Problem: Every new coin in the trenches pulls attention away from the old ones.
Solution:
On Sagas, a new character adds to the old one instead.
You launch it as a story under a meme people already love, paired with that meme’s coin. Buying the story buys the old coin and holds it in the story’s pool.
Part of the creator fee burns it.
Artists and writers get paid from that fee too.
So every new character feeds the meme it came from, and people finally have a reason to build on old lore.
Sagas now suppors NFTs under coins, and they’re for collectors too. Relics of SAGAS!
While a relic is open, anyone can own a copy as an NFT for about $5 of $FRUG SAGA
70% of that FRUG burns for good, and 30% goes to the artist. The artist also gets 5% of every resale, so the person who drew it gets paid each time it changes hands. (In case of frug, It will also be burnt)
Check them out sagas.fun/#saga/frug
SAGAS retweeted
If we bring more creators here.. good creative devs..we can change the state of the trenches!
We don’t need more launchpads. The mindset needs changing.
Sagas is my attempt to do so. Something I have been thinking about for a long, long time.
This also revives old memes we love!
FED4vFx3rAxmPNrf9i9cy53rrEEwCaX6UFkbsGL7pump
fuck rugs 🐸
SAGAS retweeted
Snorri, the writer of Sagas!
The night of 22 September 1241. Reykholt, Iceland.
Seventy armed men ride up to a farm in the dark. Their leader is Gissur, a man who was once married to the old man’s daughter. He has orders from the King of Norway: bring Snorri Sturluson to Norway, or kill him.
A few days earlier, Snorri got a warning.
A letter, written in runes. He couldn’t make out all of it. He put it aside.
Now the men are inside the house. Snorri runs down into the cellar and hides.
They search room by room. They find him.
His last words: “Eigi skal höggva.” Do not strike.
A man called Árni the Bitter strikes.
Then another.
The richest man in Iceland, a poet, twice the country’s lawspeaker, dies in his own cellar.
That could have been the end of him.
A rich man who made the wrong enemies. Iceland had plenty of those.
But Snorri had done one thing nobody else did.
Twenty years before that night, he saw the old stories dying.
The gods his people had believed in for centuries were being forgotten.
The men who knew the poems by heart were old, and when they died, the poems died with them.
So he wrote them down.
Thor and his hammer.
Odin, who gave up an eye for wisdom.
Loki the trickster.
Valhalla.
Ragnarök, the end of the world.
A lot of what we know about these stories comes from what Snorri wrote.
Then he wrote the sagas of the kings of Norway, one after another, the wars, the betrayals, the deaths.
That is the part I can’t stop thinking about. I have been obsessed with this man for years.
Snorri understood something about us.
We don’t remember facts.
We remember stories.
Nobody remembers what grain cost in 1220.
Everybody knows Thor has a hammer.
Give people a character, a place and a fight, and they will carry it for 800 years.
Look at our space.
We tell ourselves we are here for coins. We are not.
Every meme that lasted or will last has a story/saga behind it:
A character you know, a joke that keeps evolving, a world that other people keep adding to.
We are all looking for good sagas and lore.
We always were.
Snorri knew it 800 years before any of us.
We are not looking for coins... we are looking for lore!
