blueberry sparkle

¿Recuerdas la primera vez que usaste un intercambio centralizado y todo funcionó? Rápidas ejecuciones, márgenes ajustados, sin ansiedad por el gas, gráficos que se cargaban al instante. Luego miraste bajo el capó y te diste cuenta de que una empresa podría congelar tus fondos mañana si así lo deseaba. Injective miró esa compensación y decidió que ya no era necesaria.
El momento en que abres un mercado en Injective sientes la diferencia. No hay inicio de sesión, no hay muro KYC, no hay temporizador de retiro. Conectas una billetera y estás dentro del mismo lugar que los fondos de cobertura y los creadores de mercado utilizan. El libro de órdenes que te mira es el verdadero libro global, no una copia aislada. Realiza una orden limitada y aterriza exactamente donde la pusiste. Cáncela un milisegundo después y la cancelación ya está confirmada. Nada espera por lotes, nada se queda en una cola, nada desaparece en una caja negra.

Hace unos años, la mayoría de los proyectos llegaban con el mismo guion cansado: ventas privadas a fondos, asignaciones masivas para equipos bloqueadas durante años y una pequeña migaja dejada para las personas comunes. Injective desechó ese guion. Cuando la red se puso en marcha, no hubo pre-minado, no hubo ronda para insiders, no había reservas ocultas. Todo comenzó desde cero y ha permanecido en la luz desde entonces. Esa única decisión aún resuena en cada rincón del ecosistema hoy.
El día que la cadena comenzó a producir bloques, cualquiera podía ejecutar un nodo, cualquiera podía hacer staking, cualquiera podía comerciar. Sin puertas, sin listas, sin invitaciones. Los tokens iniciales vinieron a existir solo a través de subastas comunitarias y subvenciones del ecosistema que se anunciaron públicamente y se ejecutaron en la cadena. Las personas que llegaron temprano no se hicieron más ricas porque conocieran a alguien; fueron recompensadas porque participaron. Esa diferencia importa más que cualquier línea de marketing que se haya podido imaginar.

Most Bitcoin staking projects treat the token like an afterthought. They bolt it on at the end, hand out huge chunks to insiders, then let the rest trickle out on a fixed calendar nobody can change. Lorenzo never accepted that model. From day one the team asked a harder question: what if the token itself became the reason people keep their Bitcoin inside the protocol for years instead of days?
The answer sits inside BANKs emission design. Nothing dumps on a timer just because the calendar flipped. New tokens only appear when the network actually needs them: when more Bitcoin gets staked, when new yield products launch, when liquidity pools need fresh incentives. If the protocol grows slowly, emissions stay low. If adoption explodes, supply opens up just enough to keep everything running smoothly without flooding the market. That single decision changes the entire psychology of holding BANK.
Early supply started small on purpose. The first tokens went to people who brought real Bitcoin into the system and agreed to lock it for a full cycle. No massive private rounds, no hidden allocations waiting to crash the chart. Lorenzo kept the initial float tight so price discovery could happen naturally while the product proved itself. Anyone watching the charts in the opening weeks saw volume climb and price hold steady because there simply was not enough supply floating around to swing it wildly.
Locking BANK into veBANK is where the real architecture shows up. The longer you commit, the more voting weight and reward share you earn. Most projects treat locking as a minor perk. Lorenzo treats it as the central gear. Every major fee share, every new yield pool, every buyback pool runs through veBANK holders first. Short term traders can flip the base token all they want, but the people who decide where the protocol goes next are the ones who refused to sell for twelve or twenty four months. That structure quietly pushes the serious capital toward the longest locks.
Revenue started flowing almost immediately once the first Bitcoin got tokenized. Every time someone stakes BTC and splits it into a principal token and a yield token, the protocol takes a small cut. That cut does not vanish into a team wallet. It lands in a pool that buys BANK on open markets and either burns it or drops it straight to long term lockers. The longer the ecosystem runs, the more Bitcoin moves through it, the more fees pile up, the tighter the effective supply becomes. Emissions keep the lights on, but fees slowly choke the total circulating amount.
The schedule itself reads like a roadmap instead of a countdown. Phase one rewarded the first wave of Bitcoin stakers who tested the tokenization engine when nobody else would touch it. Phase two opened wider once the yield products crossed a meaningful threshold of locked value. Phase three will not even start until the protocol ships its first real world asset integration. Each gate sits behind actual usage metrics, not dates on a blog post. Miss the milestone and the unlock waits. Hit it early and the rewards flow sooner. Lorenzo built the token to breathe with the network instead of against it.
Yield bearing tokens add another layer most people miss at first glance. When you stake Bitcoin through Lorenzo you walk away with two assets: one that represents your original principal and another that keeps collecting rewards forever. That second token trades freely, so people who need cash today can sell their future yield without touching their Bitcoin. The protocol keeps earning on the full amount either way. More trading volume means more fees means more buy pressure on BANK. The emission side stays calm while the revenue side quietly builds a floor that rises with every new user.
Liquidity incentives follow the same philosophy. Instead of spraying tokens across every new pair on every chain, Lorenzo directs emissions only where Bitcoin liquidity actually matters. A new curve pool for the principal token needs depth, emissions show up for eight weeks and then taper off once volume stabilizes. A lending market wants to bootstrap BTC borrowing, Lorenzo drops targeted rewards until the pool hits escape velocity, then pulls back. Nothing runs forever on autopilot. Every incentive has an exit plan written into the code from day one.
Burn mechanics sit in the background doing steady work. A slice of every fee, no matter how small, gets sent straight to a dead address. At current volumes it feels invisible. Run the same math five years out with ten times the Bitcoin flowing through and the burn starts outpacing new emissions entirely. Lorenzo never promised a hard capped supply on launch because that felt dishonest when real growth still needed fuel. Instead it built a path where supply can actually shrink once the flywheel spins fast enough.
What surprises most observers is how little the team talks about price. Charts come and go, but the emission design only cares about one metric: how much Bitcoin stays inside the protocol earning yield. Every token released serves that single goal. Keep the BTC happy and everything else follows. People who lock for the full four year curve are not gambling on weekly pumps. They are positioning for the moment when fees finally overtake emissions and the token starts deleting itself faster than it prints.
Lorenzo designed BANK to reward patience in a space that usually punishes it. Short term flips still happen, markets gonna market, but the real money accrues to the people who treat the token like equity in a machine that keeps eating Bitcoin and spitting out fees. The emission schedule is just the polite way of saying: stick around long enough and the protocol starts working for you instead of the other way around.
Years from now when historians look back at which Bitcoin DeFi projects actually lasted, they will not point to the ones that printed the most tokens fastest. They will point to the ones that figured out how to keep supply honest while the network grew. Lorenzo wrote that answer into BANK from the very first line of code. The rest is just waiting for the market to notice.
#lorenzoprotocol
@Lorenzo Protocol $BANK

The moment a regular gamer first hears the words “play to earn” something shifts. They lean forward. The idea that time spent in a game can translate into real value lands differently than any other pitch in entertainment history. Yet the excitement fades fast when they open a wallet for the first time, stare at gas fees, or watch a token price swing twenty percent in an hour. That is the exact point where most people step back and decide Web3 gaming is not for them. Yield Guild Games exists to make sure they never reach that breaking point.
YGG started with a simple observation: the hardest part of Web3 is rarely the game itself. The real hurdle sits outside the game window. It lives in seed phrases, private keys, chain selection, yield farming mechanics, and the quiet fear that one wrong click wipes everything out. Traditional gaming never asked players to become part time accountants. Web3 does, whether it wants to or not. YGG decided someone had to teach the accounting class before handing out the final exam.
So they built an entire curriculum that never feels like school. New players land in Discord channels where veterans sit side by side with absolute beginners. Someone drops a screenshot of a confusing transaction. Three people jump in with different explanations until the picture becomes clear. No one is paid to teach. They do it because they remember their own first weeks of total confusion. YGG simply gave that instinct a home and kept scaling it.
The guild now runs dozens of squads focused on single games. Each squad has its own rhythm. Some meet daily to coordinate strategies in a battle arena title. Others gather once a week to split farming duties across a virtual world. The common thread is constant conversation about what works and what does not. New mechanics appear in a game update and within hours the squad has tested them, documented the results, and turned the findings into a short guide anyone can read. Knowledge moves faster inside YGG than in any patch note or official forum.
YGG Play took the next logical step. Instead of waiting for perfect games to appear, the guild started publishing its own. The goal was never to compete with triple A studios. The goal was to create titles that teach while they entertain. A racing game where the cars are NFTs but the racing feels exactly like the mobile games people already love. A farming sim that runs on a side chain so transactions cost fractions of a cent. Every design choice asks the same question: how do we let someone experience ownership without forcing them to study blockchain first?
Events became moving classrooms. The YGG Play Summit in Manila packed a convention center with players who had never touched crypto before that week. They walked in carrying nothing but curiosity and left with wallets, tokens, and a handful of new friends who spoke the same language. Booth demos turned into impromptu lessons. A developer explained layer two scaling while handing out free land parcels. A tournament caster paused between matches to show how prize pools moved instantly from the platform to player wallets. Learning happened in the corners of the room, in line for coffee, during late night street food runs.
Partnerships spread the same playbook worldwide. When YGG enters a new country it looks for local guilds already doing good work on the ground. Instead of competing it offers resources: scholarships, tools, shared revenue from game deals, and most important a proven onboarding flow. The local guild keeps its identity and leadership. It just gains access to a library of lessons refined across dozens of earlier markets. The result looks different everywhere yet follows the same pattern: players teach players, confusion shrinks, retention climbs.
The Guild Advancement Program turned education into a visible ladder. Anyone could apply. Accepted members received assets to manage, targets to hit, and weekly check ins with mentors. They learned scholarship structures, ROI calculations, community management, even basic content creation. Seasons came and went but the graduates stayed. Many now run their own sub guilds or work full time inside the broader YGG network. The program proved that given clear steps and real responsibility regular gamers can master complex systems remarkably fast.
What ties everything together is a stubborn refusal to talk down to people. YGG never hides the hard parts. Gas exists. Volatility exists. Scams exist. The guild treats players like adults who can handle truth delivered straight. That honesty builds trust faster than any polished marketing ever could. When someone loses tokens to a phishing link the community does not mock them. They dissect what happened, update the warning guides, and move on. Mistakes become the next lesson everyone else gets for free.
The numbers tell only half the story. Tens of thousands of players have passed through YGG programs. Hundreds of games have been tested, funded, or published. Dozens of countries now host active local chapters. But walk into any voice channel at three in the morning and you hear what actually matters: someone explaining bridge transactions to a friend who just wants to move their character to a new chain so they can keep playing with the squad. That single moment repeats itself every day somewhere inside YGG and each time it happens the entire ecosystem moves a little closer to feeling normal.
Mainstream adoption will not arrive because a killer app suddenly appears. It will arrive when enough people feel confident enough to try without asking permission or studying for months first. YGG spends every day making that confidence ordinary. The guild is not waiting for Web3 gaming to become easy. It is removing the hard parts one clear explanation at a time until the only thing left is the fun everyone came for in the first place.
@Yield Guild Games #YGG
$YGG

Something changed this year and you can feel it the moment you open any Discord server that matters in Web3 gaming. The loud token farmers have gone quiet. The kids posting rocket emojis under every announcement have moved on to whatever is trending on Solana this week. What is left behind is a smaller but far more serious crowd. They log in every day not to flip something but because the game is actually fun and the guild they belong to treats them like humans. At the middle of almost every one of those healthy servers you will find the same three letters somewhere in the channel list: YGG.
Nobody planned for Yield Guild Games to become the default filter for what works and what does not. It just happened. A studio finishes its closed alpha and instead of blasting tweets they send a quiet message to someone inside YGG asking for two hundred players to test the new map for a weekend. Three days later the feedback doc is forty pages long the economy bugs are already fixed and half those testers never leave. Word spreads. The next studio does the same thing. Then the next. By the middle of 2025 the smartest investors have stopped doing reference calls with random advisors. They just ask one question: did YGG play it yet.
The money follows attention but only when the attention sticks. Funds that used to spread twenty small checks across anything with a tiger avatar on the pitch deck now write three or four bigger checks to teams that already have a thousand people earning inside the game before the token even exists. They can do that because YGG and the network of guilds around it have turned player acquisition into something that looks a lot like infrastructure. You do not pay TikTok influencers to dance anymore. You drop a batch of starter items to a regional YGG chapter and watch the server population triple in a week because people trust the guild not to waste their time.
Smaller guilds feel the pull too. A group of college students in Jakarta who started lending out Axies in 2021 now run their own scholarship program inside three different new games. They still send a slice of the earnings back to the main YGG treasury because the brand opens doors they could never knock on alone. A guild in Nigeria focused entirely on mobile shooters shares leaderboards with a guild in Brazil that only plays RPGs and somehow both communities grow faster once they start running cross game events together. None of this shows up in token price charts but it shows up everywhere else that actually matters.
Studios have started designing with guilds in mind from day one. They leave empty officer roles in the code waiting for YGG managers to claim. They reserve a pool of land or rare items that only get released when a partner guild hits certain milestones. One shooter that launched in March gave every YGG member who reached rank fifty a skin that could never be bought with money. The skin became the most traded item on the marketplace for months because wearing it told everyone else you were part of the group that helped balance the guns before anyone else saw them. The studio raised its next round in two days.
YGG itself keeps moving without making much noise. One month they open a new office in Manila that looks more like a coworking space for game testers than a corporate headquarters. The next month they announce a small publishing fund but only for teams that already survived six months with real players and no marketing budget. They host an tournament in Bogotá with a prize pool paid out in grocery vouchers because half the winners still live with their parents and need food more than dollars. Every move is practical almost boring until you realize the same guild is now touching more daily active wallets than most layer one chains.
Investors see all of it and adjust. The term sheets now include clauses about guild allocation instead of just team and advisor tokens. The due diligence folders contain screenshots of Discord activity for the last ninety days. One fund even hired a former YGG community manager whose only job is to play every new game for a month and write a single page about whether people are still talking about it on day thirty one. If the page says yes the partners do not ask many more questions.
This is the new reality. The hype is gone. The survivors are here. And almost all of them have YGG somewhere in their origin story whether they admit it or not.
The trend is no longer about who can raise the most money the fastest. It is about who can keep people playing the longest. Everything else is catching up to that simple truth and YGG figured it out years before anyone else bothered to look.
#YGG
@Yield Guild Games $YGG

People sometimes think governance in DeFi is just a fancy word for endless forum arguments that go nowhere. On Injective it actually lands and you feel the difference the next day.
Take the day the S&P 500 perpetual went live. The proposal had been floating around the forum for weeks, nothing dramatic, just a trader asking why they still had to leave the chain to get exposure to the biggest index in the world. The vote opened on a Tuesday, closed on a Friday, and by Saturday morning the market was there. No announcement spam, no countdown timer, just a new pair sitting quietly in the list with tighter spreads than most centralized venues. Volume started slow and then kept climbing for months. That single yes vote turned a nice-to-have into something thousands of wallets now use every day.
Gas limits used to be the silent pain on Injective the way they are everywhere else. Someone posted a short proposal that basically said let’s double the block space and see what breaks. Nothing broke. The vote passed with the kind of margin that makes you wonder why it wasn’t done earlier. Next week the chain felt like it had taken a deep breath. Orders that used to bunch up and spike fees just slid through. People stopped talking about it because the problem was gone. That is what a good governance win feels like: the conversation dies because the friction disappeared.
INJ 3.0 was different. That one had heat. Half the thread was people worried about burning too fast, the other half worried about burning too slow. In the end the middle path won by a landslide because the numbers were laid out plain and the math checked out. When the new rules kicked in the charts barely twitched but the staking page started looking healthier week after week. Nobody threw a party. They just kept trading and the supply curve started doing exactly what the proposal said it would. Quiet success again.
Ethernia was the one that made developers sit up straight. Solidity contracts running natively on a Cosmos chain sounded like marketing until the first few projects shipped. One guy ported an old Ethereum vault in an afternoon and it worked better than on mainnet because the fees were predictable and the blocks were fast. Word spread the way it does in small Discords at 3 a.m. By the end of the month there were forks and tweaks and entirely new things nobody had seen before. The vote itself had taken four days. The building season lasted half a year.
Nivara felt almost sneaky. The proposal was a page and a half about better price feeds for tokenized stocks and commodities. It passed without much noise and suddenly the equity markets on Injective stopped looking like experiments. Apple, Tesla, gold, oil all started trading with depth that actually moved when the underlying moved. Retail traders who had never touched DeFi before opened the app, saw names they recognized, and stayed. Nobody needed to explain what a ticker symbol was.
The validator set trim was the most boring proposal on paper and probably the most important in practice. Cutting the active set from 100 down to 60 sounded like it would spark drama but the numbers showed the tail nodes were barely earning rewards anyway. Vote passed, set rotated, chain got snappier, rewards concentrated a bit, and decentralization metrics actually improved because the remaining nodes were geographically wider apart. Nobody wrote a victory post. They just noticed their confirmations were faster.
Burn auctions were the one that got people excited in a greedy way. The idea was simple: let anyone bid INJ to burn it and take a slice of protocol fees in return. The vote was lopsided yes because the mechanism was optional and the upside obvious. First auction filled in minutes. Second one filled faster. Within a couple of cycles the weekly burn numbers were higher than anything the old system ever managed and the winners were regular addresses, not whales. The rich list barely moved but the total supply started shrinking in a way everyone could see.
CosmWasm upgrade was pure builder catnip. New opcodes, better memory handling, cheaper storage calls. The proposal read like release notes but the vote still pulled ninety plus percent because every dev who had ever cursed gas costs on the old version showed up to click yes. A week later the first big perpetual vault using the new features went live and pulled in liquidity that still hasn’t left.
Loop staking changes came right when people were grumbling about locked tokens. The fix was elegant: keep the high yields for long locks but add a short cooldown option with slightly lower rewards. Vote took three days. Next epoch the unstaking queue looked completely different. People who needed liquidity took the small haircut and moved on and the core pool stayed deep. Nobody felt punished and the protocol kept its capital.
What ties all these stories together is how little drama there was after the votes. No hard forks, no chains splitting, no months of delay. On Injective a proposal passes and the chain just keeps running with the new rules quietly updated in the next block or two. The forum moves on to the next idea. Traders keep trading. Builders keep building. The platform gets a little better every time and nobody has to read a thirty-page post mortem to understand what changed.
That is the part outsiders usually miss. Governance on Injective does not feel like politics. It feels like maintenance on a race car that never leaves the track. Someone swaps a better part, the driver feels the difference on the next lap, and the crowd only notices when the lap times keep dropping.
#injective @Injective $INJ

The first thing most people notice when they open Injective is how little it feels like the rest of DeFi. There is no wall of numbers screaming for attention, no endless scrolling through menus buried three layers deep, no panic about missing a setting that could cost money. Instead the screen breathes. Charts sit where eyes naturally fall, open positions line up in quiet rows, and everything that matters stays within a thumb’s reach.
Injective places the current unrealized profit or loss directly above the order panel in large friendly numerals that turn green or red without drama. You see the number change as price moves and you understand immediately where you stand. No need to hunt through tabs or open a separate calculator. That single design choice removes a layer of anxiety that quietly pushes many newcomers away from perpetual trading elsewhere.
Placing an order on Injective feels closer to shopping online than to traditional trading. You pick the direction, slide the leverage if you want it, and the platform shows the exact liquidation price before you even confirm. Take-profit and stop-loss fields wait right there, pre-filled with sensible defaults but ready to drag with a finger. When you decide to close only part of a position you type the amount and the interface instantly recalculates margin and fees so nothing comes as a surprise later. These details sound small until you have used platforms that force you to cancel and recreate entire orders just to adjust one value.
Token handling is another place where Injective quietly solves problems most users did not realize they had. Bring in assets from Ethereum, Solana, or a Cosmos chain, or even a real-world stock token and the bridge page shows one clean table. Injective converts whatever you send into the format the trading engine prefers without asking you to approve three separate transactions. You click deposit, sign once, and the balance appears ready to trade. On the way out the same simplicity repeats itself. Choose where you want the money to land and Injective routes it correctly behind the scenes.
The mobile experience deserves its own mention because Injective treats phones as first-class devices instead of afterthoughts. Charts redraw smoothly when you turn the screen sideways, buttons stay large enough for actual fingers, and the most actions finish in one or two taps. You can watch an index perpetual tied to gold or the S&P while riding the subway and adjust your position without zooming and pinching until your eyes hurt. That kind of thoughtfulness matters when markets move fast and you happen to be away from a desk.
Portfolio overview on Injective gathers everything into a single calm page. Spot holdings sit next to leveraged positions which sit next to staked assets and upcoming claimable rewards. Each section can collapse or expand so the screen never feels crowded. Color appears only where it helps: soft blue for long, muted orange for short, gray for locked collateral. Nothing flashes or pulses or demands attention it has not earned.
Even advanced features hide in plain sight rather than behind cryptic labels. Want to set a trailing stop? Tap the small arrow next to the regular stop field and the option slides out. Need to borrow stablecoins against your collateral for a quick arb? The borrow button lives exactly where you would look for it. Injective never makes you feel clever for finding a menu; it simply puts the tool where your hand expects it to be.
What ties all of this together is restraint. Injective refuses to crowd the screen with every possible metric at once. Gas estimates appear only when they matter, fee breakdowns open only when you ask, and educational tooltips stay out of the way until you hover or long-press. The result is an interface that respects both your time and your intelligence.
People who have traded on half a dozen other platforms often say the same thing after a week on Injective: they stop thinking about the interface and start thinking about the actual trade. That shift is the quiet revolution Injective has pulled off. By stripping away the noise and friction that most projects accept as normal, Injective has built a place where decentralized finance finally feels like finance instead of an endurance test. And that, more than any single feature, is what keeps users coming back.
@Injective
#injective $INJ

I have watched entire communities judge a game by one number on a screen and then wake up six months later wondering where everyone went. The number never warned them. Yield Guild Games stopped trusting that number years ago.
YGG judges games the way old school arcade owners judged quarters in the machine at closing time. They want to know who is still feeding the cabinet long after the launch crowd moved on to the next cabinet.
They look first at honest playtime. Not the inflated session counts studios brag about. Just total hours real wallets spend inside the actual game. A title can have a million token holders and still sound hollow when you walk through the main city at off hours. YGG cares about the cities that stay noisy at four in the morning because people have raids scheduled with friends on the other side of the planet.
Retention past the honeymoon is everything. The first week is free marketing. The third month is the test. The games YGG keeps pouring scholars into are the ones where the player count dips after launch and then quietly starts climbing again because someone discovered you can breed blue chickens or because the new patch finally fixed the thing everyone complained about for weeks. That little upward tick after the drop is the moment a game stops being a product and starts being a place.
Scholarships are still the best lie detector in the building. Every person playing on a YGG account could walk away the second the earnings slow down. Many do. The ones who stay up anyway grinding dailies at two in the morning are telling you something no whitepaper ever will. When the active scholar count keeps growing while the token price drifts sideways the game is paying people in fun as well as fragments of tokens. Fun is the part that survives winter.
YGG also watches for the moment players stop waiting for official content and start making their own. A seventeen year old in Vietnam sets up a weekend tournament with a prize pool he saved from three weeks of farming. A group in Nigeria starts a clan called Nightshift because they all work days and only play after midnight. Someone uploads a thirty minute video explaining how to solo the hardest boss and it gets ten thousand views from people who never heard of the official YouTube channel. When those things start happening without anyone asking for them the game has grown roots.
Daily loops have to fit real life. If the average player can knock out the meaningful stuff in forty five minutes and still walk away feeling they moved forward the loop is humane. If everything stretches past two hours and still feels like homework the login numbers start leaking like a punctured tire. YGG learned to smell the difference long before the charts show it.
They love watching reputation travel. A player earns a glowing axe in one game carries proof of that grind into the next YGG partnered world and suddenly strangers treat him differently. When that starts happening a hundred times a day the whole portfolio begins to feel like one big living room instead of separate hotel rooms.
Voice channels at odd hours are the final proof. Text is cheap. Voice costs sleep. When the Philippines crew is yelling over each other at one in the morning because someone finally hit grandmaster or when the Latam squad breaks into song after a close win those rooms are warmer than any treasury report. YGG keeps an eye on how many people are willing to keep their microphones hot past bedtime. Empty voice stages during prime time in half a dozen countries is the clearest sign something broke that no amount of new tokens will fix.
Yield Guild Games does not parade these numbers around. They drop enough hints to show the approach works and guard the exact figures like family recipes. Other guilds have borrowed the ideas but YGG still has the longest memory and the sharpest eyes because they started measuring life instead of price while most of us were still staring at green candles.
The next bull run will arrive eventually. Dead games will light up again for a season and people will call it a comeback. YGG will open the same dashboards they open every morning and send scholars only where the arcade was still crowded at closing time long after the hype left town. Price will speak when it is ready. It will never again get the first turn.
#YGG
@Yield Guild Games $YGG

Lorenzo sigue avanzando a su manera silenciosa. Nada de ello grita por atención, pero todo lo que hace termina importando a las personas que realmente lo usan todos los días. El próximo periodo, desde principios de 2025 hasta todo 2026, está moldeado en torno a una idea simple: hacer que las partes complicadas desaparezcan para que las partes útiles puedan crecer.
A principios del próximo año, Lorenzo lanzará una delgada capa invisible que se encuentra entre lo que sostienes y la estrategia que deseas ejecutar. Depositas activos y comienzan a funcionar sin que tengas que pensar en puentes, envolturas o gas en tres cadenas diferentes. La capa simplemente se encarga de eso. Al mismo tiempo, aparecerán una serie de estrategias listas para usar. Una sigue reglas estrictas sobre la volatilidad. Otra se inclina hacia la acumulación constante. Una tercera mantiene todo vinculado a un valor estable. Cada una se construye de la misma manera que se construiría un fondo tradicional, excepto que cada movimiento permanece en la cadena y cada titular puede verlo suceder en tiempo real. Lorenzo nunca oculta la receta.

The metaverse no longer feels like something coming tomorrow. People already live parts of their days inside it, working, playing, meeting friends, earning a living. In that reality the question stops being whether someone should hide their real name and becomes how much of themselves they are willing to leave exposed while still being taken seriously by others. Yield Guild Games has spent years answering that question in practice not theory and the answers it keeps finding are worth watching closely.
A player joins YGG today and the first thing that happens is almost nothing. No forced link to a government document. No demand to connect a social account with a real face. Instead the person picks a wallet chooses a handle and steps in. That simplicity is deliberate. YGG learned early that the heavier the onboarding gate the fewer interesting people walk through it. So the guild keeps the door wide and the lights low. You can arrive as a ghost and still end up running a regional node six months later if the work you do speaks loudly enough.
Inside the guild anonymity is treated as a feature not a bug to be fixed. When a new season of a game starts YGG drops quests that anyone with the right NFT or badge can claim. The wallet address is the only proof required. No one asks where you live or what you do when the servers are down. Yet the same quests carry reputation that follows you from one game to the next. The badge you earn for finishing top ten in a tournament travels with you into the next title YGG supports. Other players see the badge and treat you accordingly. You stay nameless but never invisible. That quiet combination is harder to build than it looks and YGG has refined it across dozens of titles.
Verification when it does appear comes sideways instead of headon. Someone who consistently shows up for daily tasks in LOL Land slowly collects small onchain stamps. After a few weeks the stamps add up to a guild rank that unlocks better borrowing rates on assets. Nothing in the process ever asked for a passport photo or a video call. The chain itself became the witness. Members joke that YGG turned grinding into a credit score and they are not entirely wrong. The difference is the score belongs entirely to the player. Leave the guild tomorrow and the history still rides in your wallet ready for the next place that knows how to read it.
Events tell the same story from another angle. When YGG runs a weekend tournament thousands of avatars gather in a custom space. Some arrive as floating cubes others as hyperreal humans a few as lowpoly animals from 2009. The voice chat stays open but muted by default. People type in public channels or whisper to friends. Leaders are marked by glowing tags floating above their heads tags earned by past contributions not by doxxing themselves on stream. At the end prizes land directly in wallets. The winners never had to stand on a physical stage or wave to a camera. They simply played well under whatever skin felt right that day.
The guild also experiments with layers inside the anonymity. A member can choose to attach a realworld skill certificate to their profile if they want freelance work but the certificate is hashed. Only the fact that someone verified it shows up not the document itself. Another player might link a Twitter handle for clout while keeping the wallet unconnected on purpose. YGG leaves the dials in the hands of the person holding the keys. Most members end up somewhere in the middle: known well enough to be trusted unknown well enough to sleep peacefully.
Looking forward through 2025 YGG is pushing deeper into casual games that people play on lunch breaks. Those spaces attract a different crowd: office workers students parents who want ten years ago would never have touched crypto. For them total anonymity matters even more because the stakes outside the game feel higher. The guild is already testing lightweight badge bridges that work across mobile titles with almost no friction. Finish a week of daily logins in one app and a small proof appears that you can carry into a completely different game. Nothing stored on a central server nothing that can be subpoenaed later. Just quiet persistent evidence that you showed up.
None of this is perfect. Scammers still try to sneak in reputation gets borrowed or stolen occasionally and sometimes a player disappears after building months of trust. YGG treats those moments as tuition rather than tragedy. Each incident sharpens the next iteration of badges quests borrowing rules and recovery paths. The guild moves fast because it has to. The metaverse keeps growing and every new influx of users brings fresh expectations about what privacy should feel like.
What stands out after watching YGG for several years is how rarely anyone inside it talks about privacy as a separate topic. It simply lives in the design. You are free to be no one or someone or several someones at once and the systems around you keep working either way. Other guilds copy pieces of the model but few match the lived consistency. Players notice. They vote with their time and their assets drifting toward the places where they can breathe easiest.
In the end the best practice for 2025 might be the simplest one YGG stumbled into years ago: build everything so that a person can walk away at any moment and still keep everything they truly earned. When the exit door stays open and unlocked people stop looking for it. They settle in play longer and treat each other better. Privacy stops feeling like a shield and starts feeling like gravity: always there quietly holding the whole world together.
#YGG $YGG @Yield Guild Games

Injective nunca pidió permiso para cambiar el juego. Simplemente lo hizo.
La mayoría de las personas aún piensan que los perpetuos son esas cosas que se comercian en Binance con 125x y una tasa de financiamiento que te devora cada ocho horas. Esa versión se siente antigua ahora si has pasado algún tiempo en Injective. La diferencia te golpea en los primeros cinco minutos y nunca te suelta.
Abres una posición y la ejecución regresa antes de que tu dedo deje el ratón. No casi instantáneo. De hecho, instantáneo. Sin retraso de secuenciador, sin puente, sin apretón de manos del custodio. La operación ocurre donde vive el libro de órdenes y el libro de órdenes vive en Injective. Esa única decisión eliminó el noventa por ciento de las excusas que el resto de la industria usa para ser lento.

Speed changes everything in trading. A delay of even half a second can turn a perfect entry into a missed chance or leave a position exposed longer than anyone wants. Most blockchain networks were never built with that reality in mind. They were designed for censorship resistance and finality, not for the relentless pace of real markets. Injective took the opposite path from day one. It asked a simple question: what would a chain look like if the only thing that mattered was giving traders the fastest possible experience while staying fully decentralized?
The answer starts with focus. Injective is not trying to be a general-purpose computer in the sky. It does not run social apps, games, or random tokens. It runs markets. Every line of code, every parameter, every compromise was made with order execution in mind. That single-minded approach lets the chain cut away anything that slows it down.
Block time is the first place most people notice the difference. Injective produces a new block about once per second. Compare that to chains that wait ten or fifteen seconds and the impact becomes clear. When a large candle prints and prices jump, the new reality hits the chain almost immediately. Limit orders that were resting far from the market suddenly become marketable and fill before the opportunity vanishes. For anyone who has watched a fat-finger trade or a news event rip through prices on a slower chain, the contrast is night and day.
Consensus itself is built for speed. Injective uses Tendermint BFT, which delivers instant finality. There is no probabilistic waiting game, no counting confirmations. The moment validators agree, the trade is done forever. That single property removes an entire category of risk that still haunts many other networks.
Order matching happens in a different layer entirely. Instead of forcing every bid and ask into the same mempool where they compete with unrelated transactions, Injective runs a network of relayers that keep a fully synchronized order book off-chain. These relayers race to match orders the instant they arrive. Only the final matched trades settle on-chain. The effect feels magical: you place a tight limit order during a flash move and watch it fill in the same breath you submit it.
Frequent blocks and instant finality would mean nothing if the chain clogged the moment volume picked up. Injective avoids that fate through ruthless pruning and efficient state management. The runtime compiles to WebAssembly, which executes far faster than the older virtual machines most chains still use. Validators can process thousands of financial messages per second without breaking a sweat. During real stress events the chain has handled sustained bursts that would bring other networks to their knees, and the user experience never degraded.
Geography matters too. Validators are spread across continents with low-latency connections to major trading hubs. When you send an order from Asia, Europe, or the Americas, a nearby node picks it up immediately. Propagation delays stay under a few hundred milliseconds in normal conditions. That matters more than people realize until they try to scalp a fast market from the wrong side of the planet.
Liquidity providers feel the speed most acutely. On slower chains, quoting tight markets is a losing game. By the time your new price reaches the chain, the market has already moved past it. On Injective, market makers update quotes multiple times per second and still get filled at the price they intended. That ability to stay in control encourages tighter spreads and deeper books. Deeper books mean less slippage for everyone else. The whole market becomes more efficient in a way that compounds over time.
Even the little details are tuned. Transaction memos are kept tiny. State bloat is fought aggressively. Fees are predictable and low enough that high-frequency strategies actually make sense. All of it adds up to an environment where professional traders no longer have to choose between speed and decentralization. They get both.
The feeling when you first trade on Injective is hard to describe to someone who has only used slower chains. Orders do not hang. Candles do not lag. Your stop and take-profit trigger exactly when price touches them. It just works the way trading is supposed to work.
That is the real achievement. Injective did not invent any single revolutionary technology. It took existing pieces, pointed them all at the same goal, removed every unnecessary millisecond, and refused to compromise on the things that actually matter to people who trade for a living. The result is a chain that finally delivers what decentralized finance always promised: the performance of the best centralized venues with none of the trust requirements.
As markets keep evolving and volume continues migrating on-chain, speed will only become more important. Injective built its foundation on the idea that latency is the last real friction left in DeFi. Everything else can be solved. Remove that final bottleneck and an entirely new class of trading strategies, participants, and products becomes possible. That future is already running today on Injective, one sub-second block at a time.
@Injective #injective $INJ

A few years ago most people still pictured web3 gaming as rows of young men grinding Axie Infinity in internet cafes somewhere in Southeast Asia. The reality inside Yield Guild Games usually called YGG has always looked different and the difference keeps growing. Walk into any of their regional Discord servers at almost any hour and you will hear women running tournaments explaining breeding mechanics to newcomers settling disputes between scholars and planning the next season roster. They are not guests. They are the backbone.
YGG never set out to become a showcase for women in gaming. It simply refused to ignore half the population. When the guild started handing out scholarships the applications from women poured in at the same rate as from men yet almost nobody else was taking them seriously. YGG said yes and kept saying yes. Many of those early scholars are now the ones deciding which games the guild enters next and how many scholarships each title receives.
Take the way new games get tested inside YGG. A country manager usually a woman who once lived on two dollars a day from smoothing love potions will gather twenty or thirty of her best players into a private server for a week. They play they break the economy they figure out which roles pay best and which cosmetics actually sell. By the time the report reaches the main treasury committee the decision is almost already made. The guild moves fast because the people closest to the action are trusted to speak first and loudest.
Inside the guild the word manager has a special meaning. It is not a corporate title. It is what you become when your scholars start earning more than the regional average for three months in a row. Dozens of women have crossed that line and stayed there. They run their own budgets like small companies. They hire assistants promote captains and negotiate directly with game studios for better revenue shares. YGG gives them the tools and then gets out of the way.
Some of the sharpest ideas come from late night voice channels that never make it to official meeting notes. One manager noticed her players kept quitting after their first bad breeding roll. She started a tiny insurance pool where everyone chipped in five dollars worth of tokens each month. When someone got a terrible mutant the pool covered the loss. Dropout rates in her region fell by half almost overnight. Six months later half the guild was running the same system.
Another group of women leads started inviting mothers to play alongside their teenage children on weekend mornings. They called it the Saturday Family Shift. Within weeks the voice channel was full of kids teaching their moms how to battle and moms reminding everyone to eat lunch. Retention in those households became almost unbreakable. The guild now schedules official family hours in several games because the data proved the idea worked better than any marketing campaign.
Content coming out of YGG feels different too. The most watched videos on their channels are not highlight reels of perfect plays. They are fifteen minute clips of a woman in a hijab walking her viewers through every step of setting up a Pixels farm while her toddler crawls across the desk in the background. People watch those videos on repeat because they see themselves in them. New scholars message her every day saying your video is the reason I finally clicked apply.
Even the way YGG thinks about money has changed under female leadership. Early guilds measured success only in daily earnings per scholar. The women who run regions now track how many of their players bought their first smartphone with guild income or paid a semester of school fees or sent money home after a typhoon. They keep those stories in shared spreadsheets because stories remind everyone why the spreadsheets matter.
When YGG holds its big annual gathering the main stage still has tournaments and announcements but the longest lines form at the smaller rooms down the hallway. One room is always reserved for women only. There they swap breeding tricks plan joint ventures and sometimes just sit together in silence after a long day. Nobody takes notes. Nobody needs to. They leave those rooms carrying something stronger than strategy.
The guild has started something it never planned: a quiet network of women who move between games countries and market cycles without ever losing contact with one another. When a new title shows promise five or six YGG women managers are already messaging each other about breeding costs rental rates and scholarship splits before the token even launches. They win early because they trust each other first.
None of this happened because someone wrote a diversity policy. It happened because YGG built a system where the people who grind the hardest and care the most end up in charge and a whole lot of those people turned out to be women. The games change the tokens change the market crashes and recovers but the pattern stays the same. Give women real ownership and real responsibility and the entire ecosystem levels up with them.
Look at any major web3 gaming guild today and you will see versions of these ideas spreading. Some copy the family shifts some copy the insurance pools some copy the women only testing servers. They copy because they have to. YGG already showed that when women lead from the front the guild does not just survive. It becomes the place everyone else is trying to catch.
@Yield Guild Games #YGG $YGG

Injective's Role in Yield Farming Evolution: Innovating beyond traditional farms with derivatives-backed strategies
The old way of yield farming feels almost quaint now. You found a pool, dropped tokens into a pair and waited for emissions to trickle in. Returns came mostly from one source and once the incentives dried up the game moved elsewhere. Injective never accepted that cycle as inevitable. From the beginning it built a different kind of playground one where perpetual futures options liquid staking tokens and lending markets all speak the same language so farmers no longer have to choose between yield and leverage. They can have both at the same time and in the same place.
Think about what actually happens when someone opens a perpetual position on Injective. The moment the trade executes the collateral does not sit idle. It can immediately flow into a vault that compounds lending rewards or into a strategy that sells covered calls against the same exposure. The position earns farming rewards while it stays open and those rewards can roll straight back into higher leverage if the trader wants. Nothing is isolated. Every piece of capital works multiple jobs simultaneously. That single insight changes the entire math of decentralized finance.
Liquid staking plays an even larger role than most people realize here. When you stake assets through Injective you receive a derivative token that remains fully usable across the chain. That token can become collateral for a 5x perpetual can enter a borrowing loop to increase the original stake or can sit in an automated vault that shifts between lending protocols chasing the highest real yield at any moment. The staked asset never stops moving and never stops earning. Traditional staking locks capital. Injective turns it into a living instrument.
Cross margin accounts take the idea further. A trader might fund an account with a basket of yield bearing tokens stablecoins that pay interest liquid staked derivatives earning staking rewards and even tokenized treasury bills. All of those assets count toward margin for perpetuals. When the trader opens a long on Bitcoin the interest from the stablecoins and the staking rewards from the derivatives keep flowing even as the position runs. Losses in one market can be offset by gains in another and the yield never pauses. Fragmentation disappears.
Some of the most interesting experiments now happening on Injective involve basis trading with real world assets. A user can deposit tokenized short term treasuries that pay a fixed coupon then use those same treasuries as collateral to short Ethereum perpetuals collecting funding rates when they run positive. The treasury coupon arrives like clockwork while the perpetual collects variable funding. Together they create a return profile that looks nothing like classic liquidity provision yet still qualifies as farming because the base assets remain active in money markets the whole time.
Covered call vaults have also found a natural home. Instead of writing options on centralized venues and then moving the premiums somewhere else to farm everything stays inside Injective. The vault sells calls against Bitcoin or Ethereum holdings collects the premium in stablecoins and immediately lends those stablecoins out or uses them to open inverse perpetuals. The premium becomes new collateral and the loop begins again. Market stays flat the farmer keeps the premium and the lending yield. Market moons the position still captures some upside while farming continues on the remaining assets.
Flash loans add another dimension entirely. A trader spots a funding rate arbitrage between Injective and another perpetual venue. Instead of tying up capital for hours the trader pulls a flash loan borrows against existing farm positions flips the trade and repays everything in one block. The only thing left behind is profit that drops straight into the original vault. Strategies that once required whale sized balances now run with almost no capital at risk because Injective lets the same assets serve as both farm collateral and loan base.
Range bound markets used to kill yield farmers. On Injective they become profit centers. Automated tools watch perpetual funding rates and delta neutral vaults shift capital toward whichever side is paying more. Longs pay shorts or shorts pay longs the vault collects either way while continuing to earn lending or staking yield on the underlying collateral. Volatility becomes irrelevant. The only thing that matters is participation.
Even the simplest acts of entering and exiting positions generate extra return. Routing through aggregated swaps means every trade captures small amounts of liquidity provider rewards on the way in and again on the way out. Those tiny slices add up especially for active traders who rebalance often. Injective turns the friction of movement into another yield source.
What ties all of this together is speed. Orders confirm in fractions of a second. Liquidations trigger exactly when they should. Rewards compound continuously instead of in daily batches. None of the strategies described above would work on a chain that stutters or front runs its users. Injective was built for this specific kind of high frequency composability and it shows in every interaction.
The result is a completely different mental model for farming. Capital does not rest. Positions do not stand alone. Yield does not come from one protocol at a time. Everything overlaps everything compounds everything protects everything else. Injective has taken the basic idea of providing liquidity for rewards and stretched it until it touches every corner of modern finance while still keeping the activity fully on chain and fully permissionless.
Traditional farms will probably never disappear entirely but their role has already started to shrink. The most active capital has moved to places where a single dollar can stake lend hedge arbitrage and collect funding all at once. That place right now is Injective and the distance between what was possible two years ago and what is possible today on this chain feels like crossing from candlelight into electricity. The evolution is still in its early chapters but the direction is unmistakable. Yield farming as most people knew it is over. What comes next lives almost entirely inside the world Injective built.
@Injective #injective $INJ

The best games never really finish. They breathe. They shift. They listen. Yield Guild Games has turned that simple truth into a way of life. Inside YGG the distance between a frustrated player typing a suggestion at three in the morning and a new mechanic landing in the live build can sometimes be measured in days instead of months. That speed matters because excitement fades fast when the same loop repeats without change.
Every week YGG channels run hot with screenshots clips and long paragraphs about moments that felt unfair or moments that felt perfect. Someone posts that the daily login reward lost its shine after the third week. Another member answers with a quick mock up of a rotating bonus wheel that keeps the surprise alive. Two days later the development team drops a test version in a side channel and asks the guild to break it. They do. They always do. Then they tell the devs exactly how they broke it and why it actually felt better when it was broken. That conversation becomes the next patch.
YGG does not wait for official surveys. The guild treats every match as raw data. A squad that keeps wiping on the same boss waves a red flag. Someone pulls the replay studies the timing and writes three sentences that travel from Discord to the lead designer before breakfast. Often the fix is tiny: move a spawn point six meters left add a half second wind up animation shave two percent off an ability cooldown. Small moves like that can rescue an entire progression path from abandonment. YGG knows this because its members live inside those paths every single day.
The guild also understands that joy is just as important as balance. When a new event drops and half the voice channel erupts in laughter instead of strategy talk YGG makes sure the devs hear that laughter. A mechanic that started as a serious competitive mode might suddenly sprout silly cosmetics or absurd voice lines because the guild reported that people stayed logged in twice as long when they were smiling. Those reports carry weight. Developers trust YGG numbers because the guild plays at scale and plays honestly.
Over time these thousands of tiny interventions stack into something bigger. A game that felt grind heavy in spring can feel generous and clever by autumn without ever announcing a grand overhaul. Players notice the difference even if they never read a patch note. They just log in more often chase one more run stay up later. That quiet addiction is the real proof that the loop improved.
YGG keeps the process human on purpose. There are no cold ticketing systems or anonymous forms. Suggestions arrive attached to names voices and reputations. When a member who rarely speaks up finally types a paragraph about how a certain quest made them feel seen the whole guild pauses to read it. Those moments travel fastest. Developers feel the weight behind them and move quickly because they know the feedback came from someone who cares enough to stay quiet until it really mattered.
The guild also protects its signal. Loud voices get heard but YGG moderators gently nudge the conversation toward specifics. Instead of “this sucks” the channel learns to ask “what if the cooldown started when the animation ended instead of when you pressed the button?” That habit turns complaints into blueprints. New members pick it up fast because they watch veterans get results.
None of this requires bureaucracy. YGG simply refuses to let good ideas die in silence. A suggestion that helps one squad today might rescue an entirely different game tomorrow when another team faces the same problem. The guild recycles wisdom the way games recycle assets. Nothing smart ever gets thrown away.
In the end YGG proves that the strongest games are never built alone in a studio. They are grown in public shaped by calloused thumbs and tired eyes and stubborn optimism. Every tweak every surprise every small mercy added because someone asked for it carries the guild’s fingerprint. Players feel that care even when they have never heard the name Yield Guild Games. They just know the game keeps getting better one quiet update at a time.
#YGG @Yield Guild Games $YGG

La gente suele pensar en los NFTs como imágenes que se venden por precios desorbitados y luego se quedan en billeteras sin hacer nada. Injective se niega a aceptar esa visión limitada. Trata cada token como algo vivo, capaz de moverse, generar ingresos y cambiar de manos en respuesta al mundo que lo rodea. Esa única diferencia lo cambia todo.
En Injective, un NFT nunca es solo un coleccionable. Puede convertirse en una participación en un juego más grande. Una pieza de arte digital puede dividirse en cientos de fragmentos para que alguien con solo unos pocos dólares aún pueda poseer parte de una obra que una vez parecía fuera de alcance. Esos fragmentos se comercian libremente en libros de órdenes abiertos de la misma manera que las acciones se mueven en intercambios tradicionales. El artista sigue ganando una pequeña parte cada vez que un fragmento cambia de manos y el propietario de incluso una pequeña porción se beneficia cuando el precio mínimo sube. Injective hace que ese proceso se sienta natural en lugar de forzado.

Lo primero que te impresiona cuando observas Injective durante meses en lugar de días es cuán calmadamente se reduce. Nada dramático anuncia el cambio. No hay cuentas regresivas ruidosas. No hay titulares llamativos del equipo. Solo una desaparición constante, casi educada, de tokens semana tras semana. Esa moderación es lo que hace que todo se sienta vivo.
Cada siete días, llega una cesta de tarifas a una subasta. Estos son los pequeños peajes recaudados de personas que comercian con perpetuos, moviendo posiciones spot, lanzando nuevos mercados o liquidando fondos de seguros. La cesta se vende por INJ y lo que se compra se envía directamente a una dirección que nadie puede volver a usar. Los tokens no van a una billetera de fundación. No se reciclan en subvenciones. Simplemente dejan de existir. Con el tiempo, el silencio de ese proceso comienza a sonar como confianza.

Hace unos años, cualquiera que intentara enviar un dólar o menos en la mayoría de las blockchains aprendía la misma lección dura. La tarifa de la red era a menudo mayor que el pago en sí. Creadores que querían propinas por una sola publicación, jugadores que querían intercambiar un skin que valía veinte centavos, aplicaciones que querían recompensar cada desplazamiento o me gusta, todos ellos se encontraron con la misma pared. La transacción podría procesarse, pero la economía nunca tenía sentido. Apro miró esa realidad y decidió reconstruir la capa de datos desde cero para que la pared simplemente desaparezca.

Apro opera bajo un principio que casi nadie más sigue hasta el final. La cantidad de tokens nunca se mueve hacia arriba. Ni una vez. Nunca. Cada recompensa pagada a los titulares proviene de tarifas que extraños entregan voluntariamente cuando usan la plataforma. Ese es todo el truco y cambia la forma en que se siente poseer todo el proyecto.
Los prestatarios aparecen porque quieren apalancamiento o porque necesitan dólares rápidamente sin vender sus posiciones. Pagan intereses en stablecoins mientras el préstamo esté abierto. Los traders entran y salen de posiciones y pierden una fracción de un por ciento en cada intercambio. Los proveedores de liquidez se sientan en los fondos y recogen su parte de esas mismas tarifas de trading. Todo esto es ingreso ordinario del mercado. Apro simplemente se niega a gastar esos ingresos en algo excepto el mantenimiento básico y pagos directos al token.

Apro hace algo de lo que la mayoría de los proyectos solo hablan. Elimina tokens de la existencia todos los días y nunca se detiene.
Cada intercambio en su intercambio descentralizado envía una parte de la tarifa directamente a una billetera muerta. Cada transferencia de puente entre cadenas hace lo mismo. Cada pago procesado a través de su puerta de enlace de comerciantes disminuye otra fracción. Estos no son eventos especiales o ceremonias trimestrales. Ocurren constantemente en silencio y sin excepción. Cuanto más ocupado se vuelve la red, más tokens desaparecen.