DIRECTIVE 1.31 — BULLETIN FOR ALL POSTS Rearrange your rooms. You can now reshape the bunker to suit you. Every finished room has a new Rearrange section: pick another room and the two swap places for 20 parts. Residents, upgrades and stock move along with the room. Radio room and Scouting HQ work together. Every intercepted message now has a Log decryption button. Decode it yourself, pick what it says, and a correct decryption goes into the Scouting HQ intel for free. There you can see where the fragment sits, what it holds and whether it is waiting for a scout, and those cells on the assembled map carry an antenna mark. Fuel in plain sight. The top bar now shows your fuel stock and daily burn right next to energy. Tap it for a guide page: who burns it, where it comes from and how much the storage holds. Back along the trail. The old metro labyrinth has a new Back button: the scout retraces the trail on their own to the previous fork or the entrance. Class results. When a course ends, the log names every student and how much their skill grew. No accidental trades. Every deal at the exchange office now asks for confirmation on its own card. And you can sell surplus even with a full storage: the goods leave and free up room for the parts. While you're busy. With the labyrinth or another screen open, the bunker keeps living, but new incidents and intrusions no longer pile up on you all at once when you return. Hold fast, Overseer.

DIRECTIVE 1.30 — BULLETIN FOR ALL POSTS Mode changes now ask first. Every mode switch in the rooms and at the airlock brings up a confirmation card showing the room and the new mode, with a reminder that the next change comes only on the following game day. A stray tap while scrolling no longer spends your one change per day. Arrivals: the weak spot is named. The arrivals block on the map now points to the factor holding newcomers back the most, with its score. When residents' stress runs high, the stability note says so outright. Stability, explained. The guide now breaks down what shelter stability is made of and why it moves in steps, and the list of what makes a shelter attractive is complete. New game. Before a new game starts, HQ warns that parts and supplies, including those bought in the store, stay with the old save. Hold fast, Overseer.

DIRECTIVE 1.29 — BULLETIN FOR ALL POSTS The scout walks on his own. No more tapping every cell in the metro labyrinths. Tap the end of a corridor and the scout walks it to the next fork: leaving a trail, picking up parts along the way, just as if you had led him by hand. The forks are still yours: where to turn is the Overseer's call. The bell leads straight to the matter. Messages about events awaiting a decision now carry an "Open room" button: one tap and the compartment card is in front of you. And once an event is resolved or has run its course, its message leaves the bell on its own, so it never mixes with fresh ones. The shelter speaks with new names. Residents now draw from twice as many names and surnames: twenty male, twenty female and thirty family names. Daughters take the feminine form of the surname, and those born earlier receive it on first launch. Goals get to the point. The goals list opens on the "In progress" tab. Completed ones haven't gone anywhere: they have a tab of their own. Parts arrive at once. A crate from the store and HQ gifts land in the warehouse in full the moment you buy them, with no queues or "inbound." If anything was waiting in HQ cargo from the previous version, it is credited on first launch. Rating in one step. The "Rate the game" button in settings opens the game's App Store page right on the review form. Hold fast, Overseer.

DIRECTIVE 1.28 — BULLETIN FOR ALL POSTS You can skip a day. Tap the clock in the header to open "Skip a day." The shelter lives through a whole day in a couple of seconds, just as if the game were open: compartments work, construction and upgrades progress, residents eat and drink, newcomers reach the gate. The window shows in advance what will finish and whether food and water will last, and sums everything up afterward. The price depends on what's running. An empty day costs 30 parts. Every construction, installation, course or job that finishes within the day adds exactly what the Rush button would charge. The breakdown is right there in the window, capped at 150 parts. The call is yours. A skipped day is a quiet one: no new compartment events, no enemies from the metro or the airlock. But what has already happened stays: unresolved events go wrong over the day, enemies do damage, a crisis or hunger takes its toll. The window lists all of it before you tap, and then it's your decision. The skip runs to the end and never stops. Buttons always at hand. The bell, the Guidebook and settings no longer disappear from the map if the game was closed with a compartment window open. Numbers read right. Parts, warehouse slots and built rooms now take proper English plurals: "21 parts," not "21 part." The store tells it straight. The parts crate description now mentions HQ cargo: whatever doesn't fit in the warehouse arrives on its own as space frees up. Hold fast, Overseer.

DIRECTIVE 1.27 — BULLETIN FOR ALL POSTS HQ cargo. Parts from the store and HQ gifts no longer land in the warehouse all at once. Whatever doesn't fit waits in the cargo and arrives on its own as space frees up: parts take at most half the warehouse, and the rest stays for food and medicine. The Supplies tab shows how much is still inbound, and the store tells you right away how much landed and how much is on the way. The archives come into focus. Sheets from the old command bunker now open the way they were found: damaged. At the recovery threshold half the words are legible and the rest is static; with every percent of data recovery more comes through, until the sheet is whole. Handwritten notes are always legible — ink needs no recovering. The Chronicle shows each sheet's percentage. The Log hears the whole shelter, for real this time. Fourteen more compartments report events the minute they happen: closed water cycle, automated med station, battery room, Central AI, old command bunker, Scouting HQ, psychology compartment, repair dock, secret passage, technical corridor, Surface Restoration Center, Synthetic Food Center, training zone, waste recycling. Filters hold as many as they clean. A filter's resident limit now grows with its output: every level adds as much to the limit as it adds to power, and output upgrades raise the limit too. Five level-three filters cover ninety residents. The classroom shows skills. Every student in the roster now shows a skill level: the course subject while a course runs, and top skills when it's time to decide whom to replace. Hold fast, Overseer.

DIRECTIVE 1.26 — BULLETIN FOR ALL POSTS The shelter has a story now. "Twelve Days" is twelve papers about what happened on the surface and why the city went underground. An HQ radiogram arrives on day one (current Overseers receive it once, with this update), seven command sheets sit in the archives of the old command bunker and open as data recovery progresses, and three pages of someone else's diary wait in the sealed sector. The twelfth sheet can't be found, only earned. Everything gathers in the new Chronicle section of the Guidebook: found papers read as they are — telegraph tape, typewriter, a handwritten notebook — and missing ones say where to look. The third diary page demands a decision. Tell the residents the truth or lock it in the archive: one choice per shelter, and the residents answer it. Society, morale, stress and the military faction's mood shift, and for a day and a half the Log records how people take it. The radio room picks up an alliance. Once the frequencies are found, Ladle comes on the air — a neighboring shelter with water but no food. Contact comes every few days, then one day goes quiet, and whether Ladle returns is anyone's guess. The alliance status shows on the radio room card. HQ writes by the day. On days two, five, ten, twenty and thirty, HQ radiograms arrive in the bell — one per day, so veterans receive them gradually rather than all at once. The isolation room detains on its own. The isolation room card has a new "Auto-detention" switch: once an hour the Overseer on shift locks up a resident with a second disciplinary mark, if a cell is free. Release is manual, and every detention goes in the Log. Partnerships play fair. One partner per person, an established couple doesn't fall apart over a newcomer, and children and family never pair up. From the Overseers' letters. Scouting HQ got the level and maintenance card it was missing. The morgue reports only what is actually happening: overflow when it is full, not when it is empty. A second waste recycling compartment now shares the inflow with the first instead of counting all of it again. Hold fast, Overseer.

DIRECTIVE 1.25 — BULLETIN FOR ALL POSTS Guards rest like everyone else. Post readiness now comes from the guards themselves: duty wears each of them down personally, and sleep in the living quarters restores them like anyone. The post card shows a "Guard readiness" line, and the Command Center alert now says what to do: let people sleep, rotate the shift, or assign guards to an empty post. The old shaft honors its contract. An open geothermal circuit delivers the promised +12 output, pressure rises by exactly eight, and sealing the shaft puts everything back. Opening it through the "Old passage" discovery now also maps an evacuation route. The Log hears the whole shelter. The Command Center, greenhouse, children's zone, quarantine, robot bay and morgue now report events that need a decision. The greenhouse notes its first harvest. A stopped compartment sends no alarms — a rule that now holds in all twenty-two rooms with a "Stopped" mode. Level cards show both numbers. When upgrading a compartment you see what the current level gives and what the next one will — no more mental arithmetic. Upgrade effects fully named. Thirty labels gained proper Russian and English names: surface restoration maps, ritual order in the morgue, backup power, early warning, Central AI modules. Reductions now read with a minus: "rumors −10", not "rumors +10". Hold fast, Overseer.

DIRECTIVE 1.24 — BULLETIN FOR ALL POSTS The Engineering lab steps out of the shadows. Every finished project now reports to the Log with exactly what it gave the shelter: automation, Generator room fire safety, Technologies, parts to Storage. The Workshop and Generator room cards have a new "Lab contribution" line, and your engineers' innovation shortens upgrade installation across the whole shelter — up to twenty percent at a full hundred. Standing arms. A weapon issued to a guard for duty stays with them for as long as they hold the post and have ammo. Timed returns are now for expeditions and alerts only. Work queues keep honest time. Chem bay batches, Workshop tasks, and lab projects count their time from the moment they start, not from the moment they join the queue — and the progress bar runs from zero to done in exactly the time the job takes. A fuller Log. An installed upgrade names its compartment. The Chem bay, Geothermal node, and Biolab report events that need a decision. A stopped Geothermal node stays silent — as idle equipment should. The Recreation room counts more precisely. The "Remaining" estimate accounts for every reason for the visit: stress, fatigue, and morale. Staffing hints. The Airlock, Kitchen, and Greenhouse explain who is needed there and what a second worker adds. Level-five Filters gain +5 to their limit. Quick start. The first launch no longer waits on the cloud: your shelter's copy comes down from iCloud if it answers within a few seconds; otherwise the game begins right away. Hold fast, Overseer.

DIRECTIVE 1.23 — BULLETIN FOR ALL POSTS The closed water cycle feeds the shelter's reserve. The water it recovers goes into the tank, and its contribution now reads as one figure on the compartment card and in the Command Center alike. Fertilizer from waste recycling is put to work. It raises the yield of working farms — up to twenty percent at full supply, split evenly between them. The Composter is now an upgrade whose worth you can see. The Workshop assembles equipment. In Crafting equipment mode it takes on a filter module once you are down to four filters, and a tool set once you are down to three. An engineer must be on shift: four parts per filter, five per set. The shelter has a source of filters of its own, besides recycling and the exchange. Every room card carries "Who to put on shift". Under the seat counter, always in the same place: which skill counts here, whether the best worker is taken or all of them add up, and whether there is a bar to clear. It says so plainly where the skill decides nothing — in the Storage everything rests on the assigned role. Power priorities are available in the Geothermal node. Energy can be distributed from there, not only from the Generator room. The laboratories report to the log. The engineering lab and the laboratory post their incidents where Storage and the Generator room already do: what happened, and in which compartment. The alarm is always visible. The red bell shows even while an upgrade is being fitted. The handbook gained an answer on where tools come from, and its build costs and times have been checked against the shelter — several compartments go up faster and cheaper. Stats of upgraded late compartments now match what their cards promise. Hold fast, Overseer.

DIRECTIVE 1.22 — BULLETIN FOR ALL POSTS The power grid no longer runs through the generator room. Overseers who traded their generators for geothermal nodes ran into something strange: a compartment cut off during an old shortage would never come back on, the energy reserve sat frozen, and the figure on the main screen disagreed with the Command Center. The accounting lived inside the generator room and vanished along with it. The grid is now counted whatever you power it with. Power priorities are available from the geothermal node. They always applied to the whole shelter, but the panel stood in the generator room. Demolish it and the setting was gone — while the game kept pointing you back to it. You can reach it from either compartment now. The Command Center has stopped counting residents twice. It reported a food shortfall where nobody was going hungry: the kitchen's draw already covers the whole shelter, and a second helping per head was being added on top. In a large colony that came to dozens of phantom rations a day. Both screens agree now. A teacher stays a teacher. A classroom with an instructor assigned and no students enrolled lost them on every launch — an old rule mistook the teacher for a pupil. Hold fast, Overseer.

DIRECTIVE 1.21 — BULLETIN FOR ALL POSTS The storage no longer burns your supplies in secret. Fires were taking fuel, batteries and parts without a word — no line in the log, no alarm. Overseers watched the numbers drain and had no way to learn where any of it went. Every day's losses now go into the log as their own entry: what burned, and how much. And it was burning four times more often than it should have. The risk was counted for each storage compartment separately, even though every storage draws on the same stock. Anyone who built extra hangars was quietly setting their own fuel alight. Fixed: a fire is now a single incident for the whole shelter — rare, but worth noticing. A fire cabinet, good compartment condition and an engineer on shift all cut the risk sharply. The commissioning card has stopped being cryptic. It used to name a price and then grey out the button with no explanation: you could see neither your own stock nor the compartments you were missing. Now every such card carries a checklist — what you have against what you need, and exactly which compartment is absent. It works everywhere commissioning is required, from the geothermal node to the children's zone. The handbook answers the vanishing-supplies question. What a fire takes, why the risk grows with the fuel you hoard, and how to bring it down. Hold fast, Overseer.

DIRECTIVE 1.20 — BULLETIN FOR ALL POSTS The shelter now moves with its overseer. Settings gained a "Load the iCloud copy" row: minimize the game on one device, pick it up on another right where you left off. Under the button you can see what the cloud holds — the day, the residents, the time of record. An empty game can never wipe out a real bunker. Air filters have learned to work together. Each filter counted the entire population as its own, as if the neighbouring units did not exist: in large shelters wear ran several times faster than it should, and the accident risk went through the roof. The load is now shared between all running filters. The recreation room speaks plainly. A session cannot start without a host, but the room kept quiet about it — an overseer saw free seats and could not tell why they stayed empty. The capacity line now shows the number of hosts, with a warning when there are too few. Hold fast, Overseer.

DIRECTIVE 1.19 — BULLETIN FOR ALL POSTS The geothermal node's mode finally affects wear. Every setting of the lever has its own norm, but the calculation used a single figure for all of them, and the equipment gave out just as fast whatever you chose. Economy running now spares the node twice over, forced running wears it down faster — as it was meant to. Nothing has changed on the normal setting. Hold fast, Overseer.

DIRECTIVE 1.18 — BULLETIN FOR ALL POSTS The airlock has stopped holding back. Upgrades to the entrance need rare components or water on top of parts, yet the card listed parts alone. An overseer would press the button, nothing would happen, and no explanation followed. The price is now written out in full, and if something is missing you are told exactly what. English posts have had their speech corrected. Three hundred and fifty lines of the translation were read through by a native speaker: compartment names, modes, incidents, the handbook. The exchange office has its full name back. Settings now speak their own language. One Russian line was still standing on the English screen. It is gone. Hold fast, Overseer.

DIRECTIVE 1.17 - BULLETIN FOR ALL POSTS Type to suit the overseer's eyes. Settings now carry a text size: standard and larger. It applies to the panels, compartment cards and the handbook. The shelter schematic stays as it is. The exchange post has been split in two. Buying and selling now sit on separate tabs, and every offer fits on one line: what you give, what you get, how much of it you already hold. Tapping the line is the deal - the extra buttons are gone. Filtering residents by skill finally works. The thresholds now match what the compartments actually ask for: fifty at the first level, seventy at the fifth. The list used to offer values from an older scale, and any filter let nearly everyone through. On top of that, filtering by a skill now sorts the most capable to the top - finding the right pair of hands got easier. The classroom shows where you are taking people from. Next to every resident you can see the compartment they are on shift in, or that they have no shift at all. Studying does not stop the work, but knowing who you are pulling off the kitchen helps. Hold fast, Overseer.

DIRECTIVE 1.16 — BULLETIN FOR ALL POSTS Child labour is banned. A child can no longer be put on shift: only grown residents appear in the staff lists. Those already at the workbench will see their term out — we won't pull anyone off mid-watch. The children's zone explains itself. The enrolment list could come up empty without a word of explanation. Now headquarters says plainly what stands in the way: the child has taken a bunk in a living compartment, is on shift, or there are no children in the shelter yet. Compartment notes are legible. The "About" tab now matches the rest: the text no longer runs into the edges of the screen, section headings sit above their cards, and the lines have room to breathe. Hold fast, Overseer.

DIRECTIVE 1.15 — BULLETIN FOR ALL POSTS The reactors run quieter. Engineering has overhauled the observation post's power grid: the map and the supplies panel no longer recalculate at every twitch of the sensors. Your device runs cooler and spares the battery — especially in shelters that have grown to all four floors. The tunnel markings are in order. A scout's trail in the old metro no longer coils up endlessly: stepping back erases the spare mark. Long wanderings have stopped weighing down both the run and the save. Hold fast, Overseer.

DIRECTIVE 1.14 — BULLETIN FOR ALL POSTS Sound is back. The shelter's background hum used to go missing after the game was minimized and never came back until a restart. It returns on its own now, and it survives calls and alarms. Your second workshop counts. Installation slots used to come from the first workshop only, so a second one gave you nothing. Now every extra workshop adds a slot, with the same ceiling of five. The labels on the machines have been rewritten too: they widen the workshop's own work queue, not the upgrade installation slots. The automated shop is within reach. The upgrade called for three people at the trap post, and three only fit there at level five. Two are enough now. Objectives have stopped lying. Percentages rounded up, so an overseer saw "85% of 85%" at less than eighty-five. Your own figure now rounds down and the requirement rounds up, and the bar no longer fills to the end until the objective is actually closed. The objective card has also stopped telling you to build what has been standing for days. Radiograms stay deleted. Dismissed bulletins from headquarters no longer resurface at the next contact. Hold fast, Overseer.

DIRECTIVE 1.13 — BULLETIN FOR ALL POSTS The newcomer's course now runs seven sessions. An overseer used to be signed off as soon as the generator room was running and the first people had beds — after that they faced four floors and forty kinds of compartment alone. Three sessions have been added: put a resident on shift, play a round on a simulator, call a neighboring shelter. Sending the request is enough; the course does not make you wait for an answer. The objective card stays on the air. After graduation the bulletin no longer goes dark. It shows the nearest objective and what it takes. Eighty levels of objectives used to live behind an unremarkable button in the corner. The card can be folded away, and headquarters will remember that. Radiograms no longer pile up. Read bulletins from headquarters are written off after three days, and the clear button in the log now takes them with it. Unread traffic stays put: if the overseer has not reached a bulletin yet, it will wait. Headquarters speaks the language of the post. Radiograms go out in the shelter's own language, not the sender's. Neighbor lists have been put in order. A shelter you strike off no longer comes back on the next contact. Hold fast, overseer. Newcomers are led further now — with luck, there will be more of you on the air.

DIRECTIVE 1.12 — ALL-STATIONS BULLETIN The engineering service has found a lost crew. Rubble clearing works again in the service corridor and the old metro: the shift picks a tool for each joint, a right call brings scrap and parts, a wrong one brings dead rock. The job had been on the books for ages — nobody had ever issued the work order. It is issued now. The power service has sealed a leak. Shut-down compartments no longer burn a full ration: the fuel-chemical plant, the repair bay, both laboratories, quarantine, the morgue and the training zone drop to standby power when idle. Check your balance — many of you will suddenly find a surplus. And the main geothermal node now out-produces the main power station, as befits a source that demands an engineer and cools with water. The kitchens have merged their serving lines. A fully equipped main kitchen feeds twenty-seven people instead of ten, and the food plant has learned to hand out rations itself — six places at the first level, twelve at the third, added to the kitchens' own. Two kitchens now cover a shelter of forty. Headquarters is on the air. Radiograms from the developers arrive straight to the alert centre: news, warnings, and now and then a personal message to one overseer. The friends list has grown to thirty — twenty places for neighbours from the airwaves and ten reserved for those you handed your call sign to in person. Limits on parcels are stated up front now, rather than discovered at the moment of refusal. The cartographers have set up assembly. Three duplicate map fragments now piece together into one you're missing — the stack of repeats in your backpack is no longer dead weight. The classroom returns people to their posts. Enrolled students and appointed instructors remember where they worked: expulsion, stepping down and graduation each send them back to their old job. The engineering lab has posted its queue. Projects beyond the two in progress are listed, can be cancelled with a full refund of blueprints and parts, and the limit is written right there. Its paperwork is fixed too: engineering research pays in parts, as it always did, and a surface sample is reserved the moment a study begins. The instruments now speak plainly. Upgrade summaries across every compartment have stopped printing internal field names instead of words: "overheating", "rock pressure", "vibration" where there used to be raw code. The old shaft states what it gives and what it costs, the bio-laboratory explains that two identical studies stack, and the water cycle warns you when a fouled circuit starts spoiling water for the whole shelter. The leaderboard honours the great dig. Unsealing the fourth floor awards a thousand points — a milestone costing two thousand parts deserves it. Hold the line, Overseer. Half of this bulletin was written from your reports.

DIRECTIVE 1.11 — ALL-STATIONS BULLETIN The medical service has sorted out admissions. Every patient is registered in exactly one hospital: med bays split the sick evenly, and when a neighbouring bay frees up a bed, the queue flows there instead of standing frozen. The same order now applies to auto-med stations, the psychologist and the recreation room. Six hospitals now treat six times the people — not the same five patients. Note: filter cartridges are now genuinely consumed. Maintenance used to spend a cartridge only if one happened to be in storage — and worked either way. Servicing a filter without a cartridge is no longer possible. Restock at the exchange office, or let the recycling plant assemble cartridges from tech waste — keep a reserve. Every offer at the exchange office now shows how much of that resource you already hold. The engineering service has completed its requirements audit. Upgrades no longer refuse in silence: the water cycle plainly asks for a bio-laboratory, the sanitary module for a quarantine bay, and the children's zone lists everything it's missing. Late-generation compartments — geothermal, water cycle, greenhouse, synthetic food, auto-med station, robot bay, central AI — show upgrade costs before you commit. And drone repair and charging buttons now state their price, and the reason whenever they've gone dark. The power service has sealed a leak. Shut-down compartments no longer burn a full energy ration: the fuel-chemical plant, repair bay, engineering lab, bio-laboratory, quarantine, morgue and training zone switch to standby power when closed — a fraction of the old draw. Check your energy balance: many of you will suddenly find a surplus. Geothermal has earned its keep. The main geothermal node now delivers noticeably more than the main power station — as befits a source that demands an engineer, rare components and water cooling. Late technology is worth its price again. The water service has been issued a siren. When water quality drops, an alert lands in the journal with advice on the cure; when quality recovers, the all-clear follows. Recovery itself runs many times faster under a steady production surplus, and the "water poisoning" alarm is raised once for the whole shelter, not separately in every med bay. The metro: clearing the entrance is one-time work. The game remembers the entrance has been cleared: seal the tunnel again and the seals come off free of charge — no second invoice. The kitchens have merged their serving lines. Throughput now adds up across all working kitchens: a second kitchen genuinely shortens the queue, and the serving alert shows honest numbers instead of burning forever. The classroom sends people back to their posts. Enrolled students and appointed teachers remember where they worked: expulsion, stepping down and graduation all return each person to their old job. The farm has come clean too: rare substrate set aside for research now actually reaches the bio-laboratory's sample bank. The engineering lab has posted its queue. Projects beyond the two active ones are now listed, can be cancelled with a full refund of blueprints and parts, and the section states its limit: two in progress, four in line. The surface uplink has been expanded. Headquarters is on the air: radiograms from the developers arrive straight to the alert centre — news, warnings, and now and then a personal message to an overseer. The friends list has doubled to twenty shelters. And if HQ goes silent, a new shelter is founded without delay: we'll register your call sign once the airwaves come back to life. The leaderboard honours the great dig. Unsealing the fourth floor now awards 1,000 rating points — a milestone that costs two thousand parts deserves no less. Hold the line, Overseer. This is the largest bulletin in the shelter's history — and nearly every line of it began as one of your reports.

DIRECTIVE 1.10 — ALL-STATIONS BULLETIN The Office of Public Order reports. Rumors about the old command bunker no longer spread unchecked: while trust risk stays low, the community doesn't lose a single point of cohesion, and the whispers die down on their own once incidents are resolved. A tight-knit colony can now live with a secret beneath the floor — without coming apart. The medical service has sorted out its admission logs. Every med bay used to think it was the shelter's only hospital: all of them fought over the same critical patients while everyone else waited in every line at once. A patient is now registered in exactly one bay, queues are split between hospitals, and several med bays finally treat several times more people — not the same five. Medicine use has dropped accordingly. The auto-med stations, the psychologist and the recreation room follow the same order. The security office and the perimeter have been elevated in standing. The sharper the watch details and the better camouflaged the traps, the harder the shelter is to find. Generator halls have been given extra lining: we're much harder to hear from above. Stealth is no longer a luxury of the early days. The recycling plant has opened a new line. Replacement cartridges for water and air filters are now assembled from tech waste — slowly, but with our own hands. The exchange office is no longer the only way. The med bay reports new arrivals on the way. More children are being born under our roof: couples commit sooner, mothers recover faster, and two mothers-to-be can now be under care at the same time. The robot bay has been cleared for teardown. Machines past their prime can be stripped for parts and scrap — take a robot off shift and rebuild your fleet for the tasks of the day. The psychologist's office and the recreation room now run an honest clock. Session hours don't burn away while the compartment is dark, and residents under the heaviest strain get a follow-up appointment without waiting in line. The boards show the exact time to discharge. The filtration units now count everyone. Maximum occupancy is tallied across all working filters — the panicked "there are too many of us" bulletins have been discontinued. The uplink to the surface has been reinforced. If headquarters goes silent, a new shelter is founded without delay — we'll register your call sign once the airwaves come back to life. Waits for a response have been cut to a quarter. The handbook has grown. The engineering lab and the robot bay now have proper pages: what projects are for, what the synergies do, and why eight hours of sleep is not a whim. Hold the line, Overseer. The shelter runs deeper — and we stand closer.

DIRECTIVE 1.9 — ALL-STATIONS BRIEFING Overseer, this directive is about order in the small things. Expect no grand discoveries: the shift was busy restoring fairness. Personnel closed an old oversight. Graduates of courses rushed with parts now return to their workstations too — haste used to cost people their posts. Learn slow or learn fast: the workbench will be waiting. The comms service sets airwave rules. Ten friends is the limit. The airwaves aren't infinite, and friendship isn't a collection: ten bunkers you actually trade gifts with are worth more than a hundred silent callsigns. The storekeeper got a scale. Disposal is precise now: mark an item and decide exactly how much goes — thirty food out of a hundred, not the whole shelf. The slider is yours. The exchange takes food again. At a dismal rate — twenty rations for one part — and the trader honestly warns you: feeding people pays better. But when the storage is bursting, the surplus finally has somewhere to go. The Snake got its focus adjusted. You can now see what you're collecting — a resource icon instead of a nameless dot. And the arrow buttons nearly doubled in size: easy to hit even mid-dash. The archivist labeled the shelf. The intel stockpile in the command bunker now says where it comes from and what speeds it up. You asked — we answered. Hold the line, Overseer. Big things are built from precise little ones — and today there are more of them.

DIRECTIVE 1.8 — ALL-STATIONS BRIEFING Overseer, this directive concerns what lies beyond our walls. And those bold enough to go get it. The old network has answered. The command bunker's archives are talking: pre-war sites are out there, within reach. Leads surface twice a day; the vague ones can be developed with intel — it finally has a job. Then it's the secret exit's turn: a team of one or two, a mapped route, and a quiet run slips into the tunnels. Things happen out there — hostile patrols, cave-ins, untouched alcoves — and every call is yours. Remember the one rule: everyone comes home. Sometimes scratched. Always with stories. And sealed sector finds now read like the first pages of that very network. There is another floor beneath us. Engineering tapped the lower slabs and reported in a whisper: hollows. Breaching will cost a serious pile of parts — but seventeen untouched compartments wait behind the seal. Start saving. It's worth it. Someone really was behind that door. The survivor rescued from the sealed sector is no longer a line in a report — they step into the light, get a name, a bunk and a place in the census. Welcome them as your own. The comms service opens the airwaves. Switch on "Visible to everyone" and your code goes out on the waves: other overseers will find you in the new "Looking for friends" block. No bunker should be alone. The map HQ keeps an intel journal now. Everything scouts learn about the sectors is stored for good — clear notifications without fear. The metro labyrinth has been through the engineers' hands too: the field redraws far more efficiently, so your phone no longer heats up even on the deepest branches. Taps got snappier along the way, and cave-ins no longer devour your progress — our apologies for the nerves. The repair crew swept the compartments. The psychologist heals now instead of nodding along; so does the recreation room. Airlock upgrades finish what they started. After lessons and drills, residents walk themselves back to their stations, and the classroom can filter students by skill. Honesty restored: the shelter no longer charges parts for work it never did. The language service caught its breath. Nearly three thousand lines of English rewritten — the guide now sounds like an overseer's voice, not a broken teletype. Hold the line, Overseer. The network is vast — and now it has one shelter that matters: yours.

DIRECTIVE 1.7 — BULLETIN FOR ALL POSTS Overseer, this directive is about people. And about a shelter that no longer forgives empty tanks. Life-support crises. Out of water, lights down, air gone toxic — that's no longer a line in a report, it's a siren on the main screen: "NO WATER — people will start leaving in 2 days." Thirst and bad air hit health immediately, darkness weighs on morale, and a prolonged crisis sends the faint-hearted packing. Fix the supply and the siren goes quiet — and the gates come alive again: the flow of survivors toward exemplary shelters has been strengthened. Hearts below ground. The census office reports: residents are finally truly coming together. Couples form and show up in personnel files — look for the heart. Births will be noticeably more frequent, and the shelter chronicle keeps count of them. The relationships list has been tidied up: loved ones on top, foes at the bottom, random passersby struck off. The council has revised the merit system. Shelter ratings are calculated anew: what counts now is people, construction, upgrades, goals, all seven strategic paths, and children born. Idling by the entrance no longer pays — days past the thirtieth are worth less, and technology spent on great construction projects no longer burns out of your score. The leaderboard has been recalculated — don't be surprised by the reshuffle: it's honest now. Goals — a major revision. Construction is rewarded again without exception, the stuck Power, Water, and Air tracks have finally moved off dead center, the starting freebies are gone, and the final milestones of the long paths now pay in rare components. Stealth has found its purpose: the security office and the trap perimeter now keep the shelter hidden. And for mega-colonies — a new milestone: 60 residents. The repair crew swept the compartments. Sessions with the psychologist and in the recreation room always come to an end, the auto-med station now shows its patients and has learned to discharge them, robots no longer get stuck in hibernation, the isolation cell holds real case reviews, and you can leave the metro labyrinth with a second tap on the exit — even while standing right on it. Hold the line, Overseer. The shelter answers your care now — and demands the same in return.