I Hid in a Bush for Three Hours to Outsmart Elden Ring's AFK Rune Farmers

I have seen many strange things across the Lands Between of Elden Ring, but nothing prepared me for the sheer audacity of the AFK rune farming epidemic. As someone who enjoys the thrill of PvP and the honor of a fair duel, watching hosts exploit the invasion system without lifting a finger is infuriating. So, like Reddit user Teasnarker, I decided to take matters into my own hands recently. Instead of disconnecting or raging against the machine, I became the most patient Tarnished alive. I hid in a bush for over three hours, turning the tables on an AFK farmer in Liurnia.

Why would anyone spend a full evening doing absolutely nothing in a video game? The answer lies in the broken mechanics of Elden Ring’s PvP reward system. Invading other players is simple: use a Duelist’s Furled Finger or a Small Red Effigy, and you are thrown into another world. The invader’s goal is to kill the Host of Fingers, while the host must either escape or triumph in combat. The reward for surviving these encounters is runes, which serve as both experience points and currency. Unfortunately, some players have weaponized this system. They find unreachable cliffs and rooftops, activate the Taunter’s Tongue, and then simply walk away from their keyboard.

The result? Invaders spawn into a world where the target is untouchable. Frustrated, most invaders sever their connection. Because the game counts that as a technical victory for the host, the AFK farmer receives a bounty of runes without ever pressing a button. It is effortless, infinite, and deeply unfair. Has the community given up? Absolutely not.

I followed Teasnarker’s legendary strategy. In Liurnia, there is a notorious cliff spot that invaders cannot reach without specialized tools. The farmer sat there, taunting the entire multiplayer pool. But instead of leaving, I used a Mimic’s Veil to transform into a mundane piece of scenery—a simple bush. I positioned myself within the host’s world and then waited.

What happened next was a masterclass in passive resistance. Every time a hunter or invader connected to the world, they found no legitimate target to fight. Some killed one another. Others disconnected in confusion. Each disconnect granted the host a tiny reward, yes, but my presence changed the math entirely.

Here is the crucial detail: the multiplayer slot economy. An Elden Ring world has a limited number of slots for invaders and hunters. By staying hidden in that bush, I occupied one of those slots. That meant the AFK farmer received only a fraction of the runes they normally would. In fact, their rewards were severely diminished because fewer invaders could join and then leave. Meanwhile, I was passively farming a small trickle of runes and Furled Finger remedies every time a hunter died or left. I was AFK farming the AFK farmer.

Did it take patience? Yes. Three hours of staring at a screen, motionless, watching red phantoms wander past my leafy disguise. But was it satisfying? More than you can imagine. Every disconnect was a small victory against the exploitative culture that has polluted Elden Ring’s PvP scene.

Of course, not everyone fights back by hiding. Many players have developed active counters. The Waterfowl Dance Ash of War can sometimes reach elevated farmers. The Jar Cannon and Dragon’s Breath incantations are popular choices for sniping hosts who think they are safe. But for me, the silent approach felt poetic. The farmer wanted to exploit the system by doing nothing, so I did nothing right back—except I did it better.

Is this a permanent solution? Probably not. But it is a brilliant piece of emergent gameplay. Elden Ring thrives on player creativity, whether it is speedrunning the final boss or countering toxic behavior with absurd patience. The more imaginative the strategy, the better the story.

And what about my own adventure? Like Teasnarker, I eventually had to log off. But for those three hours, I was not just a victim of a broken PvP loop. I was a silent guardian in a bush, a patient ghost in the machine, proving that even in a game full of demigods and dragons, sometimes the most powerful weapon is sheer, stubborn immobility.