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We have glimpsed the end of days.
Every rage and cancer will coalesce and collapse into the infinite horror, and our bloodless husks will scream unintelligibly into the unknown, beyond saving, beyond feeling, bereft of rational thought. We are damned, we are lost, we are ruined. When our souls have been obliterated, we shall step away from our computers. We shall step outside, and look to the skies, and in the blank white abyss above the horizon we will see a giant, world-spanning cock, drawn in mspaint, an ungodly entity born from our horrid game, a testament to the great void of intellect the world has become, and we shall suffer the wrath of reality's steward, tearing apart the physical world to pass judgement upon us for what we have done.