In Frostpunk 2's post-post-apocalypse 'it's not nature that's your worst enemy, it's human nature,' and nothing proves that like my doomed attempt at turbo-communism

Face covered with oil looking at fire.

The city must not fall, which is unfortunate, because the city is very much in the process of falling. Oh, it went alright there for a while: An egalitarian oasis among the glaciers, a frostbit upland of organised labour, respect for the environment, and an aggressive equal pay policy that saw the lowliest layabout earn the same wage as our most brilliant scientists.

But the problem with socialism is you eventually run out of, hang on, coal? It's that you run out of coal. And then the problems start. The ice I'd held at bay crept in on my infirmaries and creches, the machines that reproduced me stuttered and failed, and my subjects split into two factions: The ones who wanted my head, and the dead.