To whomever thought up that part in the Ringed City where you run from the second bonfire to the third, I hope your life is plagued by small inconveniences that slowly drive you mad. Why not something more extreme, like death or eternal punishment? Because I am petty and vindictive when I'm pissed. And guess what, ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥? I'M PISSED!


I hope that whenever your favorite songs come on the radio, there's just enough static so that you can make out what the song is, but not enough for you to actually enjoy it.

I hope that you consistently underestimate how long to microwave your food, so that you never know exactly how long to put something in for, so that you either get underwhelmingly tepid food or blisteringly hot food.

I hope your eyeglasses get a single scratch that doesn't obstruct your vision but that you notice when you wear them, and I hope the scratch is faint enough so that you don't have an excuse to buy a new pair.

I hope that you discover a new phobia.

I hope that one side of your headphones cuts out every so often, but only on random days, like every 17th day or any time I curse your existence in the privacy of my own thoughts.

I hope that you never notice your Freudian slips.

I hope that you never find that one movie/book/TV show/game/song that is entirely your style and that you would love, but that it doesn't get enough publicity for you to ever know it exists.


...
Otherwise, it's a great game. Still infuriating, but not nearly as much as the f*ckhead mentioned here is.

To whomever thought up that part in the Ringed City where you run from the second bonfire to the third, I hope your life is plagued by small inconveniences that slowly drive you mad. Why not something more extreme, like death or eternal punishment? Because I am petty and vindictive when I'm pissed. And guess what, bitches? I'M PISSED! I hope that whenever your favorite songs come on the radio, there's just enough static so that you can make out what the song is, but not enough for you to actually enjoy it. I hope that you consistently underestimate how long to microwave your food, so that you never know exactly how long to put something in for, so that you either get underwhelmingly tepid food or blisteringly hot food. I hope your eyeglasses get a single scratch that doesn't obstruct your vision but that you notice when you wear them, and I hope the scratch is faint enough so that you don't have an excuse to buy a new pair. I hope that you discover a new phobia. I hope that one side of your headphones cuts out every so often, but only on random days, like every 17th day or any time I curse your existence in the privacy of my own thoughts. I hope that you never notice your Freudian slips. I hope that you never find that one movie/book/TV show/game/song that is entirely your style and that you would love, but that it doesn't get enough publicity for you to ever know it exists. ... Otherwise, it's a great game. Still infuriating, but not nearly as much as the f*ckhead mentioned here is.