winners' identity to remain confidential only if they have an active protective order against someone or participate in the state's "Address Confidentiality Program" for victims of domestic violence, sexual offense, stalking or human trafficking." Source: https://www.charlotteobserver.com/news/local/article54548645.html
North Dakota: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner. Source: https://www.kfyrtv.com/home/headlines/ND-Powerball-Winners-Have-Option-to-Remain-Anonymous-364918121.html
Northern Mariana Islands: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner. Source: https://www.nmsalottery.com/game-rules/
Ohio: Not Anonymous/Anonymous via trust. Anonymity or who can claim is not addressed on lottery website but appears to have an anonymous option. "The procedure from there was a little cumbersome. I needed to create two separate trusts. One trust was to appoint me, as the trustee on behalf of the winner, to contact the Lottery Commission and accept the Lottery winnings. The secondary trust was set up for me as trustee of the first trust, to transfer the proceeds to the second trust with the winner as the beneficiary. This enabled me to present the ticket, accept the proceeds, and transfer it to the winner with no public record or disclosure." Source: https://www.altickcorwin.com/Articles/How-To-Claim-Lottery-Winnings-Anonymously.shtml
Oklahoma: Not Anonymous/Anonymous via trust or LLC. In accordance with the Oklahoma Open Records Act and the Oklahoma Education Lottery Act, the name of any individual, corporation, partnership, unincorporated association, limited liability company, or other legal entity, and their city of residence will be made public. Source: https://www.lottery.ok.gov/playersclub/faq.asp Source: https://oklahoman.com/article/5596678/lottery-winners-deserve-some-anonymity
Oregon: Not Anonymous. "No. Certain information about Lottery prizes is public record, including the name of the winner, amount of the prize, date of the drawing, name of the game played and city in which the winning ticket was purchased. Oregon citizens have a right to know that Lottery prizes are indeed being awarded to real persons. " Source: https://oregonlottery.org/about/public-interaction/commission-directofrequently-asked-questions Can seek anonymity if you have specific security concerns (rarely granted). Source: https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3353432/Man-living-Iraq-wins-6-4-million-Oregon-jackpot.html
Pennsylvania: Not Anonymous/Anonymous via trust. Source: https://lancasteronline.com/news/local/trust-that-won-powerball-no-relation-to-manheim-township-emerald/article_29834922-4ca2-11e8-baac-1b15a17f3e9c.html
Puerto Rico: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner. Source: https://www.nbcnews.com/news/latino/puerto-rico-powerball-winner-claims-prize-chooses-stay-anonymous-n309121
Rhode Island: Not Anonymous/Anonymous if requested but all info is subject to FOIA. "While the Lottery will do everything possible to keep a winner's information private if requested by the winner, in Rhode Island and most other states, this information falls under the Freedom of Information Act, and a winner's name and city or town of residency must be released upon request." Source: https://www.rilot.com/en-us/player-zone/faqs.html
South Carolina: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner. Anonymity or who can claim is not addressed on lottery website but appears to have an anonymous option based on prior winners. Source: https://myfox8.com/2019/03/15/the-anonymous-south-carolina-winner-of-the-largest-lottery-jackpot-is-donating-part-of-it-to-alabama-tornado-victims/
South Dakota: Not Anonymous for draw games and online games/100% Anonymous for Scratchoffs if requested by the winner. "You can remain anonymous on any amount won from a scratch ticket game. Jackpots for online games are required to be public knowledge. Play It Again winners are also public knowledge." Source: https://lottery.sd.gov/FAQ2018/gamefaq.aspx.
Tennessee: Not Anonymous/Can use a trust but info subject to open records act. Anonymity is explicitly noted as not being allowed on the official lottery website. Source: https://www.tnlottery.com/faq/i-won
However if it is claimed via a trust then the lottery will not give out your information unless requested to do so. "The TN lottery says: "When claiming a Lottery prize through a Trust, the TN Lottery would need identity documentation for the grantor and all ultimate beneficiaries. Once we are in possession of these documents and information, records are generated. If a formal request is made by a citizen of Tennessee, the Trust beneficiary's name, city and state must be made available under the Tennessee Open Records Act." Source: https://www.avvo.com/legal-answers/in-tennessee--can-a-lottery-jackpot-be-claimed-whi-2327592.html
Texas: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner for $1 million or more IF the winner claims it as an individual AND chooses the Cash option. Not Anonymous if claimed by a trust or LLC or if the winner chooses the Annuity option. Source: https://www.txlottery.org/export/sites/lottery/Documents/retailers/FAQ_Winner_Anonymity_12112017_final.pdf
Utah: No current lottery. Source: https://www.lotterycritic.com/lottery-results/utah/
Vermont: Not Anonymous/Anonymous via trust. “The name, town and prize amount on your Claim Form is public information. If you put your name on the Claim Form, your name becomes public information. If you claim your prize in a trust, the name of the trust is placed on the Claim Form, and the name of the trust is public information.” Source: https://vtlottery.com/about/faq
Virginia: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner for prizes over $10 million. "A new law passed by the Virginia General Assembly and signed by the Governor prohibits the Virginia Lottery from disclosing information about big jackpot winners." "When the bill goes into effect this summer, the Virginia Lottery will not be allowed to release certain information about winners whose prize exceeds $10 million, unless the winner wants to be known." Source: https://www.13newsnow.com/article/news/local/virginia/new-virginia-law-allows-certain-lottery-winners-to-keep-identity-private/291-c33ea642-e8fa-45fd-b3a4-dc693cf5b372
US Virgin Islands: Anonymity appears to be an option. A $2 Million Powerball winner was allowed to remain anonymous. Source: https://viconsortium.com/virgin-islands-2/st-croix-resident-wins-2-million-in-latest-power-ball-drawing/
Washington: Not Anonymous/Can use a trust but info subject to open records act. "As a public agency, all documents held by Washington's Lottery are subject to the Public Records Act. Lottery prizes may be claimed in the name of a legally formed entity, such as a trust. However, in the event of a public records request, the documents forming the artificial entity may be released, thereby revealing the individual names of winners." https://www.walottery.com/ClaimYourPrize/
West Virginia: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner for prizes over $1 million and 5% of winnings remittance. "Effective January 1, 2019, House Bill 2982 allows winners of State Lottery draw games to remain anonymous in regards to his or her name, personal contact information, and likeness; providing that the prize exceeds one million dollars and the individual who elects to remain anonymous remits five percent of his or her winnings to the State Lottery Fund." Source: https://wvlottery.com/customer-service/customer-resources/
Wisconsin: Not Anonymous/Cannot be claimed by other entities. "Pursuant to Wisconsin’s Open Records law (Wis. Stats. Secs. 19.31–19.39), the Lottery is required to disclose a winner’s name, likeness and place of residence. If you win and claim a prize, the Lottery may use your name, likeness and place of residence for any purpose without compensation to you.
Upon claiming your prize, you waive any claims against the Lottery and its representatives for any and all liability which may result from the disclosure or use of such information." "The original winning ticket must be signed by a single human being. For-profit and non-profit entities, trusts, and other non-human beings are not eligible to play or claim a prize." Source: https://wilottery.com/claimprize.aspx
Wyoming: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner. "We will honor requests for anonymity from winners. However, we certainly hope winners will allow us to share their names and good news with other players." Source: https://wyolotto.com/lottery/faq/
Other countries
Australia: 100% Anonymous if requested by winner. "The great thing about playing lotto in Australia is that winners can choose to remain anonymous and keep their privacy, unlike in the United States where winners don't have such a choice, and are often thrown into a media circus." Source: https://www.ozlotteries.com/blog/how-to-remain-anonymous-when-you-win-lotto/
Bahamas: No current lottery. Source: https://thenassauguardian.com/2013/01/29/strong-no-vote-trend-so-far-in-gaming-referendum/
Bahrain: Not Anonymous. Source: https://bdutyfree.com/terms-conditions1#.X8ru92lOmdM
Barbados: Not Anonymous. "No. Barbados Lottery winners cannot remain anonymous. The Barbados Lottery mandates the winner’s name, address, game won, date won and amount won be provided; however Barbados Lottery winners' home addresses and telephone numbers are confidential." Source: https://www.mybarbadoslottery.com/faqs
Brazil: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner. Source: https://www.lotterycritic.com/lottery-results/brazil-lottery/
Canada: Not Anonymous. Every provincial lottery corporation in Canada requires winners to participate in a publicity photo shoot showing their face, their name and their municipality. Can seek anonymity if you have specific security concerns (rarely granted). Source: https://consumers.findlaw.ca/article/can-lottery-winners-remain-anonymous/
Carribbean Lottery Countries (Antigua/Barbuda, Anguilla, St. Kitts/Nevis, St. Maarten/Saba/St. Eustatius, and Turks/Caicos): Not Anonymous. "No. Caribbean Lottery winners cannot remain anonymous. The Caribbean Lottery mandates the winner’s name, address, game won, date won and amount won be provided; however Caribbean Lottery winners' home addresses and telephone numbers are confidential." Source: https://www.thecaribbeanlottery.com/faqs
China: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner. Must appear in a press conference and photo but allowed to wear disguise. Source: https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/world/2015/01/22/china-lottery-winners-mask/22108515/
Cuba: No current lottery. Source: https://oncubanews.com/en/cuba/society-cuba/cuban-traditions/lottery-the-national-game-infographics/
EuroMillions Countries (Austria, Belgium, France, Ireland, Luxembourg, Portugal, Spain, Switzerland, and UK*): 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner. Source: https://www.euro-millions.com/publicity
*United Kingdom: Excludes
*Caymen Islands, and Falkland Islands: No current lottery. Source: https://calvinayre.com/2018/11/02/business/cayman-islands-move-illegal-gambling-doesnt-address-real-issue/ Source: https://simonsblogpark.com/onlinegambling/simons-guide-gambling-falkland-islands/amp/#lottery-falkland-islands
*Anguilla, and Turks & Caicos: Not Anonymous. Source: https://www.thecaribbeanlottery.com/faqs
EuroJackpot Countries (Croatia, Czechia, Denmark, Estonia, Finland, Germany, Hungary, Iceland, Italy, Latvia, Lithuania, Netherlands*, Norway, Poland, Slovakia, Slovenia, Spain, and Sweden): 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner. Source: https://www.euro-jackpot.net/en/publicity
*Netherlands: Excludes
*St. Maarten, Saba, and St. Eustatius: Not Anonymous. Source: https://www.thecaribbeanlottery.com/faqs
Fiji: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner. Source: https://fijisun.com.fj/2012/11/08/3m-lotto-win-here/
Georgia (Kartvelia): Anonymity appears to be an option. "2.9.1. Prizes and Winners. Each Bidder shall provide details of:....how winners who waive their right to privacy will be treated;" Source: https://mof.ge/images/File/lottery/tender-documentation.pdf
Greece: Anonymity appears to be an option. "The bearer of the ticket shall keep the details of the ticket confidential and not reveal them to any third party." Source: https://www.opap.gen/identity-terms-of-use-lotto
Guyana: Not Anonymous. Source: https://www.kaieteurnewsonline.com/2013/05/16/winner-says-he-was-too-busy-to-collect-78m-lotto-prize/
India*: Not Anonymous. Source: https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-35771298
*: Only available in the states of Kerala, Goa, Maharashtra, Madhya Pradesh, Punjab, West Bengal, Assam, Arunachal Pradesh, Meghalaya, Manipur, Sikkim, Nagaland and Mizoram. Source: https://www.indiatoday.in/india/story/lottery-mizoram-nagaland-sikkim-kerala-975188-2017-05-04
Indonesia: No current lottery. Source: https://apnews.com/45eb94ff1b1132470a7aa5902f0bc734
Israel: Not Anonymous by Law, Anonymous in Practice. “[A]lthough we have this right, we have never exercised it because we understood the difficulties the winners could encounter in the period after their win. We provide details about the winner, but in a manner that doesn’t disclose their identity,” Dolin Melnik, then-spokesperson for Israel’s Mifal Hapayis lottery told Haaretz in 2009." Source: https://www.timesofisrael.com/why-the-israeli-lottery-gives-winners-masks/
Jamaica: Not Anonymous. First initial and last name of winner was released but winner was allowed to wear a mask for photo. Source: https://news.e-servicis.com/news/trending/lottery-winner-takes-prize-in-scream-mask.1S/
Japan: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner. Source: https://www.japantimes.co.jp/news/2017/09/08/business/japans-lottery-rakes-declining-revenues-younger-generation-gives-jackpot-chances-pass/#.XRYwVVMpCdM
Kenya: Not Anonymous. "9.1 When You claim or are paid a prize, You will automatically be deemed to grant to O8 LOTTO an irrevocable right to publish, through all types of media broadcasting, including the internet, for the purposes of promoting the win, Your full name (as well as Your nick name), hometown, photograph and video materials without any claim for broadcasting, printing or other rights" Source: https://mylottokenya.co.ke/terms-conditions
Malaysia: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner. Source: https://says.com/my/news/a-24-year-old-malaysian-woman-just-won-more-than-rm4-million-from-4d-lottery
Nagorno-Karabakh: Not Anonymous. Source: http://asbarez.com/120737/artsakh-lottery-winner-claims-car-prize/
New Zealand: 100% Anonymous if requested by winner. Source: https://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=10383080
North Korea: Not Anonymous. Source: https://www.nknews.org/2018/11/north-korean-sports-ministry-launches-online-lottery/
Northern Cyprus: Anonymity appears to be an option. Source: https://www.pressreader.com/cyprus/cyprus-today/20181124/281590946615912
Oman: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner. Source: http://www.omanlottery.com/
Philippines: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner. Source: https://www.rappler.com/nation/214995-ultra-lotto-winners-claim-winnings-pcso-october-2018
Qatar: Not Anonymous. Source: https://www.qatarliving.com/forum/qatar-living-lounge/posts/qatar-duty-free-announces-latest-us1-million
Romania: Anonymity appears to be an option. Source: https://www.thelotter.com/win-lottery-anonymously/
Russia: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner. Source: http://siberiantimes.com/otheothers/news/siberian-scoops-a-record-184513512-roubles-on-russian-state-lottery/
Samoa: Not Anonymous. Source: https://www.rnz.co.nz/international/pacific-news/191796/samoa%27s-lotto-winner-still-a-mystery
Saudi Arabia: No current lottery. Source: https://www.arabnews.com/police-arrest-lottery-crooks-victimizing-expats
Singapore: Anonymity appears to be an option. Source: https://www.straitstimes.com/singapore/did-you-win-here-are-results-of-136m-toto-hongbao-draw
Solomon Islands: No current lottery. Source: http://www.paclii.org/sb/legis/consol_act/gala196/
South Africa: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner. Source: https://www.thesouthafrican.com/powerball-results/powerball-winner-r232-million-found-lottery-details/
South Korea: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner. Source: https://elaw.klri.re.keng_mobile/viewer.do?hseq=38378&type=sogan&key=5
Sri Lanka: Anonymity appears to be an option. Source: http://www.thesundayleader.lk/2010/01/31/where-do-all-the-lottery-winners-go/
Taiwan: 100% Anonymous if requested by the winner. Source: http://m.focustaiwan.tw/news/asoc/201806250011.aspx
Trinidad and Tobago: Anonymity appears to be an option. Source: https://trinidadexpress.com/news/local/student-wins-the-million-lotto/article_3f3c8550-570d-11e9-9cc3-b7550f9b4ad4.html
Tuvalu: No current lottery. Source: http://tuvalu-legislation.tv/cms/images/LEGISLATION/PRINCIPAL/1964/1964-0004/GamingandLotteries_1.pdf
United Arab Emirates: Not Anonymous. Source: https://www.ndtv.com/indians-abroad/shojith-ks-in-sharjah-uae-wins-abu-dhabi-duty-free-big-ticket-4-million-jackpot-rejects-calls-2032942
Vatican City: Anonymity appears to be an option. Source: https://cruxnow.com/vatican/2018/12/04/popes-white-lamborghini-up-for-raffle-winner-gets-trip-to-rome/
Vietnam: Anonymity appears to be an option. Source: https://ampe.vnexpress.net/news/news/vietnamese-farmer-identified-as-winner-of-4-million-lottery-jackpot-3484751.html
Windward Lottery Countries (Dominica, Grenada, Saint Lucia, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines): Not Anonymous. "Prize winners asked to do so by Winlot must give their name and address, and satisfactory establish their identity. All winners of the Jackpot (Match 6) prize will be photographed. Note that Winlot and CBN reserve the right to publish the names, addresses and photographs of all the winners." Source: http://www.stlucialotto.com/snl/super6_rules_regs.php