I’ve been keeping a journal lately.
For some reason, that’s still something people like to take shots at—a grown man writing in a “diary” like it’s something to be embarrassed about. But the whole point is to stay accountable, to track what you’ve done, what you’re thinking, and what actually matters. There’s value in keeping a record.
This isn’t about that, though. This is something different.
Alongside my personal logs, I’ve decided to keep a public record—an ongoing account of what’s happening in the world of WIESNERX0042. Formerly known as Randy Wheeze. Better known, depending on who you ask, as “Mr. Rare.”
That’s the idea, anyway.
When I was younger, I liked to write, but I never took it seriously. No structure, no purpose. Most of it got burned off on the GameFAQs message boards, mixed in with trolling, or buried in early Twitter threads back when 140 characters was all you needed to get something out into the world.
After spending a lifetime on the internet, you start to see everything. The culture, the layers of it—the nerds, the normies, the NEETs, the 4chan users, Reddit users, degenerates, crypto-scammers, idol-worshipers, anime freaks, gamer freaks, religious freaks, furry freaks, and everything in between. Different labels, same pattern: people trying to carve something out of the noise.
I never had any real desire to become one of those high-profile “lolcows,” selling off dignity piece by piece for Patreon money and stream views. But I do look at certain creators—people who actually respect what they’re building—and I wonder what lasts. What sticks around after you’re gone. Whether anything you put out there will still exist, or matter, years down the line.
That’s part of what this is.
I run a YouTube channel under the WIESNERX0042 name. It’s mostly capped gameplay footage. Some of it is just raw sessions—solo runs, games with friends. Some of it is full playthroughs, start to finish. Sometimes there’s commentary, sometimes there isn’t.
I used to think about this in a very specific way: maybe 100 years from now, someone asks, “What was Metropolismania on the PlayStation 2?” Maybe they find one of my videos and actually see it—not just what the game was, but how it was played. How we experienced it.
Because when you look at things now—people glitch-running Super Mario 64 or The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, breaking them down and finishing them in ways never intended—you have to wonder how that shapes perception. If someone in the future only sees that version, do they think that’s what the experience was?
I want there to be something else. Something real.
At the same time, I know my writing isn’t where I want it to be. That’s part of the reason for doing this. To get better. To develop a style that actually holds together. I’ve been reading more lately—Leigh Montville, specifically. His books on Evel Knievel and Ted Williams. There’s something about that style—sports writing, I guess—that feels clean but still carries weight. That’s something I’m trying to move toward.
This site used to be something different.
I ran an archive here—collections of posts pulled from all over the internet. Things I thought might be culturally significant, or things people might go searching for again someday using exact quotes. If you’re here looking for that, I get it. It’s gone now, but if you reach out, I might still be able to point you in the right direction.
Before shutting it down, I tried to turn this into something else. I went the AI route. Thought I could generate pages of content, build something fast.
It didn’t work.
It was empty. Just noise. No conviction, no point—just words stacked on top of each other to fill space. Maybe that works for ad revenue, but it doesn’t leave anything behind. Over the past year, I’ve turned completely against that approach. It feels like another version of “the man who sold the world”—just another system pulling value out of people while giving nothing real back.
So this is a reset.
Going forward, this will be a record of what’s actually happening. The small details, the ongoing projects, the things worth documenting.
Right now, that includes a full breakdown of my experience with Cities: Skylines—specifically hitting the object limit after three real-life years of building a city without even knowing that limit existed—and about 20 hours of NBA 2K26 footage that still needs to be cut down into something usable. Shorts, reels, clips—whatever they’re calling them now.
I’ve tried using AI tools for that too. Same problem. It all comes out looking like everything else. The last thing Mr. Rare needs is to blend in.
Either this page ends up abandoned—just another dead project frozen at zero—or it builds into something worth going back through.
If you’re reading this at the top, then this is where it starts.
If you had to scroll all the way to the bottom to find this, then you’re looking at the beginning from the other side—after everything that came later.
Either way, you found it.
Mr. Rare, leaving the building.
