Daygame Mediocrity #5 – The Rock Star Lifestyle

October 13, 2016

Oooh, we’re gettin’ ready        Ow!!!
Here we go      hahaha!!!!!
I’m ready     Oooh!!!

My vibe, RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!!!!!

My vibe, RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!!!!!

Whats up guys! Welcome to another episode of rockstar life with me Nick “The Solution” Krauser. I just woke up at 2pm because of next door’s dog barking at the garbage collector truck, stoppnig my plan to sleep till three. As I lay in my bed I thought what would Axl Rose do?

Getting ready to rock
Getting ready to roll
I’m gonna turn up the heat
I’m gonna fire up the coal [1]

Rock-starring isn’t all cocaine-fuelled hotel-trashing parties with groupies you know [2]. Sometimes you have to put on your y-fronts, make some Weetabix, and sit on a chair watching Killroy. Tomorrow I plan to stay in bed until 3pm. YES MUTHAFUCKAS!!!! 3PM!!! I heard Gene Simmons would regularly rise after FOUR O’CLOCK the madman! That’s my goal.

Target LOCK!

Target LOCK!

I’m listening to AC/DC.

I’m a HEATSEEKER!!!!! BURNING UP THE TOWN! H-E-A-T-S-E-E-K-E-R!!!!   My state is so high and I DON’T NEED NO ONE TO HOSE ME DOWN

Right. Where was I? Right, the Weetabix is finished and I’m going to hit the TOWN. Right action means taking action that is RIGHT not WRONG. Because then it’s WRONG ACTION and you know who takes WRONG ACTION????

Chodes. That’s who.

Anyway, guys. I hope you found that lesson useful. Email me for ROCK STAR LIFESTYLE coaching so you too can live my life. Not my actual life – that would be weird. In fact, why would you want exactly my life? What’s fucking wrong with you, anyway? Are you the Talented Mr Shipley?

You gotta keep that woman firing
You gotta keep that serpent clean
You gotta make her sound the siren
You gotta hear that lady scream [3]

[1] – But not “burn the coal”, if you take my meaning.
[2] – which is just as well because I don’t seem to get invited to such parties right now. I need to increase my self-belief and freedom-of-intent to get those piling up.
[3] – Ironically after three hours of RIGHT ACTION in Covent Garden I made two little Portuguese tourists scream, and not in the good way.

Daygame Mediocrity #4 – How To Get Laid In Moscow*

October 11, 2016

Let’s have a specific analysis of animals and how to apply the magic ANIMAL CODE to a girl.

  • 5’1″ and below is a Mouse.
  • 5’2″ to 5’3.5″ is a Gerbil.
  • Up to 5.4″ is a Hamster, although if she has an overbite she is a Chipmunk.
  • Girls of middle height up to 5’7″ are Cats and then everything above that is either a Giraffe or a Flamingo.

NEVER EVER make the mistake of calling a girl a Gerbil when she’s really a Hamster (and vice versa) – these two are MORTAL ENEMIES and you may get your eyes scratched out and no SUPER FAST VIRGIN SDL for you.

* This was my first mistake! You’ll see this girl is in flats and only slightly shorter than me. That puts her at maybe 5’8″ so I’d missed the Cat cut-off by ONE FULL INCH! I’d failed to observe she wasn’t wearing heels *

When a girl is walking in a straight line and you front stop her, you must stand directly facing each other, being on each other’s twelve o’clock. In contrast if you side stop her you will begin on her nine o’clock and turn her around so she puts you on her twelve while she remains on your three for a while. Do you see my crucial mistake at 0:45 of this video?

* YES! I had her on my ONE O’CLOCK – somewhere around half-past. This is a DISASTROUS ERROR and I can feel the SUPER FAST VIRGIN SDL slipping away. This set was already lost. Can I rescue it???? *

So at 0:56 I pull out my big move – THE KRAUSER TOE! This lets me rescue the twelve o’clock and pull her into my MEZMA BEAM! GAME ON!!!! LET’S DO THIS!!!!!!!!!

1:12 – Note the KRAUSER WAVE OF MEZMA with my left hand. I calculate her pussy wetness increased by an average of 3.4% with each circular wave. In the end I stopped so as not to damage the poor girl’s loins. Note she moves her foot position in an obvious attempt to let the stored juices squelch out into her panties.
1:32 – I smash her with the NOT FASHION line. She quickly replies “What?” as if to say “OMG I’m so wet right now. That was so spontaneous and unscripted!”
1:55 – I missed the most obvious opportunity in the set. She tells me she’s studying journalism and I failed to spot the two natural openings to CLOSING THIS WHORE. I could’ve either (i) said I work in recruitment and often handle entry-level jobs in journalism and perhaps we should meet for coffee with a hidden camera turned on, or (ii) inquired if as a student she’d broke then suggest we shop of iPhones and then I’ll treat her to dinner at an expensive restaurant.

* I cannot BELIEVE I missed this chance. This is TRULY MEDIOCRE game *

2:27 – Dirty whore. Obviously thinking of DICK. Again I miss an obvious opportunity to TAKE HER HAND to create the ROMANTIC CONNECTION and then lead her to the toilets for a SUPER FAST VIRGIN SDL.
2:52 – She shows some resistance to rape game.
4:47 – This may be the most boring set you’ll ever see.
6:02 – “NO!!!!” Um, my chances of rescuing the SUPER FAST VIRGIN SDL are dropping. It’s probably only 50/50 now.

* Not like this, clearly.

Daygame Mediocrity #3 – Same Day Lay With Russian Supermodel*

October 9, 2016

The strongest frame wins.

There is no objective reality. We are all moist robots who are programmed to survive and reproduce rather than to see the world as it really is. A true master persuader can win every time if only he is in the moment and he lives through his intentions with freedom from outcome and a dailed- in nimbis for the Now to utilise his ultimate seduction model to a peak of tight game with kino-leading and forward stacking.

It’s simple stuff, people.

So here I present you with the most AUTHENTIC and real video to build your self confidence (100% HONEST) and become your AUTHENTIC SELF in the MOMENT and reach TRUE ALIGNMENT. Forget the Krauser Toolkit and all the other BULLSHIT that PUAs were selling you only yesterday. Here’s the secret about women:

They don’t have brains. They don’t have opinions.

Even if a girl is in love with her steady boyfriend, they’ve announced their engagement to family and friends, and she’s blissfully happy at the thought of marrying her true love – a man she’s admired for years, feels a close personality fit with, has bonded over shared experiences, and with whom she’s planned a life together.


Women are IN THE MOMENT. You – a narrow-shouldered 5’6″ PUA of ethnic origin who is only in town for two weeks hitting on literally every girl you see despite not speaking her language – yes YOU can still get that girl if you do just ONE THING!

What is that ONE THING? What is the BIG SECRET? I’ll tell you.

You must simply get in the moment and be truly authentic with yourself and your separate personalities to project yourself as mindful of intent and yet free from outcome and then refuse to accept NO for an answer because this is beasting and so you hold her hand and do kino-leading and move her for the idate to build a domino effect or something that I can’t actually explain and then with a deep romantic connection she’ll be IN THE MOMENT and forget about that**


Because she’s a girl so she doesn’t have a brain, or preferences, or any ability at all to reject your ULTIMATE GAME.

*  Your experience of the video may differ. This was obviously a clear SDL opportunity but I decided to reject her because it was 12:55, I was a bit hungry and Coffee Shop Company stop serving ham and mozzarella panninis at 1pm. I was so free from outcome that I decided a pannin and americano were a higher priority. Still, because she would’ve totally fallen for my game – had I just idated her – I’m still counting it as a notch.

** Or just mute out the bit where you offer her a job, and the later bits where she asks about the job, and get a creepy friend to fill those spaces with audio analysis.

Daygame Mediocrity #2 – Krauserfoolery and the Street Swindle

October 5, 2016

The world is not how it appears. We have been brought up to expect a certain stability to the world around us, weened off dependence on our parents and onto dependence on the government and upon cultural tropes. There’s a set formula to dating now: install the Tinder app, swipe right, then hope you get picked. We are using machines to date.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could date against this machine?

I have conducted extensive research into the social world and I have a secret for you: many people are already living their lives against the machine. They are swimming against the crowd and hustling a buck here and there.

  • Con men are befriending elderly old women in end-of-life care homes then swindling them out of their life savings.
  • Double-glazing salesmen are cold-calling low-IQ housewives on owner-occupied housing estates and bullshitting them into buying expensive new windows.
  • Jewish hedge-fund managers are paying off backhanders to financial regulators to get inside information or forebearance to ignore the imminent collapse of their Ponzi schemes.

I ask you – the aspiring daygamer – what can we learn from these men? What can we learn from the world’s most immoral swindlers that we can then action in our own quest to swindle women out of sex they’d never freely give up to us?

Respect the hustle, yesterday

Respect the hustle, yesterday

Hi, I’m Uncle Nick and I’d like to introduce you to the Krauser Toolkit [1] that you can practice with your daygame. Each day you go out, I want you to do 300 sets and keep one of these tricks in mind:

Krauser Stop – This entails walking up to a girl, making weird “bee bop” noises and waving your hands like a retard.
Hand of Krauser – Shake a girl’s hand when you introduce yourself.
Pedo Eyes – Holding steady and slightly creepy eye contact with a girl you really don’t believe you are entitled to fuck [2]

Watch and learn, my trainee swindlers. Here is another set from Daygame Mediocrity.

[1] – Please, please, don’t actually take any of this seriously.

[2] – Really, don’t. I’m trolling.

Daygame Mediocrity #1 – Bald White Old Guy De-virginates Two Communists

October 3, 2016

Imagine the scene – Moscow in late summer, hot girls ambling around in short skirts with smiles on their faces and adventure in their hearts. Full of new-city excitement, Nick Krauser goes out onto the streets with friends and chats up a whole bunch of them.

It’s madness. A five minute street kiss close with a slim brunette he fucks a few days later. Getting his hands down the pants of a tall Tajik girl one hour into a first date who finally gets cold feet at his front door. Two dates with a Miss Moscow finalist. He fucks a hot young student** on first date then gets bedroom LMR with another student*** a couple of hours later. Another two near misses due to periods. It’s magic on the streets and carnage in the bedroom!

What would it be worth to you – an aspiring daygamer – to see all of that captured on video? Literally every second from approach to close (or near miss) captured in full HD with microphones? Video after video of the highest level daygame there is!

How much is it worth to you to see top-level seduction of hot girls broken down into learnable repeatable detail? $500? $1000?

Stop and think. This is a serious business!

How much would you pay to accelerate your learning and catapult yourself to the very top level of Advanced Daygame? $2000? $5000?

Hotties. Fucking hordes of them.

Hotties. Fucking hordes of them.

Well……. don’t bother. I didn’t have the camera switched on so no such videos exist.

So lets imagine another scene – Moscow a week later, pissing down with rain almost every hour of every day so that the girls all decided to stay home. What few girls venture outside scurry into the mall with frowns on their faces and impatience in their hearts. Nick Krauser is there but totally sick of it all, wanting to go home and see if Tom Clancy’s The Division really is any good.

This time he remembered to mic up with a dictaphone but wishes he hadn’t bothered. His vibe is gone. His feet hurt. It all feels like a terrible waste of time. Eventually, after much coaxing from his wing, he rattles off a half dozen half-arsed sets that afternoon. Mostly he just repeats the same old tired bullshit that he can do on autopilot. There’s not a scrap of spontaneity or enthusiasm. The next day he does a few more sets. After scrubbing the half dozen blowouts and a few sets where the cameraman messed up the memory card he’s got eight sets of tolerable video and audio quality.*

“Fuck my life” he moans. “I’ll just release that”

Welcome to Daygame Mediocrity – the most insipid street hustling you’re ever likely to encounter.

* I don’t have the audacity to charge for such tosh.

** A female student from Moscow, not the male student who was winging with me.

*** As before, a local girl.

My New Infield Product

October 2, 2016

Daygame Overkill is my crowning achievement so far. It represents the perfect intersection of both my game being on-point but also me still being sufficiently fascinated by the technical innovations in daygame that I wanted to analyse it all in teachable micro-detail. I poured my heart and soul into creating that. Every daygamer with a YouTube account and website has bought a login to Overkill and copied the style. I’m not bitter at all, I’m flattered. But it did mean I needed to change my style and come up with some new innovations.

Back when I was good, yesterday

Back when I was good, yesterday

Those infields were shot two years ago and I’ve learned lots since. Perhaps another infield series could be done? It would certainly be different to Overkill. At the beginning of 2016 I settled upon a grand plan. I’d mic up with a dictaphone and record all my sets, where possible getting a wing to video them too. Then I’d very carefully cherry-pick the best of them to pretend that was my normal game. “That’ll sell tonnes of books!” I thought, rubbing my hands in glee.

Surely some cherry-picking and selective blurring of girl’s faces could craft the illusion that I was constantly banging hotties!

I respect this HB8 too much to show her face

I respect this HB8 too much to show her face

Then I future-projected how much actual work that would involve and thought “Fuck that, I need a Plan B”. A new cunning plan formed.

I could stitch together a tapestry of infields based on a whole range of scams. I’d approach girls who looked like models then simply mute audio on the bit where I pretended to be a talent scout who could get them a job. I’d approach scammers on Khreschatyk Street in Kiev and mute the part where I invited them to an expensive restaurant. Perhaps I’d pick up disgusting fat girls high on drugs then ply them with alcohol and date rape them in my apartment and simply reframe them as being psychologically unbalanced by the power of my game.

I could fill an entire YouTube channel with that! If I gave them salacious titles like “Foreign Bald Man Lays Hot Model Teen – Nearly Died So Wild” it might go viral. Then I realised a brown pathological liar from India had already sewn up that niche. Fuck. I needed a PLAN C.

How about if I got high on coke and walked around London bug-eyed hassling unsuspecting girls and uploading literally every set, occasionally monologuing in a park about “self acceptance” or “inner fear”. SHIT! Someone had already thought of that.

Ok, PLAN D. How about trading on my looks to get hot but skanky whores from assisted dating sites, sending them dick pics, and filming myself banging them. SHIT! Someone had already thought of that too! Ok, ok, Nick……. wait. Think! Is there any niche that some enterprising daygame coach hasn’t already sewn up?

I could take hallucinogenic drugs then video myself drinking my own piss, claiming it freed me of social anxiety? Perhaps periscope myself doing weak “PR” closes on the escalators of American shopping malls? How about getting fucked off my nut on cocaine and booze then manhandling terrified chubby drunk girls and trying to pass them off as HB10s?

Done. Done. Done.

Shitty infields, tomorrow

Shitty infields, tomorrow

How about I just aped my own Daygame model but hired actresses in London and Krakow to play the part up until fumbling around in the bedroom on the “Same Day Lay”. Shit, I’d been beaten to that too! Was there nothing left to show? I had a good think about it and realised there was only one thing left that no-one else had thought of……. to just admit that most of your sets are shit and let people see them. Daygame Mediocrity was born! More soon.

If you somehow liked this, you’ll almost certainly enjoy Daygame Overkill. But you probably can’t afford it.

Adventure Sex – Excerpt #1

September 5, 2016

[What follows is the full unedited text of the first half of the opening chapter. This should give you rascals a feel for my writing style and the story I go on to tell.]

Chapter One: Hibernation.

 It was January 2014. I was a bear tucked away in his cave, snoring contentedly on his bed of leaves, dreaming pots of delicious honey. The excitement of the prior year was over, but I felt travel fatigue deep in my bones. I’d been pushing myself hard for five years, climbing aboard the emotional roller-coaster week after week. Periods of respite were short. I was so determined to improve and so addicted to the unpredictable work-reward pay-off profile that I floated many consecutive adrenal highs and suffered an equal number of crashes. Like the Federal Reserve trying to re-blow the next economic bubble with additional injections of monetary stimulus, I was re-injecting myself with more trips, more sets, and more sex. The inevitable comedown was building as ominously as the Fed’s balance sheet. The process needed to unwind and it might get messy.

 The first real tremors came in November 2013. I found myself resentful of hitting the streets and couldn’t muster any interest in fucking my regular girls. I’d drop off in the middle of Facebook chats. Girls would send me titty photos on WhatsApp and I’d not even acknowledge them.

 My mojo was gone.

 Rather than fight it, I decided to hole up and accept it for what it was – daygame revulsion. I’d over-eaten from the buffet of younger-hotter-tighter. Time to concentrate on something else.

 There’s a tension between chasing women and accomplishing other things in life. For all their seductive pleasures, women are dream-killers. So long as there’s a sniff of hot pussy wafting along the air, I’m off like a hunting dog catching a scent. I couldn’t multi-task this area of my life. Instead I decided to just segment them – some weeks I’d go out chasing women, other weeks I’d shut myself in and try my level best to ignore them.

 Throughout 2013 I’d felt the tug of dissatisfaction from overdosing on the skirt-chasing and letting everything else decay. I wanted to produce something great and spend guilt-free time indulging my hobbies. So, I was going to write a book and catch up on my video-gaming. I had a plan for winter and no girls in this tree house!

 Initially I was going to lock myself in a cabin in the Lake District. A few years earlier I’d watched Johnny Depp play a reclusive writer in Secret Window. I didn’t much care for the plot, the scares, or the slow descent into madness. But I did visualise myself in his position – a crackling log fire set inside a stone mantelpiece, thick fluffy cushion on the sofa, frost along the windows, and a view over forests and mountains. Give me that – total isolation.

Artist impression

Artist impression

 Ideally there’d be no internet connection. No bloggers, no movies, no UFC pay-per-views. Just me, my laptop, a coffee machine, and a PlayStation 3. Within a week of idle speculation I’d already made a list of games to complete. I even considered buying an old Nintendo GameCube because I regretted never finishing Super Mario Sunshine.

 As it turned out, I underestimated my fatigue. Boarding a train to the Lakes was too much fuck about. Instead I feathered my nest in Hampstead, London and slid comfortably into a rut. I began working hard on Daygame Mastery, the first book I’d written since Daygame Nitro back in May 2011.

 Nitro was rather scrappy and rushed, but it gained me some fleeting notoriety. It was the London Daygame Model (LDM) that everyone was using, and I’d finally gotten it down on paper. At that point I’d only been getting laid regularly from daygame for eight or nine months, which meant a lot of the content was aspirational rather than ruthlessly efficient, well drilled and well practised. I knew it was conceptually solid, but my ability to implement it was still inconsistent. Fortunately it stood the test of time.

 I’d been avoiding a new book for quite some time. Once I pull the trigger on a project, I’m damned to finish it – come what may. That’s both my greatest strength and greatest weakness. I don’t make a promise I can’t keep, either to myself or others, making me hugely reluctant to commit to any great project. I’d frittered away months indecisively, but as my hibernation beckoned I ran out of excuses.


 I was living in a converted church building with fifteen other people. It was a cavernous abode, one of those horror movie houses where the heroine runs screaming from room to room for twenty minutes and still doesn’t exhaust all the available hiding places. The main corridor was like a wing of The Shining, vanishing into the distant mists. I half expected to hear the rattling of a little toddler racing around on his tricycle. Just last night I was playing the game Amnesia: A Machine For Pigs in which your character wakes up in a creepy 1899 Victorian mansion suffering memory loss. You must wander the empty halls with endless rows of locked doors, gradually descending into the basement depths where an underground factory manufactures strange violent pig-men.

 That’s how I felt every morning, waking up at 10am after the whole house had gone to work.

 We each had two adjoining private rooms, which made it easy to remain undisturbed. It also helped that while I knew a couple of the tenants from the previous place, most of them were randomers. There was a creepy Spanish guy who rode his little-wheeled bicycle everywhere, had the muscularity of a vegan, and who I only ever saw when he was eating the same breakfast cereal every night at 11pm on the dot. He briefly had an equally weird girlfriend but she didn’t stay long. Further down the corridor was a worn-out old media girl who was twenty-eight going on forty. A couple of times I bumped into her going to the shared shower rooms when she hadn’t painted her face on. Jesus! She certainly didn’t help the horror movie vibe. There was a pretty-faced but fat-arsed young black chick who had Tinder-dated her way up to a sheepish white guy. A few doors along was a shrewish thirty-year old Dutch cunt who bullied her toy boy lover and had moved her mother into the room next door to double-team him with earache.

 On the plus side, Johnny Wisdom made the move with us, too, although sightings of him were becoming increasing rare. John Bodi was down at the opposite end of the house – still probably closer to me than he’d like. I’d burrowed my way into an annex building hidden behind a solitary door and winding corridor. Hardly any of the other tenants ventured through, so I had my own kitchen, toilet and lounge. All I missed was the log fire and stone mantelpiece.

 I quickly settled into a routine.

 I’d wake up at 10:00am. Splintered rays of sun would peek through the gaps in my blackout curtains, finding me cocooned in the accumulated warmth of eight hours under a duvet. Everywhere was deathly quiet. Even though I was in a busy Hampstead suburb, the church had a vast tree-lined garden that backed onto our neighbour’s equally vast gardens, completely cutting off all big city sounds. Usually the neighbour’s dog woke me, barking contentedly as he chewed on a pair of leather boots. I’d stretch an arm out and pull the curtains apart to gaze out and see the tops of all those trees, framed in a clear blue sky. Absolute bliss.

If you think this sounds like the kind of book you’d like to read, maybe you should. It’s, like, exactly that.

A book, yesterday

A book, yesterday

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