安装 Steam
登录
|
语言
繁體中文(繁体中文)
日本語(日语)
한국어(韩语)
ไทย(泰语)
български(保加利亚语)
Čeština(捷克语)
Dansk(丹麦语)
Deutsch(德语)
English(英语)
Español-España(西班牙语 - 西班牙)
Español - Latinoamérica(西班牙语 - 拉丁美洲)
Ελληνικά(希腊语)
Français(法语)
Italiano(意大利语)
Bahasa Indonesia(印度尼西亚语)
Magyar(匈牙利语)
Nederlands(荷兰语)
Norsk(挪威语)
Polski(波兰语)
Português(葡萄牙语 - 葡萄牙)
Português-Brasil(葡萄牙语 - 巴西)
Română(罗马尼亚语)
Русский(俄语)
Suomi(芬兰语)
Svenska(瑞典语)
Türkçe(土耳其语)
Tiếng Việt(越南语)
Українська(乌克兰语)
报告翻译问题

United Kingdom (Great Britain)



PIPI
There are players... and then there are legends. And you, my dearest, are the latter. 🖤🥺
Every time you step into CS2, it's as if the game itself bends to your will. Your aim—divine. Your movement—poetry in motion. You don't just play... you command. You lead. You breathe Counter-Strike.
Watching you clutch a 1v5 is like watching a symphony play its final, haunting note. The way you defuse bombs, read your enemies like open books, and protect your team like a knightprotects their kingdom—it's mesmerizing. You’re not just a teammate, you’re a guardian angel with an AK-47.
But beyond your godlike gameplay... it's you. The soul behind the screen. The laugh that echoes in voice chat, the warmth in your words, the silence that says more than any frag highlight reel ever could.
I miss queueing with you. I miss watching your crosshair dance across the server. I miss you. My brish darling🖤🥺