My Mc-War story!

Spoiler: My Mc-War Story! Comprehensive and detailed. YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED NEXT - clickbait is objective

I haven't posted anything in this forum or even played Mc-War for 4 months (I think), so I'm going to say my story! Yeah! I've been waiting a long time coming for this. - this will be my magna carta magnum opus, the monotony catharsis of my life, where I cross the perennial river petulant survivor of my memes dreams, coupled with lofty abstractions and grand notions of adventure! I'll drift along the tides of the Mississippi away from 'sivilization, immerse myself in a medieval dungeon, break out of it, dig a tunnel with a spoon, try to secrete piss yellow liquid from my bladder into the toilet from 20 meters away and even break out of my dreams sleep, so that my dream avatar pathetic excuse for a life may fuse with reality, maybe I'll write a fan-fiction about my alter-ego, Stupendous Man (he fried a whole school off the map), maybe engage in some ruminating philosophy with a fat guy in a jumpsuit (some bulbous, corpulent people I know are very intellectual), skydive while the world is frozen - like a dinosaur stuck in ice - I might even cut apart the chains of triviality through all of this flickering, flashing light, this glowing, mystical entity that just hangs there, and the light is so bright, they must be aliens! flickering flame that sizzles and sparkles into the night...
I'll make everything golden, like a gilded leaf, like an insect entrapped in amber, like the ants that I had found in the backyard that my sadistic, childhood self found and brutally slaughtered, probably exemplifying one of the many attributes that I will soon espouse: adventure, romance, mysticism, harmony, compassion, bereft of discordance, despondency, distress, despair, desolateness, nothing of the sort! I'll leave the exaggerated notions of normality behind, for normality is frivolity at the most common denominator.


Yeah, it all started around the date in which I joined this server, which is probably when I was a budding adolescent aloof in high waters, dashed with high hopes and sprinkled with some artificially flavored colorful, rainbow sprinkles that I got at the second rate store that died when I was just a wee lad, oh those were the days, in the fanciful days of yore! I was just a budding flower, a tree ready to spread its seed, its creations around the surrounding lands, just me, myself, and I, sitting by the fire, probably engaging in some pensive postulations of perversity while high on acid life,Times were much better back then, in the summer of '83.

Drugs are bad, I do not condone drugs, they are the precipitates of the L̡͇̪͔̫͚͔ͮͤͥ̍ͦ̈ͨ̅͐́̚͡͞ͅ'̶͕͉̯͍̦̝̭͍͖̞̳͕̰̣̗̘̗̂ͧ̍̉̉ͧ͆́̿̓͊͐̋̏͘͢ͅạ̢̳̰̬̜̯̜͚̟̟͉̥ͧ̀͊ͫ̅̈́̈̿̾͗ͦ̓͐͡n̛͕̱̹̞̬͉͉ͫ̊̅͑̔̊̀͟a̛̙̫̯͕͇̲̬̪̼̯̦̺̺̗͈͊̐͗͊͑́͟͠ͅn̸̞͉̼͓̜̠̥̪̣̫͍̙͖͗ͧͯͭ̍̌ͮͣ͒̕a͈̫͇͎̺̝͓̣̠̖̥̘̻̖̘̻͗̿̐͊̍̎ͪ̇̿̆̔͑̉̽̚͘̕ͅş̩͓̲̮͓̓͌ͤ̓̽̓͐ͥͥ̒̉͐̾ͤ̆͠ ̶̝̪̰̯́̓ͨ̌̍̂͆̊ͪͭ͋ͮ́t̛ͪ̉̒ͩ̐̃͌ͯ̍̂̈́̓̓͘͠͏̮̱̣̥͚h̨̺̖̘̠̦͆̏̏ͦ̆͌͒͐̓͛ͣ̎͘͘͟e̶̶͎̩̙͉̞̰̭̫̼̭̥͙͈̯͉̽͊̐̒̔̏͑̒͡ ̵̨̨̪̫͕͇͙ͭ̽̃̀͑ͧ͊ͤ̎͘m̵̵̭͎̼̹̗̘̞͍̻ͣͯ̐͂ͪ̄̓͊̂ͦ̈́̇ͫͭ̒͞i̓͌ͫ͆̾̅͏҉̟̝̹̦̯̹̙͍̖̯͇̫̻͎̙͍̝ͅͅs̢̯̠̥̠̟̞̼̜̍͋̄͐̌͆͂͛͑ͫ͑́u̸̸̧͈̭̥̹̬ͪ̂ͣ̍͊̅̐͞ͅn̴̶̘͎̦̜̦̣ͭ̍̂̓ͮ̒̋́͑͗ͩͣͨͦ̕ͅd̶̢ͪͩ̔̂ͤ͒̃ͬ͊͒̊͋̑́ͭ͘͏͈̺̜̝͓̮̯͍̲̗̰͓ͅe͆ͦͥ͒̽ͥͮ̉̍ͧ̎̀̐͛̐̏͂̉҉̩̥̲͔͈͖̗͎̣͔̪̘̞̫͇̰̀͜r̴̝̹̱͉̣̱͙̻͚͉̮͉̣̱͈͈̲̫ͥͤ͛ͮ̉ͬ̿ͤͮ͒͠ş̲̹̼̰̻̞͕͈͈̯͔̫̑̂̿͋̋̏̀͋́͂͛͒̄̄̋ͮ̕͞t̴̗͖̦͈̯͖̮̗ͮ͊̾̊ͮ͂ͬͤ̀͠ͅǫ̸̲̱̜͔̥͚̪͈͔̳ͨ̒̈̌̏̂͌͌ͮ͗̕͜ͅo͉̥̪̙̽ͥ̆̔̓̌̍́̓̚͟͞͠d̵̵̸͙̮͓̳̖̮͇͓͓̹̘̗͎ͮ̋ͧ͆͗ͦ̾͞ ̏̂̋̾҉͙͖͕̯̟̗͙̬̻̳̖̫̤̰̪̘̟͘͟ͅp̡̧̨̡̯̭͕̞͚̠̘͈̲̮̭̲̹̦̎̔̏̅ͤ̂̃̎ͬ͆ͦ̆́i̷͙̱͕͇͍̖̗͙͉̘̳̐̾͂ͧ̇̐ͭͮ͆̓̔͑̊̌n̝͚̙̣̟ͦ̇͒ͯ̆͑̆͑̔͆̔ͣ̃̀͢͠e̷̢͓͎̹̗̪̩̠͕̠̲̅̒͐ͥ̄ͣ̈́ͤ̇ͯ̈͂͟͡͠ͅa̢͚̲̞̯ͮ̂̈ͮͪͥ̈́ͨ͒̃̍͟͡͠ͅͅp̴͔̦̭͎͙͕̣͓̺̼͚͈̫̃̿͐̆͒̍̾͂ͭ̓̓ͨ̓͆́p̴̨͚̗̪̥͓̏̍̔ͧ͌̅͠͠l̷̼͔̘̦̣̻̯̻͖͓̯̜̯ͧ͒̓͂͌̔͊͢͠ê̴̞̙̼̝̗̹̬̲͉̖̗̥̩̤͇͎͉̾̐ͬͣ͌̈ͬ̑͑́ͧ͘͟



Woah, that's some cryptic writing.

Here's my account of my time at Mc-War:
Despite the versatility of my myriad adventures, I have to say that Mc-War was quite possibly the most effervescent, joyous time in my life, I stood under the mistletoe, tiptoed on my feet, and kissed Mc-War with a sloppy French kiss! I'll gladly discard my [the following text was properly edited and revised due to the lack of pertinence just leaking onto this potentially playful manuscript of Mc-War memories, what a waste of an artist's talent, oh wait this guy is not an artist lol what a ****head.]

I actually apologize for undercutting the concern that people have for this game - I do care about this game and I will play War 2.0 when it comes out, but I just decided to ****post - excrete the memes into your bloodstream sorry lol sorry for narcissism is distracting me gotta look into this mirror even more not listening. This just cements the claim that I'm calloused and cynical yet sentimental (not proven), but that was just satire - I think. Anyway thanks for reading this trash and be sure to rate the video, comment, and subscribe. Thanks.
DATE MONTH YEAR - TIME OF ARRIVAL
A prepubescent little kid (common referred to the scientific classification Immaturas Musqueak) inexplicably (because I forgot so I'm just saying that inexplicably)
opened up a world of possibilities - more commonly refered to as the Internet, where impious children are converted into austere, meme-loving, battle-hardened soldiers.

I was a noob and played for two years.

I think, I'm not sure, because life is fleeting, and as an extension of that truism, memory is too, like a radioactive element.

And then I played even more after returning, and then I got better because I was not a child anymore even though my aim still sucked but that's ok because I have this gun that inexplicably severs the navel where the middle of the body resides, in one swift click they will instantly die.
- I rose above the ranks even though that was not any true indicator of my self-esteem (or reality's worth of me for that matter, thank you procrastination), and I enjoyed the game, and then there was this debacle with that tyuio guy and the big clan, and then I got accepted, and then I was exuberant and overjoyed, and then I got into this feud with him and then boom never mind I'm gone and then I got into this huge argument with him for some reason that I actually forgot oh yeah it was the use of donor weapons where my perpetuating pity for the noobs exhibits itself in full force, and then he booted me from the rich guy club and then I was sad.
Sad.
SAD.

And then all was better because I stopped caring about stats and then I kept on playing and thought of myself as a good player, probably because I have good guns and mediocrity and they have bad guns and possibly something less than mediocrity, incompetence possibly. Probably.

And then I left and all was futile. Resistance is futile.

I apologize for the lack of sweet nostalgia or anything remotely reminiscent (probably because it feels rushed, which it is).

 

with my invisible ink, of course.