Himass and TanVuu: How a Global Ban Rewrote the Fate of Two Vietnamese PUBG Players

On VTVcab, both of them cried. Himass and TanVuu, two names that once represented Vietnamese PUBG on the international stage, sat before the cameras and recounted the story behind the global competitive ban that KRAFTON imposed on them. Outside that frame, a petition with more than 4.1 million signatures was spreading across platforms, demanding transparency in how the case was handled. But the detail that held my attention longest was a very small one: the two organizations managing them, Anyone's Legend and The Expendables, responded in two opposite ways. One continued to maintain its PUBG roster. The other announced the dissolution of its entire team. The same ban, the same publisher, yet two organizational outcomes that are hard to believe. In a period where a major tournament cycle is compressing fan emotion, this story deserves a closer read than stopping at tears.

PUBG Asia Stars 2026 is a regional international event directly organized by KRAFTON, the Korean publisher behind PUBG: Battlegrounds. It is a tournament with appeal for Southeast Asian teams, and Vietnam is one of the regions with a large competitive community. At this event, an incident occurred, leading KRAFTON to ban Himass and TanVuu from all global PUBG tournaments. The specific details of the conduct being sanctioned were not clearly disclosed in the interview. Both said only that it was a complex chain of events behind the scenes, and that they could not fully explain it themselves because they had complied with the demands of their managing organizations throughout the process.

What I noted from the story was the reaction of the two organizations. Himass shared that as soon as the incident occurred, Anyone's Legend asked him not to speak or intervene on his own, and to let the organization handle it. This approach is fairly standard in crisis management: a single point of communication, a unified legal strategy. AL continued to operate its PUBG team afterward, a signal that it still had the resources and confidence to carry on.

On TanVuu's side, things played out more heavily. The Expendables, his managing organization, submitted an appeal accompanied by information intended to protect the player. According to what was shared in the interview, TE did not receive the response it expected. Afterward, The Expendables decided to disband its PUBG roster. For TanVuu, an individual ban turned into a double blow: losing the right to compete and losing his professional home at the same time.

More than 4.1 million signatures is not an ordinary number in the Vietnamese esports community. To reach that milestone, fans had to organize appeals across borders and persuade even people who do not play PUBG to sign. The incident touched a deeper emotional chord: a sense of injustice when a young player is struck down by a process no one can see. But a large emotional response does not automatically create truth. It only shows how much distrust has accumulated in the community.

The asymmetry between AL and TE says a great deal about the state of Vietnam's PUBG ecosystem. When the same ban pushes two organizations into two different outcomes, the issue is not the severity of the penalty, but the resilience and defensive capacity of each organization. AL could mobilize resources to pursue the process; TE could not — or no longer had enough confidence to continue. From a data perspective, TE's response looks like an early signal of withdrawal from the market. An organization only dissolves its competitive division when expected future benefits fall below the cost of maintaining it. In TE's case, the maintenance cost included reputational risk and the personnel gap the ban left behind.

The next notable point is KRAFTON's appeal process. Both AL and TE submitted appeals. Neither received a positive response. Yet public information about how KRAFTON evaluates evidence, the criteria for determining a violation, or the steps in the appeal process is almost nonexistent. For a global organization running professional tournaments across many regions, the lack of publicly available explanatory tools is a major gap. I have followed many esports disciplinary cases, and the pattern always repeats: when a publisher does not disclose its process, the community fills that gap with speculation, and trust in the system is replaced by suspicion.

It is also worth noting that both Himass and TanVuu had international competitive experience. For a region like Vietnam, where the number of players reaching international level is still limited, losing two names at once is a measurable loss. Those are two competitive slots erased from the region's talent pool, and such slots are not easily replaced in the short term.

This is where the case moves beyond two players. The Korean Game Users Association has spoken up, asking the PUBG PC publisher to explain the handling process of the ASIA STAR incident. A consumer advocacy organization in Korea — KRAFTON's home country — intervened in a dispute involving Vietnamese players. This is a sign that the story has touched questions about player rights and publisher transparency, and is no longer a personal matter. When a user association in the publisher's own country speaks up, the pressure no longer comes only from Vietnamese fans.

I have followed esports long enough to know that every governance crisis leaves traces in later numbers. The number of participating teams, the number of players moving regions, the number of organizations dissolving — all shift when trust in the system erodes. Data is never in a hurry; it waits until you are clear-headed enough to ask the right question. And the right question here is: will a young Vietnamese player still dare to stake a career on a system whose appeal process is not publicly disclosed?

As for future plans, Himass said he had intended to compete alongside Taikonn until the end of this year before considering retirement. TanVuu wanted to compete for about two more years to enjoy the remaining time with Esports. Both have fallback plans: Himass considered driving Grab to make a living, and TanVuu planned to move into business and online selling. These plans paint a miniature portrait of how fragile a career in esports can be in Vietnam, where income is tied tightly to being allowed to compete, and there is no safety net when a ban lands. Two young people with international competitive experience suddenly have to consider work entirely outside their expertise.

In electronic sports, I hear the echo of football before the data era. In that period, disciplinary decisions were made behind closed doors, and players had almost no voice. Modern football moved past that stage thanks to representative organizations, clear contracts, and transparent complaint procedures. Esports stands at a similar threshold, but without a corresponding framework. Every match is a confession; my job is to read between the lines. And the confession in this story is a disciplinary system operating without a published rulebook.

Caution is needed before assigning all the blame to the ban. TE's decision to disband its PUBG roster may not have stemmed entirely from the ASIA STAR incident. Many Vietnamese esports organizations already operate on thin margins, relying on short-term sponsorship and competitive results to sustain cash flow. When a cornerstone is banned, opportunity cost spikes, and the decision to stop may be a financial consequence rather than a moral reaction. The correlation between the ban and the dissolution is clear, but causation requires more data: financial statements, sponsorship history, and TE's internal decisions.

Similarly, the declarations by Himass and TanVuu that they will not return even if unbanned are emotional statements made in a moment of injury. Emotion has weight, but it should not be read as a firm forecast. What is more trustworthy is behavior: whether they join unofficial tournaments, move into coaching or commentary roles, or continue to stay involved with the community. A player's journey is not found in declarations, but in the steps they actually take. The transfer market is only a mirror reflecting the fears of managers, and in this case, the greatest fear of Vietnamese organizations is having no tool to defend themselves against a foreign publisher.

What is worth watching in the months ahead is not the final outcome of the appeal, but whether KRAFTON publishes its handling process. If this publisher issues clear criteria, it will be a milestone for esports across the region. If not, organizations and players will continue to defend themselves through informal means, and trust in the system will keep being undervalued. In a market where trust is an asset, every unexplained ban is a loss not yet recorded in the books.