Terrifying Roblox Story
I sat there in front of my computer, moving my enormous fingers clumsily about the keyboard. It had occurred to me before how entirely depressing my lifestyle was. I sat in my darkened room nightly, day in and day out. I played this game to the point of the logo being burned into my brain. It was a children's game, or at least that was the original developer's intention. I understand that the fact that a 20-year-old man is toiling away his life in front of a children's game, makes my predicament equally funny as it is woefully depressing. This did not dissuade me from continuing my work, I suppressed thoughts like the fact that I'm a major disappointment on a regular basis. This in what kept me sane, what kept me working.
I was just finishing up the map I was working on, a stupid obstacle course, that anyone with a fully developed brain could complete in under two minutes. Luckily for me, Roblox's target demographic had just recently completed the task of crawling out of their mother's vagina. This is what kept my pathetic ass financially afloat, putting bread and incontinence medication on the table. With one last ineffectual flail of my grossly obese digits, I posted it. It was unoriginal, simplistic, and packed to the metaphorical gills with microtransactions. It was also unfortunately, my only means of employment. I ensured that my "games" gave as many unfair advantages to children who stole their parent's credit card as possible. This would allow me to make the most amount of profit possible before a 13-year-old would die for the thousandth time and get all his buddies in his discord group to mass flag it.
I had already began creating my next functionally identical map but with minions this time, when I received an email. At first, I thought it was someone knew messing with me, but upon further inspection it was neither of them. I had received a seemingly innocuous email from an anonymous sender from a throwaway email account. Knowing this couldn't possibly be anything sinister, I clicked the email without hesitation.
"Hello, I have become aware of your recent achievements related to game design. Being a game designer myself, I wish to award you for your efforts, I know how thankless this industry can be.
-Hideo Kojima"'
I was immediately filled with a myriad of questions; why me? How did he find me? What talent? And, shouldn't that little fuck be working on death stranding right now? But the questions were all immediately dashed from my mind the second I saw the link. I knew that this entirely trustworthy person had wished to reward me. This person, who was defiantly who he said he was and not at all masquerading as a well-known figure to artificially expediate the process of gaining my trust, had been none other than, Hideo Kojima. Such a man of high stature would have access to any number of, drugs, offshore bank accounts, and prostitutes of dubious age and sobriety. Whatever he gave me was surely a gift, so unbridled in its splendor and magnitude that he had to utilize a fake email to deliver it. So, shuddering with excitement, I clicked the link beneath the message.
Instantly, my computer was hacked by communists. Putting up laughably dramatic death threats on my screen, accompanied by unconvincing photoshop jobs that quite frankly failed to impress. Then, in a sudden flash of light, my computer bluescreened and was completely destroyed.
Written by Drqueesttu
Content is available under CC BY-SA
| Comments • 0 |
Loading comments...
|
