Discovering Blaseball was wild.
I watched birds nearly cause the end of the world.
I witnessed an arcane resurrection and the consequences smacking us full in the face.
I wrote an impassioned fanfic when Randy died.
I cheered when the Tacos imprisoned all their pitchers in giant peanut shells and cheered even harder when the league responded by giving them a pitching machine.
I cheered even harder when the pitching machine started drinking blood and completely lost it when it started batting.
I was the bailiff on an in-universe fanon court case that ran for hours and had in-game canon effects.
I find it hard not to cry a bit when Firewalker With Me starts playing on my Spotify mix.
If that weren't enough, working on Blaseball was a fever dream.
We had such plans in the pipe for the future.
All gone.
I'm still angry and upset about how it was cancelled.
But easily some of my best friends in the world were made through that silly browser game. Connections spanning oceans, forged in fire.
Blaseball was important to me. And it was a major life event for me. Even if it was just some weirdo baseball simulator for almost everyone else.
A bunch of names and stats plumbed into a random number generator helped me find a sense of peace in the growing chaos of the world.
Thank you, Blaseball. Rest in Violence.
