The Descent into Frustration

I used to have fun. I would hop on to play with my friends, excited and thrilled for this game. All that came to an end when I was paired with the most thoughtless, inbred, idiotic teammates I've ever seen. While I'm trying to deal with four champions, the randoms are on a mission of their own—the mission of self-sabotage. While I'm shooting drones and setting up site, they are on Instagram Reels watching an influencer shake her ass. While I'm holding an angle, they are pre-firing every door on the site, which leads to a bullet to their brain. While I'm in a gunfight trying to defend site, they are prone in a corner, staring at the wall. This game has made me think less of the human race and fear for the future. May God help us all.

Ic æt ealdum tidum hæfde bliðe tid. Ic wolde hopian to pleogan mid mine freondum, aecgæd and glad for þisne geames. Eall þæt cymð to ende þonne ic wæs gemæne mid þam mæst unþancfullan, inbredan, idiotiscum teameðic mearcen þe ic æfre geseah. Wyle ic forehweard cearian mid feower cyningas, þa gemytican sind on heora sylfan mission—se mission of sylf-gewæht. Wyle ic sceotend dronan and gesettende sigewite, hi synd on Instagram Reels watcheð an influence-hwæt her swincende wif. Wyle ic hælde angul, hi synd forhwehte dæl ealdera þurh mid(settengan), seðe lædað to glōwan into heora hēafod. Wyle ic in fæmlicfeorðan himself dispellende scyldige sīo site, hi synd vaste beforan in corner, stareigende on ða weg. Þes gamene hæfþ mec gedon to thinner cynn ymbe theoc weoruld and frāmeliga fēonde, swā Godes help us āl.