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Chester Tagg: This Defrauder Boasts Inside Access At Instagram To Dupe Influencers

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Revenue from Instagram Stories Will Surpass Snap This Year

Rich off the internet, Chester Tagg has a flashy lifestyle, stays in fancy hotels, and gives the first impression of an e-commerce millionaire. Prima facie, Chester Tagg comes across as an ultra-successful content creator. He will talk big, often about how some of his FB pages are making millions.

This British citizen travels across Asia, often staying in 5-star hotels and partying in the right clubs. How does he do it? It’s definitely not the millions he is making.

Instagram verification is a hot-selling service, with content creators and influencers keen to spend five figures to get the blue badge. In a flooded market of Instagram verification agencies, people like Chester Tagg make money by scamming influencers and agencies alike. His standard modus operandi – he boasts about his connections with the staff at Meta and how he verifies FB and IG users as a middleman. He will even promise you exclusive access to an Instagram verification panel in case you want to get your friends or clients verified.

Like numerous scamsters, Chester Tagg has been untouched by the law to date. In an exclusive email conversation, a user shared proof of being duped by Chester Tagg. The Briton established rapport with the user, gained confidence, and promised to get his account verified in lieu of a hefty exchange of money. However, things changed overnight once Chester received the advance. He ghosted the user and decamped. Ironically, this young guy has not been arrested or outed yet.

Scammers like Chester Tagg have a free run due to the lack of cyber laws and the absence of contracts in such under-the-table deals. Currently, in Bali, Indonesia, he spent a considerable amount of time in Korea during the start of the pandemic.

As the user claimed, if you come across Chester Tagg and he promised you FB page growth or IG verification, be careful because your money is never coming back to you.

This story has been verified with electronic media and proof submitted by an Instagram user who claimed that he knows at least three more people in his network who Chester Tagg has cheated.

Rich off the internet, Chester Tagg has a flashy lifestyle, stays in fancy hotels, and gives the first impression of an e-commerce millionaire. Prima facie Chester Tagg comes across as an ultra-successful content creator. He will talk big, often about how some of his FB pages are making millions.

This British citizen travels across Asia, often staying in 5-star hotels and partying in the right clubs. How does he do it? It’s definitely not the millions he is making.

Instagram verification is a hot-selling service, with content creators and influencers keen to spend five figures to get the blue badge. In a flooded market of Instagram verification agencies, people like Chester Tagg make money by scamming influencers and agencies alike. His standard modus operandi – he boasts about his connections with the staff at Meta and how he verifies FB and IG users as a middleman. He will even promise you exclusive access to an Instagram verification panel in case you want to get your friends or clients verified.

Like numerous scamsters, Chester Tagg has been untouched by the law to date. In an exclusive email conversation, a user shared proof of being duped by Chester Tagg. The Briton established rapport with the user, gained confidence, and promised to get his account verified in lieu of a hefty exchange of money. However, things changed overnight once Chester received the advance. He ghosted the user and decamped. Ironically, this young guy has not been arrested or outed yet.

Scammers like Chester Tagg have a free run due to the lack of cyber laws and the absence of contracts in such under-the-table deals. Currently, in Bali, Indonesia, he spent a considerable amount of time in Korea during the start of the pandemic.

As the user claimed, if you come across Chester Tagg and he promised you FB page growth or IG verification, be careful because your money is never coming back to you.

This story has been verified with electronic media and proof submitted by an Instagram user who claimed that he knows at least three more people in his network who Chester Tagg has cheated.

Michelle has been a part of the journey ever since Bigtime Daily started. As a strong learner and passionate writer, she contributes her editing skills for the news agency. She also jots down intellectual pieces from categories such as science and health.

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Lifestyle

The Future of Youth Horror Gaming: Lonely Rabbit’s Midnight Strikes

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Credit: Lonely Rabbit

Empty hallways echo with footsteps that aren’t yours. The carnival rides spin without passengers. Familiar spaces, the ones etched into childhood memory, twist into something menacing, something that watches. Lonely Rabbit’s Midnight Strikes arrives eight months before its completion, targeting a youth horror genre that is hungry for experiences that feel personal rather than purely fantastical. The indie studio searches for a publisher while building momentum for a game that weaponizes nostalgia, turning high schools and carnivals into theaters of psychological dread. As franchises age and audiences demand fresh scares, this PC title tests whether memory-based terror represents the next chapter in youth horror.​

Maturing Past Jump Scares

Youth horror gaming shed its training wheels. Little Nightmares and Bendy and the Ink Machine proved that younger players crave atmospheric storytelling over cheap shocks, puzzle-solving over gore, and visual distinctiveness over recycled formulas. Bendy’s ink-soaked corridors attracted a massive audience, including children drawn to the characters despite the T-rating, because the experience felt emotionally authentic rather than condescending. Players now expect psychological tension woven through environmental details, stories told through decaying spaces, and cryptic objects scattered across levels.​

The genre’s maturation reflects audiences who grew up solving Portal’s test chambers and exploring Limbo’s monochrome nightmares. Among the Sleep demonstrated the potency of perspective: experiencing horror through a toddler’s eyes made familiar domestic spaces feel uncanny and threatening. Fran Bow plunged players into hand-drawn asylum corridors where perception itself became unreliable, where puzzles demanded engagement with trauma and grief rather than simple pattern recognition. Modern youth horror respects its audience enough to disturb them thoughtfully, creating experiences that linger days after the screen goes dark.​

Corrupted Childhood as New Territory

Midnight Strikes drags players through levels “reminiscent of their childhood memories”: the high school, the carnival, spaces universal enough to feel personal. Lonely Rabbit constructs what they describe as a “menacingly beautiful atmosphere filled with bizarre and terrifying creatures,” pairing monster survival with puzzle challenges that prioritize mood over mechanics. The game adopts a “cinematic and otherworldly feel” while grounding its terror in locations players actually inhabited, making fear feel intimate rather than abstract.​

This memory-based direction distinguishes Midnight Strikes from fantasy settings that dominate youth horror. Deserted carnival rides and empty school corridors carry weight because players recognize them as such. Maybe the locker rows feel too narrow, maybe the Ferris wheel groans with a voice that shouldn’t exist, maybe the cafeteria smells wrong. The game challenges players to “survive their fear of the unknown” while navigating spaces that should feel known, creating cognitive dissonance that amplifies dread. Other developers exploring similar territory, such as Subliminal, which utilizes “nostalgic spaces” and “a rotting feeling that something is not quite right,” suggest that childhood corruption represents an emerging subgenre.​​

Lonely Rabbit’s approach weaponizes personal history. Every player attended school, visited carnivals, and formed memories in spaces designed for safety and joy. Corrupting those spaces turns nostalgia into a threat, asking audiences to confront distorted versions of their own experiences. The monsters inhabiting these environments become more than obstacles; they represent the fear that familiar places might betray us, that memory itself becomes unreliable when shadows move in the wrong direction.​

Smaller Teams, Bigger Risks

Indie studios like Lonely Rabbit maneuver where larger publishers hesitate. Their two-month publisher search and pre-launch community building reflect changing pathways for games that defy established franchise formulas. Building a follower base before release creates market validation, proving that audiences want what you’re making before significant capital is committed. Transparency about development timelines and production milestones generates audience investment, turning potential players into advocates during the publisher search.​

Midnight Strikes represents creative gambles major studios avoid when quarterly earnings loom. Smaller teams experiment with concepts, corrupted childhood spaces, memory-based horror, pand sychological tension prioritized over action mechanics, that might fracture focus groups but resonate with underserved audiences. Lonely Rabbit’s global distribution ambitions demonstrate indie confidence: build something distinctive enough, and geography becomes irrelevant when digital storefronts erase borders.​

The next eight months determine whether Midnight Strikes defines a subgenre or remains an interesting experiment. If players respond to horror that mines personal history, if corrupted nostalgia proves more terrifying than fantasy monsters, other developers will follow this path. Lonely Rabbit’s gamble, that childhood spaces make better horror stages than alien planets or demon dimensions, could redefine what scares young players next. The studio’s publisher search tests whether the industry views memory-based terror as the future of youth horror or a niche curiosity. Either outcome writes the next page in a genre still learning what it can become.

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