Recent reviews by Krugi

It's just mobile game for PC

Don't play in non-dedicated multiplayer

I'd rather wear wet socks for a week straight than finish this

The game says not to starve together but it didn't say anything about starving alone

Literally the worst game ever made

Pirates were always welcomed on the Barbary Coast. The area was always looking for new jobs, and there was a wild harbor full of potential opportunities for pirates, as well as opportunities for them.

The area was full of merchant vessels, some of them carrying valuable cargo from Spain and Italy. Along with ships carrying cannons, trunks and chests, they were the ones that transported goods all around the Mediterranean. It was a huge marketplace for pirates, because the merchants were hiring them for several reasons. The traders wanted to get rid of scurvy that they suffered with for years. They wanted pirates, because scurvy would keep sailors from having enough to eat.

If the merchants offered an extra reward, and they were able to grab that precious cargo for their side, they were instantly paid in gold or silver. At that time, the value of ships was much higher, so they wanted to buy those ships to carry valuable cargo.

The merchants wouldn’t hire scurvy-ridden pirates, and they didn’t want to lose the goods for their side.

I drew a card.

It was the Shredder.

Funny, I thought the Shredder was back with the Muppets.

I can see that as a t - shirt now.

But it was in a book.

I know now that it was just part of the game.

I still don't know what the Shredder would've done at my house.

All I know is that if he came, there was no possibility of me doing anything.

Even if I had wanted to fight back, I couldn't have.

I ran to the forest nearby.

The Shredder ran after me.

I couldn't believe what I had just seen.

It was like a stranger had just left the room in my house.

I have no idea how many times I ran through the forest, but I finally got away from the Shredder.

But I was still in a state of panic and anger.

I started heading back to my house when I saw a note under the rock.

I didn't know what to do with this.

So I thought that I would just show it to my parents.

I grabbed the note and ran back to my house.

I couldn't believe what I had seen.

I read it to my parents.

It was written by the Shredder, I think.

I started telling my story and I showed them the note.

I was hoping to explain that the Shredder had killed Bart, but the note didn't mean anything to my parents.

They just shook their heads and told me that I had just killed someone who was supposed to protect them and that I needed to get away from my house.

They said that if I stayed, the Shredder would probably send another person to kill me.

So I went back to my room and slammed the door behind me.

This whole time, I was trying to think of how to kill Bart and how I could do it.

I pulled the trigger. The bullet took a sharp left turn from where I aimed it. Bullet after bullet shot across the air and over the rooftop, breaking in midair. The bullet that hit the side of the gun was too heavy and metal for the plastic body to break, but I was still glad it would not penetrate the plastic body.

Gun after gun shattered against the pavement, breaking into pieces. The bullet after bullet exploded against the wall. Every hit of the gun was met with an echo of the first.

Tears filled the corners of my eyes, and my body went numb. Every single bullet pierced my opponent's soft, tasty flesh.

The first one hit my chest, sending me back into the concrete wall. As I hit the wall, I could smell the cool metal on the second bullet that hit my stomach. The smoke caused me to black out. The third bullet took a hold of the right side of my chest and hit the soft tissue below my rib cage. The bullet came back through the air to kill me.

I was alive. But I was dead. I was never shot before. I did not know how it felt.

The balloon was floating through the air. As it entered my territory I became enraged. How dare that balloon enter my home. It had to die.

I spotted my opponent and waited for the moment she would lower the balloon to my ground zero so I could attack. My mother laughed and I pretended to cry.

I tossed my stuffed tiger on the top of the family television and hid behind the cushions of my father's recliner.

My entire family knew I didn't believe in dragons or fairies. But the excitement of seeing a toy flying through the air as it chased after me while I ran through my house had me hooked.

Eventually my mother, without saying anything to me, tossed the rest of the air balloon in the trash. I never saw another one.

© 2018 Tribune Content Agency, LLC

Very engaging and difficult