Warring Factions.
I've got my fancy little pince-nez balanced on my nose and I'm speaking in a slow, pompous tone (not that you can see it)—but honestly? I don't know jack about Geopolitics. Just like you.
The word's made of "Geo" and "Politics," right? If we break it down, it probably means something about diplomacy, shady deals, and world domination—basically Command & Conquer, just with uglier UIs and fewer tanks.
Some nations are making alliances. Others are slapping embargoes on each other's exports. A few keep mumbling about "recession," and those words alone make my imaginary knees tremble.
Big dudes and girls have logged into this global server under their real names and started their own game of Economic Sim + Military Tactics 3000. And they've completely forgotten something kinda important: you're scared shitless.
So who's thinking about you? Exactly—no one but you.
Even I—your inner voice, your cognitive NPC—I'm just a part of your mental bundle. A voice inside your head, handcrafted by your own fear-fueled neurons. That's why we—me and you together—need to cook up some kind of survival strategy for this looming nuclear nightmare that's starting to look a little too real.
There's scary stuff happening all over this damn planet. Stuff that could fry your libido in seconds. Even your beloved futanari girls aren't smiling as warmly from the screen anymore. Now you see that sardonic death grin on their faces, and it hits different.
As much as you wanna pretend it's not happening—war in Ukraine, threats from the Middle East, North Korea, and the rest of the end-of-the-world bingo card—this stuff is shaking you out of your comfy, slow-paced existential crawl.
Why are they doing all this? Why did the entire world suddenly decide to LARP as a creepypasta?
1) China.
They definitely want something from someone. This mega-powerful country is running a sleek economic expansion campaign, weaving through global politics like a sly merchant in a JRPG. They've got lawyers, economists, and politicians by the truckload. So if they're so good at what they do… why might they end up smack in the middle of the global shitshow?
Well, it's not like anyone there's doing a rain dance with nukes. Most likely, it's just the fact that they're sitting dead-center in the furnace of international politics. Sooner or later, they'll either be forced to drop their shady neutrality—or someone will just drag them into it, hard.
And don't forget—they've got a lot of people. Statistically, there's gotta be one hot-headed dude out there who remembers his Harmony OS password, hits the wrong button, and whoosh—missiles in the sky.
Yeah, I can tell—you'd rather be nowhere near that guy.
So yeah. We're not going to China to hide from nuclear insanity.
2) North Korea.
Do I really need to explain this one to you? Wait—what?! You want an explanation?? Alright, fine…
Kim Jong-un doesn't spend all his time in barbershops and bespoke military fashion studios. In between those hobbies, he occasionally scowls. And when that happens—uh-oh. Big trouble could follow.
So yeah. We are definitely not taking shelter there, comrade.
3) Russia.
Now, don't start, okay? There are not bears walking around in ushankas. I mean, technically they're there, and yeah, you can slap a hat on their heads, but I seriously doubt they've mastered the fine art of balalaika solos. Though honestly, I do know you'd love to teach them how to dance Kalinka- Malinka with their matryoshka girlfriends.
But—Putin is there. That's a confirmed fact.
And he probably hangs out in the Kremlin quite a bit, discussing world-shaking plans. I'm also
guessing he's a fan of cosplay, just like you. I mean, how else do you explain him regularly dressing up as an anime villain and threatening the world with his "nuclear punch"? Sure, he's not aiming it directly at you, but let's be real—you feel that hit even from outside the octagon.
And since you're not a fan of pain—neither inflicting it nor receiving it—we're not buying any tickets to St. Petersburg today. Nope, not heading that way.
4) Iran.
As your loyal inner mentor, I deeply mourn the tragic passing of your internal linguist—the poor soul who perished after consuming one too many dodgy burritos of wrong definitions. I don't mean
to guilt-trip you, but... yeah, that was kinda your fault. You keep mixing up Iran and Iraq! And you're still not sure which one's scarier for you.
Wanna hint? It's the one with the "N" at the end.
Also, Iran might just have that spicy little toy you're trying to outrun—the one that glows in the dark and ruins skin-care routines. So, yeah, you two probably shouldn't be planning a spa day together.
5) USA & Europe.
Bro, I got you. Hold on tight, and don't make any dumb moves.
This corner of the world? Yeah, no hiding here. Every country's tied up in that red string wall map that detectives use in crime shows to connect serial killers. And guess what? Every suspect in the upcoming nuclear whodunit is on it. That includes the good ol' US of A and most of Europe.
Wanna run away, holding hands like we're Frodo and Sam? Hell yeah, I'm down! But let's think it through first—where do we start our little trek to Mount Doom?
Oh wait—you just gave me a solid idea. Perfect for a starter location!
Map hotkey: "M".
New Zealand! Of course—it's the one! Are we taking it on as our base of operations? Hell yeah!
Don't stress just 'cause you haven't met Peter Jackson, or Bilbo, or any of the Nazgûl personally. That's fixable. Those legendary hobbit holes from the fake Shire (hobbit holes in the movies, grass- roofed tourist huts in real life) are still right where they were filmed.
Where exactly? Eh... honestly, I got to admit—I suck at navigating. Being you, I also have no damn clue how to find those places. Coordinates? Maps? GPS? All gibberish. And asking locals? Nah, that would involve... talking to people. And we both know that's just nuclear horror with extra steps.
So here's the plan:
You had an imaginary partner, right? And I assume you don't wanna see them vaporized by a missile either? Sometimes, dividing a unit into two helps reduce the strain of constant social contact (or the total lack of it). So here's the move: ask them, with your classic look of overwhelmed despair (aka your default face), to take a little trip.
Just a couple of bus stops away—and bam! They're already in New Zealand.
Why send them first? Easy—they're your eyes and ears. Recon the region. Learn the two most vital things: the internet speed and the quality of fast food. Once they settle in, they'll probably invite you to join. Unless, of course, they run off with some hot elf from Lothlórien... but we're not even entertaining that possibility. Don't spiral, bro. I know how you get.
Once they've scoped the place out, it's your turn to prep for departure.
So what's in your inventory? (That's on key "V," by the way.) Essentials: bathrobe, slippers,
sweatpants and hoodie (though your partner might've taken them already), laptop, backup laptop, and a third one just in case. Your LEGO minifigures collection might be bulky, but a couple of favorite superhero figures? Perfect fit for your carry-on.
Also pack your guitar case—the same one you bought back when you tried (and failed) to learn K- pop and black metal chords. You're almost ready!
You might also need boring adult junk like documents, money, plane tickets, and maybe a residence visa or two, but don't clutter your brain with that mess. What matters is this:
We've got a mission.
It's in your quest log under "Main Objectives."
And if you haven't put two and two together yet—let me spell it out: New Zealand gives you a chance to dodge that massive nuclear mushroom cloud. It's far enough that the shockwave won't touch you. And hopefully, its little radioactive friends—like fallout, radiation sickness, "Twilight at Noon," and other charming scientific horrors—will leave you the hell alone too.
Wait—what the hell, man?! Why are you mentally dipping into a bathtub in your Eastern European rental?! You still think that's gonna save you? Lemme break it to you gently: your apartment's going to get cracked open like a loot box, you'll get yanked out of your bubble bath, smacked upside the head, and replaced by your neighbor's grandma.
So pull yourself together, bro. We've got a hobbit hole to renovate!
Yeah, the ceilings are low and the amenities are minimal, but you've survived worse. That burrow may be weirdly specific as a family nest, but it's got potential. You can totally run Wi-Fi there.
Delivery dudes riding on wargs? Also an option.
And when the world starts convulsing, and floods of desperate refugees pour out of nuclear
hellzones, guess what? You'll already be the proud owner of your own real estate. Just make sure you get permission from the local government to avoid getting evicted. That's what your beloved is for—they'll handle the paperwork while you hide behind their back.
So yeah—you're sittin' pretty, my dude.
Now let's check out some backup living options. Wanna move to Africa?
Let's go, why the hell not! Hop on a plane and take off—just make sure to slap on those headphones
so you don't have to deal with curious fellow passengers wondering why the hell you're wearing a lion mask. You're just paying tribute to the region you're planning to call home, that's all.
Honestly? I respect that kind of commitment. But let's clear up a common myth: Africa isn't some massive zoo where predators wait around every corner, just hoping to grab a selfie with you. Buffalo
won't be chilling next to your couch asking for a beer, and you won't be watching the new season of your favorite show with a herd of antelopes. Sure, there are tons of animals, but they're not stalking visitors as soon as they set foot on the blessed land of the ancient continent.
"What if there really are that many zebras?" Yeah, there are. And what's your problem, my dear and respected creature? I thought you were into furries—weren't you? So real-life animal friends should be right up your alley.
Of course, you hate heat. So yeah, you'll probably have to strap a personal hydration dispenser to your body—maybe borrow one from an office cooler. And maybe, just maybe, under the majestic spray of Victoria Falls, you'll finally take a damn shower. 'Cause bro... let's not sugarcoat it... you reek. You know it. I know it. We all know it.
Let's sprinkle a dash of encyclopedia into our travel plans: Africa is far from most of the countries that might go full nuclear. So yeah—you could hide out here. Stock up on wet wipes for your pit- stained existence, and settle in, my friend.
Hold up—why the hell is Brazil glowing on your map?! What are you even doing over there? Oh, I get it now. You've got your eye on Latin America. Also far from the blast zones. Solid thinking. I approve.
But now let's tackle a very real problem: how the hell are you planning to avoid getting swept into the chaotic glitter-vortex of the Brazilian Carnival? I know you've got a closet full of cosplay outfits from past Comic-Cons, but dragging all that to your new crash pad is a logistical nightmare. Also, you can't dance. And crowds freak you out. Still... I'd love to see you attempt samba. Purely for the comedic trauma.
So where exactly are we settling down in this beautiful land of music and memes? According to our global network of spy pigeons, Brazil offers exactly three options (based on your intel): the favelas, the beach, and the Christ the Redeemer statue.
Yep, that massive stone dude with outstretched arms. You could try moving into one of his palms, but you're terrified of heights, remember? Plus it's windy as hell up there, and people might seriously misinterpret your move-in as a religious statement. And we're not trying to get you excommunicated, are we?
So taking everything into account—including your partner's latest field report—I've come to the conclusion that for now, you're better off staying in your cozy little cave. You're not exactly bear- like, seeing as you lack a proper fur coat, but I can tell you're more than ready to hibernate.
You're always exhausted from overthinking everything, but I'm not letting you off the hook, buddy. We're only putting the relocation plans on hold because we still haven't figured out how to keep you alive based on terrain type and survival conditions.
So download some damn topographic maps—and let's get to work.