I can think of a lot of things, but I'd probably get banned for all of them.
Allow me!
-Homosexuality is a mental condition for some, an unfortunate fad for most.
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The Hero We Deserve
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Allow me!
-Homosexuality is a mental condition for some, an unfortunate fad for most.
Kill them all.
Always wanted to get into it.
I shall grind hope from the bones of my enemies.
I'm the only one with a hopeful dream for the future of this world.
Our world is one of light and darkness.
The bright colors of cheap plastic do little to hide the bleak future that awaits us all.
A future of stagnation, of isolation, of dread.
Every day we receive food, dropped from the sky or found in the deepest of tunnels. It is both a blessing and a curse. Our human will-to-survive makes us to swallow our dollar-menu sustenance, only to delay inevitable death for one more day.
Together we wander the endless wastes, forever alone.
But what if?
What if I gave you another way?
Tales from the Earth of our forerunners tell of the strength of man, who took from the planet raw resources; rock, wood, bone. He made from these the means to dominate the world, to become the master of his domain.
The same fate awaits us my friends, if only we dare to reach out and grasp our destiny.
I have gathered you all here to The Great Pit today for a reason. You have been selected from all of the people of Playland as the finest, the best. Each one of you possess unique skills that if used together, under my command, will forge a new world with us as it's masters!
First we take the tools we have been given. We forge the metal struts into weapons with which we drill daily, we disassemble all of the nearby structures to rebuild our own fortress city, our symbol of power. And when our power is finally undeniable;
We Strike.
Riding out from our gates, garbed in Red-Plastic armor, our legions will spread across the lands, rounding up the weak, those unfit for our new world. The others are important, for although they are weak, they are not worthless. We shall pen them up within our walls! By day they will preform our menial tasks, by night their ranks will be culled. From their bodies we shall take new spices, new flavorings to our daily meals. Their bones will decorate our homes, their skin will be tanned into leather clothing, their remains combined with our leftovers in a great pit of decomposition.
Over time we will expand, taking all we find to service us. Our decomposition will turn to dirt, which we will irrigate with melted ice from our soda. We will plant the seeds we find within our cheap tomatoes. We will rise up from certain doom, standing up to our fate and yelling; "WE WILL NOT BOW."
Our descendants will build upon our victories. Our children, our children's children, their children. All will have to sacrifice to build our new world. But with our sweat and the bones of the others, we will dominate our world.
Undisputed.
Masters.
The bright colors of cheap plastic do little to hide the bleak future that awaits us all.
A future of stagnation, of isolation, of dread.
Every day we receive food, dropped from the sky or found in the deepest of tunnels. It is both a blessing and a curse. Our human will-to-survive makes us to swallow our dollar-menu sustenance, only to delay inevitable death for one more day.
Together we wander the endless wastes, forever alone.
But what if?
What if I gave you another way?
Tales from the Earth of our forerunners tell of the strength of man, who took from the planet raw resources; rock, wood, bone. He made from these the means to dominate the world, to become the master of his domain.
The same fate awaits us my friends, if only we dare to reach out and grasp our destiny.
I have gathered you all here to The Great Pit today for a reason. You have been selected from all of the people of Playland as the finest, the best. Each one of you possess unique skills that if used together, under my command, will forge a new world with us as it's masters!
First we take the tools we have been given. We forge the metal struts into weapons with which we drill daily, we disassemble all of the nearby structures to rebuild our own fortress city, our symbol of power. And when our power is finally undeniable;
We Strike.
Riding out from our gates, garbed in Red-Plastic armor, our legions will spread across the lands, rounding up the weak, those unfit for our new world. The others are important, for although they are weak, they are not worthless. We shall pen them up within our walls! By day they will preform our menial tasks, by night their ranks will be culled. From their bodies we shall take new spices, new flavorings to our daily meals. Their bones will decorate our homes, their skin will be tanned into leather clothing, their remains combined with our leftovers in a great pit of decomposition.
Over time we will expand, taking all we find to service us. Our decomposition will turn to dirt, which we will irrigate with melted ice from our soda. We will plant the seeds we find within our cheap tomatoes. We will rise up from certain doom, standing up to our fate and yelling; "WE WILL NOT BOW."
Our descendants will build upon our victories. Our children, our children's children, their children. All will have to sacrifice to build our new world. But with our sweat and the bones of the others, we will dominate our world.
Undisputed.
Masters.
You know there's more merrit to this than you'd think.
Winnie's out for blood.
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