JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRTTTTTTT (2025)

-rep Alright, here’s the thing. You said, "a rogue is just a goblin." Are they both sneaky little nightmares? Yeah, sure, no one’s arguing that. But as someone who dies to goblin stabbers in the first room while trying to solo queue Dark and Darker, let me tell you: no one in the game confuses rogues for goblins. If you want to be "specific," like you said, then don’t mix them up. They’re not the same thing. If you're talking "stabby family," you're referring to the whole lineup of shady creatures—from goblins to rogues to skeleton archers lurking in the dark corners. So your big-brain reasoning for calling a rogue a goblin is because random players in chat scream "goblin with a knife"? By that logic, we might as well call every rogue a treasure chest mimic, since they both ruin runs in seconds.

One must possess a musket for the safeguarding of one's home, as surely this was the sacred decree of our venerable forebears. The tranquility of the night is shattered by the clamor of four villainous intruders, their nefarious intent clear. "What foul incursion is this?" I exclaim, donning my powdered wig with swift precision and seizing my trusted Kentucky rifle. With a thunderous roar, the weapon discharges, unleashing a devastating blow—a golf-ball sized hole rends the first miscreant asunder, his life extinguished in an instant.

The second knave, alas, is spared my immediate wrath, for my smoothbore pistol betrays me, its shot awry. Instead, the poor creature next door—an innocent hound—is caught in the crossfire. What lamentable consequence! But no matter, for I have one more ace at hand.

Up the stairs, perched proudly, rests my cannon, bristling with grape shot—my final bastion of defense. "Onward, to glory!" I cry as the weapon belches forth its lethal load. The grape shot, like a storm of steel, tears through two men with vicious abandon, leaving naught but chaos in its wake. The deafening blast echoes across the town, setting off alarms—mechanical sentinels that howl in fright.

But one remains. His trembling frame betrays the terror within. I fix my bayonet, a cold gleam in my eye, and charge forward—unrelenting, unwavering. The final rapscallion, hapless and despairing, succumbs to his fate. A wound from a triangular bayonet, cruel and unkind, cannot be mended. He bleeds out, his cries unanswered, as the constables arrive too late to save him. And thus, with grim satisfaction, I nod to myself.

Indeed, just as the Founding Fathers intended.

JAAAAAAAARRRRRRRTTTTTTTT (2024)

I don't mean to push or anything, but if you wanted to DM me about anything at all, I'd love to pick your brain and learn all there is to know about you. I'm sure you're an incredibly interesting girl--though I see you as just a person, really--and I think we could have lots to teach each other.

I've always wanted the chance to talk to a gorgeous lady--and I'm pretty sure you've got to be gorgeous based on the position of your text in the screenshot--so feel free to shoot me a message, any time at all! You don't have to be shy about it, because you're beautiful anyways (that's juyst a preview of all the compliments I have in store for our chat).

Looking forwards to speaking with you soon, princess!