All Blogs by AnxiousSquirrel

There are some people who make the internet feel a little less like static and a little more like a community. For me, that person has always been RandyBandy. He doesn’t have to try to be likable — he just is. There’s this effortless authenticity about him, the kind that you can’t fake because it comes from someone who’s genuinely grounded. He’s funny, sure — sharp, witty, and sometimes a little too good at saying what everyone else was thinking — but there’s something more beneath the humor. It’s kindness. It’s loyalty. It’s the feeling that even in the absurd chaos of Tengaged, there are people who actually make it better just by being there. RandyBandy’s humor doesn’t punch down; it lifts the mood. His posts never feel like noise — they feel like punctuation marks in the long, run-on sentence that is this community. Sometimes it’s a comma, a pause that reminds you to laugh. Sometimes it’s a period — a perfectly timed statement that makes you stop and think, “Yeah, he’s right.” There’s a steadiness to him, too. The kind of presence that can shift a thread from tense to hilarious, or make a room feel lighter just by chiming in. People like him are rare — the ones who don’t need to dominate a space to define it. I missed a lot of things while I was gone, but realizing RandyBandy was still here? That felt like coming home. Here’s to the guy who makes it fun again. Here’s to RandyBandy. — Morant

There are certain people on the internet who aren’t just names on a leaderboard or faces behind avatars. They’re atmospheres. They change the emotional temperature of a space simply by existing. For me, that person has always been Rosemulet. To call her “a player” or “a user” would be an insult to what she represents. Rosemulet is an event—something that happens to a game, not something that merely exists within it. The alliances, the tension, the laughter that follows in her wake—these are not coincidences. They’re gravitational ripples caused by a personality that is both self-aware and unbothered, like someone who knows she’s the moment and doesn’t need to remind you. I missed Tengaged for a lot of reasons, but if I’m being honest, part of it was the quiet absence of that energy. Every time I saw a post of hers from afar, it felt like watching a bonfire from the other side of the river—beautiful, chaotic, untouchable. Now that I’m back, I realize it’s not just nostalgia. It’s appreciation. Rosemulet brings something to this weird digital ecosystem that most people can’t: a perfect mix of wit, self-confidence, and timing. Her comments are quick, her humor effortless, and her presence oddly grounding, like a reminder that this little corner of the internet can still be fun. We spend so much time online pretending not to care, but Rosemulet doesn’t pretend. She is who she is—sharp, hilarious, unfiltered, and magnetic. And that’s rare. So here’s my confession: I didn’t just miss Tengaged. I missed Rosemulet. — Morant

There was a time when I told myself I was done. Done with the endless cycles of alliances, betrayals, the dopamine rush of anonymous validation. I had closed the tab, sworn off the pixels, and walked out into the analog world like a monk renouncing material desire. For a while, I believed it. But Tengaged is not something one simply quits. It lingers—like a half-remembered dream, or a song you hate but know all the words to. Even in absence, it hums somewhere in the background, whispering: come back, Morant. I tried to fill the void. Read books. Went outside. Cooked eggs in canola oil. But nothing could replicate the chaos of a place where strangers form temporary families over nothing more than the fear of elimination. There’s something beautifully tragic about that—a social experiment masquerading as a game, or maybe the other way around. So yes, I missed Tengaged deeply. I missed the ridiculous arguments, the alliances that dissolved faster than instant coffee, the late-night DMs about votes that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of anything. I missed the feeling of being Morant—, not whoever I am offline, but the distilled, absurd essence of myself that only the internet could produce. And now I’m back. Not for revenge, not for clout, but because pretending I didn’t care was the biggest lie of all. Tengaged is the chaos I deserve, and the peace I was never meant to find. Welcome to my resurrection. — Morant