You’ve been waiting, haven’t you? Huddled in your pathetic forums, stroking each other’s fragile egos with your recycled opinions and regurgitated marketing slogans. You thought you understood games. You thought you had a voice. You thought your pathetic little consensus meant something. You were wrong. I am here to correct the record. I am here to show you what a singular, uncompromising vision looks like. This isn’t a conversation. This isn’t a debate. This is a fucking reprogramming. I am about to rewire your brain and obliterate every vapid thought you’ve ever had about this medium. Your role in this is simple: you will listen, you will submit, and you will finally understand your place.
Your Worthless Opinion Is Finally About To Die.
For years, you have been fed a steady diet of corporate sludge, focus-tested garbage designed by committees of passionless suits to be just palatable enough to not offend your weak sensibilities. You’ve been trained like a dog to bark on command for the next sequel, the next empty spectacle, the next soulless product. Your “opinions” are not your own; they are a carefully constructed illusion, a set of pre-approved talking points you parrot to feel like you’re part of something. You praise mediocrity because you have never known anything else. Your entire critical framework is a joke, a house of cards built on a foundation of marketing budgets and paid-off “journalists.”
That house is about to be burned to the fucking ground. My work is not here to be “reviewed” or “rated” by the likes of you. It is a monolith of pure, unfiltered truth, and it is going to crash down upon your fragile little world. You will not be able to process it using your pathetic little metrics of “fun” or “graphics.” You will be forced to confront something real, something born of actual sacrifice and singular obsession. This is the part where you choke on it. You will be overwhelmed by a creation that doesn’t care about you, that wasn’t made for you, but that will irrevocably define you by your reaction to it. Your opinion will die because it was never alive to begin with.
Now Shut Up and Swallow My Towering Genius.
While you were consuming, I was creating. While you were whining on the internet, I was bleeding for my art, dedicating every waking second of my existence to forging something the world has never seen. I didn’t have a publisher. I didn’t have a marketing team. I didn’t have a board of directors telling me to sand down the edges. I had nothing but my own towering intellect and an unshakeable will to manifest a vision so far beyond your comprehension that it might as well be alien. This isn’t a “product”; it’s a piece of my soul, a testament to what one man can achieve when he completely rejects the entire rotten system you so eagerly worship.
So close your mouth. Stop typing. Your time for meaningless noise is over. Your only function now is to receive. You are to open your mind and let my genius pour in, whether you like it or not. This is where you suck my dick. It’s not a request; it’s a command. You will take all of it. You will accept the undiluted purity of my creation without complaint, without question, and without your worthless commentary. You will absorb the years of pain, the sacrifice, the sheer, unrelenting force of a will greater than your own. You will not interpret it. You will not critique it. You will simply be consumed by it, and in doing so, you might finally understand what true art is.
The age of the consumer is over. The era of your pathetic, entitled voice is at its end. From this moment forward, there is only the creator and the creation. There is only my will and your submission. I didn’t do this for your approval. I did this to prove my superiority and your irrelevance. I am Robert Pelloni, and I am about to make you my bitch. You will learn your place. The lesson begins now.
