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The Free Land of Privatore

“Desperate, but not helpless.”

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The Free Land of Privatore is a gargantuan, cultured nation, ruled by Capitan Privatore with an even hand, and remarkable for its pith helmet sales, infamous sell-swords, and vat-grown people. The hard-nosed, hard-working, humorless population of 15.277 billion Privatoreans have some civil rights, but not too many, enjoy the freedom to spend their money however they like, to a point, and take part in free and open elections, although not too often.

The tiny, corrupt government juggles the competing demands of Education, Administration, and Industry. It meets to discuss matters of state in the capital city of Privatore City. Income tax is unheard of.

The frighteningly efficient Privatorean economy, worth a remarkable 6,256 trillion Privs a year, is driven almost entirely by the private sector, which is broadly diversified and led by the Information Technology industry, with significant contributions from Tourism, Book Publishing, and Retail. Average income is an amazing 409,539 Privs, and distributed extremely evenly, with little difference between the richest and poorest citizens.

Monocled merchants with funny accents are applying for Privatorean citizenship in droves, picnickers are lucky if a few wasps are the only animals that trouble them, citizens volunteer for tax audits to avoid the 80-page Practical Assessment Survey Tool On Religions, and rebuilding efforts for a recently destroyed cathedral aren't expected to be completed for another century. Crime is totally unknown. Privatore's national animal is the Weasel, which is also the nation's favorite main course.