The wait is almost over. Path of Exile 2 fully releases on December 11 PST.
Ready your swords, Exile. Your greatest battle is about to begin. ⚔️
Sign up for exclusive rewards and learn more here: https://t.co/9JvrivcVMb
Hey guys. To keep it short and sweet, I’m stepping away from hosting watch parties. The past few years have flown by and it’s been a hell of a ride.
Special shoutout to everyone who was a part of it. After a short break, I’ll be back to gaming streams. Thanks for the memories ❤️
Madame Celeste Amarilla,
Vous êtes une femme méprisable et indigne de sa fonction.
Vous ne représentez pas le Paraguay, ce pays qui a transpiré la passion et l’honneur tout au long de la compétition. Par votre inconscience et votre racisme décomplexé, le monde entier a déjà oublié le parcours et l’effort historique que vos joueurs ont réalisés durant cette coupe du monde pour laisser place à une dame incompétente donnant la pire image possible de son pays.
Je ne laisserai jamais aux gens comme elle, la liberté de laisser propager leur haine et leur racisme à travers le monde.
71 pages of patch notes. 17k words.
...and we're still hunting down stragglers.
This is a big patch. Our teams have worked tirelessly to hit the highest priority/impacting bugs before launch, but there may be a few rough edges.
We hope you find Monument of Triumph to be packed to the brim with fun. If you encounter any issues on launch day or beyond, never hesitate to send us the info.
@asha_shar Please find a way to save the Destiny IP. If S*NY doesn't see it's significance. I know you will. You are doing wonderful things at @XBOX expand it to Destiny.
Read the full blog at https://t.co/1PmLuyR3aD
For almost twelve years, we have had the joy and honor to explore the Destiny universe with you all. Through all the ups and downs, surprises and triumphs, building Destiny alongside our players has been a monumental privilege. While our love for Destiny 2 has not changed, it has become clear that after The Final Shape, we have reached the time for our shared worlds, and Destiny, to live beyond Destiny 2.
As our focus turns towards a new beginning for Bungie, we will begin work incubating our next games. To that end, on June 9, 2026, we will release the final live-service content update for Destiny 2 to begin that new journey as a studio.
Though active development may be concluding, we will ensure that Destiny 2 remains playable, just as the original Destiny is today. Many changes in this final update will aim to ensure that Destiny 2 is a welcoming place for players to return to.
We’re proud of Destiny 2, the places it took us, and the legacy it has created. Because of you all, our universe is vast, built on years of shared stories, adventures, and victories. From the Cosmodrome to the Pale Heart to the Lawless Frontier, we have forged life-long memories and friendships with you all.
We are incredibly grateful to everyone who made that journey with us.
From the deepest part of our hearts, thank you, and we'll see you in the stars.
In the 1st pic, KD & Steph were in high school. LeBron's head coach was in college. SGA was 8 years old. Cooper Flagg wasn't even born.
LeBron averaged 31-7-7 for a 50 win team with Zydrunas Ilgauskas, Drew Gooden & Donyell Marshall as his 3 best teammates. Was MVP runner-up & 1 game from the Conference Finals.
Nobody else compares.
AN OPEN LETTER OF APOLOGY TO MR. LEBRON RAYMONE JAMES
——
Dear LeBron,
I come before you today not as a fan, not as a hater, but as a sinner seeking absolution from the only man in recorded history who has ever beaten Father Time in a game of one-on-one, talked trash during it, and then signed Father Time's jersey afterward.
I have wronged you, King. I have wronged you grievously. I have wronged you in group chats. I have wronged you in comment sections. I have wronged you in front of friends, that "he's not even top 5 anymore" and I watched the light leave their eyes. I have carried that sin for months.
Because tonight I witnessed a SPECTACLE. Tonight I witnessed a MARVEL. Tonight I witnessed a 41-year-old man, in his 23rd professional season, in a league full of genetic freaks who were in ELEMENTARY SCHOOL when he was already an All-Star, casually stroll into Toyota Center and remind an entire generation that the throne was never vacant, we were just looking at the wrong chair.
I was a doubter. Say it with me. I. Was. A. Doubter. I said "the minutes are down." I said "the burst isn't there." I said "he's a compiler now" as if compiling 40,000 points is something you can do by accident, as if I could compile a grocery list without forgetting the eggs. I watched this man drop 19-8-13 in Game 1 with EIGHT assists in the FIRST QUARTER and I said "yeah but can he score?" I watched him go 28-8-7 in Game 2, strangle Kevin Durant to three second-half points, get to the line 14 times, throw down a two-handed dunk with 55 seconds left to seal it, and become THE ONLY PLAYER OVER 40 TO LEAD A PLAYOFF RUN IN POINTS, REBOUNDS, AND ASSISTS; and I, a clown, a fool, a man with functioning eyeballs and a functioning brain refusing to speak to each other. I said "let's see Game 3."
Well. I saw Game 3.
Let's talk about the last 26 seconds. Let's sit with the last 26 seconds. Let's LIVE in the last 26 seconds, because I will be living there, rent-free, for the remainder of my natural life.
They were up SIX. Six points. In TWENTY-SIX seconds. That is a possession and change. That is a timeout and a commercial break. That is the window between "I should order food" and "never mind I'll just eat cereal." Toyota Center was SHAKING. The crowd was on its feet. The Rockets bench was already doing that little celebratory bounce, that premature bounce, that bounce that says "we got it." Somewhere in Houston, a man was pulling a Bud Light out of the fridge. Somewhere in Houston, a woman was texting her husband "told you." Somewhere in Houston, a child was being lifted onto his father's shoulders. The building was BOOKED. The building was CLOSED. The building was, as far as every person in it was concerned, a W.
And then LeBron looked at the scoreboard.
And then LeBron looked at the clock.
And then LeBron decided, in what I can only describe as a cosmic, galaxy-brain, Men-in-Black-neuralyzer moment, that this was not going to be how the evening ended for any of us.
What followed was not basketball. It was an exorcism. It was a man methodically walking through a haunted house turning off the lights one by one. Steal. Three. Somewhere in there a pass so audacious I started shaking in a hot room. The Toyota Center crowd went from LOUDEST BUILDING IN AMERICA to a library to a funeral to one of those silent monasteries where monks take a vow and only communicate through bells. You could hear the HVAC system. You could hear a Rockets fan, three rows up, whisper "no." You could hear the ghost of Hakeem Olajuwon apologize to the city on LeBron's behalf.
Twenty-six seconds. SIX POINTS. He did not close the gap. He did not tie the game. He OPENED the gap in the other direction. He took the Rockets' lead, folded it in half, folded it in half again, and put it in his pocket like a receipt he might need for taxes. The scoreboard operator had to Ctrl+Z his entire career. The broadcast director cut to Austin Reaves on the bench and Austin Reaves had the face of a man who has just seen God and is slightly annoyed he didn't get a heads up.
I watched it happen. I watched it happen LIVE. I have to be honest with you, I have to be honest with myself, I have to be honest with the NBA league office, the Basketball Hall of Fame, and God Almighty: I am not okay. I have not been okay since he hit the three. Archaeologists will one day unearth my twitter post and carbon-date it to "the night LeBron did the thing."
Six points. Twenty-six seconds. A team, a building, a city, a narrative: dismantled. Not beaten. DISMANTLED. Taken apart piece by piece like IKEA furniture in reverse. The Rockets did not lose that game. They were disassembled on live television and shipped back to the warehouse with a note that said "return to sender, 41-year-old in aisle."
So here, formally, in writing, with my full legal name attached and a witness present, is my apology:
I, Jathin Pranav Singaraju, of sound mind and recently shattered worldview, do hereby and forever APOLOGIZE to LeBron Raymone James Sr. for every slanderous, disrespectful, hot-taking, podcast-brained, Twitter-poisoned, bad-faith, Jordan-stan-adjacent, ring-culture-addled, "he had help," "he left Cleveland," "he left Cleveland again," "the Heatles," "the block was a travel," "Kawhi did it with less," "MJ went 6-0," "but the 73-win Warriors," "but the 3-1 lead," "but load management," "but the minutes restriction," "but the Lakers are a play-in team," "but he can't close anymore," "but he's a regular season guy now," "but but but" — take that I have ever uttered, thought, liked, retweeted, or silently agreed with in my heart.
I renounce them. All of them. I renounce them in this life and, should the technology become available, the next.
I will never doubt you again. Not in this series. Not in this playoff run. Not in this career. Not in any GOAT debate, at any bar, in any group chat, at any wedding, at any funeral, at any deposition. If you come back next year at 42 averaging a 30-point triple-double I will not be surprised. If you come back at 45 coaching yourself I will not be surprised. If you are inducted into the Hall of Fame and then UN-inducted because you are somehow still playing I will not be surprised. If you erase a six-point deficit in twenty-six seconds again next week, on a Tuesday, against a random team, for no reason, just to remind us. I will not be surprised. The bar is on the floor. The bar is underground. The bar is in the Mariana Trench. The bar has achieved enlightenment and moved on.
I am sorry, King. I am so, so sorry. I was wrong. The throne was never empty.
Long live the King.
Here we go! Best of luck, everyone!
Week One Twitch Drops are now available, so tune in to your favourite Path of Exile 2 stream and earn the Blood Moon Wolf Pack Skill Effect and the Mask of the Vaal. Don't forget to link your account to Twitch!