It's the most wonderful time of the year! With the kids jingle belling and everyone telling you, “Be of good cheer!” Except you aren't listening to them, because you've always hated the Christmas season. Well, you always hated everything, but there was something about the brightly saturated light displays, the insidious carols in constant rotation the moment Halloween ended, and the saccharinely sweet spirit that characterized the holiday season that really got under your skin.
Wait a minute… Who are you, anyways?
Your name is Michael J. Arseman, but most everyone in the neighborhood calls you “The Jackass,” and for good reason. From the moment you made your less-than-stellar introduction to the people of the Suburban Hills subdivision ten years ago, all of your neighbors have been vilifying you left and right. You hated it at first, but after a while you decided, “Fuck it. If these jackholes wanna hate me so much, I'll give them a reason to hate me!” And you did.
You always went out of your way to be mean, and the Christmas season — a season dedicated to spreading love and joy — was always when you were at your most insufferable.
Hello, and welcome to The Jerkass Chronicles! It's just the same as any other play-by-post Choose Your Own Adventure Game, except you're encouraged to be as much of a douchebag as possible! You have been given the chance to control a man who hates most everything in the world, so you better take it!
Now, the key word in the title is Lawful Evil. Arseman may be mean, but he's not straight up evil. You'll come to find over the course of the game that Mike has a well-developed (albeit pretty funky) moral code, and there's a set of boundaries he refuses to cross under any circumstances. I can't reveal all of them to you right now, but here are the ones that have been uncovered thus far:
- NO Bigotry. Racism, misogyny, queerphobia, ableism and the like are strictly off limits for obvious reasons.
- There's not much stopping you from committing acts of physical violence, but Michael outright refuses to beat up on children (under 18), the elderly (65 and older), and the physically disabled.
- Don't get too sexual. Mike loves a good dirty joke from time to time, but even suggesting the idea of sex crimes is off limits for reasons that should be obvious.
- Try to avoid deliberately hurting Tommy Baker's feelings.
- Eden Hawthorne is, like, your only friend. DO NOT jeopardize your relationship with her.
- The Grand Misgendering, a notorious Walmart microaggression, is old hat and shall never be discussed, ESPECIALLY around Eden Hawthorne.
- The following are Last Resort problem solving methods, only meant to be used when ABSOLUTELY no other options are available:
- Engaging in Karen/Daren behavior
- Blackmailing people
- Minimum wage employees already go through enough bullshit on a daily. Exercise caution when bothering them, and try not to add too much onto their load. Upper and middle managers, on the other hand...
- Don't break character when talking about online music reviewer Ryan Graham. Your hatred of him is played up for the bit, but it's a bit that's too funny to pass up.
- Some of these moral stipulations can be relaxed in scenarios where you can't directly see who it is you're interacting with (i.e. over the internet, etc.).
- If you can help it, try to be in bed by 9:30 PM.
- Given the choice to personally antagonize billionaires, take it without hesitation.
- If you aren't prepared to buy it, then don't bother breaking it.
- Any line longer than a quarter of a mile for an event that you don't already have a ticket for is a line you are NOT standing in.
Now, with that out of the way...
You sit alone, in your desolate room. No light. No music. Just a lingering sense of dread and your thoughts on how you could ruin Christmas this year. The lights are off, but a sliver of light shines in through your window, illuminating the room. In your small bedroom, there is your bed (which you are currently sitting on, a nightstand with three drawers and a lamp on top next to it, and a desk with a drawer in it, on top of which your trusty laptop sits. Your closet is built into the wall. There are no decorations in your room because decor sparks joy, and if there's one thing you loved, it was feeling miserable.
[input command]
Edited by Pogakure on Jul 22nd 2025 at 11:50:22 AM
> "I wanna hack people's Twitter accounts so I can possess them into embarrassing themselves online in such cringeworthy ways, they get instantly canceled!"
"So... Identity theft?"
"Abso-fuckin-lutely! Do you know how much damage I could cause if I were to get my hands on someone's Twitter credentials? I could tweet shit that would ruin their lives while they're not looking and they'd be none the wiser!"
Mitch hesitated, taking a deep, drawn-out breath. Clearly, it was gonna take way more time than he had on his hands to teach you how to do the things you were trying to accomplish. "How much coding knowledge do you have, exactly?" he asked.
"I mean," you start, trying to reach the deepest corners of your mind for whatever you remembered from those computer programming classes you took for a few semesters in high school. "I took a coding course in high school, junior year... Question: does Twitter run on JavaScript?"
Mitch sighed. "Figures." He plopped himself down into his rather comfy looking desk chair and turned his desktop computer on. He then turned to you in his chair to deliver what you anticipated to be a long, winding spiel about how you're a pathetic asshole and how he'd only impart his hacking expertise to you over his dead body.
Clasping his hands together, Mitch began. "Okay. So, from what you've been telling me, you are looking to embarrass people on Twitter by posting in their name without raising-"
"-Suspicion, right," you interrupted.
Mitch groaned, and continued: "You want to accomplish this by grabbing-
"-their login credentials and getting into their accounts, duh. Not sure why you'd think otherwise."
Another low groan escaped Mitch's lips before he continued again. "So, you wanna pull off a phishing scam, correct?"
"I mean, if that's how I can get my hands on some Twitter deets, then yeah."
"I thought so." Mitch turned around, logging in to his computer. He continued. "Alright, look, I'll give it to you straight: I don't know how to make phishing links. And even if I did, teaching you how to attach malware to links is a process that is guaranteed to take more than an hour and a half to get through. But-"
"Goddamnit!" Agitated, you banged your hands on his desk. "I come all the way here to become a fucking hacker, and you can't even teach me shit!?!? God, I can't believe I wasted my-"
"LET ME FUCKING FINISH!" Mitch yelled. Damn, you'd never seen this guy raise his voice before. Honestly, it was kinda scary. Mitch took a deep breath, turned back to his computer, and pulled up Twitter. "As I was about to say, you don't necessarily need to create malware to get people's personal information."
You perked up. A quick and easy way to get schmucks to spill their personal info? Now this was something you could get behind! "Go on..."
Well, if we're being real, if you wanted to get your hands on another person's Twitter account, you could just bait them into sending you their creds. Pretend to be someone they can trust their login info with and pray that they're dumb enough to not think twice."
You twiddled your thumbs, batting your lashes at Mitch like a little girl about to beg her parents for a pet puppy. I'm listening...
Mitch spends some time discussing possible ways to get information out of the… technologically handicapped, so to speak. The easiest method to set up would be to shoot the victim an email on a burner address, asking them to reply with their information in another email. But this method was heavily reliant on not only knowing the victim’s personal email address, but also trusting them to be the kind of person to actually respond to an email asking them for their Twitter login.
If emails aren’t your speed, then you can use that burner email address to create an account on a social media platform your victim frequents and contact them through DMs, if your victim even has them open.
There’s also scam calling/texting, which works for destroying the lives of complete strangers, but would require hitting up your service provider to set up a new, unrecognizable phone number to work on anyone who knew your current one.
”Those are just a couple of ideas…” You were both intrigued and a bit upset with this knowledge. This was helpful and all, but weren’t you looking to learn programmer shit?
- Current Time: 12:30 PM
- Current Goals:
- Go to Mitch Fuller's house and learn his hacker ways.
- Current Inventory: Phone, Wallet, Notepad and Pen, Screwdriver, Phone Charging Cable, Rust Buckets concert ticket, The Dork of House Fyodor, The Trap, Wrapping paper (technically paid for?), Garfield Kart (in Cooking Mama Sweet Shop case)
- Funds: $2.00 (loose change), however much is left on your credit card
[input command/dialogue]
Don't you ever fix your lips to say that, bruh. I'm sitting right here and I got my daughter in the backseat> Oh no, this is the programming shit you've been looking forward to! Make that fake social media account and stalk that victim's DMs, whoever they are.
"Hell, yeah, brother! Now we're talking! Lemme at your desktop, I wanna get that scam email account set up right away!"
"Excuse me, who the fuck said you could touch my computer?" Mitch swatted at your hand as you tried to scoop up his keyboard. "I'm sorry, I just don't have the time to deal with you rubbing your greasy fingers all over my work station. Just be patient and let me show you one more thing." Mitch opened Twitter and clicked on a post. He then pressed the Control, Shift, and C keys at the same time, which opened up a menu on the side of the screen that displayed lines of JavaScript.
"Inspect element?"
"I'm surprised you know what that is."
"I mean, yeah. You open up a website's code and you can edit it willy nilly. Used to fuck around with this all the time in college. How exactly could you use this to scam people?"
"I'm just saying, there's nothing stopping you from editing something someone wrote using inspect element, screenshotting the edited page, and then using that to blackmail people..." Oh, Mitch! What brilliant ideas you could have! What a scoundrel you could be!
"Well, that went... surprisingly well."
You stand up triumphantly. "See, I could be a good boy and behave for an hour!" A text notification from your phone goes off, loud as usual. You pull it out to see it's from Eden: I'm outside, asshole. Damn, and it's only 1:15. Someone's here early. "Well, my ride's here. I gotta split. Thanks for all the scamming ti-"
"Wait," Mitch called out. You turned around to see him picking up one of the many wrapped present boxes lying around his living room. It looked pretty big in Mitch's hands, wrapped in generic red paper adorned with repeating bundles of holly berries and mistletoe leaves or whatever the fuck Christmas trees are made of. I need you to deliver this for me."
You hold your hands out, somewhat hesitant. "Uhh... What is it?"
"It's a present. For the Bakers. Well, for their kid, Tommy. I tutor him in math, and I decided to give him a little something for his effort this year. I'm gonna be too busy next week to deliver this to him by Christmas, so I was thinking you could do it for me. You live next door to them, right?"
Yeah, you did, but... Did you really wanna have to deal with dropping this... whatever was in this box off at the Bakers' doorstep?
- Current Time: 1:15 PM
- Current Goals:
- Go to Mitch Fuller's house and learn his hacker ways.
- Current Inventory: Phone, Wallet, Notepad and Pen, Screwdriver, Phone Charging Cable, Rust Buckets concert ticket, The Dork of House Fyodor, The Trap, Wrapping paper (technically paid for?), Garfield Kart (in Cooking Mama Sweet Shop case)
- Funds: $2.00 (loose change), however much is left on your credit card
[input command/dialogue]
Don't you ever fix your lips to say that, bruh. I'm sitting right here and I got my daughter in the backseat> Without telling Mitch a single thing, run over to the Bakers' house with the present.
Edited by BBGunman on Sep 17th 2024 at 2:46:20 PM
Go watch the new Chainsaw Man movie. This is a threat.> Without telling Mitch a single thing, run over to the Bakers' house with the present.
Well... Fuck if I have anything better to do. You think to yourself as you nab the present out of Mitch's hands. It doesn't feel very heavy; probably some cheap ass toy or whatever. On top of the present were two labels: One read, "To: Tommy, From: Mitch." The other read, "Do NOT open until Christmas Day." Guess it didn't hurt to make sure the kid wouldn’t try anything crafty.
You make a mad dash for the front door, present in hand, saying nary a word to Mitch as you make your way out. Eden's car was, as expected, parked right in front of Mitch's doorway. You yanked open the passenger door, plopped your butt on that shotgun seat, and strapped yourself in.
Eden turned on the ignition, beginning the thirty-minute drive back to your place. "I put your bags in the back," She said. "So, did you learn anything interesting?"
"Well, I didn't quite get what I was looking for, but I will take what I did manage to weasel outta Mitch into consideration for my... future projects." You rubbed your hands together maniacally, already plotting out tons of maniacal scams and humiliating tweets in your mind.
"Well, you know that with great power comes great responsibility, and that's about where my comments end."
- Current Time: 1:20 PM
- Current Goals:
- Deliver Tommy Baker's Christmas present on Mitch Fuller's behalf.
- Current Inventory: Phone, Wallet, Notepad and Pen, Screwdriver, Phone Charging Cable, Rust Buckets concert ticket, The Dork of House Fyodor, The Trap, Wrapping paper (technically paid for?), Garfield Kart (in Cooking Mama Sweet Shop case), Tommy Baker's Christmas present (from Mitch)
- Funds: $2.00 (loose change), however much is left on your credit card
[input command/dialogue]
Don't you ever fix your lips to say that, bruh. I'm sitting right here and I got my daughter in the backseat> "Then I'll scam those who truly deserve it, simple, like that asshat 'Tuber who won't stop yapping about how much he hates the Rust Buckets! Hope he doesn't show up at the concert, though!"
"Again— Actually, y'know what? I'm not even gonna bother repeating myself."
The "'Tuber" you were ragging on was a guy by the name of Ryan Graham, a music reviewer with a sizable online following. You didn't actually hate the guy, per se — hell, you actually agreed with a lot of his musical opinions — and he didn't actually hate the Rust Buckets — he considered them to be a gimmicky act that relied too heavily on shock value to have any staying power — but you had this bit going where you acted like he was the worst person on the face of the earth with opinions that would make God cry, and no matter how much your opinion of Ryan may end up mellowing out over the years, you were too committed to the bit to break character at this point.
Moral Stipulation added: Your irrational hatred of music reviewer Ryan Graham, while comically overblown, is too funny of a bit to drop. When talking about him in public, breaking character is strongly discouraged.
You weren't 100 percent serious about doxxing Ryan Graham; he was a popular YouTuber, after all, he was probably smart enough to know better than to fall for online scams. You were a lot more serious about your hope that he wouldn't show up to the Christmas Eve concert. For one thing, he lived all the way in Seattle, on the other side of the country. He probably had better things to do with himself, like spending time with friends or family or whatever other bullshit commitments actual decent people would have at this time of year. To add on to that, were you to meet Graham at a Rust Buckets concert, you knew for a fact that you were gonna subject him to your stupid bit, and it would be better if whatever deities existed out there spared him the trauma of having to deal with your bitch ass.
As you rode home, you examined the package Mitch had given to you. You played with the taped up corner of the loosely-wrapped paper. With the sheer gift-wrapping workload he had to have been dealing with, it was evident that his handiwork had gotten a little sloppy...
- Current Time: 1:30 PM
- Current Goal: Deliver Mitch's Christmas present for Tommy Baker on his behalf.
- Current Inventory: Phone, Wallet, Notepad and Pen, Credit Card, Screwdriver, Phone Charging Cable, Rust Buckets concert ticket, The Dork of House Fyodor, The Trap, Wrapping paper (technically paid for?), Garfield Kart (in Cooking Mama Sweet Shop case), Tommy Baker's Christmas present (from Mitch)
- Loose Change: $2.00
[input command]
Don't you ever fix your lips to say that, bruh. I'm sitting right here and I got my daughter in the backseat> While Eden is busy keeping her eyes on the road, take one teeny tiny peek at the present and wonder if Tommy deserves it from Mitch this year.
The temptation of finding out what present lay within that wrap was simply too much to bear. Carefully, with minimal tears to the wrapping paper, you peel back the tape and unfold the wrapping paper in an attempt to get a look at the present inside. It was one of those toy archeological dig kits. You know, a block of dirt that you chip away at to get at the plastic fossils inside. You always thought those toys were lame, but Tommy was the type of kid easily amusable enough to get a kick of these. You fold the wrapping paper back up to the best of your ability and refasten the tape. See? It's like you never even dug into some poor kid's Christmas present!
Before long, you were finally at your house. Eden parked in front of your driveway, letting you grab your bags out of the back of her car. "Don't forget about our concert!" Eden reminds you as she drives off into the suburban abyss.
- Current Time: 1:45 PM
- Current Goal: Deliver Mitch's Christmas present for Tommy Baker on his behalf.
- Current Inventory: Phone, Wallet, Notepad and Pen, Credit Card, Screwdriver, Phone Charging Cable, Rust Buckets concert ticket, The Dork of House Fyodor, The Trap, Wrapping paper (technically paid for?), Garfield Kart (in Cooking Mama Sweet Shop case), Tommy Baker's Christmas present (from Mitch)
- Loose Change: $2.00
[input command]
Don't you ever fix your lips to say that, bruh. I'm sitting right here and I got my daughter in the backseat> "Yeah, see you there, friendo!" you say to her as you step out of the car. Now, time to drop off the present at Tommy's...
You walk over to the Bakers' house, present in hand. Looking over at the backyard, Tommy was nowhere to be seen, which means he must be indoors. Now, there are multiple ways you could pull this off. You could knock on the door and hope that Tommy answers, give him the gift and be on your way. You could also just leave the present on the doorstep and hit em with the classic ding dong ditch...
[input command]
Don't you ever fix your lips to say that, bruh. I'm sitting right here and I got my daughter in the backseat> Yeah, just leave the present by the doorstep and get the hell outta here. You're sure that Tommy will think Mitch gave it to him and left in a hurry (since Mitch is too busy to gift it to him in person by Christmastime), but if Tommy tries looking for him (or you)... you gotta brace yourself for that...
Edited by TroperNo9001 on Sep 25th 2024 at 4:21:58 PM
Still waiting for someone to break him free...> Yeah, just leave the present by the doorstep and get the hell outta here. You're sure that Tommy will think Mitch gave it to him and left in a hurry (since Mitch is too busy to gift it to him in person by Christmastime), but if Tommy tries looking for him (or you)... you gotta brace yourself for that...
Yeah, you've interacted with the kid enough for one day. No harm in just placing his gift on the porch and going on with your business. Maybe he'd pick it up, maybe his mom would pick it up when she came back from working overtime. You didn't know, and you didn't really care. Finally, you were home sweet home once more, and you had better things to do with your time. Like...
Such as... Including...
Okay, so what if you had no clue what to fucking do right now? It's almost 2 PM! The book club meeting doesn't start until 7; you've got five hours to kill! Surely you could find something to do to pass the time!
You had hung your coat up in the foyer without clearing its pockets out and were now sitting down on the couch in your living room. In front of you was the TV, currently turned off. You still had cable, for some reason, but you had your gaming console hooked up to it. You put all of the stuff related to Sabrina's Christmas gifts into one bag, namely the wrapping paper, her book, and the sick, twisted act of betrayal you had disguised as a Cooking Mama game. You should probably get around to wrapping all that stuff, if that strikes your fancy.
Several items have left your inventory.
- Current Time: 1:50 PM
- Current Goal: Bide your time until the book club meeting at 7:00 PM.
- Current Inventory: Phone, Wallet, Pen, Credit Card, The Trap
- Loose Change: $2.00
[input command]
Don't you ever fix your lips to say that, bruh. I'm sitting right here and I got my daughter in the backseat> Turn on the TV and listen to your favorite talk show while wrapping those presents.
Flipping the TV to Channel 9, you're just in time to catch The Scott Mueller Show. Not your favorite Saturday afternoon talk show, but eh, background noise is background noise.
You grab some scissors and a roll of clear tape from a nearby drawer and begin to wrap those presents. You decide that it would be most practical to wrap the book and the game separately, then tape the two presents together. You slap a sticky note on top of the presents and scribble the following: To Sabrina; NOTE: I'm sorry.
Meanwhile, you've been tuning in and out to Scott Mueller's yappings. His voice really filled the spaces in your brain reserved for thinking dubious, evil thoughts, which made his work — be it his comedy sets or his shows — really good to play in the background while focusing on other tasks. Once you were finished wrapping Sabrina's gifts, you redirected your attention to the TV, where Mueller was in the middle of interviewing Vicarious. God, he looked so much dumber when surrounded by normal people. And his voice is so fucking grating...
- Current Time: 2:22 PM
- Current Goal: Bide your time until the book club meeting at 7:00 PM.
- Current Inventory: Phone, Wallet, Pen, Credit Card, The Trap
- Loose Change: $2.00
[input command]
Don't you ever fix your lips to say that, bruh. I'm sitting right here and I got my daughter in the backseat> Drown yourself out with that Vicarious CD while hate-watching the man himself. As you thought back at Conway's, his music isn't that bad.
You left the Vicarious CD in Eden's car, so to sate your hate-listening urges, you open up his Spotify and set it to shuffle. Vicarious was an enigma of an artist. His music didn't suck; it was disgustingly listenable pop punk for the brainrot zoomer crowd. But there was something about the general aura of the man himself, the egotistical way he carried himself in interviews and performances, prancing around any venue with his head held high up his ass like he owned the place, that just felt... insidious. Like, skin-crawlingly insipid.
"So, you got big plans for the Christmas season?" Scott Mueller asked Vicarious, who was leaned back in the studio chair with his legs splayed like it were some kinda gilded throne.
"Yeah, I'm headed to the midwest for this concert on Christmas Eve," Vicarious replied, ego seeping into every word that dribbled out of his thin mouth. "I'll be up there opening for a smaller, more underground band, The Rust Buckets. Maybe you've heard of them." God, that bastard was so pretentious! Sure, his statement was most definitely ironic, considering that the studio audience launched into uproarious applause at the mere mention of the Rust Buckets, but acting like a hipster for the sake of irony is still acting like a hipster.
"You got a setlist lined up?" Mueller inquired, to which Vicarious replied with something along the lines of "Why absolutely, my dearest purveyor of the musical arts. In fact, My Grandness would be gladly obliged to perform one of my seasonal tunes live for you right now!" You were trying to tune out his whiny, pompous voice before he went on stage with the studio band to perform a song from his latest album, A Vicarious Christmas: "Naked by the Fireplace." A bawdy, upbeat number, it was decently pleasant — well, in the saccharine way most Christmas cash grabs tend to be. You weren't looking forward to hearing Vicarious belt out this garbage come Christmas Eve.
- Current Time: 2:30 PM
- Current Goal: Bide your time until the book club meeting at 7:00 PM.
- Current Inventory: Phone, Wallet, Pen, Credit Card, The Trap
- Loose Change: $2.00
[input command]
Don't you ever fix your lips to say that, bruh. I'm sitting right here and I got my daughter in the backseat> Turn off the TV and read The Trap.
You've had enough of doomscrolling through TV channels. It was time to retire to much more... worldly pleasures. Like reading about some hot man-on-carnivorous plant action. Besides, book club was tonight; it wouldn't hurt to have a deeper knowledge about what you'd be using to traumatize the nice old ladies at Mrs. Baker's this week. You inhaled the smell of parchment as you dove into The Trap: A Deadly Romance for the first time.
Oh. Oh no.
Oh dear. Oh God. Oh good Lord Almighty.
Oh sweet mother of Jesus Christ getting her back blown out on a Friday afternoon.
This was... This was crazy. I mean. There's this guy, and he's a freak, no doubt. And he goes to work with this... this plant — she's not even, like, a sexy, anthropomorphic plant lady, she was straight up a Venus flytrap, straight Audrey II lookin bitch?
And, and the guy's into being vored?? And they're in the cubicle with her vines wrapped around his... And she massages his... into her... and the teeth??? Oh, god the teeth!!!
Periodically pausing to let as many plot details sink in as possible, You make it to around chapter nine before deciding that you'd had enough for one day. Holy fucking shit. The Trap was... well, it was like an escalating multi-car pile-up on the freeway: horrifying, obstructive, incredibly unfortunate for everyone involved, but at the same time, you just... you just can't look away! It glues you to the pages, sucking you in like the drain at the bottom of the bathtub, disgusted yet eagerly waiting to see how many more cars end up in the pile! You... You needed a moment to process what you just read.
- Current Time: 4:00 PM
- Current Goal: Bide your time until the book club meeting at 7:00 PM.
- Current Inventory: Phone, Wallet, Pen, Credit Card, The Trap
- Loose Change: $2.00
[input command]
Don't you ever fix your lips to say that, bruh. I'm sitting right here and I got my daughter in the backseat> Defenestrate the book, and holler to your phone's personal assistant, "I must confess my profound ignorance regarding this matter, for the depths of my knowledge fail to illuminate even the faintest glimmer of understanding, leaving me adrift in a sea of perplexity. This is what I replaced confused with."
Edited by Dictionaryman616 on Oct 23rd 2024 at 11:21:04 AM
> Defenestrate the book, and holler to your phone's personal assistant, "I must confess my profound ignorance regarding this matter, for the depths of my knowledge fail to illuminate even the faintest glimmer of understanding, leaving me adrift in a sea of perplexity. This is what I replaced confused with."
Siri takes a while to process what you just said, before replying, "I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I understand your request." That bitch was never a comforting presence.
The Trap had landed on the patio on the other side of the window you threw it out of. You shut the window, preventing the cold draft from prying its spindly little fingers into your warm abode.
The Trap has left your inventory.
- Current Time: 4:02 PM
- Current Goal: Bide your time until the book club meeting at 7:00 PM.
- Current Inventory: Phone, Wallet, Pen, Credit Card
- Loose Change: $2.00
[input command]
Don't you ever fix your lips to say that, bruh. I'm sitting right here and I got my daughter in the backseat> Play one of the video games you already have at home and rant about how you could've bought a new one for yourself after buying Garfield Kart (disguised as Cooking Mama) for Sabrina.
Instead of dipping your toes into something new that you could've bought at the Game Hut instead of fucking Garfield Kart, you turn on your nondescript current-gen gaming console to bite a chunk out of one of your digital downloads. The three most recent games you'd played — not in any way inspired by any real life games pulled out of the GM's extensive backlog — caught your eye:
- Averian Tales, an isekai Farm Life Sim/Action RPG hybrid where you rizz up baddies in an idyllic country town that seemed to be constantly on the verge of being ransacked by dragons. It was an extensively single player experience.
- Creature Hunters Destiny, The latest installment in a series of action games where you, well, hunt creatures, either solo or with a group of up to four players. Eden had this game, too — hell, she was the one who got you into this franchise, and she appeared to be online playing the game right now.
- BreakSiege, a Third-Person Shooter that's supposed to be about the horrors of war or something, but you'd be hard pressed to find anyone who actually cares about that in favor of online PVP deathmatches. You didn't have any mutuals who also played this game, so you'd have to rely on the toxic buffoons in solo queue to carry you to victory (although you'd probably end up carrying them later on.)
[are you gaming or nah?]
Don't you ever fix your lips to say that, bruh. I'm sitting right here and I got my daughter in the backseat

> "I wanna hack people's Twitter accounts so I can possess them into embarrassing themselves online in such cringeworthy ways, they get instantly canceled!"
Edited by TroperNo9001 on Aug 17th 2024 at 5:53:01 PM
Still waiting for someone to break him free...