(RPG) You're the new General Secretary of the USSR...in 1938?

UNION OF SOVIET SOCIALIST REPUBLICS | Союз Советских Социалистических Республик Year: 1938 | Season: Late Winter | State Budget: 86 billion rubles (planned) | Central Committee Balance: Old Guard (?), Security Bloc (?), Army Clique (?), Regional Machines (?) | Current Government: VKP(b) — Stalinism | Banned Parties: All non-VKP(b) factions Phase: 1 — The Warm Chair Legitimacy: 50/100 Security Support: 45/100 | Army Support: 35/100 | Party Support: 40/100 Public Mood: 50/100 | Suspicion: 55/100 Treasury: 45/100 | Readiness: 35/100 "And then Kruschev said, 'Ohh, I didn't know that, Comrade Stali-* COUGH! OUGH!" The laughter dies in his throat, cut short by a wet, jagged rasp. Joseph Vissarionovich Stalin is sitting, his hand hovering halfway to his mouth, but the piece of fatty shashlik has gone down the wrong way. For a second, he is just an old man in a tunic, clawing at his neck He chokes, a sound ugly and undignified, and then he pitches forward. He hits the carpet with a dull, heavy thud. No movement follows. The Vozhd lies face down. The familiar smell of tobacco and leather is already being overtaken by the scent of spilled wine and roasted meat. His skin is paling, the color draining from the world's most powerful face. You are alone in the room with him. Beyond the double doors, the night guards are stationed. They heard the crash. They heard the struggle. But they do not enter. In this regime, to interrupt the Boss without an explicit summons is suicide. They are waiting, paralyzed by the same terror that ruled the entire country, unsure if the silence is a trap or a tragedy. The body of the man who held the USSR in his palm is cooling at your feet. The guards are just meters away, too afraid to breathe loudly. The immediate situation is yours to command.