There was this old, decrepit server, once notorious but now forgotten, its name unworthy of mention. Back then, it was *the server*, a haven for those role-playing as infamous far-right figures from history. You know who I’m talking about. These people weren’t being ironic in their portrayal. No, they believed every word of their vile ideology. They masked their true intentions with cowardly justifications, but deep down, they were committed. I couldn’t stand the thought of *the server* continuing to exist within this game. So, I set to work, devising a plan to dismantle it. I crafted the perfect weapon of mass GMod destruction: a simple yet efficient Lua script. It spammed prop spawn requests until the server couldn’t handle it anymore. These self-proclaimed *fuhrers*, running their dystopian server, had no post-mortem logs to trace the crashes back to me. So, I got to work. When their player count was high, poof – I crashed it. When a big event was about to start, zap – it was gone. They spent countless hours preparing for their little military parades, with their little tanks and shining boots, ready to march. Just as they opened the gates, stepping into their cute formations, poof – crashed.

For three relentless months, I cut short their fancy events. Day after day, their player numbers dwindled until, finally, the server shut down. It was me, you f***s. I was within your ranks, wearing your uniforms, parroting your garbage politics. But behind the scenes, it was me. So, when you sit in your mom’s basement, wasting money trying to revive your pathetic server, you think of me.