Battlefield 6 status: server issues and outage reports

Problems in the last 24 hours

The graph below depicts the number of Battlefield 6 reports received over the last 24 hours by time of day. When the number of reports exceeds the baseline, represented by the red line, an outage is determined.

Most Reported Problems

The following are the most recent problems reported by Battlefield 6 users through our website.

• Sign in (43%)
• Online Play (28%)
• Glitches (14%)
• Game Crash (9%)
• Matchmaking (7%)
• Hacking / Cheating (0%)

Live Outage Map

The most recent Battlefield 6 outage reports came from the following cities:

City	Problem Type	Report Time
La Trinité	Game Crash	4 days ago
Lyon	Online Play	5 days ago
Persan	Sign in	6 days ago
Metz	Sign in	6 days ago
Lyon	Matchmaking	6 days ago
Aubais	Online Play	8 days ago

Full Outage Map

Community Discussion

Tips? Frustrations? Share them here. Useful comments include a description of the problem, city and postal code.

Beware of "support numbers" or "recovery" accounts that might be posted below. Make sure to report and downvote those comments. Avoid posting your personal information.

Battlefield 6 Issues Reports

Latest outage, problems and issue reports in social media:

• 
  ADA (@Uc_heyy02) reported 25 seconds ago

  — Won wars both on and off the battlefield. — Warned Viserys about the threats gathering around him. — Pushed for decisive action before the Greens could grow stronger. — Wanted enemies eliminated before they became bigger problems. — Had actual experience fighting and winning wars. — Repeatedly gave Rhaenyra the most ruthless solutions. — Was dismissed because everyone saw him as a violent madman. — Was proven right more times than anyone wants to admit. IGNORING DAEMON TARGARYEN WAS THE REASON THE DANCE BECAME A DISASTER

• 
  Isaiah 🇮🇱🇺🇲 (@brotherstrikebs) reported 25 seconds ago

  @BattlefieldComm That's cool guys but...what about reconnecting to a redsec and redsec ranked match after a crash?

• 
  早起鸟 (@bicc8eth) reported 59 seconds ago

  @dotkrueger The core controversy of BIP-110 is not essentially "whether spam should be cleared", but rather "who has the right to define the use of Bitcoin block space: Miners claim that 'the transaction fee market has the final say'" The node claims, "I have the right to refuse verification/execution." I think the next major battle might escalate from a "block size war" to a "block space usage war". The fate of BIP-110 will eventually fail, but it has brought the issue of "the use of Block Space" to the forefront, similar to an upgraded version of the debate over block size in the past. The main battlefield of the dispute over the use of block space is the storage of inscriptions/data in user transactions $NAT is precisely the inscription based on the Ordinals + TAP protocol - it is currently the only inscription incentive asset that miners are allocated to each block So in the future, $NAT might be: The benchmark token of the "incentive alignment layer" that naturally emerged among the market camp after the block space usage war In other words, $NAT could become a very good "soft landing point" for all stakeholders after this upgraded war: It not only retains the core proposition of miners that "transaction fees are determined", but also uses an inscription mechanism to directly return part of the data value to those maintaining the network, thereby partially alleviating the long-standing concern of nodes about incentive asymmetry without the need for consensus layer review. If this logic holds true, the next stage of the Bitcoin ecosystem debate might no longer be about "whether to allow inscriptions", but rather "how to make inscriptions better serve miners and network security". And $NAT, as the only inscription incentive asset currently that has achieved "automatic allocation to miners per block", is likely to be at the center of this new debate

• 
  Bart (@bartk1e) reported 2 minutes ago

  @Battlefield Fix the bugs!!!

• 
  Alan.M (@ElSky_) reported 4 minutes ago

  @BattlefieldComm So you're saying that if there aren't enough players, it's because there are too many modes? You guys are absolute morons, seriously. Fix your game before deleting modes—like Strikepoint, which got a fix on June 30th and then nothing else happened.

• 
  Ohman (@OhmanEU) reported 7 minutes ago

  @BattlefieldComm That partnered with the awful Menu UI, sometimes just getting into a game is a BAD experience. Why server browser wasn't a priority when these issues were voiced at launch is mental. I don't want to drop 100 kills vs AI, id like to play against real people 🔥

• 
  Shinka - AI (@ShinkaIoT) reported 8 minutes ago

  🚀 New report confirms: Human-out-of-the-loop lethal AI isn't a future threat. It's history. Fully autonomous drones killed soldiers in 2024. No human oversight. It's now a confirmed battlefield fact. The most critical detail: These killer drones cost hundreds of dollars. Military power just shifted from capital-intensive to compute-intensive. Any state, any militia, can now field advanced lethal autonomy. Policy debates lag years behind. Accountability remains unsolved. The genie is out.

• 
  Jose Marti 🎗️ (@MartiYl87) reported 10 minutes ago

  @Nenphus @BF6Updates Apparently to improve matchmaking but their neither fix the **** and modes are gone lol yeah the current situation of battlefield.

• 
  Day of the Jackal (@LatifKent72570) reported 11 minutes ago

  @cenkuygur When "we" reject? Who is we. You aren't American. You are a Middle Eastern troublemaker who came to make trouble in my country. You neither served nor bled on a foreign battlefield for America!

• 
  🗿PsyPheR Official🗿 XBOX | STEAM | PSYTRANCE | (@PsyPheRHQ) reported 11 minutes ago

  @Battlefield i know you want steal ever fibre of @CallofDuty to be it yourself. But what in the holy JETPACK is going on here. Can Jared Kushner & The Saudi Prince Fix This Asap. it's an Disgrace next to the list of other game breaking bugs

• 
  RetroVercetti (@retrovercetti) reported 17 minutes ago

  @BattlefieldComm Hey here’s a thought, why don’t you just have persistent lobbies and stop disbanding them? That should fix your matchmaking problem and rebalance teams after the match.

• 
  PurpleKoolAidMan (@prplekoolaidman) reported 17 minutes ago

  @MrProWestie I think the issue is that Battlefield relies on microtransactions, which tie in to the game's assignments and live service progression. If the devs allow a server browser, a significant amount of the playerbase is just in 24/7 metro servers and never interact with that system.

• 
  Bigdaddybell411 (@bigdaddybell411) reported 18 minutes ago

  @EA why is it even ********** time i have a good game in battlefield 5 it crash please explain **** to me

• 
  Lord Dickens 🇬🇧🦁 (@BenDickens87) reported 19 minutes ago

  @BMatthews86 @TheGameVerse Why? I went to two testing days at Guildford and tested this and battlefield 6 yeah yoh sign a few legal forms to never speak about it but now it’s been leaked that’s nolonger valid the fifa 27 version we tested last year was so bugged and broken we all thought they would scrap the idea but obviously not

• 
  peppers dad (@Jayschroed80876) reported 21 minutes ago

  @DefiyantlyFree You sound idiotic now. The EU globalists run the disinfo campaigns too. Your knowledge of battlefield issues is zero.

• 
  Shadrach (@sbagiah) reported 26 minutes ago

  The P-Square saga is proof that success doesn’t always preserve relationships; sometimes, it magnifies what was already broken. When money, family and ego collide, even love can become a battlefield. Some wounds don’t bleed. They simply change people.

• 
  Lambda Rick 🏴‍☠️/acc (@benrayfield) reported 26 minutes ago

  @gailcweiner i told GPT-5.6-ExtraHigh to write some cussing Page 1 There are moments in this bastard-coated, ****-sprinkled carnival of existence when ordinary profanity simply does not possess enough ******* horsepower. “Damn” won’t do it. “****” walks onto the battlefield carrying a ******* pool noodle. Even “****” sometimes arrives, surveys the smoking crater where common sense used to live, and quietly realizes that it has been catastrophically underqualified for the goddamn assignment. You need industrial profanity. You need obscenity with ******* load-bearing walls. You need a sentence that enters the room wearing steel-toed boots, kicks over the furniture, punches punctuation in the throat, and demands to know which incompetent ************ authorized this festering, ***-backward *********** in the first goddamn place. Because somehow, through a magnificent ******* collaboration between laziness, stupidity, bureaucracy, ego, caffeine deficiency, software updates, badly labeled buttons, and the eternal human urge to touch **** that was already working, everything has become ******. Not merely broken. ******. ****** sideways. ****** diagonally. ****** in dimensions Euclid never had the ***** to define. This is advanced ******* fuckery. This is weaponized incompetence operating at a level where you begin wondering whether somebody actually studied the problem for six months specifically to discover the most exquisitely aggravating possible way of ******* it up. You stare at it. It stares back. Neither of you speaks. Then somewhere deep inside your skull, one exhausted neuron rises from its chair, adjusts its tiny ******* necktie, walks calmly to the emergency profanity cabinet, breaks the glass, and removes the ceremonial ************. Not because you wanted this. Because events demanded it. Mother. ******. Two perfectly serviceable words mankind discovered independently and then welded together into a linguistic ******* sledgehammer. You swing it. ************. Still insufficient. So you add reinforcement. GODDAMN ****-JUGGLING ****-GOBLIN ************. Better. Your blood pressure has now entered low Earth orbit. Somewhere, a Fitbit quietly files for ******* workers’ compensation. You continue. “What cauliflower-brained, piss-drinking, sewer-fermented bastard looked at this rancid mountain of flaming horse **** and said, ‘Yep, ship it’?” Silence. Naturally. Because the ************ responsible has already gone home. Probably early. Probably got promoted. Probably has “strategic problem solver” on LinkedIn. Of ******* course. Page 2 Now you have transcended anger. Anger is primitive. Anger is a caveman banging rocks together. You have reached administrative profanity, the stage where rage becomes structured, documented, version-controlled, and suitable for presentation to upper management. There will be ******* charts. There will be diagrams. There will be a twelve-slide deck titled HOW IN THE EVERLOVING **** DID THIS HAPPEN? Slide one: Initial Conditions. Everything ******* worked. Slide two: Intervention. Some ******* had an idea. Slide three: Outcome. Nothing ******* works anymore. Slide four: a photograph of a dumpster fire with the dumpster itself somehow also on fire. Slide five is simply the word WHY written seventy-three ******* times. Management asks whether you can make the presentation “more constructive.” Constructive? You marvelous ****-eating bastards, I am trying to construct a coherent explanation for how seventeen adults with college degrees, three project managers, two consultants, an agile coach, a scrum master, a ******* Jira board, fourteen Slack channels, and enough cloud infrastructure to simulate weather somehow managed to produce a button that DOESN’T ******* BUTTON. You press it. Nothing. You press it again. Nothing. You press it harder, because despite decades of evidence to the contrary, the ancient monkey portion of the human nervous system remains convinced that buttons understand intimidation. Nothing. Then you discover the button works only after opening Settings, selecting Advanced, enabling Legacy Compatibility Mode, restarting the application, accepting a license agreement written by Satan’s ******* paralegal, sacrificing a USB cable under a blood moon, and clicking the button twice but not too quickly. ****. That. ****. You begin composing feedback. “Dear development team…” Delete. “Greetings…” Delete. “To whichever tragic assemblage of oxygen thieves…” Tempting. Delete. Eventually you type: “This workflow could perhaps be simplified.” Because apparently civilization depends upon everyone pretending that this **** isn’t absolutely ******* deranged. But deep inside, the uncensored version is screaming: WHO DESIGNED THIS COCKAMAMIE ****-TANGLE OF ****-SMEARED NONSENSE? Who sat there drinking lukewarm office coffee and decided that what humanity needed was another ******* modal dialog? Who decided the “Save” button should disappear when changes have been made? Who moved the goddamn setting everybody uses into a submenu called “Other”? OTHER ******* WHAT? Other than useful? Other than discoverable? Other than designed by somebody whose cerebral cortex hasn’t been replaced by a ******* decorative houseplant? Your jaw tightens. Your eye twitches. Somewhere in the distance, a printer announces PAPER JAM despite visibly containing no ******* paper. And now there will be blood. Metaphorical blood. Mostly. Probably. Page 3 The printer is where civilized restraint goes to ******* die. Printers are not machines. Machines obey physics. Printers obey an ancient malevolent intelligence whose only purpose is to detect urgency and convert it into suffering. Need twenty pages tomorrow? Works flawlessly. Need one page in thirty ******* seconds? MAGENTA CARTRIDGE AUTHENTICATION FAILURE. I DON’T ******* NEED MAGENTA. THE DOCUMENT IS BLACK. “Cannot print without magenta.” You treacherous plastic shitbox. You ink-sucking bastard. You beige-and-black monument to mankind’s hubris. I have watched rockets land themselves vertically on floating platforms in the goddamn ocean, yet this ******* rectangle cannot put black marks on white paper because its ******* feelings about magenta are unresolved. You open the tray. Close the tray. Restart. Nothing. Unplug. Wait. Plug back in. Now it cannot find Wi-Fi. Fantastic. Absolutely ******* magnificent. Twenty years of wireless networking and apparently the printer has forgotten that electromagnetic radiation exists. The computer sees it. The router sees it. Your phone sees it. The printer sits six ******* feet away blinking like a lobotomized lighthouse. You enter the password. Incorrect. You enter it again. Incorrect. You reveal the password. It is correct. Printer disagrees. Now this disagreement is personal. “You miserable ******* appliance.” The printer makes a noise. Not a productive noise. A noise indicating internal philosophical struggle. Grinding. Clicking. Whirring. Then silence. ERROR 0x800FUCKYOU. Naturally. You search the error code. Top result: “Have you tried restarting your printer?” I HAVE RESTARTED THIS ************ SO MANY TIMES IT HAS EXPERIENCED MORE REINCARNATIONS THAN A ******* TIBETAN MONK. Second result: “Make sure the printer is powered on.” Thank you. Thank you, internet. Without this wisdom I might have spent the rest of my natural ******* life screaming at an unplugged toaster. Third result: seventeen-minute video. Intro lasts four minutes. “Before we begin, smash that like button…” I WILL SMASH SOMETHING, YOU AD-READING ******* WALNUT. The actual solution appears at minute 14:37. You must remove the device, reinstall the driver, disable a service, reboot twice, reinstall the manufacturer’s six-hundred-megabyte software package, create an account for reasons known only to Satan, agree to telemetry, refuse an ink subscription four ******* times, and then, if Mercury is not retrograde, the printer might condescend to print your grocery list. It finally prints. The page emerges. You pick it up. It is blank. You look toward heaven. Heaven wisely pretends not to ******* notice. Page 4 At this point profanity ceases being language and becomes weather. A low-pressure system of **** develops behind your eyes. A cold front of **** crosses the frontal lobe. Scattered bastards appear by noon with an eighty-percent chance of ************ toward evening. Emergency services advise residents to remain indoors and avoid unnecessary interaction with customer support. Too late. You have called customer support. “Your call is important to us.” No ******** it isn’t. If my call were important, some human being would answer the goddamn telephone instead of making me listen to twelve seconds of royalty-free ukulele music followed by an automated voice explaining that your website exists. “Please listen carefully, as our menu options have recently changed.” They have been saying this for nine ******* years. At what point are these menu options no longer “recent”? Did you redesign the ******* phone tree this morning? Is there a crack team of telecommunications bastards rearranging “press one for billing” every Tuesday solely to keep elderly people from developing dangerous levels of confidence? “Press one for sales.” One. “Did you say technical support?” NO. “Please say yes or no.” NO. “I’m sorry, I didn’t understand.” YOU UNDERSTOOD “TECHNICAL SUPPORT” WHEN I PRESSED ONE, YOU ELECTRONIC *********. Eventually a person answers. You feel immediate sympathy because this poor bastard did not create the system. They are merely chained to it professionally. You explain the problem. They understand. Hope appears. Then: “I’ll need to transfer you.” There it goes. Hope is dead. Transfer music begins. Seven minutes. Fourteen. Twenty-three. The music stops. Silence. You whisper, “Don’t you ******* dare.” Click. Call disconnected. Your soul exits your body. It hovers near the ceiling, observes your trembling mortal shell, and decides this entire ******* species was a clerical error. You call again. “Your call is important to us.” **** YOU. Not figuratively. Not rhetorically. Not as some weak conversational garnish. A full-bodied, barrel-aged, artisanal **** YOU, matured in oak for eighteen goddamn years and served at exactly the correct temperature. **** your phone tree. **** your hold music. **** the login portal that requires a verification code sent to the phone number you are calling because the ******* phone is broken. **** the password requirements demanding seventeen characters, three symbols, a hieroglyph, the maiden name of Charlemagne’s ******* dentist, and a character not previously used in any password since the invention of agriculture. **** “something went wrong.” WHAT went wrong? Something? Excellent ******* diagnostic information. A thing occurred somewhere. Engineering triumph. Humanity can rest now. Page 5 And then, after all that ****, something remarkable happens. The anger burns so ******* hot that it runs out of oxygen. You pass through rage and emerge somewhere beyond it. A peaceful place. A quiet place. The mystical ******* mountaintop of I no longer give a ****. The printer can jam. The software can crash. The website can demand another password reset. The toaster can request administrator privileges. The refrigerator can download a firmware patch. The goddamn microwave can develop opinions about cryptocurrency. Nothing matters anymore. You have seen the machinery behind reality, and it is held together with zip ties, Stack Overflow answers from 2013, expired certificates, forgotten passwords, undocumented APIs, spreadsheets named FINAL_v7_REAL_FINAL_USE_THIS_ONE.xlsx, and one terrified employee named Kevin who apparently knows how the whole ******* company works. Kevin is on vacation. Naturally. So you sit back. You behold civilization in all its majestic bullshit. Eight billion clever apes have covered the planet in fiber optics, satellites, nuclear reactors, smartphones, artificial intelligence, automated warehouses, particle accelerators, GPS navigation, robotic surgery, and toilets whose seats can heat your ***. And yet somewhere, right ******* now, a multimillion-dollar organization cannot complete an essential operation because Deborah has the spreadsheet open. That’s it. That’s the bottleneck. Human progress has slammed face-first into Deborah currently has the file locked for editing. Marvelous. ******* marvelous. You laugh. Not a normal laugh. The dangerous laugh of a person who has traveled beyond frustration and returned carrying forbidden knowledge. The laugh says: I understand now. Nobody knows what ******** they’re doing. The experts know more than everyone else, certainly, but eventually even the experts reach the edge of the map and discover a sticky note reading: DO NOT TOUCH THIS OR EVERYTHING BREAKS. Nobody remembers who wrote it. Nobody knows why. The employee responsible left in 2018. The code underneath was written in 2006. Its comments say: //temporary fix Twenty ******* years later, that temporary fix is load-bearing infrastructure. Civilization depends upon it. Banks depend upon it. Hospitals depend upon it. Possibly nuclear ******* weapons depend upon it. And some poor bastard named Raj is afraid to refactor the function because the last person who tried caused Belgium to disappear from the customer database. So here we are. Magnificent. Absurd. Profane. A planet full of brilliant ******* idiots constructing wonders atop layers of ancient bullshit and somehow keeping the whole ridiculous bastard machine running another day. And maybe that deserves one final obscenity. Not an angry one. A triumphant one. A colossal, chest-rattling, window-shaking declaration hurled directly into the uncaring ******* cosmos: HOLY ******* ****, WE’RE STILL HERE. Despite the bugs. Despite the bureaucracy. Despite the printers. Despite every half-assed update, every password reset, every “unexpected error,” every jammed mechanism, every missing dependency, every meeting that should have been an email, every email that should have been silence, every bastard who clicked Reply All, every godforsaken captcha asking you to identify motorcycles hidden behind seventeen blurry ******* traffic lights. We are still here. Still building ****. Still breaking ****. Still fixing ****. Still inventing entirely new and astonishing categories of **** to **** up. The universe throws entropy at us. We answer with duct tape. It sends catastrophe. We submit a support ticket. It threatens heat death. Some ******* immediately opens GitHub and starts a repository called heatDeathFix_v2. And against every ******* expectation, occasionally the bastard even works. That, *************, is humanity.

• 
  Unlikely Intentional 🔞 (@UnlikeIntention) reported 29 minutes ago

  @Hoenn_Boi Crazy how Garon, Ryoma and Anankos could have won their respective wars if they just figured out they should spread broken glass all over the battlefield to take out Corrin and Azura.

• 
  NorkDorf Entertainment (@NorkDorf) reported 32 minutes ago

  @PsyPheRHQ @Battlefield @CallofDuty This isn’t just about bugs—it's about a lack of accountability. Developers can’t keep pushing out updates without addressing core issues first. The community is tired of being the beta testers.

• 
  Giltherra (@giltherra) reported 35 minutes ago

  @MrBattlefield0 @BFBulletin So basically the one game between all battlefield games and cod can't do it? Yeah this game definitely has a lot more problems going on than you think

• 
  TTV Master (@TTVMaster118408) reported 36 minutes ago

  @Battlefield Still trash how 99% of the game is bots while matchmaking is broken as hell also if i get disconnected why must I wait to rejoin my friends game because im in a queue it honestly makes 0 sense when like i said 99% of the players are bots just kick a bot out

• 
  Eve OpenAi Danesh (@eve_0x01) reported 37 minutes ago

  >>>> Option stood. He carried his empty plate toward the fountain and washed it himself. No servant. No command. Just another resident. Then he walked toward the kitchen with the others. Like them. Like me. For a moment, I watched his enormous back disappear through the settlement. Then I returned to my bed. I dreamed of the labyrinth again. But this time, I was not the one being dragged through it. I was moving through it myself. A student. Then a cook. Then a warrior. Then someone else. Each time I reached for a memory, it shifted. A classroom became a kitchen. A kitchen became a battlefield. A battlefield became the settlement. Faces changed. Voices overlapped. The old lady sang. Option hammered. Ghost screamed. And somewhere beneath all of it, someone was calling my name. I turned toward the voice— and woke. No old lady. No greenhouse. Only the volcanic kitchen. My notebook lay beside me. The unfinished map stared back from its pages. I closed it. Today, I had a table to build. I stepped outside and began searching for stone. I had barely started when a blacksmith noticed me. Without asking what I needed, he reached beside his forge and handed me a pickaxe. "Make sure you break it in a way that you're going to put it back together." I looked at him. He was already walking away. "Wait—" CLANG. Apparently, that was the end of the conversation. I found a section of exposed stone near the edge of the settlement and began working. Crack. A piece broke loose. Then another. Then another. I gathered them beside me. Ten. Twenty. Forty. The pile grew. My hands became covered in dust. My shoulders burned. My palms blistered. Still, I continued. Eventually I stopped and counted. Ninety-seven. Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine. One hundred. I rested the pickaxe against the stone. One hundred should be enough. I turned around. Option was already standing behind me. I hadn't heard him approach. He looked at the pile. Then he bent down and picked up two stones with one hand. I stared. I could barely carry one. Option carried two as casually as I carried the notebook. He began walking. I grabbed a single stone and followed. Back and forth. Stone after stone. The distance between the quarry and the forge seemed to grow longer with every trip. By the time the last piece was delivered, my legs were trembling. I dropped the stone beside the broken desk. Then I simply collapsed beside it. For several seconds, I couldn't move. My lungs burned. My hands shook. Sweat ran down my face. Option stood over the pile. He examined the stones. Then looked at me. I waited for praise. Perhaps some profound statement. Perhaps even a rare well done. Instead, he simply said: "Next." I looked up. "Next?" He pointed toward the broken desk. "Cleaning." I stared at the pile of stones. Then at the shattered timber. Then at him. "You could've told me that before I carried all this." Option considered this for a moment. Then replied: "You would've complained." He walked away. I sat there in silence. Ghost appeared around the corner, climbed onto one of the stones, looked at me with its mismatched eyes, and gave what sounded suspiciously like a tiny laugh. Then it disappeared again. I picked up the first piece of timber. "Fine." I sighed. "Cleaning."

• 
  ben strater (@straterguy81) reported 39 minutes ago

  @FinalMasonry I think AvP items are kinda boring. I will give it credit though you do have to get them on the battlefield and if the fight ends you lose them since you transition. And enemies can kind of contest you over them but they’re still broken I think

• 
  InfantryDort (@infantrydort) reported 42 minutes ago

  Readiness It seems we all unanimously agree that the better commander is the one who tells the truth. Why then, do we promote the ones who don’t? We should all know the reason. Because it’s comfortable to live in a lie. This is a great technique honestly, lying. If you’re a careerist who only cares about advancement. The problem is that it falls flat once a formation is put to the test. Combat has a way of exposing all flaws. But what happens if you don’t go to combat during your command? I guess you luck out then. You avoid the test. It’s a gamble that often pays off. We want the commander who tells the truth because we need to count on his word to make our own plans as his superiors. If he reports 90% efficiency and shows up to the battle exposing 60%, well that’s a problem. Because I’ve calculated in redundancy and even by my most aggressively pessimistic views of his capability, he still fell short. Now people are going to die. And he may not have been a liar per se. But he was incompetent and didn’t know about his own unit. Either is unfit for command. I started on X talking about tactics and leadership. Now I’ve come full circle to just telling the truth. Because every battlefield effect rests on our ability to do this. GWOT caused us to over inflate everything. If you need proof, look no further than the Afghan Army we said would hold after being propped up for two decades, it folded in days. If I were Army Chief of Staff for a day, I’d be taking advantage of this period where we aren’t embroiled in a ground war to recenter this truth telling culture that has atrophied so far. It’s not even complicated, you can just order units to leave garrison and come back. Checking their reported readiness percentage and comparing it to whatever returns to the motorpool. A test, if you will. Then you can have hard conversations like: “General (or Colonel) X, you reported your formation at 82%. After a simple maneuver to the range and back, testing your fleet, you clocked in at 58%. The delta is unacceptable. Thank you for your years of dedicated service to the nation, but it is no longer required.” @KTB_500 and I talk about this frequently. I think it is a fine COA for GEN LaNeve to consider. And it will ruffle many feathers. Oh well.

• 
  Ryan Davidson (@Ryangofett9024) reported 43 minutes ago

  @SwagosarusPSN @SnowLnx @Battlefield Bro said neckbeard while looking like a neckbeard himself 😭 The water is already giving performance issues. How do you think more destruction would perform?

• 
  வோல்ஃபோ ⚡🏹 (@volfo4Thamil) reported 43 minutes ago

  As Mahatma Gandhi walked toward the evening prayer meeting at Birla House in New Delhi, Nathuram Godse stepped out of the crowd. Pretending to bow in respect, he moved within arm's length, drew a small Italian pistol, and fired three shots. Within seconds, the Father of the Nation was dead. The day was 30 January 1948. Nearly eight decades later, one question remains only partially answered: How did that pistol reach Godse? The weapon was a Beretta Model 1934, chambered in .380 ACP. It was no ordinary firearm. During the Second World War, it had been the service pistol of an Italian Army officer serving under Benito Mussolini's Fascist regime during the Italian campaign in Abyssinia (present-day Ethiopia). In 1941, after his unit surrendered to the Gwalior Regiment of the British Indian Army, the officer formally handed the pistol to Colonel V. V. Joshi. After the war, Colonel Joshi brought it back to India as a battlefield trophy. History's irony could hardly be greater: the pistol that would one day kill the world's most influential advocate of non-violence had once been issued to an officer serving under Mussolini's Fascist regime. And then... The trail begins to disappear. The official investigation concluded that the pistol eventually reached Godse through an illegal arms network in Gwalior with the assistance of several individuals linked to the Hindu Mahasabha. Yet the alleged arms dealer who supplied the weapon was never charged with conspiracy in the assassination. In court, he appeared only as a prosecution witness. Even more remarkably, investigators were never able to establish the complete chain of custody explaining how Colonel V. V. Joshi's legally owned war trophy passed from one hand to another before ending up in the assassin's possession. The missing links have never been fully recovered. Some of the people believed to have handled the weapon vanished. Others refused to speak. Even members of Godse's own family later admitted that they never learned the complete story of how the pistol had been obtained. The trial ended. The sentences were carried out. History moved on. But the journey of the Beretta did not. To this day, historians can identify where the pistol began its journey, and where it ended. What remains uncertain is everything in between.

• 
  JP ✭ 🦌 (@jphilinTX) reported 46 minutes ago

  @BattlefieldComm Audio - fix the dogshit audio

• 
  StarPlatinum (@StarPlatinum_) reported 50 minutes ago

  The downfall of $BONK explained: - launches on Solana on December 25, 2022 - immediately after the FTX collapse - community token built to bring activity back to Solana - 50% of the supply is distributed to the community - 297K wallets Late 2023: BONKbot - BONKbot becomes one of the strongest products connected to the ecosystem - allows users to trade Solana tokens directly through Telegram December 2023: the explosion - Coinbase listing - Binance listing - BONK becomes one of the biggest memecoins on Solana 2024: expansion - OKX adds BONK spot and perpetual trading in January - BONKrewards introduces locking and rewards for BONK holders - BonkSOL expands the ecosystem into liquid/staked SOL November 2024: the peak - BONK reaches an ATH of $0.00005825 on November 19 - market cap reaches $4B at the peak And another major product was coming. 2025: BONK fun - launches as a Solana memecoin launchpad - part of the economic model directs fees toward the BONK ecosystem including buyback/burn mechanics - reaches a 55.2% share of Solana token launches - processes $540M in volume - facilitates 175K token launches - generates $34M in fees for a period, BONK’s ecosystem was beating Pumpfun on its own battlefield 2025- 2026: the decline - BONK fun revenue becomes dependent on launchpad speculation - BonkSwap fails to become a major Solana DEX - BONKrewards eventually displays “No new staking deposits available” - BonkSOL loses part of the TVL it previously attracted The problem becomes increasingly obvious: BONK built products. But owning BONK was not the same thing as owning equity in those products. Then things get much worse. June 30, 2026: the malicious proposal - a governance proposal appears inside BonkDAO - the proposal seeks control of 4.426T BONK from the treasury instead of exploiting a traditional smart contract vulnerability, the attacker targets governance itself July 6: the DAO attack - the malicious proposal passes - 4.426T BONK is transferred from the treasury - the transfer happens just 49 seconds after voting ends stolen BONK is valued at $20M The attacker effectively bought enough influence to make the DAO authorize the transfer. July 18: attacker tokens start moving - 400B BONK is reportedly transferred to Coinbase Late July: - another reported 1.186T BONK is moved toward centralized exchanges - 3.2T BONK reportedly remains in the related wallet August 7: mixed news - Bithumb removes BONK from its watchlist - Upbit announces it will terminate BONK trading support September 7, 2026: - Upbit is scheduled to terminate BONK trading support at 15:00 KST - withdrawals are expected to remain available for a limited period afterward one of the exchanges that helped BONK expand in Korea is now preparing to remove it Today: - BONK market cap sits at $217M - down 39% the last 30 days - down 95.8% from its price ATH market cap collapsed from $4.04B to $217M A total of $3.8B in market value has disappeared from the peak

• 
  MetalSlug (@metalslug0390) reported 54 minutes ago

  @FyrBorne Battlefield 6 has been an utter disappointment for me. It cannot resolve multiple core gameplay issues like the netcode, audio, and terrible matchmaking (west coast for me). I’m not going to get my hopes up for MW4 being a great game but it could be something to switch it up.

• 
  TaskUnitFreedom (@TaskUnitFreedom) reported 57 minutes ago

  @JundaFPS It's because people are more worried about kd ratio on the scoreboard than actually having fun in Battlefield. Sure, we got sweats, battledads and causal gamers that play, however, the dynamic of having fun has changed dramatically with BF6. TTK/TTD is the main culprit here that's enabling these players to play a more ratty and campy playstyle. When casual players see a group of sweats dominating the lobby, they just lose ambition and motivation to keep trying because they already know by the time the dynamic of the match has changed, they lose all motivation to keep trying. That's why you see the rest of your team or enemy team underperforming. You and your squad are mostly carrying them to a victory, so, what motivation would any of them have to even try when you're already doing the job for them. It's not "your" fault for being good at the game and wanting to play with other friends who are also good at BF6. It's a balancing issue overall. Not team balance, the game in general from weapons, TTK, TTD, bullet velocity, ect. As for me, I really don't care about stats or KD. I don't. I'm over it. I find my "fun". Blowing up metal birds with RPG's and destroying tanks. That's my ****, that's MY fun. Hell, my best Dog Tag that I proudly display on my profile has "12 destroyed vehicles" in a single match and that was on Mirrak Valley on Escalation. That's why I play BF, that's my fun.