Long time since I've written one of these, guess we'll see if I con still do it.
First off, this story is dedicated to all my friends from the MBs, but especially those I've lost all CONtact with. And also to all of ours childhood, which is fast slipping away.
Disclaimer stuff:
There will be users in this story. A lot of em are not active here. I am not planning on making this story particularly accurate to some users, due to their roles being slightly villainish, but mostly because I didn't know a lot of them that well. You'll catch on later. Anyways, please don't be offended if you feel I misCONstrued somebody in here. I'm not writing to be true to life, I'm writing to make a good story.
We always get games in South America two years behind the rest of the world. It’s not because we’re backwards and behind; it’s because we con’t afford them till they come out on the black market.
By the black market, I mean the squat, dingy old military compound that houses the gaming store. It was originally black, but has since been covered in graffiti, much like the rest of the town. Much like the rest of the world, if the internet is any judge. People have many opinions to express, and seemingly the best way to do it is by spray-painting them on the side of a building, train car, or yourself, if you’re an extremist.
Anyways, in case you’re not acquainted with the time period, welcon to the year 2047. We’ve experienced five world wars, three of which happened in my lifespan. I served in the last one for about twenty minutes, before somebody leaded my leg and I retired on pension. Just kidding, they don’t give out pension.
The world is a horrible place, not sure if it is wherever, whenever you are.
I live in the newly-founded republic of Quantatia. In the local dialect, that is something conpletely unrepeatable. I’m fairly certain the people who named the place knew what they were doing.
Oh, there was also a plague. Wiped out most of civilization. It didn’t make it up past the panama, but yeah, everybody below that either got smashed or didn’t. Most were the former.
But hey, we’re coming back. It’s just that, well, everybody hates each other. Trust issues and so on. Imagine that.
So nobody is extending a helping hand to us in the miserable abode of South America. Luckily, bugs are edible down here, and we’re resilient. We’ll live, just so long as there’s wifi.
![[derp]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/YqNTPqyQUocVMYXZgUAI.png)
