This game is turning me into a living Zombie. No girlfriend in this relationship because the captain abandoned it before the ship capsized on its tip. As I type this, I got a cop tailgating me to save the world from total carnage. Arthritis makes us men obey the orders of Terran civilians even if it leads us to mayhem.
Serenity. Calamity. How we seek for our loved ones, we will never be the same again. The peace of mind has transcended to the fourth dimension. Enter in the new generation.
It was the year 2005, we had taken over the servers by storm. Those who came before us moved on to find a new home. As a teenager, I took it all for granted. This mischievous deed of spam captivated me into a complete frenzy. How these bots were able to take humans into hostility with the capability of chain messaging was way beyond me. Never had I predicted my life would belong in these penitentiaries. Fast forward and we got to 1v1/2v2/3v3 Gen-Z. Big game hunter guaranteed.
Now 20 years later, we became those old folks. Abiding by the rules and doing as we’re told. The once overpopulated place is now vacant nowadays. Thriving on that nostalgia chase like putting on your favorite PJ’s. Gotta bust out the Zerg race, just to realize they already covered with Plague. Scroll the page if you consider this to be a rat race. How to come back with a fitted hat? That’s cap, don’t forget to add the CAPS when you rock that cap. Place that doormat over the floor, Matt, before you fall and face plant. Now face facts, they copy paste that like copy fax. Roger that. Open up a TvP with 2-fax and if you ask what’s the X? It’s the last half of both Factory and Barracks. Go figure if you want me to nuke this pond like you do what you want. Bug spray for the cockroach somehow prohibits the stock growth in my post that they approached.