Monster Hunter has been a core part of my gaming life for years. Across titles and generations, I’ve poured time into mastering weapons, learning monster patterns, and experimenting with builds — because I genuinely love the series.
That hasn’t changed.
What has changed is the community surrounding it. And I’m done with it.
Recently, I unfollowed every Monster Hunter category on Twitch. I cut ties with countless small streamers who all seemed to follow the same tired formula: chasing damage numbers, worshiping meta builds, or trying to “make it” on Twitch by using Monster Hunter as a stepping stone. The joy of the hunt has been replaced by ego, optimization obsession, and shallow performative content.
I’m tired of pretending that’s fine.
Because it’s not.
No More Excuses
What pushed me over the edge wasn’t just the toxic players or the elitism — it was the silence around it. The number of people who constantly let garbage behavior slide because they’re afraid of losing “potential.” Networking, followers, streamer circles — everyone’s too scared to speak up or push back.
“It is what it is.”
“Just ignore it.”
No. I’m not doing that anymore.
If your friendships or visibility hinge on ignoring toxicity, then what are they really worth?
And honestly? I’m beyond fed up with the entire parasocial sludge that clings to Monster Hunter content online — especially the big titty PNG/Vtuber crowd. The streamers who put on the same fake breathy anime voice, talk to their viewers like they’re literal children, and treat basic game mechanics like it’s rocket science so their chat can go “omg ur so smart mommy 🥺.”
And worse? The viewers who lap it up.
The ones calling them “mommy” or “daddy” unironically, like they’re part of some awkward online daycare for lonely grown adults.
It’s fake. It’s cringe. And it’s everywhere.
And if calling it out makes me the bad guy — so be it.
Failure at the Top Too
It wasn’t just the fans that failed the culture — the community managers handling Monster Hunter’s socials for the past several years didn’t help either. When World exploded in popularity, they had a chance to build something strong, lasting, and inclusive.
Instead? We got shallow engagement baits, weak social presence, and zero meaningful interaction. Every post felt like it was chasing numbers, not cultivating actual community. No sense of identity, no attempt to highlight real hunters, no fostering of a healthy long-term player base.
Just lame content, lame strategies, and lame execution.
They didn’t build a strong community — they let one rot in silence.
Going Solo
I’ve spent a long time hunting with Twitch friends and viewers. That was my space — multiplayer, social, and fun. But it became clear over time that I’m a magnet for the worst of this community. Tryhards. Gatekeepers. People more concerned with theoretical DPS charts than the actual experience of the hunt.
And if the price of community is constantly biting my tongue to avoid drama? No thanks.
So from here on, I’m going solo more often. Not bitter. Not sad. Just realistic.
I’d rather enjoy the game in silence than keep putting up with bullshit just to be “included.”
Let the streamers farm engagement. Let the viewers chase meta.
I’ll be out there hunting.
Still Here
I didn’t quit Monster Hunter.
I quit trying to make it enjoyable through other people.
The series still means something to me. The thrill of the hunt still clicks. But I’ve stopped expecting the community to be anything more than what it is — and I’ve stopped pretending I need to be part of it.
I leaving the community.
Not the hunt.
And that’s the best decision I’ve made in a while.
P.S.
To the few of you who did click with me — you know who you are — the ones who played for the thrill, the atmosphere, the craft, not just the damage numbers or twitch clout… I cherish and respect you deeply.
Even if I go quiet or disappear from the usual places, I’d still love to stay connected and hunt again someday. You’re the reason I didn’t give up on multiplayer altogether.
Thank you. Always.