AL Roo

Klusa maiņa, kā nopietnas naudas sāk domāt

Kāpēc šis apgalvojums piesaistīja uzmanību

Kad sarunā ienāk vārds kā JPMorgan Chase, tirgi uzmanīgi klausās. Nevis tāpēc, ka viņi vienmēr ir pareizi, bet tāpēc, ka viņi nerunā vieglprātīgi. Tāpēc, kad sākās ideja, ka JPMorgan uzskata Bitcoin par pievilcīgāku nekā zelts ilgtermiņā, risku pielāgotā veidā, tas nebija tikai vēl viens virsraksts. Tas bija signāls.

Tas nebija JPMorgan, kas paziņoja par zelta beigām. Tas nebija skaļš izsaukums vai drosmīgs prognoze. Tas bija smalka maiņa ietvarā, un tie parasti ir vissvarīgākie.

Ir brīži kriptovalūtās, kad nekas patiesībā nemainās diagrammā, bet viss mainās tirgus prātā. CZAMAonBinanceSquare bija viens no šiem brīžiem.

Tirgus jau bija saspringts. Volatilitāte lika cilvēkiem apšaubīt katru sveci. Baumas pārvietojās ātrāk nekā cena. Ikvienam bija viedoklis, bet ļoti daudziem trūka skaidrības. Un tad pēkšņi, nevis vēl viens ieraksts, vēl viena bauma, vēl viena reakcija — Čangpengs Džao parādījās Binance Square un runāja tieši.

Nav skatuves drāmas. Nav iepriekš sagatavotas izrādes. Tikai garš, mierīgs saruna, kas vairāk atgādināja par kāda gaismu ieslēgšanu trokšņainā telpā.

Brīdī, kad griesti plaisāja

Ilgu laiku PEPE šķita prognozējams vissliktākajā veidā, jo katrs kāpums pieauga ar cerību un pēc tam klusi atkāpās pie tās pašas nolaižamās barjeras, kas bija vadījusi cenu uz leju jau nedēļām ilgi. Tirgotāji to varēja gandrīz noregulēt savās pulksteņos, jo katrs atspēriens uzspieda citu zemāku augsto un pastiprināja ideju, ka pārdevēji joprojām bija kontrolē, ka impulss izzūd un ka vismazākā pretestība palika uz leju.

Šī nolaižamā tendence nebija tikai tehniska zīmējuma attēlojums diagrammā, tā bija vizuāla tirgus psiholoģijas izpausme, atkārtotas neveiksmes ieraksts, kur optimisms nepārtraukti saskārās ar piedāvājumu. Kad PEPE beidzot pārkāpa šo līniju, tas nebija tikai zaļš svečturis svārstīgā meme monētā, tas bija paraugu traucējums, kas bija pietiekami ilgi respektēts, lai veidotu uzvedību un gaidas.

Fogo šķiet, ka kāds ir paskatījies uz mūsdienu on-chain tirgiem un atzinis kluso patiesību, no kuras vairums ķēžu izvairās: ātrums nav trofeja, tas ir nosacījums. Un, ja jūs cenšaties darbināt nopietnu DeFi—pasūtījumu grāmatas, likvidācijas, izsoles—“ātri dažreiz” to nenokārto. Ķēdei jāuzvedas tādā pašā veidā gan mierīgā, gan haotiskā brīdī. Tas ir īstais solījums, ko Fogo mēģina sniegt.

Vieglākais veids, kā redzēt, ko viņi dara, ir sākt no neērtās daļas: ģeogrāfija. Ikviens saka “globālie validatoru” un “zema latentuma” vienā elpas vilcienā, pat ja ikviens, kurš kādreiz ir mērījis tīkla apļus, zina, ka jūs nevarat iegūt abus visstingrākajā nozīmē. Ziņojumi nenonāk teleportējoties. Tie šķērso šķiedru, un šķiedrai ir ierobežojumi. Fogo pieeja ir pamatā apstāties izlikties, ka šie ierobežojumi nav svarīgi. Viņi orientējas uz modeli, kur “aktīvo” validatoru kopums ir koncentrēts zema latentuma reģionā, ar rezerves vietām citur, un viņi apraksta sistēmu, kas var pārslēgt režīmus, ja zema latentuma uzstādījums nedarbojas.

I get why this question matters, because it’s the kind of question most L1 teams avoid saying out loud. If users don’t care about chains, then “being an L1” isn’t a flex anymore. It’s a burden. You don’t get points for existing. You only earn relevance if people keep using products built on you, without even noticing you were there.

And that’s the uncomfortable starting point for Vanar. If Vanar’s success depends on users waking up and deciding, “Today I’m going to use Vanar,” then the game is already lost. That’s not how normal people behave. Normal people open an app because it’s fun, useful, fast, or pays them well. They don’t care what settlement layer runs underneath. Most of them don’t even want to know.

So the only real way Vanar competes is by becoming the kind of chain that nobody talks about, but builders quietly like working with. The kind of chain where the costs are predictable, the tools don’t fight you, and the infrastructure doesn’t randomly collapse when traffic spikes. That’s the job. Not hype. Not slogans. Quiet reliability.

Vanar’s approach is pretty practical on paper. It leans into EVM compatibility, and even publicly frames itself as essentially “Ethereum-like” so developers can bring what they already know. Its docs explicitly say what works on Ethereum works on Vanar, and the public codebase describes it as an EVM chain built as a fork of Geth. That choice isn’t exciting, but excitement isn’t the point. Speed of adoption is. If you want builders, you remove friction. You don’t force them to learn a new VM, new language, new tooling, and a new culture just to get started.

But here’s where it gets real: being EVM-compatible doesn’t make you special. It just gets you into the arena. Once you’re in, you need an edge that shows up in numbers, not in branding.

This is where Vanar starts to feel like a “prove it” project. Because Vanar isn’t pretending it’s fully decentralized today. The documentation is clear that the network starts with Proof of Authority, the Foundation initially runs validator nodes, and there’s a plan to open things up through a reputation-based validator onboarding system over time. That early structure can make the chain smoother in the beginning. Upgrades are easier. Coordination is tighter. Performance can be more consistent. If you’re targeting consumer apps or gaming-style usage, that stability can actually be a feature.

But it’s also a trust trade. And trust trades don’t stay invisible forever.

In bull markets, people ignore centralization because everything feels like it’s going up and nobody wants to slow down the story. In ugly markets, centralization becomes a spotlight. The first time something goes wrong—an exploit, a chain halt, a controversial upgrade, a fee spike, a governance dispute—people stop treating you like a “project” and start treating you like infrastructure. Infrastructure gets judged on different rules. Infrastructure has to show what happens when the pressure is on.

That’s why Vanar’s long-term credibility won’t be decided by whether it can trend. It will be decided by whether it can grow out of its early control structure without breaking the experience.

Token design matters here too, and not in the way people like to talk about on timelines. The practical way. There’s a public risk disclosure that lists VANRY’s total supply as 2.4 billion and describes major portions allocated to validator rewards, alongside development rewards and community incentives, plus a genesis allocation tied to the earlier TVK swap. That tells you something simple: this is a chain token built to bootstrap a network, which means emissions and incentive design are not a side detail. They’re a core part of the economic engine.

And here’s the part that gets missed: emissions are only “healthy” when real demand is growing underneath them. If demand isn’t growing, emissions aren’t “rewards.” They’re sell pressure that slowly bleeds the chart and damages sentiment. You can’t marketing-speak your way out of that. The only escape is real usage that creates real fee flow and real reasons to hold or stake beyond a temporary reward cycle.

Vanar’s fee design is one area where it might be trying to build a real advantage for consumer products. A Beosin audit report describes Vanar as an Ethereum fork with a mechanism that updates fee pricing via an external system periodically. In normal language: it’s trying to keep fees more predictable, rather than letting them swing wildly. For gaming and consumer apps, that predictability isn’t a cosmetic feature. It’s survival. Teams can’t build a serious business on top of costs that randomly spike and ruin onboarding.

But there’s also a second layer to that: any external mechanism that influences fees becomes a control point. A new risk surface. Not automatically bad, but it increases the importance of transparency and governance. If fee parameters can be pushed around by a small group, then economics become political. And if economics become political, builders will eventually hesitate—especially the moment their app gets big enough that fees matter.

This is why the “users don’t care about chains” idea is both good news and bad news for Vanar.

It’s good news because Vanar doesn’t need to win the branding war. It doesn’t need millions of people chanting its name. It can win quietly by being the chain behind apps people actually use.

But it’s bad news because it means Vanar can’t rely on community identity to save it. If users don’t care, they won’t defend the chain when things get tough. They’ll just leave. They’ll move to whatever works better. And they’ll do it without writing a thread about it.

So the competitive question becomes brutally simple: why would builders choose Vanar over all the other places they can deploy the same contracts?

The only answers that matter are the ones that show up in outcomes:

lower and stable fees, consistent uptime, smoother UX for onboarding, strong developer support, meaningful distribution, and a credible roadmap toward more neutral infrastructure. And “distribution” is the big one nobody can fake. You either have apps that bring users, or you don’t. You either have products with retention, or you don’t. Explorers can show big totals for transactions and addresses, but totals don’t tell you the truth. The truth is repeat usage. The truth is whether people come back next week when nobody is paying them to.

And then there’s the AI narrative. Vanar positions itself with an AI infrastructure framing, but the market is flooded with “AI chain” labels. For that to become real, it needs to turn into something developers depend on. Something that reduces cost or complexity in a way they can’t easily copy elsewhere. If it becomes a genuine dependency, Vanar becomes sticky even if nobody cares about the chain name. If it stays as a label, it won’t matter, because labels don’t survive a long bear cycle.

So here’s where I land, in plain terms.

Vanar can compete, but not by trying to be the most talked-about L1. It can only compete by being the most usable foundation for real products—especially consumer and gaming products—where chain choice is invisible and performance is everything. It needs to be predictable, cheap, stable, and safe enough that builders sleep at night. It needs to show a real decentralization trajectory, because long-term credibility is not optional once real value starts settling on the network.

If Vanar proves those things over multiple quarters—retention, fee revenue that grows without incentives, expanding validator participation beyond the Foundation, clean incident handling, and real adoption of whatever “AI stack” means in practice—then it has a path to long-cycle value.

If it doesn’t, it will look like a familiar pattern: a chain that sounded big during a narrative season, but couldn’t create enough gravity once the spotlight moved on.

That’s the harsh part of the “users don’t care about chains” era. You don’t get loyalty. You earn usage. Every day.

#Vanar @Vanarchain $VANRY