I, too, have trouble asking for help.

An infinity loop of shame and pride, starting with the former, ending with the latter.

As many different paths there were, with as many different directions, we ended up at the same place, with the same armor. Despite our dexterity draining tattered boots, our shields are always in the best condition. No matter how much damage it blocks, I too, spend hours repairing mine after damage to always make sure it’s still the one thing I take pride in.

When someone introduced you to the game, they tricked you—started you on Nightmare mode. Cue ‘Chiller’ font. How dare they insult your intelligence.

So here you are. Like me, we rushed to get here, solely because we were told to “get to the good part” by experienced players.

I don’t know about you, but to me it wasn’t all that worth it. Frustration stemmed from the repeated save points of dying too many times, to the point where personally, I just ran through the game, not bothering with how much experience id gain if I did it right. I just remember everything being foggy and ethereal. They had every opportunity to ask how I was doing, maybe I would’ve actually liked it in the end.

We either white-flagged or faked our way here, and still somehow made it to what was supposed to be better.

Either way, it’s a plotless journey with a future of obtaining scraps to find out what the purpose of this is.

Don’t leave the game yet though. I think this time, I need you more than you need me.

Judgement day will never come; someone tries to play God every day. I’ll let them take my spot and leave the judgement decisions up to them. I always thought tragic eyes were the most pretty, anyway.