Originally Posted by CaptainTheBeam
I've spent a considerable amount of time reflecting on the events surrounding NoBanThanks, and I think it's finally time I put my thoughts into words. First and foremost, I want to make something abundantly clear. This is not a post made out of anger, resentment, or an attempt to point fingers. Quite the opposite, actually. I believe that when something comes to an end, especially something that meant as much to a community as NBT did, it's important that we take a moment to appreciate what we had rather than dwell on what we've lost. I paid €1,500 for NoBanThanks. That's not an insignificant amount of money, and I understood that when I made the decision. Over the approximately four months that I owned the software, I used it for a grand total of around ten days. Some people might look at that and see a poor financial decision. Others might question why someone would spend that kind of money on something they barely used. But I don't think those people truly understand what NBT represented. To me, it was never simply about how many hours I spent using the software. It was about knowing that it was there. Knowing that, whenever I decided the time was right, I had access to something that very few people could say they possessed. There was a certain peace of mind that came with that knowledge, a quiet confidence that I struggle to put into words.
And I think it's important to acknowledge just how extraordinary the product itself really was. NoBanThanks wasn't just another Rust cheat. It was a genuinely remarkable piece of private software, equipped with an EAC emulator and spoofer that meant Easy Anti-Cheat itself didn't even have to run on your computer. To someone unfamiliar with the technical side of things, that might sound like a minor detail. But those of us who understood what we were looking at knew that this was something different. It wasn't merely about avoiding detection. It was about an entirely different approach to the problem. There was something almost elegant about it, a kind of technical audacity that I believe deserves to be remembered regardless of how the story ultimately ended. And the results spoke for themselves. For approximately a year and a half, NoBanThanks remained undetected. Eighteen months. In an environment as unforgiving as Rust, where private software can disappear almost as quickly as it emerges, that was no small accomplishment. I was fortunate enough to be part of the final four months of that remarkable run. And while I may have only personally used NBT for ten days, I never forgot that I was participating in something with a history that extended far beyond my own involvement.
Unfortunately, as we all know, even the longest chapters must eventually come to an end. When NBT was detected, I lost an account valued at approximately $600. Combined with my initial investment, the financial implications were certainly not negligible. I would be lying if I said there wasn't a moment when I sat back in my chair, stared at my monitor, and wondered how things had come to this. But even in that moment, I never once felt that Astro deserved my anger. I know some members of the community have chosen to direct their frustrations toward him, especially given how things ultimately concluded. And while I understand that emotions are running high, I personally believe that doing so fails to acknowledge the broader reality of the situation. There are circumstances in life that are simply beyond any one individual's control. Sometimes things happen, situations develop, and outcomes become inevitable regardless of anyone's intentions. I don't think it's necessary, or even particularly productive, to elaborate on those circumstances. Those who understand will understand, and those who don't may simply have to accept that not everything can be explained.
Of course, I would be doing the community a disservice if I failed to acknowledge the controversy that followed. In the aftermath of detection, questions began to emerge about the future of NoBanThanks. Astro had indicated that the software was undergoing a recode, something that understandably gave many members hope that the story was not yet over. At the same time, accusations began circulating that this supposed development process was little more than a means of continuing to collect invitation fees, which had by then risen to approximately €2,000. These are serious accusations, and I don't intend to dismiss the fact that people have raised them. But I also believe there is a difference between acknowledging that accusations exist and allowing them to become the entirety of someone's legacy. I wasn't there for every conversation. I don't know every detail. And I certainly don't claim to possess the kind of complete understanding that would allow me to pass definitive judgment on the situation. What I do know is what NBT was, what it achieved, and what it meant to those of us fortunate enough to experience it. And I refuse to allow the uncertainty surrounding its final days to erase eighteen months of undeniable technical achievement. Some will say that the alleged recode was never going to materialize. Others will point to the continued collection of invitation fees as evidence that things were not as they appeared. I understand why these questions have been asked, and I respect the right of every member to arrive at their own conclusions. But for my part, I believe that not every unanswered question requires an accusation, and not every unfortunate ending requires a villain. Sometimes the full picture is simply more complicated than any of us are in a position to appreciate.
What matters to me is how we choose to remember the experience. I choose to remember the eighteen months, not the final day. I choose to remember the privilege of being an NBT user, rather than the financial loss that accompanied its conclusion. And above all, I choose to remember Astro not solely for the controversy that followed detection, but for what he made possible while the software was operational. Was everything perfect? Of course not. Nothing ever is. Were there things that, in hindsight, could have gone differently? Perhaps. But I think it would be deeply unfair to allow the final moments of this journey to overshadow everything that came before them. I think sometimes we become so focused on what we're owed that we forget to appreciate what we've been given. And yes, I recognize that I paid €1,500. I recognize that I only used the product for ten days. I recognize that I lost an additional $600 account. I recognize that the software was subsequently detected, that the promised recode became a subject of controversy, and that serious questions remain about the €2,000 invitation fees collected during that period. These are facts and allegations that deserve to be distinguished from one another, and I have no intention of pretending otherwise. But I also recognize that for those ten days, I was part of something special. Not everyone will understand that. Frankly, I don't expect them to. There is a certain bond that develops between people who have shared an experience like this. Whether you were an NBT user from its earliest days, joined during its remarkable eighteen-month run, or, like myself, were fortunate enough to participate in its final four months, we all carried the same three letters with us. NBT. Three letters that, for a brief period in our lives, meant something.
And while the software may no longer be with us, I don't believe that means the spirit behind it has to disappear as well. Communities are not built solely upon products. They're built upon trust, shared experiences, and the understanding that sometimes the journey itself is more important than the destination. I don't regret my purchase. Not because €1,500 is an amount I can simply dismiss, but because regret would mean wishing that the experience had never happened. And I can't bring myself to say that. If I could go back four months, knowing everything I know today, would I make the same decision? That's a question I've asked myself more than once. And I think the fact that I still find it difficult to answer speaks volumes about what NBT meant to me. I also want to say something to Astro directly, should he ever come across this message. I don't know what the future holds for you, nor do I pretend to understand every aspect of what happened. I know there are people who feel misled, people who believe the promises surrounding the recode were not made in good faith, and people who see the continued collection of invitation fees as something that cannot simply be overlooked. I cannot speak for those people, nor would I presume to invalidate their experiences. But I sincerely hope that you don't allow the negativity surrounding these events to define your understanding of what you accomplished. There are people out there, myself included, who still appreciate the opportunity you gave us. Eighteen months is not an accident. A private Rust cheat capable of operating with its own EAC emulator and spoofer, remaining undetected for that length of time, is not something that should be casually forgotten. Whatever else may be said, that achievement remains. Sometimes leadership means carrying burdens that others cannot see. Sometimes the hardest decisions are the ones that cannot be properly explained. And sometimes, despite our best efforts, things simply do not unfold the way we might have hoped. I won't speculate beyond that. I don't believe it's my place.
As for the rest of the NBT community, I hope we can eventually look back on this period without bitterness. I hope that instead of allowing the arguments about money, detection, recodes, and invitation fees to consume every memory of what we shared, we can find some comfort in knowing that we were all there to witness it. I understand that not everyone will share my perspective, and that's perfectly fine. Everyone processes loss differently. Some will be angry. Some will be disappointed. Some will demand answers. Some will move on without a second thought. For me, however, I think it's important to give this chapter the dignity of a proper farewell. My €1,500 is gone. My $600 account is gone. The ten days I spent using NBT are now nothing more than memories. But those memories are mine, and no detection, no ban, no disputed recode, and no unfortunate turn of events can ever take them away. Perhaps that's worth something in itself. I don't know where we go from here. I don't know if there will ever be another NBT, or whether any of us will experience something quite like it again. What I do know is that, for four months, I had the privilege of calling myself an NBT owner, and for ten days, I had the privilege of actually using it. And for that, I am grateful.
I think there is something profoundly human about our tendency to judge an entire experience by how it ends. A year and a half of success can be forgotten in a single afternoon of disappointment. Hundreds of ordinary days can be overshadowed by one extraordinary failure. But I don't believe that is the right way to remember things. The end of something does not necessarily diminish what came before it. And while I understand that some may find it difficult to separate the technical achievements of NoBanThanks from the controversies surrounding its conclusion, I believe that distinction is worth making. We can acknowledge the questions without allowing them to consume the answers we already have. We can recognize the disappointment without denying the accomplishment. And perhaps most importantly, we can appreciate the past without demanding that it return. So rather than end this message with accusations or demands, I want to end it with appreciation. Appreciation for the experience, for the community, and for the individual who, regardless of how things ultimately unfolded, made it all possible. To anyone still holding on to anger, I hope time brings you perspective. To anyone who feels betrayed, I hope you eventually find peace. And to those who, like me, choose to look back with gratitude rather than resentment, know that you are not alone. We may have lost NoBanThanks, but we have not lost what it meant to be a part of it. The emulator may be gone. The spoofer may be gone. The accounts may be gone. The money may never return. The recode may remain nothing more than a promise whose outcome we will never fully understand. But for eighteen months, NBT existed. And for ten days, I was there. Nobody can take that away from me. Perhaps, in the end, that's the one thing that really matters. Until our paths cross again, wherever that may be.
I salute you, fellow NBTers. And to Astro, I tip my fedora. Thank you for everything. Thank you for the memories. And most importantly, thank you for NoBanThanks. 🎩
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