“Trust-Me-Bro” Era Ends? Moria Stablecoin Faces Security, Auditors, and Its Own Existence

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Once more, humanity’s penchant for trustless systems tramples the feeble cries for blind faith. Moria, that grandiose experiment in BCH-based stablecoin issuance, waltzes from the fires of an audit conducted by none other than Hashlock—a company perhaps named by a man who, after losing his keys one winter night in Petersburg, swore never again to mishandle security. Their verdict? The code behind this digital chimera isn’t the usual heap of monstrous bugs: Hashlock, with bureaucratic solemnity, lauds its “secure, logical,” and (God forbid) “intent-driven” construction. If only audit reports could audit our souls! 🕵️‍♂️💰

BCH Stablecoin Issuance Protocol, Audited or Abandoned?

So, Moria. The protocol that, much like Raskolnikov with a conscience, accepts Bitcoin Cash as collateral, dispensing something called MUSD—a “stablecoin” clinging to the dollar by sheer willpower (and, allegedly, smart contracts). Moria’s raison d’être, apparently, is to let traders enjoy liquidity without selling the family silver. Or, in this case, their digital tchotchkes. Freedom cries out, “Have your BCH and spend it too!” 🤑

Hashlock, who assure us they’re specialists in Web3 security (don’t worry, Mother, I checked), found Moria bereft of critical vulnerabilities. “More users can now sleep soundly,” rings the jubilant public relations trumpet, “forournew overlords are, if not benevolent, at least certified.” There was, naturally, one “minor” flaw—swept under the rug before anyone could ask if it was really so minor after all. 🧹🤨

Hashlock’s final sermon declares the code “sound and well-tested”—these are not the adjectives one normally hears in Petersburg’s back alleys, but perhaps in code it’s possible. “Most of the code is ordered, and best practices abound,” they said—raising the question, what of the rest? Is there a Dostoevskian corner where chaos reigns? Only Satoshi knows.

This audit is not the end, but a deepening swamp of “commitment to verification,” which, in this world, is a bit like Sisyphus proudly polishing his boulder. Dagur Valberg Johansson—a bitcoin veteran, which no doubt means he’s eaten more ramen than a Dostoevsky protagonist in his downtrodden apartments—reminds us that the twilight of “trust-me-bro” stablecoins is upon us. Has modernity not progressed when the phrase itself is publicized without shame?

Meanwhile, Halvor Bakke-Veiby, who reportedly left rocket science for crypto, insists that Moria, and its ilk, exist to “safeguard” the crypto ecosystem. One wonders: from whom, or what, are we safeguarding ourselves? Perhaps, from our own irresistible compulsion to gamble everything, even our collective future, on a system run by lines of code and caffeine-addled mathematicians. 🚀😅

He solemnly—or perhaps ruefully—pronounced:

Trust-me-bro stablecoins constitute one of the biggest attack vectors for crypto as a whole. If liquidity is not migrated to secure, transparent, and on-chain collateralized stables, it could prompt a future black swan event for the entire crypto industry.

Ah, black swans! As if we were not surrounded by ravens already. In this endless waltz between trust and trustlessness, it is comforting only to remember that, behind every codebase, there sits a trembling soul, hoping the audit will deem it worthy. And so, Moria passes, for now, clutching its bug reports and existential anxiety, awaiting the next inquisition—or perhaps, the next pump. 🤷‍♂️

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2025-07-05 04:57