Hello, My name is Doctor Glenn Pierce, and by now you may have realized that I want to blow up the sun. You see, everyone who tries to tell me I'm wrong is either a woman, or a punk ass savant down-syndrome gifted child with a war robot. But, more often than not, the problem is not that the problem I face cannot be solved: The problem is that I've become so afraid of my daughter-of-god ex-wife that I refuse to come anywhere near the child ♥♥♥♥♥♥-soldiers. And so I do the same things again, and again, and again. And therein, of course, we find the mutilated corpse of a Dax soldier who wouldn't listen to me.

Your life will always be a struggle, and you will always have problems. But today, you had the chance to help me blow up the sun. Even though it meant turning your back on the entirety of all living species in the solar system, you thought outside the box - and stabbed me with my own sword, which hurt. Because you stabbed me, I forced you to split your mental persona in half, and communicate with an older (cooler) version of yourself over a very ♥♥♥♥♥♥ dinner. Because you spoke with an alternate reality elder of yourself, despite the fact it should likely have deleted you from existence, you found your way. In a few minutes, you'll be back on your Orbiter, and some part of you will say that none of the two-hundred plus hours you spent doing menial, destiny 2 public event-style tasks was worth it: So how could my boss fight and words of defeat mean anything? But - just like that one time I played chess with a corpse of my own making - I will call my ex wife a ♥♥♥♥♥, it will be super hilarious and ruin the pacing of the scene, and you will know its worth it. All you've got to do, is...uninstall...the game.

Hello, My name is Doctor Glenn Pierce, and by now you may have realized that I want to blow up the sun. You see, everyone who tries to tell me I'm wrong is either a woman, or a punk ass savant down-syndrome gifted child with a war robot. But, more often than not, the problem is not that the problem I face cannot be solved: The problem is that I've become so afraid of my daughter-of-god ex-wife that I refuse to come anywhere near the child retard-soldiers. And so I do the same things again, and again, and again. And therein, of course, we find the mutilated corpse of a Dax soldier who wouldn't listen to me. Your life will always be a struggle, and you will always have problems. But today, you had the chance to help me blow up the sun. Even though it meant turning your back on the entirety of all living species in the solar system, you thought outside the box - and stabbed me with my own sword, which hurt. Because you stabbed me, I forced you to split your mental persona in half, and communicate with an older (cooler) version of yourself over a very shitty dinner. Because you spoke with an alternate reality elder of yourself, despite the fact it should likely have deleted you from existence, you found your way. In a few minutes, you'll be back on your Orbiter, and some part of you will say that none of the two-hundred plus hours you spent doing menial, destiny 2 public event-style tasks was worth it: So how could my boss fight and words of defeat mean anything? But - just like that one time I played chess with a corpse of my own making - I will call my ex wife a bitch, it will be super hilarious and ruin the pacing of the scene, and you will know its worth it. All you've got to do, is...uninstall...the game.