cotzy is like the polar opposite of politicised gaming. politicised talks about the history of the country hes playing. cotzy rushes germany at the start, and just starts talking about crack.
hes getting aided he didnt "casually beat the shit out of all of europe not even trying to". spec is nice only if you have the resources to sustain it. look at 5:53 to 6:00. you cant get max manpower and 1 billion in 2 ticks. this is not the only time, 6:38, 7:08, 7:30, 8:11. also france gave him his entire country for, like, free xd
I remember when I was playing Spain, I lost all my land, became nomadic, and by being a scum I made the Spanish Empire. It was NOT worth it. Over 12 hours of my life wasted.
I once had a game as Poland where I repelled Russia with Ukraine and defeated Germany. But I ended up with 0 manpower, and got steamrolled by France :( Quit the game after that.
Me: how am I going to take on another RU-vidr in RON if they are the goat at it? (Me realizing that all I have to do is to watch how he plays and then I will know how to win.)
did you just download tiktok and see a comment using that? this shit doesn’t even fit the context, like did you literally open tiktok and go right to the comment section? and it’s like a month old.
My name is Bartholomew, and I've come to realize that the choices we make can echo through time like thunder across a barren landscape. I once believed I was untouchable, wielding my influence over pixels and data in a virtual world where consequences seemed distant and inconsequential. But now, as I sit here in my cell, the weight of my actions bears down on me like an unyielding burden. It all started innocently enough-or so I thought. Rise of Nations was more than just a game to me; it was a canvas upon which I painted my ambitions and frustrations. As a seasoned player, I reveled in the competition, strategizing and maneuvering to assert my dominance. But somewhere along the way, competition morphed into something darker. I began to prey on younger players, exploiting their inexperience and vulnerability. In my pursuit of victory, I stooped to bullying tactics-taunting, harassing, and belittling those who dared to challenge me. The anonymity of the online world shielded me from guilt or remorse. After all, it was just a game, right? But my actions didn't go unnoticed. Complaints flooded the game's forums and community boards. Concerned parents voiced their outrage over the toxic environment I fostered. The game's developers, faced with mounting pressure, took decisive action. Legal notices arrived, accusing me of cyberbullying and violating the game's terms of service. The consequences escalated swiftly and mercilessly. My wife, whom I had once cherished as my anchor in turbulent seas, could no longer tolerate the shame and disgrace. She left, taking our vows and dreams with her. The once-sturdy foundation of our marriage crumbled under the weight of my transgressions. As public outcry intensified, so did the ripple effects of my actions. A civil war erupted in the online community, with factions forming to either defend or condemn my behavior. The media seized upon the story, portraying me as a symbol of unchecked power and moral decay in the digital age. Amidst the chaos, legal proceedings loomed ominously on the horizon. I faced a barrage of lawsuits, not only from affected players and their families but also from advocacy groups championing online safety and mental health. The courtroom became my new battleground, where evidence of my digital reign of terror was laid bare for all to see. The verdict was swift and severe. The judge, unmoved by my pleas for leniency, handed down a sentence that shattered any illusions of invincibility I once held. I was to serve 75 years in prison-a lifetime behind bars for crimes committed in the virtual realm. Now, as I sit in solitude, Saint Helena feels less like a remote island and more like a prison within a prison. The walls are not just physical but also psychological, closing in around me with each passing day. I am left to ponder the wreckage of my life, haunted by the faces of those I harmed and the loved ones I lost. My mother, Erik, visits occasionally-a pillar of unwavering support amidst the wreckage of my shattered reputation. Her presence is a reminder of the unconditional love that survives even the darkest of storms. Yet, I cannot escape the bitter truth: I am here because of choices I made, actions I took without considering the consequences. In the silence of my cell, I am confronted with the harsh reality of accountability. The virtual world I once ruled with impunity has exacted a toll far greater than any victory could justify. My name is Bartholomew, and this is my lament-a cautionary tale of power unchecked, consequences ignored, and the devastating price of hubris.
