You are sitting at your computer on a dark and forlorn night, mouse in hand, fingers fervently clicking on the keyboard with nails bitten away and trimmed to aid finger-to-key aerodynamics. Suddenly an error message pops up on the screen with an uncerimonous DUNK sound. You lean in to read what it says when SLAM a hammer comes flying through the screen and beats on your face incessantly until you can taste your own skull. In a pool of blood, teeth and bone fragments, you lie contemplating with your breath ragged and fading, your last thoughts wafting through your mind like so many thin trails of smoke in the wind, wondering incessantly why this had to happen.

The answer, of course, is that you didn't buy this game. That's what happened. Idiot.

You are sitting at your computer on a dark and forlorn night, mouse in hand, fingers fervently clicking on the keyboard with nails bitten away and trimmed to aid finger-to-key aerodynamics. Suddenly an error message pops up on the screen with an uncerimonous DUNK sound. You lean in to read what it says when SLAM a hammer comes flying through the screen and beats on your face incessantly until you can taste your own skull. In a pool of blood, teeth and bone fragments, you lie contemplating with your breath ragged and fading, your last thoughts wafting through your mind like so many thin trails of smoke in the wind, wondering incessantly why this had to happen. The answer, of course, is that you didn't buy this game. That's what happened. Idiot.