Sit back and let the screen dissolve the walls from your peripheral. Your vision will brighten to levels you've never experienced before. You have entered Blizzard's latest creation, real_life_+_2! You'll be so amazed by the sheer stupidity that engulfs you that you'll soon forget the everyday imbeciles knocking at your door and gladly spend any time you have and a bit more, engaging in mind-numbing activities.
This virtual collective follows cycles much like those in the three-D. Press your puffy eyes to the screen and the similarities will become clear. Turning on, you already took the necessary first step and abandoned any hope of completing the critical task you scheduled for today. What? You say it wasn't on purpose, you meant to, but you just couldn't move? Now you're getting it. Here's a delicious nutritious binary-encoded reward to promote and strengthen insalubrious root growth. Open up young sedent, quaff some more.
Begin your day as you would any other; the early bird catches the worm. In this case you'll find the far-eastern red-bellied gold gobbler already hard at work. I see you've jumped ahead and introduced yourself to this rare specimen. This action is unadvised, the brief friendship you might strike up will be one you might share with an intestinal parasite. Besides, even if this wasn't a migrant fleeing exploitation in an economic underclass far-far-away and he could understand you, his beak would still be too full of precious metals to answer. In this burden-less collective that accepts button mapping and a few levels of situational logic as hard work, it's best to observe this wonderous beast from afar and voice your disapproval for the support of casuals.
Now, if you cup your ear and lean into the wind, you might hear faint moans of dejection wafting over the hills. They're not cries for help, rather they belong to the social reject that even in a game filled with ambition-less impulse-driven machines finds himself banished to a far off land, picking mushrooms for an imaginary tea party. Not to be confused with the frenzied pitter-patter of obsessive compulsives hastening to treat every last quest as an order and leave no stone unturned; they're altogether quieter in their eagerness and as a result much less burdensome.
All that time wasted already. While you were busy ogling, the day moved into its busiest stage. Watch for the first indicator, society dropping off their mollycoddled mental degenerates at the cyber crèche. Now you'll be able to listen to them gibber incessantly for attention. If you're really lucky the seaside cutouts might treat you to a rippling montage of lingering homo-erotic poses. Flexing their inworldly spoils at an audience too pavlovian to invoke the illiterate jeers you'd expect them to fear from years of playground abuse.
The roaring river becomes a deluge as the bitter workforce returns to the nest with unwanted retellings of humorous stories they were told over an icy water cone. Having deftly lane-hopped their way out of gridlock to squeeze a few more hours out of the day, it's time for them to sit back in the comfort of their own home and enjoy a reenactment of the rush hour traffic they just escaped. Recreated electronically with an exaggerated cast of inconsiderate pedestrians and suicidal cyclists. At this point frustration drives every killing zone into ugly competition and every city becomes a swarming mass of pixels, slowing everything to a slow chug. Tardiness is next to ungodliness and should you fall into this group and fail to escape from the roads of mayhem, collect your punishment, more queueing.
Gradually bedtimes calm the world and sweet quiet drifts across the lands. The inebriated -- those you'd expect to find under a bridge wrestling over a half empty bottle of windowlene -- have managed to claw their way online. Students, mentalists, compensation settlers and the unemployed play out their staggered cycles here, tipping the scales precariously against sleep's favour. Eventually, after hours of scouring the lands forbidden during daylight, they'll pass out and eager chirping will fill the air once again.
Now, what are you doing tomorrow?.. I can hazard a guess.
This virtual collective follows cycles much like those in the three-D. Press your puffy eyes to the screen and the similarities will become clear. Turning on, you already took the necessary first step and abandoned any hope of completing the critical task you scheduled for today. What? You say it wasn't on purpose, you meant to, but you just couldn't move? Now you're getting it. Here's a delicious nutritious binary-encoded reward to promote and strengthen insalubrious root growth. Open up young sedent, quaff some more.
Begin your day as you would any other; the early bird catches the worm. In this case you'll find the far-eastern red-bellied gold gobbler already hard at work. I see you've jumped ahead and introduced yourself to this rare specimen. This action is unadvised, the brief friendship you might strike up will be one you might share with an intestinal parasite. Besides, even if this wasn't a migrant fleeing exploitation in an economic underclass far-far-away and he could understand you, his beak would still be too full of precious metals to answer. In this burden-less collective that accepts button mapping and a few levels of situational logic as hard work, it's best to observe this wonderous beast from afar and voice your disapproval for the support of casuals.
Now, if you cup your ear and lean into the wind, you might hear faint moans of dejection wafting over the hills. They're not cries for help, rather they belong to the social reject that even in a game filled with ambition-less impulse-driven machines finds himself banished to a far off land, picking mushrooms for an imaginary tea party. Not to be confused with the frenzied pitter-patter of obsessive compulsives hastening to treat every last quest as an order and leave no stone unturned; they're altogether quieter in their eagerness and as a result much less burdensome.
All that time wasted already. While you were busy ogling, the day moved into its busiest stage. Watch for the first indicator, society dropping off their mollycoddled mental degenerates at the cyber crèche. Now you'll be able to listen to them gibber incessantly for attention. If you're really lucky the seaside cutouts might treat you to a rippling montage of lingering homo-erotic poses. Flexing their inworldly spoils at an audience too pavlovian to invoke the illiterate jeers you'd expect them to fear from years of playground abuse.
The roaring river becomes a deluge as the bitter workforce returns to the nest with unwanted retellings of humorous stories they were told over an icy water cone. Having deftly lane-hopped their way out of gridlock to squeeze a few more hours out of the day, it's time for them to sit back in the comfort of their own home and enjoy a reenactment of the rush hour traffic they just escaped. Recreated electronically with an exaggerated cast of inconsiderate pedestrians and suicidal cyclists. At this point frustration drives every killing zone into ugly competition and every city becomes a swarming mass of pixels, slowing everything to a slow chug. Tardiness is next to ungodliness and should you fall into this group and fail to escape from the roads of mayhem, collect your punishment, more queueing.
Gradually bedtimes calm the world and sweet quiet drifts across the lands. The inebriated -- those you'd expect to find under a bridge wrestling over a half empty bottle of windowlene -- have managed to claw their way online. Students, mentalists, compensation settlers and the unemployed play out their staggered cycles here, tipping the scales precariously against sleep's favour. Eventually, after hours of scouring the lands forbidden during daylight, they'll pass out and eager chirping will fill the air once again.
Now, what are you doing tomorrow?.. I can hazard a guess.