If the Gods are insane, what hope is there for me?
"He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."
4:00 PM: My knees crackle like crickets as I traverse the woodlands and foothills on the long path back to Swamp Cave. Since my last log I have been on my way to rescue the princess from the evil clutches of the green dragon, who is a very dangerous beast and probably a pedophile to boot. To be perfectly honest, I’m not too thrilled with my experience as the King’s dragon warrior and it’s crossed my mind a few times to go on strike or start a union. The dangers clearly outweigh the rewards in this mad quest. I am constantly in peril, under-equipped, under-funded, and under-appreciated. If it wasn’t for me weed whacking every living creature that crossed my path, all the people in this godforsaken country would have to stay in their cities and walk back and forth in a spastic pattern all day. Wait, they all do that anyway, so I guess what I’m doing has no merit whatsoever. I wanted to be musician.
4:30 PM: On my way, I kill a few dozen slimes who rush me like pack of crazed lemmings. We have come to an understanding, the slimes and I, for they seek relief from this hard, cruel world, and I deliver death to them in the form of a hand axe to the face. I try not to judge the slimes too harshly by their aggressive behavior, because their lives are just a cruel wizard's joke, and I have compassion for their undesirable position in life. Legend has it that a greedy old wizard stole the surrounding land from the native Indians, and trapped their souls in these little gelatin forms, cursed to walk the earth until they are dispatched by a warrior such as myself. I can only hope that after I slay them, their brave souls are finally at peace in the spirit world.
The princess better be in this castle.
5:15 PM: Well the battle with the green dragon is over, and I am once again victorious. I'm not going to lie and say it was easy, but let’s just say I had a little help from my stash of killer dank healing herbs. Strangely enough, the green dragon was really polite about it and and let me roll up in between rounds. I wanted to offer him some out of habit, but I was there to kill him and letting him heal wouldn’t be a wise move. I think he understood this and wasn’t offended. After I won, the princess was free, and we left the dark cave in search of munchies and a Hotel 6.
6:00 PM: The princess is kind of a bitch. I should’ve figured as much, but I was really hoping that maybe we could hook up after I saved her life and everything. She gave me the “Sorry I don’t date my Dad’s employees” line, and avoided looking at me on the way back to the castle. Whatever, girls are dumb and moody anyway. I’m fine with pleasuring myself in Droll carcasses and peeping on magicians getting undressed while hiding in some shrubs. It may not be an ideal way to satisfy my male warrior urges, but at least I still have my self-respect.
6:30 PM: We got back to the castle and King Lorik grounded Gwaelin for fraternizing with dragons. I expected a huge reward for saving the king’s daughter, but I was shafted once again. I was given a trinket called Gwaelin's Love. At first I thought maybe I could redeem it at anytime for a free roll in the hay with the princess, or at least maybe it offered some defense against the evil beasts I still had to face. Nope. All it turned out to be was a glorified compass. I could get one of these at any sporting goods store, and without all these sparkles and unicorns. If one of my friends saw me using this thing I would never hear the end of it.
The protesters think they know everything.
6:45 PM: Just hunting again to get experience and plunder gold. I think I really have this killing thing down to an art form. When it’s just me and Wyvern out there in the great outdoors, me the stalking predator and the unaware beast my prey, it is a thing of natural beauty. The VAMA group (Villagers Against Monster Abuse) has been all over my back during this quest, protesting every time I go into town to upgrade my equipment, and using noise makers to scare away the game. These people just don’t understand that hunting is a totally natural thing and helps keep the population down. How do they think they get their slime soup or drakee pies on the table? Anyway, the next monster I hunt I’m going to dedicate to my mentor and friend, Fred Bear. Fred Bear, I'll join you in the big hunt before too long.
7:15 PM: I ran into this really pissed of Golem and he started kicking my ass all over the place. Then I remembered what Villager #2724 said to me when I trapped behind them in a doorway, and pulled out the fairy flute. I don’t know how to play but I just tried to recall some songs that we were forced to play on the recorder in elementary warrior school. The Golem don’t know what the fuck, and after a somewhat shaky rendition of Mary Had A Little Lamb, he fell into a deep slumber. I know it was really cheap of me to hit him while he was sleeping, but at that point I didn’t care, and wailed on his dozing ass. I have a feeling Erdrick wouldn’t approve, but I don’t really care because he’s dead.
8:00 PM: I fucking died! And the worst part of it is that it was from walking in a swamp. I was just in a heated battle with Wraith Knight that really took a lot out of me, and like a dumbass I forgot to smoke the healing herb before I walked into the swamp. Before I know it I’m standing before that dipshit of a King who is telling me that “It’s not my time to go yet.” What he really means is “you are not allowed to die until you finish the job, now get back to work!” Why couldn’t they just leave my peaceful corpse in the swamp to nourish the slimes and ghosts? I was just getting to the end of the tunnel and in the distance saw beautiful, large pixeled babes tossing pizzas in the air, and beer waterfalls. I’m just going to try to finish this thing quickly and go take a long nap in that swamp.
Oh god I'm so lonely.
9:00 PM: I found all of Erdrick’s old crap. I already have all his hand-me-downs like his shirts and TV tray, so I might as well use his battle gear. Hell, let’s just start calling me Erdrick if everybody loves him so much and wants me to be just like him. You know how hard it is to live your whole life in somebody else’s shadow? Why can’t people just like me for being myself, not just an mindless clone of Erdrick? I have grown to hate Erdrick, and in turn hate myself. This is all bullshit and the sooner I can get this over the better. I’m on my way to Charlock Castle to finish this farce of a quest once and for all.
10:00 PM: Walking through this castle is really annoying. I can’t take two steps without some fag jumping out of god knows where and attacking me. It takes me forever, but I finally reach the Dragonlord, who is just chilling on his throne and knitting something. He turned out a lot different than my expectations of him. First of all he’s really small, like Danzig small. We talked for a long time about various things like dungeon upkeep, local sports, the weather, and our favorite type of beer. He is really a cool guy and I think under different circumstances we could be regular drinking buddies. I think he just got a bad rap, but I want to end this quest so I might as well just kill him and get it done with.
10:05 PM:This changes everything! The Dragonlord just offered me a position on his team to be his VP of operations. I would have a corner office, make a good salary, and have a very impressive insurance package. I usually give my employers at least a two week notice before quitting, but I really don’t care for King Lorik so I think I’ll make an exception in this case. So all my hard work to reach the Dragonlord was not in vain. Good things come to those who prevail. Of course I accept this one time offer! I’m gonna buy me a boat.
Awww hell no!
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Hi there folks, Dennis "Corin Tucker's Stalker" Farrell here once again. As the State Og Representative, I get quite a few letters every month asking just what State Og is all about. My reply? Pants. It's all about comfortable pants and sometimes even uncomfortable pants.
A cursory glance at a man's haircut can tell you things about his soul; things it would take his gynecologist months to learn through multiple visits and countless sets of tongs and swabs. But why give that sort of psychological advantage to your enemies, family, and paperboy? Head to your local hairstylist and ask for the Og Cut, the standardized haircut that says, "I'm not original or unique at all and you really shouldn't pay attention to me" in much the same way that a mohawk does.
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