Anyme023

Anyme023 — Maxence Turlot — is the streamer of the moment in France, and the numbers don't do the energy justice. Born in Liévin in 2003, he went from TikTok creator to the most-watched French-speaking streamer on Twitch in a rise so fast it bent the curve: 2.69 million followers, a 151,854-concurrent-viewer record set during his world streaming tour, and the fastest Twitch growth in the country. The signature is Le Central Slibard Canapé — his long-running talk-show-style stream, part interview, part hangout, part beautiful chaos. Gaming, cooking, GTA roleplay, music: if it's live, it's Anyme.

The origin story is aggressively normal, which is exactly why it resonates. Turlot grew up in Liévin, near Lens in northern France, and started posting videos on Musical.ly back in collège — not as a career move, just to make his friends laugh. After lycée he enrolled in a communication-marketing program and took a job at McDonald's in Rennes to pay the bills. The content kept improving in the background: absurd sketches, off-kilter humor, bits built out of his own Snapchat exchanges with friends. Then, in early 2024, a face-camera parody of Koba LaD and Zola's "Temps en temps" blew past 5 million views, and the hobby became a trajectory.

He launched the Anyme023 Twitch channel on May 7, 2024, to an audience of a few hundred. His main YouTube channel followed on June 6, 2024, billed as the official home of Central Slibard. The formula wasn't complicated — be live, be funny, be relentlessly yourself — but the execution was. January 2025 brought the GTA RP era: inside GTA V roleplay servers, Turlot played a surgeon, and his imitations — including a devastating Nicolas Sarkozy — turned game sessions into appointment viewing. By April 2025 he was the third most-watched francophone streamer on Twitch with 2.66 million hours watched. In June 2025 he took the top spot outright, averaging 57,103 viewers per live and peaking past 115,000 concurrent. For the full year 2025, he'd stack 25 million hours watched — second in all of France, behind only Kameto, in roughly half the hours.

What separates Anyme from a pure numbers story is the range. Le Central Slibard Canapé is his couch-talk flagship, but the channel runs on variety: gaming sessions, cooking streams, react content, IRL adventures. On May 13, 2025, he co-hosted live commentary of the Flammes ceremony — France's urban music awards — alongside creator Grandingo, pulling nearly 30,000 concurrent viewers for what was essentially two funny guys watching an awards show. That's the trick: the content is the company.

Then Squeezie came calling. On June 4, 2025, France's biggest YouTuber announced Anyme as the final team for GP Explorer 3 — the creator Formula 4 race at Le Mans — paired with rapper Houdi. There was one problem: Anyme didn't have a driver's license. He got it on June 22, 2025, and on October 3–5, 2025, he raced a Formula 4 car on the Bugatti circuit at Le Mans, finishing 12th in the sprint race and 18th in the final, broadcast live on France 2, France 4, and France.tv. From McDonald's in Rennes to a Formula 4 cockpit in sixteen months.

The music lane opened in 2025 with "Shamballa," a single that went certified gold — not a streamer's novelty track, an actual hit. (An earlier single, "Dis moi," dropped in 2024.) And through it all, the chaos stayed on brand: on August 20, 2025, Anyme went live from South Africa and announced he was quitting social media. Hours later, the punchline landed — it was a prank on the press and the community, and the comeback stream was appointment viewing.

Why he matters: Anyme023 is the proof that the French streaming scene's center of gravity has moved. The old guard built empires on esports orgs and marathon formats; Anyme built his on personality — improvisation, impertinence, and a voice (nasal, unmistakable) that cuts through any lobby. He's the streamer as entertainer-first, platform-second: TikTok made him, Twitch crowned him, YouTube archives him, and the music charts are starting to notice. The fastest rise in French Twitch history, and it still feels like the beginning.

The community even has a name — l'armée Anyme, the Anyme army — and it behaves like one: mobilized, meme-fluent, and fiercely loyal. That's the underappreciated engine of the whole operation. Anyme's humor is participatory by design; the streams run on chat interaction, the bits get built live with the audience, and the fans show up feeling like co-authors rather than viewers. It's the same dynamic that powered his TikTok breakthrough — sketches built from real Snapchat exchanges with friends — scaled up to tens of thousands of concurrent participants. The army doesn't just watch the show. It writes it with him.

The speed of it all is what the industry keeps trying to explain. Eighteen months from a few hundred viewers to the most-watched francophone channel on Twitch isn't a marketing story — there's no label, no agency machinery, no inherited audience. It's a talent story: timing, fearlessness, and a work ethic that treats every stream like it might be the one that converts a casual viewer into a soldier of l'armée. The McDonald's-to-Le-Mans arc gets the headlines, but the real story is quieter: a kid from Liévin who never stopped posting, and got funnier every single year until the numbers couldn't be ignored.