Omnikuken glanced at the clock on his computer; it was getting late, he thought as he nursed a shallow glass of whiskey, the condensate interrupted by the pattern of his fingers, the ice cubes depleted, diluting the surrounding spirit, analogous to his own diluted spirits. "The comments just keep coming," he mumbled as the bewildering and comically ridiculous comments arrayed themselves on his glowing screen. Omnikuken was a frequent commentator on the The Genesis Order thread. No one knows if it's the game's mass appeal, it's frequent updates, or it's accessibility, but one thing was for sure; it was, without a doubt, replete with comments from the stupidest, most computer illiterate, and English challenged knuckle scrapping troglodytes F95zone had to offer. From dumbasses querying about dumbells, to seemingly drug induced wild formatting errors, they kept Ominkuken busy along with his compatriot
sixart and like-minded individuals.
As Omnikuken's cacophony of rapid keystrokes rambled on, in a near by town, little Tommy peered at his Galaxy S20. The Genesis Order happened to be latest game with which he satiated his teenage hormonal urges. A fairly bright kid, matters were not helped by his often absent father and his negligent wine-mom, mom. Tommy hadn't been taking his Ritalin, and in manic spree of energy, pleaded with the board to help him find that ever elusive dumbell, which anyone in a more calm and rational state of mind would: A. find it themselves or B. search for the answer before asking. The question flashed before Omnikuken's eyes, eliciting a snarky response, and a butthurt retort from Tommy. Omnikuken recognized the username, this wasn't his first infraction; as even though Tommy's own father had chosen work and his mother likewise had chosen mimosas and eat-pray-and-love with her friends over Tommy, the family computer was still a no-go, forcing Tommy to covertly play on his phone. Subsequently, he had badgered the board on inane android related questions to the ire of Omnikuken and especially Sixart. Pulling out all the stops, Omnikuken mercilessly mentioned this fact to poor little Tommy. Tears pouring down his eyes, he dashed out his room into the vacant master bedroom and found his fathers revolver, aimed it to the back of his throat, and pulled the trigger. A deafening noise and a violent splatter of bone and gore was the result, the sanguinous mess coating a near by painting.
On the other side of the world, Prajeet had just gotten home working as janitor in a Mumbai telemarketer's office building. The scowl still hadn't left his face. Earlier, Prajeet a yokel transplanted from Bihar, had smiled and tried to make small talk with Lakshmi, an attractive 20 something office worker, with the result of her coolly and awkwardly rebuffing his advances. "That stuck up Brahman bitch wouldn't dare be so condescending if it were just her and me and my mates alone on a train," he sneered, followed quickly by his face slumping into despondence as he thought about his lot in life. He sighed as he picked up his phone with its screen smeared in cum and ghee, and proceeded to play his only solace, The Genesis Order. However, his tranquility would soon be interrupted, an impasse insurmountable had taken place during his gameplay, and he needed answers now. Prajeet cobbled an inquiry in English, always a difficult task even more so in his coomer mind haze. Mrs. Chowdhury had tried her very best as his English teacher back in Bihar, but to no avail, as Prajeet had always been more interested in cricket and the neighbor's gaur. A confusing mismatch of grammer and vocabulary appeared before Omnikuken's eyes. He understood the gist of it, but the sheer stupidity and lack of any forethought of its progenitor drove him to write quite an off-putting response. Justified, yes, but off-putting, none the less. Prajeet couldn't quite decipher the reply, interpreting it to be even more insulting and unhelpful then it really was. Matters were also compounded by the fact that Prajeet was unaware of the availability of online English to Hindi translation software. In his rage he ran out of his dwelling into a busy Mumbai road. His innate Indian ability to dodge the chaos of Mumbai's traffic had been suppressed by his anger and his coomer high, and an overcrowded, even by Indian standards, bus hit him at full speed.
In a small town in a backwater county in Missouri, lived Billy Bob. A product of consecutive generations of cousin fucking, Billy's mental capacity was already found wanting even before factoring in the chronic and habitual drug use. The singular occupant of a broken down trailer, Billy Bob played the Genesis Order on a dated computer that a relative with an IQ higher than room temperature had set up, utilizing the wifi of a geriatric couple a few trailers down from his. Billy Bob was drawn to Genesis Order as are other cretins of his ilk, the same way flies are drawn to shit. He was also a board frequenter, posting such things as asking how to drag and copy folders, what is the current version of game, where is x located, among a host of other questions easily searched and answered, and questions easily solved by oneself, if one weren't a drug-addled moron. On this fateful night, our subject transgressed even more than what was usual by posting a doltish question incomprehensibly formatted that stumped even the great Omnikuken. Omnikuken was at a loss of what this idiot was even trying to communicate, so he dryly and somewhat condescendingly gave a response. However, Billy was too stupid to even vaguely understand the slight. He jacked himself vigorously and fell asleep. A week later his cousin came over to cook some meth, and in the process fatally poisoned themselves.
The whiskey now gone, Omnikuken finished the last post of the night. A brief thought slipped into his mind, 'Insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results,' "Am I going insane?", he pondered, as his jaw slowly and resolutely set. "No", he thought, "I am the bulwark that stands against the shuffling brain-dead zombie masses trying to turn this into a board of chaos." And with that, he powered down his computer.
On that most fortuitous of nights, Omnikuken had not only been responsible for snuffing out the life of a budding school shooter, but also a ravenous would-be gang rapist, and hillbilly meth cooker, the later a little bit dubious of a claim as the death had taken place much later, from seeming less input on Ominikuken's part. Irregardless, Omnikuken had rid the board of miscreants, and by extension the world.
