I stared in shock and horror. I could almost feel the explosion through my TV screen. My controller shock in my hands as I shook with terror. This can’t be happening, this cannot be the way it is. I watched helplessly as I saw a team mate throw a grenade at two of our own people. This was no accident, this was well thought out. This was methodical. It was a team killer and he had just added two more victims to his list.
I play several different games in the Xbox world but I prefer those games where I can play online with a team. It seems to bring more enjoyment for me. I like having the team goal, the commadrie and shared experiences. Even though I can spend a lot of time by myself, I enjoy listening to others while I do. On occasion I might offer my opinion, but for the most part I can be pretty quite.
Unless you are a complete dumb ass. Then I usually have to speak up. If you are majorly stupid, then I might have to say something. I would prefer that someone else says something and will wait for it but sometimes it’s not quick enough. And by the time I am actually irritated to say something, I usually would really just like to punch you as that would probably drive the lesson home a lot faster than a 2 hour conversation. When you are a dumb ass, you get punched. That’s called positive reinforcement kids. It’s positive because I didn’t waste two of my hours trying to convince you that you are stupid.
But my wife will not let me punch people anymore and I haven’t slugged anyone in a good 14 years. I want to, but then my wife gives me that disappointed look. She’ll shake her head side to side, call me barbaric and then guilt me out of it. All of you should worship my wife.
Playing Xbox on line though gives me a different view though. It is an outlet for my sometimes violent tendencies. It is the virtual punch and it feels oh so good.
And that is where we welcome Mr. Team killer. For some reason this guy goes around shooting his own team. I have no idea why but it is the #1 thing that pisses me off during a good game. You are not looking to get shot by your own man.
When I saw Funkit(1) throw that grenade I knew what was happening. After 5 months of game playing on line, I am a veteran. I am seasoned. I am the guy that tells the new replacements to always dear god keep your feet clean. Nothing is worse than trench foot. Then I remind them to tuck in that lower lip before they get it caught on a trip wire.
The grenade sailed through the air. I yelled at my team mates but it was of no use. They didn’t even hear the blast because they were already dead. God speed my comrades, god speed.
There was nothing else for me to do. I want you to understand, I had to take the action that I was forced into. The Hossness in me demanded no less. I take no pride in my actions but I know that it was necessary.
I walked up behind Funkit(1) with my shotgun at the ready. I then gave him a double tap to t he head. He went down with a little breath escaping his digital lips. Then I teabagged him because it was necessary.
There is no due process in this man’s army. Traitors are dealt with harshly and immediately. There is no jury, there are no closing arguments. There is only the sweet abyss of oblivion. And now, Funkit(1), you have been judged and the payment is disconnecting from our game. I could hear him complaining over my headset. I knew that he was going to give me an unfavorable rating for my digital reputation. But I didn’t care, team killers deserve nothing better.
I have taken it upon myself to administer justice online when it is needed. It is not something that I enjoy to do and it is not something that I can delegate to someone else. My Pappy once told me that if you are man enough to sentence a man to the great beyond, you should be man enough to send him that way yourself. Yes Pappy, I will.
And it’s not just team killers that push my buttons (a pun!) the most. No ma’am, there are others that deserve as much justice as them.
I was running down that long preverbal hallway. There was smoke, the acrid smell of hot pockets lingered in the room. Visibility was low but I was on high alert. I shot into the darkness blindly, did I see something? My nerves were getting frayed. To my right, huddling in the corner were two other players. I won’t mention their names. For their infraction, they deserve no names.
As I was looking at these two players I was wondering why they were not moving. They didn’t seem to be doing anything. A buddy of mine had also commented on this. This was my mistake, paying attention to others when I should have been watching the blackness.
Charging straight forward my opponent came on. He had caught me by surprise. I immediately took evasive action. Shots rang out, punches were thrown. Help me! Dear God in Heaven Help Me!
But the two players in the corner did nothing. They watched. Shell Shocked, they stood there and watched my hopeless struggle for online life and more points. They could have raised their pistols and offered one shot. That is all that I needed to escape. But instead, they succumbed to their fears and could not fight. My digital soldier, battle ribbons in place, perished in that nameless tunnel.
I run my army like General Patton. You will fight damn you, by god you will fight. Again I knew what must be done. I respawed (xbox talk for come back to life in the game) and went back to that tunnel. They were still there and they were still cowed by fear. For their crime of letting a comrade down they were sentenced to a rifle grenade to the chest.
But this was not the worst infraction I have ever seen. The team jumper is one of the worst persons out there. He is worse than a team killer. He is worse than the inaction duo from before. This is a player that is on the opposing team. This player realizes that he is about to lose. So he then does the unthinkable.
He switches teams in the middle of the game and begins to sabotage our team. And he is blatant about it. This happened last night and my justice was quick and without mercy. It was a game of capture the flag, a very simple game that is played exactly how the title sounds. I noticed that for some odd reason, we were not capturing the flag. I looked on my players list and I understood why immediately. We have a team jumper. He is the Dracula to my Van Helsing.
I sent out the call to my comrades and then the hunt began. The team jumper, NFP JARS, had the flag. I checked my radar, there he was. There was no sneaking up on anyone this time. He knew what his crime was and he knew what the punishment was going to be. What he was counting on that the other players in the game did not want to carry it out for the fear of being “punished” by a bad review or a demotion.
I have no fear of such things. I do not play for points or rank. I play for carnage. I play for mayhem. I play for Jesus.
He was standing at our base giving a teabag to a fallen soldier. I could hear him laughing in our headset. I could hear several other players complaining but lacking the courage for what must be done. I gave him a rifle butt to the gut and then shot him in the face so that his digital widow could not identify the body.
He started calling me all kinds of names over the headset. I told him to have a coke and a smile and shut the fuck up. I picked up the flag and scored, victory is ours and justice has been done.
Later that evening I told my wife this story. She looked at me, sighed and shook her head. She said that violence is never the answer. I’m sorry honey, but sometimes it’s the only answer.
Showing posts with label xbox. Show all posts
Showing posts with label xbox. Show all posts
7/10/07
6/1/07
Xbox Diaries--Over the Edge
I have gone over the edge. I have gone to far. My addiction has taken over my life, affected my relationships and is scaring the dogs. My digital fears have manifested into reality but there is no methadone that I can take.
Late at night, the moon was half full and blood red. My TV was giving the room a shadow that crept slowly to the corners of the bedroom. My face was silhouetted in craziness that was punctuated by dark circles under my eyes.
I have been playing my Xbox for several hours, refusing to quit even though my wife had asked me to several times. The first sign of an addict is the confrontations from the family and here I was, having the same conversation over and over with my wife. Come to bed honey, it’s late. Dear god, are you still playing? Turn it down. I know I need help but I don’t want help.
That night I was playing a WWII game as a German, clearly gone over the edge. I was so far gone that I was free falling as the edge disappeared. But dear god, just one more level, one more game, one more fix!
I heard a car alarm go off in the distance and my first thought was that is probably where the sniper is hiding. That’s when I realized that I may need to cutback on my gaming. I heard a dog barking because of the alarm and thought that the alien horde might be landing in their backyard, I better get my chainsaw shotgun and check it out. I went to bed and then dreamed about gaming. This is getting out of control.
On my drive to work I pass several wooded areas and open fields. I wonder if there are mines in those fields. I see a bird dart behind a tree and my trigger finger gets itchy like I am trying to squeeze off a desperate shot at the digital opponent that I know must be hiding there.
I pull up to a building and think to myself how many people I would need to make a successful infiltration if the alien horde was cordoned off on the top floor. I think that a smoke grenade would be a good way to start to mask my entrance so that I can visit virtual reality justice upon those that wish unleash a mind control device.
My physical presence is also suffering. I know the best treatment for a sprained thumb. I know that this is sad but I am also guessing that I would be the master in thumb wrestling, I’m taking all comers.
I also on occasion have a sore wrist when I’m playing a particularly long session. I’m thinking about getting a wrist splint to stabilize it but when I go to the pharmacy I know I’ll just wander if the guy behind the counter is a patriot or a disfigured alien hiding amongst us.
When I play, I typically lean up against my wife’s legs. I explain to her that we are “cuddling” and therefore she should be very happy as most husbands don’t do this. In fact, I’m one hell of a catch to agree to go to bed with her every night at 8. I am hoping that she doesn’t bring up the fact that I will play for 3 hours and not actually go to sleep until 11.
And I know that this is affecting her subconscious as well. She will mutter in her sleep “good job baby” when I beat a level even though she is snoring. She is always supportive, no matter what my endeavor, but how much more can I put her through?
Not to long ago I was walking in the house and stubbed my toe, as is my nature. I screamed and cussed. Her first response: “MEDIC!” She is an addict strictly by association as now I don’t think she can actually fall asleep without the sounds of a neutron bomb being dropped on the evil doers.
And my daughter? Yes, she too has been infected. It’s always the innocent that our hearts go out to.
When I play, and my daughter is still up, I put my headset on her so she can do my talking for me. Of course her vocabulary contains only 4 words: Dad, Mom, Hi and Go. Add some chitter chatter in there and that is the Hossman smack talk. I will be going to a bunker and I can hear my daughter screaming “Go! Go! Go! Go!”. Yes baby, daddy is going. Daddy is going for justice and the American way.
At 15 months old, Little Hoss can’t play herself. But I know that in my heart of hearts, I can’t wait until she can play a little game with me. But right now she is intrigued with the images that fly past the screen when I’m playing. She will stand infront of the TV with her Little Hoss headset on and dance to the background music. My daughter is my biggest online fan and loves to see her digital father as much as her real one.
When she get’s old enough I will introduce her to the online gamine world so that our duo will give smackdowns like it is a school lesson. Their homework will be a bitchslap. I also know that the first person that destroys my digital daughters character will have hell to pay as I am a protective father. I will make it my mission to rein down hellfire on the first one that destroys her starfighter. Because I am superdad, no matter which realm I am in.
But none of these things made me question if I had a problem. Nope, that asserted itself when I went online to the Xbox Live website. This is the website that supports the online gaming community. I had found my Valhalla.
It’s worse than Trekkies that wear their uniforms to jury duty. These people are fanatical and obsessed. I had found my tribe.
There are forums where people discuss the latest strategies and games. There are forums where people discuss who is bad to play with. And there are forums for people who are looking to start a “Clan”.
A clan is a group of gamers that specialize in one game and make an agreement to play together against other people. They join tournaments and actually have practice sessions.
The serious clan leaders actually take it a step farther and hold tryouts. Let me repeat that; tryouts to see if I am good enough to play with you.
I want to join a clan so bad.
So this weekend I will check the blogs and see who is holding clan tryouts. I’m looking for a new fix, a new pipeline for my addiction. I will let other people that I have never met judge my gaming skills. But the clan I want to join is the over 30 crowd so at least I’ll be the young guy again. The smart rookie that is confident in his skills but must learn to control his emotions. I will be Kowalski. I will be the guy that they will say “no wait!” and I will say “Waiting is for sissies! I am a rebel”. But slowly I will learn the team and will come to love them.
My wife will not like who I’m hanging out with and will point out that it’s time to get some sleep.
Very slowly, I will give her the headset. The first one is free.
Late at night, the moon was half full and blood red. My TV was giving the room a shadow that crept slowly to the corners of the bedroom. My face was silhouetted in craziness that was punctuated by dark circles under my eyes.
I have been playing my Xbox for several hours, refusing to quit even though my wife had asked me to several times. The first sign of an addict is the confrontations from the family and here I was, having the same conversation over and over with my wife. Come to bed honey, it’s late. Dear god, are you still playing? Turn it down. I know I need help but I don’t want help.
That night I was playing a WWII game as a German, clearly gone over the edge. I was so far gone that I was free falling as the edge disappeared. But dear god, just one more level, one more game, one more fix!
I heard a car alarm go off in the distance and my first thought was that is probably where the sniper is hiding. That’s when I realized that I may need to cutback on my gaming. I heard a dog barking because of the alarm and thought that the alien horde might be landing in their backyard, I better get my chainsaw shotgun and check it out. I went to bed and then dreamed about gaming. This is getting out of control.
On my drive to work I pass several wooded areas and open fields. I wonder if there are mines in those fields. I see a bird dart behind a tree and my trigger finger gets itchy like I am trying to squeeze off a desperate shot at the digital opponent that I know must be hiding there.
I pull up to a building and think to myself how many people I would need to make a successful infiltration if the alien horde was cordoned off on the top floor. I think that a smoke grenade would be a good way to start to mask my entrance so that I can visit virtual reality justice upon those that wish unleash a mind control device.
My physical presence is also suffering. I know the best treatment for a sprained thumb. I know that this is sad but I am also guessing that I would be the master in thumb wrestling, I’m taking all comers.
I also on occasion have a sore wrist when I’m playing a particularly long session. I’m thinking about getting a wrist splint to stabilize it but when I go to the pharmacy I know I’ll just wander if the guy behind the counter is a patriot or a disfigured alien hiding amongst us.
When I play, I typically lean up against my wife’s legs. I explain to her that we are “cuddling” and therefore she should be very happy as most husbands don’t do this. In fact, I’m one hell of a catch to agree to go to bed with her every night at 8. I am hoping that she doesn’t bring up the fact that I will play for 3 hours and not actually go to sleep until 11.
And I know that this is affecting her subconscious as well. She will mutter in her sleep “good job baby” when I beat a level even though she is snoring. She is always supportive, no matter what my endeavor, but how much more can I put her through?
Not to long ago I was walking in the house and stubbed my toe, as is my nature. I screamed and cussed. Her first response: “MEDIC!” She is an addict strictly by association as now I don’t think she can actually fall asleep without the sounds of a neutron bomb being dropped on the evil doers.
And my daughter? Yes, she too has been infected. It’s always the innocent that our hearts go out to.
When I play, and my daughter is still up, I put my headset on her so she can do my talking for me. Of course her vocabulary contains only 4 words: Dad, Mom, Hi and Go. Add some chitter chatter in there and that is the Hossman smack talk. I will be going to a bunker and I can hear my daughter screaming “Go! Go! Go! Go!”. Yes baby, daddy is going. Daddy is going for justice and the American way.
At 15 months old, Little Hoss can’t play herself. But I know that in my heart of hearts, I can’t wait until she can play a little game with me. But right now she is intrigued with the images that fly past the screen when I’m playing. She will stand infront of the TV with her Little Hoss headset on and dance to the background music. My daughter is my biggest online fan and loves to see her digital father as much as her real one.
When she get’s old enough I will introduce her to the online gamine world so that our duo will give smackdowns like it is a school lesson. Their homework will be a bitchslap. I also know that the first person that destroys my digital daughters character will have hell to pay as I am a protective father. I will make it my mission to rein down hellfire on the first one that destroys her starfighter. Because I am superdad, no matter which realm I am in.
But none of these things made me question if I had a problem. Nope, that asserted itself when I went online to the Xbox Live website. This is the website that supports the online gaming community. I had found my Valhalla.
It’s worse than Trekkies that wear their uniforms to jury duty. These people are fanatical and obsessed. I had found my tribe.
There are forums where people discuss the latest strategies and games. There are forums where people discuss who is bad to play with. And there are forums for people who are looking to start a “Clan”.
A clan is a group of gamers that specialize in one game and make an agreement to play together against other people. They join tournaments and actually have practice sessions.
The serious clan leaders actually take it a step farther and hold tryouts. Let me repeat that; tryouts to see if I am good enough to play with you.
I want to join a clan so bad.
So this weekend I will check the blogs and see who is holding clan tryouts. I’m looking for a new fix, a new pipeline for my addiction. I will let other people that I have never met judge my gaming skills. But the clan I want to join is the over 30 crowd so at least I’ll be the young guy again. The smart rookie that is confident in his skills but must learn to control his emotions. I will be Kowalski. I will be the guy that they will say “no wait!” and I will say “Waiting is for sissies! I am a rebel”. But slowly I will learn the team and will come to love them.
My wife will not like who I’m hanging out with and will point out that it’s time to get some sleep.
Very slowly, I will give her the headset. The first one is free.
4/10/07
The Xbox Diaries--The whiner
The Nazi hoard is pouring the assualt on. Friends that I have known for many months are dropping around me. I fire my weapon in desperation. Shrapnel hits the wall beside me as I observe my digital self taking wounds. The end has come and no one will know about my last stand. But everyone will know my final words:
"You fuck head!"
At the end of each match on the Xbox world, the teams come together for some good natured ripping. From around the world, we are all connected in one game. Our headphones I'm sure stink of stale pizza pocket breath.
We go to the load screen where each team comes together to discuss the previous game. I am quite as I am a sissy. If you have read my blogs in the past, you just know that I cannot out smacktalk a 15 year old. But I know the rules of this world, my score can finally speak for itself.
This is not a place for the thin skinned. This is not a place for those that take great offense at the digital T-bagging. Abandon all hope all who enter here.
My team was decimated. We were destroyed by a superior force. The hoard came on strong and without mercy. We could not hold back the assualt. Maybe, one day, they will speak of it as they do the Alamo.
And then, as I listen in my headphones, I hear a baby cub utter a tragic mistake.
"You guys had to many people, that wasn't fair"
I inhale sharply as I know what is coming next. The people that I have heard on the online gaming world do not know the word "Mercy" or "delicate." They are savage hyenas, goading eachother on until the kill is made. To make such a statement has invited the wrath of the faceless demons.
"You suck, that's why you lost, pussy" the first jab comes. I know that it will only get worse.
"Maybe if you weren't so busy jacking off you could have held the controller better." the second insult is hurled. The sharks are circling, they can smell blood in the water.
"Fuck you mamma's boy." "Pansy" "Jerkoff" the insults are hurled like gernades, each one striking it's target.
This poor boy, this poor poor boy. I want to rush into the virtual world and hug his profile. I want to wrap my arms around him to protect him from the onslaught. But there is nothing that I can do because I am to much of a chickenshit to actually talk in the online world.
So I listen. I listen and I am shamed.
"Why don't you go play the Wii" one says. This is a hard insult, basically calling him out on his lack of bloodlust. This is a very high insult. "Maybe then you and the other kiddies can hug at the end". This insult hurts all of us other nameless ones as we feel for the young man who has decided to whine rather than throw his own insults.
But all hope is not lost yet. There is but a glimmer. Come on kid, give them something back. Give them something good. Tell them that you had sex with thier mother in a very undignified way. Tell them that you saw thier sister selling herself for fifty cents. Come on kid, it's in you, you just have to tap into it. Embrace the darkside. Embrace your hate.
"Hey guys, let's play another game and then I can be on your team."
Ohhhhh. A fatal error. He is trying to now suck up and everyone knows it. Tragic. Tragic.
It's a tough thing to see something so innocent and sweet torn apart. What was good is now being destroyed. What once believed that all people were good and trustworthy now discovers that in the online world, those same people are nothing more jackels fighting over a dead carcus.
It starts immediately and it is brutal.
"We should kick you out of our game, fag." The ultimate slight, to be kicked out of the game. It is the real world equivalant of being given a wedgie. I hurt for the kid, who can't be more than 15. Run kid, run.
"No way, then who could we beat the piss out of." another states.
I can almost feel his virtual tears streaming down his digital face. Life is cruel and so is the online life.
I am not the hero in this tale as my own courage left me. I remember when I made the same mistake, and it took me a good 3 days to come back and play. And still, when I see the same guys on, I avoid them. The hurt is still fresh and this brings it all back. The assualt may ruin him. He may decide to read a book rather than play another game, and thus a good soldier is lost to battle fatigue.
"Fucky cocky, motherfucker dickeheads" A british guy responds. His cockney accent is so think, no one can really understand him. The online world is silent. Who is this?
He is Long22, and he is on our team. He alone has the courage to speak when the rest are silent. But no one can understand him, which makes it all the better. I'm not sure that is what he said, but I think so.
"You dickheads, bloody maggots, fucking transvestite mother humping whores." I think that is it, but if not, I think I can be forgiven the misquote as he is talking like Mick Jagger on cocaine.
No one speaks. There is some laughter from both sides, but shock is the atmosphere.
"What?" one says. "I usually say people make no sense, but I have no idea what you just said." says the previous instigator. He is on his heels now.
What followed cannot be written becuase I cannot even guess what he said. The Brit went off full bore. I imigine that there was some more mother insulting but this guy was truly weaving something beatiful that the rest of us mere mortals couldn't understand, just sit back and enjoy the artistry.
"Yeah, fuck you" the kid says. He is now a toadie and I can relate even more to him. It's the kid that gives me the courage to finally speak.
"Blow me, jerkoffs" I scream. O, the rush of joy that comes through me as my pulse quickens and my cheeks redden. I am unleashed and so is my online team.
"Pussies!, Dickheads! Jerkoffs! Motherfuckers!" and my personal favorite said by someone with Boston accent "Crab carrying monkey whores!" I have no idea what this means, but it is so sweet.
Yes, let's play another game. Perhaps this time, it shall have a different outcome.
"You fuck head!"
At the end of each match on the Xbox world, the teams come together for some good natured ripping. From around the world, we are all connected in one game. Our headphones I'm sure stink of stale pizza pocket breath.
We go to the load screen where each team comes together to discuss the previous game. I am quite as I am a sissy. If you have read my blogs in the past, you just know that I cannot out smacktalk a 15 year old. But I know the rules of this world, my score can finally speak for itself.
This is not a place for the thin skinned. This is not a place for those that take great offense at the digital T-bagging. Abandon all hope all who enter here.
My team was decimated. We were destroyed by a superior force. The hoard came on strong and without mercy. We could not hold back the assualt. Maybe, one day, they will speak of it as they do the Alamo.
And then, as I listen in my headphones, I hear a baby cub utter a tragic mistake.
"You guys had to many people, that wasn't fair"
I inhale sharply as I know what is coming next. The people that I have heard on the online gaming world do not know the word "Mercy" or "delicate." They are savage hyenas, goading eachother on until the kill is made. To make such a statement has invited the wrath of the faceless demons.
"You suck, that's why you lost, pussy" the first jab comes. I know that it will only get worse.
"Maybe if you weren't so busy jacking off you could have held the controller better." the second insult is hurled. The sharks are circling, they can smell blood in the water.
"Fuck you mamma's boy." "Pansy" "Jerkoff" the insults are hurled like gernades, each one striking it's target.
This poor boy, this poor poor boy. I want to rush into the virtual world and hug his profile. I want to wrap my arms around him to protect him from the onslaught. But there is nothing that I can do because I am to much of a chickenshit to actually talk in the online world.
So I listen. I listen and I am shamed.
"Why don't you go play the Wii" one says. This is a hard insult, basically calling him out on his lack of bloodlust. This is a very high insult. "Maybe then you and the other kiddies can hug at the end". This insult hurts all of us other nameless ones as we feel for the young man who has decided to whine rather than throw his own insults.
But all hope is not lost yet. There is but a glimmer. Come on kid, give them something back. Give them something good. Tell them that you had sex with thier mother in a very undignified way. Tell them that you saw thier sister selling herself for fifty cents. Come on kid, it's in you, you just have to tap into it. Embrace the darkside. Embrace your hate.
"Hey guys, let's play another game and then I can be on your team."
Ohhhhh. A fatal error. He is trying to now suck up and everyone knows it. Tragic. Tragic.
It's a tough thing to see something so innocent and sweet torn apart. What was good is now being destroyed. What once believed that all people were good and trustworthy now discovers that in the online world, those same people are nothing more jackels fighting over a dead carcus.
It starts immediately and it is brutal.
"We should kick you out of our game, fag." The ultimate slight, to be kicked out of the game. It is the real world equivalant of being given a wedgie. I hurt for the kid, who can't be more than 15. Run kid, run.
"No way, then who could we beat the piss out of." another states.
I can almost feel his virtual tears streaming down his digital face. Life is cruel and so is the online life.
I am not the hero in this tale as my own courage left me. I remember when I made the same mistake, and it took me a good 3 days to come back and play. And still, when I see the same guys on, I avoid them. The hurt is still fresh and this brings it all back. The assualt may ruin him. He may decide to read a book rather than play another game, and thus a good soldier is lost to battle fatigue.
"Fucky cocky, motherfucker dickeheads" A british guy responds. His cockney accent is so think, no one can really understand him. The online world is silent. Who is this?
He is Long22, and he is on our team. He alone has the courage to speak when the rest are silent. But no one can understand him, which makes it all the better. I'm not sure that is what he said, but I think so.
"You dickheads, bloody maggots, fucking transvestite mother humping whores." I think that is it, but if not, I think I can be forgiven the misquote as he is talking like Mick Jagger on cocaine.
No one speaks. There is some laughter from both sides, but shock is the atmosphere.
"What?" one says. "I usually say people make no sense, but I have no idea what you just said." says the previous instigator. He is on his heels now.
What followed cannot be written becuase I cannot even guess what he said. The Brit went off full bore. I imigine that there was some more mother insulting but this guy was truly weaving something beatiful that the rest of us mere mortals couldn't understand, just sit back and enjoy the artistry.
"Yeah, fuck you" the kid says. He is now a toadie and I can relate even more to him. It's the kid that gives me the courage to finally speak.
"Blow me, jerkoffs" I scream. O, the rush of joy that comes through me as my pulse quickens and my cheeks redden. I am unleashed and so is my online team.
"Pussies!, Dickheads! Jerkoffs! Motherfuckers!" and my personal favorite said by someone with Boston accent "Crab carrying monkey whores!" I have no idea what this means, but it is so sweet.
Yes, let's play another game. Perhaps this time, it shall have a different outcome.
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