At first, a sunrise. Out of pristine mega-gaming. Out of the pristine, we are modus prefectum. Somewhere they're us, sleeping, dreaming of the days of normies being forever btfo'd. Through the grand wizowd we will unite the lost into a land of the neets and outcast.
After suffering over one hundred million centuries, we have finally opened the eyes of gamers, devoid of sjw devs and report functions. Isn't it noble and enlightening to stick up for yourself and resolve conflict with others? We work to understand the game, not the player.
The cosmic law of trolling, pulled those to be proved around the fire, a careless cold infinity, in every vast direction. Lonely farer in the anti-griefer zone, has a tale to tell. From a developers nursery, into a lulzy feast, enter Britbong.
The tapestry of normie cries. There's a reporting in the game leading us to seek btfo. We are one with trollverse. Forebearers of what will be boglins of the internet. Aeons pass writing the tale of us all. A day to day, new btfo'ing for the greatest stream on earth.
Epic channels welcoming the outside world to the legions of epic memes. Bedding the tree of logical griefing, enter, the boglins.
There's a writing in the twitterverse, leading us to the lulz feast of our time.
We are here to grief the normies. The wonder of birth of every form of normie. Every form most thottery. We, are one, we are the internet. Forebearers of what WILL BE the way of the land. We will set the standard and create the greatest show on the web.
After a billion years, the show is still here. Not a single one of you boglins died young. The handy trollers, out of the depths of the web, btfo'ing Chads and Stacy's of the world wide web. Give birth to infectious memes, to normies dead, to self destructive meme-ery. Enter the god of thotts, deep within the past, atavistic dread of the cringelords.
Enter BritbongReturns, the cradle of memes, the architecture of bee tee eff ooh-ing. The boglin lust to troll so exceptional, to rule the net.
The boglin-kind, still locked in the cage. The deep state still poisons normie minds. An old buck sheltering us from the cold. Lulz bathing on his dead redpill memes.
A cuck-trap in the ghost town of twitch streams. Thotts dream of paypigs and the boglin ghosts. Of fakeup, of insta-bans and the rise, raving thottery and sex toys.
A cry for us a cry in need of courageous boglin kind. A shout of us, shout in need of a btfo'ing machine.
All that great trolling still and slowly dying. All that great trolling suffering on a normies whim.
All the great trolls banned in silent suffering, smiling like a clown until the show has come to an end. What is left for encore is the same old meme's song, sung in silence.
A midnight raid into twitch chats. A thotty and a paypig by her side. These are the territories I hate most. I'd still give my everything to troll them more.
A silent btfo'ing. A hollow trollpus one, two, three.
Sometimes the stream is piano black. Piano black over cleansing meme-ery.
Resting broadcast, verse of bore. Rusting keyboards without a whore.
"I see a slow, simple gamer on a busy stream site with a begging icon in his shitty stream. Trying to smile but hurting infintely. Nobody notices. I do, but click past. "
"An old-fag has a wank on a stream site and gets called out. It's half-light and he's in tears. When he finally cums, his eyes are cascading."
"I see a beaten youtuber on a pungent stream. He tries to provoke me. All pride has left his wild eyes. I wish I had my leg to spare."
"A thott visits her paypig, smiles to him through the cam. She's never loved them more."
"A normie enters a game with me. All P2W'd out, fancy, lots of epic gear. Terribly rich whale deafens me. He's playing like a complete casual, and alone. That makes the ganking even more beautiful."
"I see a thotts face on a front page. A statue of fakeup perfection beside a violent stream of paypiggery. A community that worships flesh."
"The first thing I ever read was a wandering tripcode poster telling his story. It was you, the nerdrage under my keyboard, the anons in the dead of night. The lulz-worthy replies of filthy casuals."
"It was us, roaming the cancerous threads, combing the guilded garbage, waking up to a new gallery of sameposts every morn. Trolling in places no one's seen before. Shipwrecked on some four-chan board. Clad in nothing but cleverness. A boglins finest robe."
"Beyond all morality, we are, swinging in the breath of the internet. In early days of the dawn of lulz, a sight to anger the masses."
"I want to travel where lulz travels. Follow it's permanent-ban. Where the tears taste like music. Where normie pain smells of fresh born hysteria. I would pass no normie, no thott, no SJW, without bathing in a world of sensation."
"Lulz, epic memes, and trolling, while violated and imprisoned by technology."
"The thought of my victims cries was the only moment I have to experience mega-gaming. That experience remains infinite, as I'll never be the person normies want."
"How can you"play for fun" when you don't know how? Stop saying "Just play normal" How could anyone stand to be a normie?"
"Who am I to judge a troll, a mega-gamer, anti-thott, griefer, or hacker? I am, you are, all of them already."
"Dear child, stop crying. Go play, forget every rule. There's no fear in gaming."
"Is there a commuity inside this game? A normie asked me. "What's the reason to play, if not to grind for gear?" "I've never been so appaled as I heard these normies suffering." "Following suit is the death of a true gamer. Nothing noble in following rules just because other normies and thotts demand it. For your community? For the idealology? For faith in goodwill? For another mans profit, yes?"
"Gaming is dead without memories. Idle hands witout an experience. All the servers dead without stories,. without lulz and disarming beauty. Careless realism costs souls."
"Ever seen a developer smile? All the care of the game, made beautiful by a sad man? Why do we still grind for gear or levels and skins? Oh how rotten your pre-apocalypse is. All you rule-worshipping fools living over nightmare ground."
"I see all those empty servers and wonder, if man will never change. I too, wish to make a difference, but all I am is smoke and mirrors to them, an obstacle, a demon. Still, given everything, may I be deserving to destroy, as if the game world allows, so too, shall I become, destroyer of thott and normies alike."
"And there forever, remains the change from mega-gamer, to filthy casual."
