年表作成・共有サービス - pastport

I’m not proud to admit this, but some addictions don’t involve caffeine, shopping, or binge-watching shows at 2 AM.
Some addictions are… round.
Colored.
Floating around a map.
Sometimes exploding.
Play now:https://agario-free.com

Yes, I’m talking about agario — the tiny innocent-looking browser game that has absolutely no right to be this stressful, chaotic, and weirdly fulfilling.

This is the story of yet another night when I told myself, “Just one round,” and the universe laughed right in my face.

The Tiny Blob Phase: When You’re Basically a Dust Particle

Every time I spawn in agario, there’s this brief two-second identity crisis. I’m so small. So fragile. So insignificant. Like a crumb on the kitchen counter.

And yet, the biggest blobs on the map LOVE drifting right next to me.
Why?
Why hover over me like a UFO scanning its prey?
Is it fun?
Are you bored?
Do you enjoy bullying microscopic organisms?

The anxiety is real.
If agario tracked heart rates, mine would look like a stock market crash.

The Overconfidence Disaster That Still Haunts Me

Let me tell you about my worst (and funniest) miscalculation ever.

I had a GREAT start.
Dodged viruses like an Olympic athlete.
Ate smaller players like a responsible apex predator.
Leveled up beautifully.
I even reached the top 5.

Then I spotted someone maybe 30% smaller than me.
My brain went:
“That’s lunch.”

I lined up the angle perfectly.
I split with full confidence.

And at that exact moment — I swear this ALWAYS happens — the tiny blob suddenly turned 90 degrees like a Formula 1 driver avoiding a crash.
I flew straight into a virus.

BOOM.
I exploded into confetti.
The entire server feasted on my remains like I was a free buffet.

That was the fastest emotional downfall I’ve experienced since my ex left me on read.

The Day I Randomly Got a Bodyguard

It’s rare in agario, but sometimes… just sometimes… you find a good soul.

A blob big enough to eat you, but who chooses kindness instead.

I spawned tiny, and a medium-sized player drifted close. I prepared for death.
But they didn’t eat me.
They wiggled.
I wiggled back.
We understood each other instantly — the kind of silent bond only agario players can experience.

They fed me a little mass.
Protected me.
Guided me around viruses.
Cleared space when predators came near.

For a moment, I felt… safe.

Until another giant blob popped out of nowhere and swallowed my protector whole.

I, being emotionally attached for absolutely no reason, attempted revenge.

I died in 3 seconds.

We were truly a duo destined to fail.

The Smartest Small Blob I’ve Ever Seen

This moment honestly deserves an award.

I was being chased by a massive blob — one of those terrifying players who move like they own the entire server.
Just as I thought my short blob life was about to end, I noticed a tiny blob moving toward us.

Poor thing, I thought.
It’s running in the wrong direction.

Oh, how wrong I was.

That tiny blob shot right into a virus.
The virus launched across the map with perfect accuracy and slammed into the giant chasing me.

BOOM — the giant exploded like a piñata.

Mass everywhere.
Chaos.
Screaming (from me).
It was glorious.

I turned to thank the tiny hero…
But they had vanished.
Eaten?
Escaped?
Ascended to blob heaven?

I’ll never know.
But I owe that stranger my life.

When Players Turn Into Artists

One thing I genuinely LOVE about agario is the occasional weird, creative player who doesn’t care about winning — they just want to express themselves.

A few weeks ago, I saw a massive blob drifting around making shapes. At first I thought it was random movement, but then I realized…

He was drawing a heart.
An actual heart shape.
Then he rearranged and spelled “HI.”

Meanwhile, I was below him, a tiny unimportant dot, watching this performance like a child witnessing a magic show.

I wiggled in appreciation.
He wiggled back.

Ten seconds later, an aggressive top-tier player zoomed across the map and ate both of us.

Art is temporary.
Hunger is eternal.

The 4 Types of agario Players That Never Change
1. The Serial Splitters

These are the players who split for ANYTHING.

A tiny dot? Split.

Someone 3 pixels away? Split.

The air? Split.

They split more often than people check their phones.

2. The Corner Campers

They hide.
They wait.
They refuse to participate in society.

Honestly, I respect them. They’re just trying to survive.

3. The Wiggle Scammers

They wiggle kindly to trick you.
They wiggle adorably.
They wiggle like they want peace.

Then they eat you in the most disrespectful way possible.

4. The Hero Types

These players jump into danger to help someone… and immediately die.

I belong to this group 100%.

A Life Lesson or Two From a Game About Circles

After way too many hours in agario, I’ve learned some surprisingly philosophical things:

Trust is earned, not wiggled.

Being small doesn’t mean you can’t change the game.

Greed will end you faster than any virus.

First place is lonely — and stressful.

You will always hit “Play Again,” no matter how badly you lose.

It’s funny how a game this simple ends up teaching lessons that apply in real life too.

And Yet… I Keep Coming Back

I don’t know why agario has such a hold on me.
Maybe it’s the chaos.
Maybe it’s the drama.
Maybe it’s the satisfying feeling of going from tiny to unstoppable.

Or maybe it’s because every round is different, and every moment has the potential to become a story.

All I know is:
I’ll probably play again tonight.
And tomorrow.
And the day after.
No regrets.

…Okay maybe a few.