Picturesque XVII
I cannot believe it has happened again, but it has. I cannot believe I am writing about such an event a second time, but I am. I wish I did not have to, but this is the only way I shall be able to sleep tonight.
Of course, this is all virtual, figurative, occurring online, fake. But it is not fake to me, and I hold the custom near and dear to my heart; I have forged many wonderful friendships thanks to the chat-rooms of the Internet.
I speak of gratuitous killing, as my mother put it when I relayed to her what had occurred. Just like the child-mutilating girl of before, this new menace sought to consume the souls of anything and everything.
This time, however, I acted. I brought out my current handle’s powers and let loose on this uncivil pest. It did little good on one part, for the pest kept becoming stronger. This I could and would have dealt with had the next not occurred.
Two other chatters, whom I believe (or believed) to be of a sound mind, accused me of god-moding! Such occurs when one person’s character cannot die or be hit by anything just about. I suppose, given my handle’s abilities, such an accusation was inevitable, but I was not going to sit around once again and let a pest ruin my night!
But it was no the pest that ruined my night, no. Here I am, trying to keep such gratuitous death out of a public chat-room by any means necessary, when suddenly I am accused of god-moding.
Oddly, neither of these two were participating in this pest’s games, and yet they were accusing me of ruining this pest’s gratuitous kill-fest.
I have been frequenting this chat-room for a little over three years now. To be accused of god-moding by people who are rather new in my opinion is insulting and offensive. Needless to say, I took this to heart. I stopped participating in this pest’s game and let it have its kill-fest, much to my dismay. Luckily, however, enough people were in this room that the pest’s posts were drowned out by a number of posts about one’s day. A shame the same amount of people could not have appeared when this pest’s kill-fest began; perhaps then I might have not made the fool of myself I had.
Many may wonder why I even bother; I do not know these people, so why should I care? The Internet provides for an escape of life I can rarely achieve on my own. I need this escape, especially in lieu of recent events; I need to go to a place where I can be someone else, have some fun for a change.
Unfortunately, it would appear I can no longer be such without a rebuttal.
