Sheriff Rick Grimes

Makes it more worth to actually fight the cartel rather then just go there whens its high get the money and then not defend it cuz u already took it all

I use to be for the money cap.  But over time realized how much grinding it makes you do and keeps you broke if you dare spend your money for fun on Asylum

Well actually it would Edge and his lovely angels, most notably Angela 

lmao at the people saying Asylum's roleplay started getting worse over the years. guess nobody remembers terrorism and screaming you're all gonna die

Well actually it would Edge and his lovely angels, most notably Angela 

Well actually it would Edge and his lovely angels, most notably Angela 

I'd make it more centered around each HQ has an evidence locker.  Aim it towards something that everyone can attempt

I'd make it more centered around each HQ has an evidence locker.  Aim it towards something that everyone can attempt

Removing servers is a very bad idea. I can tell you now that I've worked hard on my houses on server 3, if I lost them I'd be done. The devs making changes the community is wanting is a step in the right direction. Removing servers will kill Asylum faster

Roleplay has always been mainly centered around when someone is getting arrested. The only thing that was different with pre-6.0 was FSA would roleplay terrorist attacks on the police. And even back then, the cops were pissed at FSA whether they RPd or not. I still remember cops abandoning server 2 in protest because of FSA

Get rid of SubaruSTD completely.

ranga

Fuck the police

"Oh, that's a good idea. We will add it next patch."
^ MY WET DREAM! Unfortunately we will never see a response like that to any suggestion other than hotfixes.. :'(

Removing servers is a very bad idea. I can tell you now that I've worked hard on my houses on server 3, if I lost them I'd be done. The devs making changes the community is wanting is a step in the right direction. Removing servers will kill Asylum faster

The little evening breeze blew over the clearing and the leaves rustled and the wind waves flowed up the green pool. And the shouts of players sounded again, this time much closer than before.
Bamf took off his hat. He said shakily, "Take off your hat, Strife. The air feels fine."
Strife removed his hat dutifully and laid it on the ground in front of him. The shadow on the island was bluer, and the evening came fast. On the wind the sound of crashing in the brush came to them.
Strife said, "Tell how it’s gonna be."
Bamf had been listening to the distant sounds. For a moment he was business-like. "Look acrost the river, Strife an’ I’ll tell you so you can almost see it."
Strife turned his head and looked off across the pool and up the darkening slopes of Tanoa. "We gonna het a little place," Bamf began. He reached in his side pocket and brought out Gnashes’ Luger; he snapped off the safety, and the hand and gun lay on the ground behind Strifes’s back. He looked at the back of Strifes’s head, at the place where the spine and skull were joined.
A man’s voice called from up the river, and another man answered.
"Go on," said Strife.
Bamf raised the gun and his hand shook, and he dropped his hand to the ground again.
"Go on," said Strife. "How’s it gonna be. We gonna get a little place."
"We’ll have a jet," said Bamf. "An’ we’ll have maybe a tank an’ mortars…an’ down the flat we’ll have a …little bank—"
"For the money," Strife shouted.
"For the money," Bamf repeated.
"And I get to tend the money."
"An’ you get to tend the money"
Strife giggled with happiness. "An’ live on the fatta the 20k’."
"Yes."
Strife turned his head.
"No, Strife. Look down there acrost the river, like you can almost see the place."
Strife obeyed him. Bamf looked down at the gun.
There were crashing footsteps in the brush now. Bamf turned and looked toward them.
"Go on, Bamf. When we gonna do it?"
"Gonna fo it soon."
"Me an’ you."
"You…and me." Ever’body gonna be nice to you. Ain’t gonna be no more trouble. Nobody gonna tell ya to run meth no more. Ever'body gonna play you."
Strife said, "I thought you was mad at me, Bamf."
"No," said Bamf. "No, Strife. I ain’t mad. I never been mad, an’ I ain’t now. That’s a thing I want ya to know."
The voices came closer now. Bamf raised the gun and listened to the voices.
Strife begged, "Le’s do it now. Le’s get that place now."
"Sure, right now. I gotta. We gotta."
And Bamf raised the gun and steadied it, and he brought the mussel of it close to the back of Strife’s head. The hand shook violently, but his face set and his hand steadied. He pulled the trigger. The crash of the shot rolled up the hills and rolled down again. Strife jarred, and then settled slowly forward to the sand, and he lay without quivering.

Roleplay has always been mainly centered around when someone is getting arrested. The only thing that was different with pre-6.0 was FSA would roleplay terrorist attacks on the police. And even back then, the cops were pissed at FSA whether they RPd or not. I still remember cops abandoning server 2 in protest because of FSA

The little evening breeze blew over the clearing and the leaves rustled and the wind waves flowed up the green pool. And the shouts of players sounded again, this time much closer than before.
Bamf took off his hat. He said shakily, "Take off your hat, Strife. The air feels fine."
Strife removed his hat dutifully and laid it on the ground in front of him. The shadow on the island was bluer, and the evening came fast. On the wind the sound of crashing in the brush came to them.
Strife said, "Tell how it’s gonna be."
Bamf had been listening to the distant sounds. For a moment he was business-like. "Look acrost the river, Strife an’ I’ll tell you so you can almost see it."
Strife turned his head and looked off across the pool and up the darkening slopes of Tanoa. "We gonna het a little place," Bamf began. He reached in his side pocket and brought out Gnashes’ Luger; he snapped off the safety, and the hand and gun lay on the ground behind Strifes’s back. He looked at the back of Strifes’s head, at the place where the spine and skull were joined.
A man’s voice called from up the river, and another man answered.
"Go on," said Strife.
Bamf raised the gun and his hand shook, and he dropped his hand to the ground again.
"Go on," said Strife. "How’s it gonna be. We gonna get a little place."
"We’ll have a jet," said Bamf. "An’ we’ll have maybe a tank an’ mortars…an’ down the flat we’ll have a …little bank—"
"For the money," Strife shouted.
"For the money," Bamf repeated.
"And I get to tend the money."
"An’ you get to tend the money"
Strife giggled with happiness. "An’ live on the fatta the 20k’."
"Yes."
Strife turned his head.
"No, Strife. Look down there acrost the river, like you can almost see the place."
Strife obeyed him. Bamf looked down at the gun.
There were crashing footsteps in the brush now. Bamf turned and looked toward them.
"Go on, Bamf. When we gonna do it?"
"Gonna fo it soon."
"Me an’ you."
"You…and me." Ever’body gonna be nice to you. Ain’t gonna be no more trouble. Nobody gonna tell ya to run meth no more. Ever'body gonna play you."
Strife said, "I thought you was mad at me, Bamf."
"No," said Bamf. "No, Strife. I ain’t mad. I never been mad, an’ I ain’t now. That’s a thing I want ya to know."
The voices came closer now. Bamf raised the gun and listened to the voices.
Strife begged, "Le’s do it now. Le’s get that place now."
"Sure, right now. I gotta. We gotta."
And Bamf raised the gun and steadied it, and he brought the mussel of it close to the back of Strife’s head. The hand shook violently, but his face set and his hand steadied. He pulled the trigger. The crash of the shot rolled up the hills and rolled down again. Strife jarred, and then settled slowly forward to the sand, and he lay without quivering.

The little evening breeze blew over the clearing and the leaves rustled and the wind waves flowed up the green pool. And the shouts of players sounded again, this time much closer than before.
Bamf took off his hat. He said shakily, "Take off your hat, Strife. The air feels fine."
Strife removed his hat dutifully and laid it on the ground in front of him. The shadow on the island was bluer, and the evening came fast. On the wind the sound of crashing in the brush came to them.
Strife said, "Tell how it’s gonna be."
Bamf had been listening to the distant sounds. For a moment he was business-like. "Look acrost the river, Strife an’ I’ll tell you so you can almost see it."
Strife turned his head and looked off across the pool and up the darkening slopes of Tanoa. "We gonna het a little place," Bamf began. He reached in his side pocket and brought out Gnashes’ Luger; he snapped off the safety, and the hand and gun lay on the ground behind Strifes’s back. He looked at the back of Strifes’s head, at the place where the spine and skull were joined.
A man’s voice called from up the river, and another man answered.
"Go on," said Strife.
Bamf raised the gun and his hand shook, and he dropped his hand to the ground again.
"Go on," said Strife. "How’s it gonna be. We gonna get a little place."
"We’ll have a jet," said Bamf. "An’ we’ll have maybe a tank an’ mortars…an’ down the flat we’ll have a …little bank—"
"For the money," Strife shouted.
"For the money," Bamf repeated.
"And I get to tend the money."
"An’ you get to tend the money"
Strife giggled with happiness. "An’ live on the fatta the 20k’."
"Yes."
Strife turned his head.
"No, Strife. Look down there acrost the river, like you can almost see the place."
Strife obeyed him. Bamf looked down at the gun.
There were crashing footsteps in the brush now. Bamf turned and looked toward them.
"Go on, Bamf. When we gonna do it?"
"Gonna fo it soon."
"Me an’ you."
"You…and me." Ever’body gonna be nice to you. Ain’t gonna be no more trouble. Nobody gonna tell ya to run meth no more. Ever'body gonna play you."
Strife said, "I thought you was mad at me, Bamf."
"No," said Bamf. "No, Strife. I ain’t mad. I never been mad, an’ I ain’t now. That’s a thing I want ya to know."
The voices came closer now. Bamf raised the gun and listened to the voices.
Strife begged, "Le’s do it now. Le’s get that place now."
"Sure, right now. I gotta. We gotta."
And Bamf raised the gun and steadied it, and he brought the mussel of it close to the back of Strife’s head. The hand shook violently, but his face set and his hand steadied. He pulled the trigger. The crash of the shot rolled up the hills and rolled down again. Strife jarred, and then settled slowly forward to the sand, and he lay without quivering.

On my phone so in not gonna make a huge post. However, it is now obvious that the devs ideas and keeping the community out of devolpment has not worked, look at the player count. It wouldn't hurt to actually start listening to the community. What people are wanting isn't even complicated. Pre 6.0 is when Asylum was at its peak, does that mean everything was perfect?  No, I would definitely keep group cap in. But the core of no money cap, the old cartels that put the money straight into the gang account, cheaper loadouts and less grinding was far more fun.
 
Ask yourself this. Why did all the big name streamers stop streaming Asylum after 6.0?  It's because nobody was interested in it, it's not near the game.  Combat sets your bank account back too much, the money cap is keeping people from having fun. The jobs on asylum are all pretty grindy and boring, forcing that as the core gameplay has always been a mistake.
 
@bamf @Gnashes All I gotta say is don't pull the same shit that Blizzard is pulling with WoW. You don't know better, people know what kind of game they want to play and be apart of the community instead of against it.

The little evening breeze blew over the clearing and the leaves rustled and the wind waves flowed up the green pool. And the shouts of players sounded again, this time much closer than before.
Bamf took off his hat. He said shakily, "Take off your hat, Strife. The air feels fine."
Strife removed his hat dutifully and laid it on the ground in front of him. The shadow on the island was bluer, and the evening came fast. On the wind the sound of crashing in the brush came to them.
Strife said, "Tell how it’s gonna be."
Bamf had been listening to the distant sounds. For a moment he was business-like. "Look acrost the river, Strife an’ I’ll tell you so you can almost see it."
Strife turned his head and looked off across the pool and up the darkening slopes of Tanoa. "We gonna het a little place," Bamf began. He reached in his side pocket and brought out Gnashes’ Luger; he snapped off the safety, and the hand and gun lay on the ground behind Strifes’s back. He looked at the back of Strifes’s head, at the place where the spine and skull were joined.
A man’s voice called from up the river, and another man answered.
"Go on," said Strife.
Bamf raised the gun and his hand shook, and he dropped his hand to the ground again.
"Go on," said Strife. "How’s it gonna be. We gonna get a little place."
"We’ll have a jet," said Bamf. "An’ we’ll have maybe a tank an’ mortars…an’ down the flat we’ll have a …little bank—"
"For the money," Strife shouted.
"For the money," Bamf repeated.
"And I get to tend the money."
"An’ you get to tend the money"
Strife giggled with happiness. "An’ live on the fatta the 20k’."
"Yes."
Strife turned his head.
"No, Strife. Look down there acrost the river, like you can almost see the place."
Strife obeyed him. Bamf looked down at the gun.
There were crashing footsteps in the brush now. Bamf turned and looked toward them.
"Go on, Bamf. When we gonna do it?"
"Gonna fo it soon."
"Me an’ you."
"You…and me." Ever’body gonna be nice to you. Ain’t gonna be no more trouble. Nobody gonna tell ya to run meth no more. Ever'body gonna play you."
Strife said, "I thought you was mad at me, Bamf."
"No," said Bamf. "No, Strife. I ain’t mad. I never been mad, an’ I ain’t now. That’s a thing I want ya to know."
The voices came closer now. Bamf raised the gun and listened to the voices.
Strife begged, "Le’s do it now. Le’s get that place now."
"Sure, right now. I gotta. We gotta."
And Bamf raised the gun and steadied it, and he brought the mussel of it close to the back of Strife’s head. The hand shook violently, but his face set and his hand steadied. He pulled the trigger. The crash of the shot rolled up the hills and rolled down again. Strife jarred, and then settled slowly forward to the sand, and he lay without quivering.

I can tell you now none of it has to do with nostalgia.  Pre-6.0 was better gameplay for the most part.  Having no group cap was the main issue that plagued the servers.  Each gang owned a server and if you were in that gang it was a lot of fun, however if you were not then you were fucked and you had to hope that the cops were keeping said gang entertianed, otherwise you're gonna get fucked with.  Not only was having no group cap bad for players, it was bad for the economy.  Even you made most of your meth money while in FSA when they had a complete monopoly on server 2.  Big gangs were doing everything with no risk and it was very bad for the servers for sure.  However, it didn't mean the core gameplay was bad.  Cheaper loadouts, cartel money straight into gang account ( Which was also VERY beneficial for smaller gangs.  I would know before joining Darkhorse on server 5 ) and easier money making were ideal for Asylum
 
The constant grind nowadays just sucks.  I'm lucky I have strife money, I can tell you before that I was just tired of grinding money and doing the same boring jobs, it's no fun at all after you've done it a couple times.  And I can tell you that the main reason my friends do not want to get on nowadays is that none of them are motivated to go make money.  Why would they?  It's the same shit, yes there's more interesting way like crank and scotch but it's not enough for people to spend hours grinding for just a little fun, it's a bad ratio right now.  
 
That's not to say that everything after 6.0 is shit.  There have been good additions.  The Asylum Exchange, weapon crafting, scotch, crank, 7.0 bounty hunter changes and I would even say the rotating drug fields because it helped newer players get houses that were good.  But the market economy with high demand and such has always been a problem.  You don't make as much money doing easily accessible jobs like mining, this is terrible for new players.  The expensive loadouts are contributing to people not wanting to partake in gang life, though I will say that gang culture certainly contributes to that too.  There has been no incentive to do cartels for a long time now and it's really starting to take it's toll.  You mainly see the same people and the same gangs doing cartels, you don't get a lot of new players wanting to get involved.  Before 6.0 it was the opposite, people were joining Asylum solely for gang life.
 
Roleplay has taken a hit for many different reasons.  With it being harder to make money and loadouts more expensive.  Why am I going to risk my gear for something that's not gang related or money making?  Roleplay feels like a time waster nowadays, so unless someone is really bored they don't do it.  Cops don't even RP anymore, it's all about HVTing and getting the money, cops nowadays are not encouraged to roleplay, the APD leadership is probably at it's worst now than ever.  Though i'm not gonna say that the APD had a golden era, it always seems the APD does good for a few months and then bad for a few months, just depends on who is in charge and who's making decisions.
 
A lot of 6.0 was Paratus's vision of Asylum and I would say most of it just doesn't work with the community and Arma.  Paratus isn't even around anymore, no reason to keep doing things his way.  It doesn't work for Arma.  The community wants the core gameplay back to pre-6.0, that's when everyone was having the most fun, that's when servers were most populated and that's when you had big streamers on Asylum.  This isn't too hard of a decision based on those facts alone.

On my phone so in not gonna make a huge post. However, it is now obvious that the devs ideas and keeping the community out of devolpment has not worked, look at the player count. It wouldn't hurt to actually start listening to the community. What people are wanting isn't even complicated. Pre 6.0 is when Asylum was at its peak, does that mean everything was perfect?  No, I would definitely keep group cap in. But the core of no money cap, the old cartels that put the money straight into the gang account, cheaper loadouts and less grinding was far more fun.
 
Ask yourself this. Why did all the big name streamers stop streaming Asylum after 6.0?  It's because nobody was interested in it, it's not near the game.  Combat sets your bank account back too much, the money cap is keeping people from having fun. The jobs on asylum are all pretty grindy and boring, forcing that as the core gameplay has always been a mistake.
 
@bamf @Gnashes All I gotta say is don't pull the same shit that Blizzard is pulling with WoW. You don't know better, people know what kind of game they want to play and be apart of the community instead of against it.

The little evening breeze blew over the clearing and the leaves rustled and the wind waves flowed up the green pool. And the shouts of players sounded again, this time much closer than before.
Bamf took off his hat. He said shakily, "Take off your hat, Strife. The air feels fine."
Strife removed his hat dutifully and laid it on the ground in front of him. The shadow on the island was bluer, and the evening came fast. On the wind the sound of crashing in the brush came to them.
Strife said, "Tell how it’s gonna be."
Bamf had been listening to the distant sounds. For a moment he was business-like. "Look acrost the river, Strife an’ I’ll tell you so you can almost see it."
Strife turned his head and looked off across the pool and up the darkening slopes of Tanoa. "We gonna het a little place," Bamf began. He reached in his side pocket and brought out Gnashes’ Luger; he snapped off the safety, and the hand and gun lay on the ground behind Strifes’s back. He looked at the back of Strifes’s head, at the place where the spine and skull were joined.
A man’s voice called from up the river, and another man answered.
"Go on," said Strife.
Bamf raised the gun and his hand shook, and he dropped his hand to the ground again.
"Go on," said Strife. "How’s it gonna be. We gonna get a little place."
"We’ll have a jet," said Bamf. "An’ we’ll have maybe a tank an’ mortars…an’ down the flat we’ll have a …little bank—"
"For the money," Strife shouted.
"For the money," Bamf repeated.
"And I get to tend the money."
"An’ you get to tend the money"
Strife giggled with happiness. "An’ live on the fatta the 20k’."
"Yes."
Strife turned his head.
"No, Strife. Look down there acrost the river, like you can almost see the place."
Strife obeyed him. Bamf looked down at the gun.
There were crashing footsteps in the brush now. Bamf turned and looked toward them.
"Go on, Bamf. When we gonna do it?"
"Gonna fo it soon."
"Me an’ you."
"You…and me." Ever’body gonna be nice to you. Ain’t gonna be no more trouble. Nobody gonna tell ya to run meth no more. Ever'body gonna play you."
Strife said, "I thought you was mad at me, Bamf."
"No," said Bamf. "No, Strife. I ain’t mad. I never been mad, an’ I ain’t now. That’s a thing I want ya to know."
The voices came closer now. Bamf raised the gun and listened to the voices.
Strife begged, "Le’s do it now. Le’s get that place now."
"Sure, right now. I gotta. We gotta."
And Bamf raised the gun and steadied it, and he brought the mussel of it close to the back of Strife’s head. The hand shook violently, but his face set and his hand steadied. He pulled the trigger. The crash of the shot rolled up the hills and rolled down again. Strife jarred, and then settled slowly forward to the sand, and he lay without quivering.