The Republic of Clos Ratel is a massive, efficient nation, remarkable for its smutty television, enslaved workforce, and suspicion of poets. The hard-nosed, cynical, devout population of 1.189 billion Clos Ratelians are ruled without fear or favor by a psychotic dictator, who outlaws just about everything and refers to the populace as "my little playthings."

The medium-sized, corrupt, well-organized government juggles the competing demands of Defense, Law & Order, and Education. Citizens pay a flat income tax of 66.9%.

The frighteningly efficient Clos Ratelian economy, worth 139 trillion Ducats a year, is driven entirely by a combination of government and state-owned industry, with private enterprise illegal. However, for those in the know, there is a slick, highly efficient, fairly diversified black market in Tourism, Arms Manufacturing, Information Technology, and Furniture Restoration. The private sector mostly consists of enterprising ten-year-olds selling lemonade on the sidewalk, but the government is looking at stamping this out. Average income is an impressive 117,284 Ducats, with the richest citizens earning 8.8 times as much as the poorest.

When their backs are against the walls Clos Ratelians look out for gay men, mining safety laws are often more expensive than what's being mined, a little pushing and pulling is needed for big ships to pass, and glamping Clos Ratelians won't sleep in a tent that doesn't include a Jacuzzi. Crime, especially youth-related, is totally unknown, thanks to a well-funded police force and progressive social policies in education and welfare. Clos Ratel's national animal is the Bear, which frolics freely in the nation's many lush forests.

Clos Ratel is ranked 180,688^th in the world and 342^nd in Novaya Zemlya for Largest Publishing Industry, scoring 966.28 on the Bella Potter Productivity e-Index.