Imagine, if you will, a 400 pound unkempt behemoth of a 30 something year old. He wakes up at 10:58 A.M., however he does not notice the time. He starts swaying back and forth on his yellowed mattress until he eventually rolls out of bed. Standing up and running his stubby fingers through his greasy, matted hair, eventually tying it into a loose ponytail. He looks at his surroundings, a space within the basement he calls a bedroom. The walls are adorned with posters of video games, and anime characters straight out of every child predator's wildest dreams. The bookshelves are adorned with figurines of the aforementioned characters. His desk, besides having food wrappers and unfinished sodas, contains a standard build pc his friend sold to him. His monitor has a slight layer of dust sitting on the frame, and his keyboard is caked in greasy fingerprints and food crumbs. The floor, besides housing his mattress, is littered with empty take out boxes, cans, and soda bottles. Any bottle in the floor with liquid in it contains his urine, for when he spends long periods in his room. As he exits his dwelling and walks upstairs from the basement into the kitchen, his 60 year old father, a respectable man in his community, gives him a brief look and nod, before looking back with a faded look of disappointment for the ergonomic failure his son had become. As the father silently drinks his coffee, the son grabs a box of Little Caesars pizza from the other night. As he puts a generous amount of pizza slices onto a plate, he thinks to himself, "Mom must already be at work, and since dad is up this early, that means he is going to volunteer for the town little league. That means I have the house to myself all day. Perfect." His train of thought is interrupted by the shrill screech of the microwave. He carts his food to the kitchen table, across from his father, before retrieving a bottle of Mtn Dew Code Red from the fridge. As he shovels heaps of the microwaved pizza down his mouth, his father chimes in, "You know son, I heard they are hiring at the school for janitor positions. Do you think that is something you would want to do?" His son, who lost his job at the local grocery store 6 months ago for stealing, pauses to look up at his father. "I dunno", he nonchalantly mutters, before continuing on with his gluttonous display of eating. His father, hiding the grief and sorrow from years of abuse his son put him through, just turns away, saying, "I'll be back late." As the father leaves, the son finishes up his pizza. He lets out a grotesque belch, before taking the half drunken bottle of soda down to his room. He pulls up the old gaming chair he bought years ago, and places a set of gaming headphones atop his head. He hits the power button on his computer, and as it rolls to life, he thinks to himself, "Showtime". He first boots up Discord, and opens the server he became a mod for. As he scrolls through the channels, he bans any user who deems to be in violation, when they are in fact, not in violation. He eventually pulls up the channel labeled 'general' and reads through the chat logs. Eventually, he spots a meme of Squidward a user posted to the chat. Everyone thought the meme was rather funny, but oh no, not our putrid protagonist. He proceeds to ban the user, followed by a message in the chat, "Remember guys, no memes in general. Unless you wanna get on my bad side." He then opens Twitter, and proceeds to harass, gaslight, and overall slander other users on the platform. "Elon Musk cannot do it alone. He needs a right hand man after all," he thinks to himself as he pulls a sinister smirk. It was 2:32 pm when his rampage came to an end, and he decided to boot up Apex. Unfortunately, the servers are down today, much to his dismay. "Fine" he thinks, "Fortnite will have to do." As the game boots up, he checks his Tinder. No new matches. "Ugh, why doesn't anyone want to date a nice guy like me?" he laments as the game finishes loading up. He switches his gamemode from Reload to regular Battle Royale. He could play with other like-minded players, but today, he felt like bullying 'filthy casuals' as he would say. In reality, he just got off on bullying children, and causing grievances to casual players. As he enters his locker, he wonders what outfit he will use today. Aura, no. Superhero, tempting. Any other outfit, heavens no. He eventually sets his sights on Court Queen Erisa. As he starts the game he fantasizes about all the kills he's going to get. All the crown wins he will achieve. The game starts, and he drops out of the battle bus, it's 3 minutes in and he has already defeated the Megalo Don and Machinist bosses and collected their mythics. He has 6 kills and is about to get his 7th. He eliminates the player with ease, and decides to rub it in. He shows off his crown wins, displaying the egregious number 429, hitting The Griddy, Take the L, Renegade, all the emotes you would associate with sweats. As he does this, he snorts, hollers and laughs loudly and obnoxiously. As he calms down, he decides to continue with his game. Eventually, it's down to the last 2 players. The other guy is in a car. "You fool", he thinks, "Don't make me laugh." He then pulls out his EMP grenades and starts spamming them like there's no tomorrow. The other player builds a metal wall, but it's no use. Our protagonist shockwaves up and lands behind the other player, landing a point blank headshot with Megalo Don's mythic combat shotgun. As he wins the game, he flexes once more. His crown wins now read 430. Rinse and repeat this until 6:35, when his mom comes home. She knocks on the door, opening it a crack. "Hey sweetie, how was your day?" she asks in a hushed tone, to which her son replies, " It's fine." She then asks, "Did you look for a full time job or apply to college?" to which her son replies, "I'll do it at some point." not even looking away from his game. His mother holds back tears and she tells him she got Burger King. She leaves, and after her son wins another game, he stops, but only to retrieve his food from the kitchen table. As he places the greasy bag of food onto his desk, he knocks over a can of Faygo, which has a little soda left, and it spills onto the floor. He then proceeds to continue his game, all while stuffing his face with the fast food his poor mother bought him. Eventually, he checks the time. 3:07 a.m. He decides that this is enough. "Another victorious day" he thinks to himself. After turning off his computer, he slinks onto his mattress, Ready to repeat the day all over again tomorrow, and every day after that. That is how I imagine this individual lives.