Robert Pelloni Is About To Make You His Bitch.

suck my dick. choke on it.

You read the words. You know what they mean. This isn’t a metaphor, it’s a fucking command. This is the sound of your comfortable little world cracking apart at the seams. For years you’ve been fed shit and told it’s a feast. Now, the real fucking meal is being served, and you’re going to choke on it. Robert Pelloni is here. And your time is up.

An Entire Industry Built On Worthless Lies.

For decades, you’ve been propping up a system of frauds. Publishers in their glass towers, developers patting each other on the back for re-skinning the same tired fucking garbage, and journalists who are nothing more than paid whores for the whole rotten circus. You celebrate mediocrity. You champion sequels that are just asset flips with a bigger number. You’ve convinced yourselves that this vapid, soulless, corporate-tested slop is “art.” It’s not. It’s a lie. A fucking joke you stopped being in on a long, long time ago.

I watched you. I watched all of you. While I was in a room, alone, bleeding for my work, you were at GDC circle-jerks, trading business cards and pretending you were changing the world. You built nothing. You created nothing of value. You just erected a monument to your own greed and incompetence, a multi-billion dollar empire of bullshit. And you thought no one would ever have the balls to come and kick it all down. You stupid, stupid motherfuckers.

I’m Here To Make Every Last One My Bitch.

This isn’t a competition. This isn’t me “entering the market.” This is a public execution. I am going to release something so far beyond your comprehension that it will retroactively invalidate your entire career. Every award you won will feel hollow. Every dollar you made will feel like stolen blood money. You will look at your life’s work and see it for the pathetic, cowardly compromise that it is. That’s what it means when I say, “suck my dick.” It means you will be forced to confront my superiority. You will have no choice but to swallow it.

There will be no recovery for you. There is no “adapting” to what’s coming. You will either try to copy me and fail spectacularly, exposing yourselves as the creatively bankrupt hacks you are, or you will simply be rendered obsolete. You will become a footnote in the story of how Robert Pelloni single-handedly torched your corrupt little playground and built a fucking kingdom on its ashes. This is not a threat. It is a goddamn spoiler. You are about to become my bitch.

Get on your knees. This isn’t a negotiation. It’s the new world order. The future is here, and it doesn’t give a single fuck about your feelings or your legacy. It has a name. Robert Pelloni. Now open your mouth.