I have 5,000 hours in Rust, which means I’ve officially seen more naked men with rocks than a Greek museum.

Rust is a game where:
• You spawn with nothing but a rock and anxiety
• You get chased by a guy screaming “Friendly!” while holding a spear
• You finally build a base and immediately get offline raided by children with deeper voices than you

At some point you’ll experience the full Rust starter pack:
• Dying to a boar that spawned from thin air
• Losing a full kit to a bush
• Getting headshot by a dude who definitely has 14,000 DPI and no father
• Getting doorcamped by someone who calls you “bro” while ruining your life

And yet… I still log in.
Why? Because when Rust is good, it’s REALLY good.
That 1% of pure joy keeps you addicted through the other 99% of emotional damage.

Rust is basically a lifestyle:
You don’t “play” Rust.
You clock in like it’s a second job with worse pay and better explosions.

Would I recommend Rust?
Absolutely.
If I’m suffering, you should too.
Come get bullied by 12-year-olds with AKs.
It’s character development.

— A 5,000-hour veteran who built 400 bases and lost 399 of them