postags

on US 717 Fat Farm I'd just looted my first map and compass from the supermarket in Polana and was pretty excited, and had retired to a prone position amidst a bunch of trees, hoping to idle for a minute and drink a soda irl. I came back a few minutes later and saw YOU ARE DEAD plastered on my monitor. I respawned in Solnichny and busted my ass to get back to my corpse, hoping you hadn't looted it too badly, or at least left behind my can of spaghettios. My czech pack full of morphine and blood bags was gone, as was my einfeld, and my spaghettios, but you'd left behind an AS50, 10 clips, a ghillie suit, gps, toolbox, knife, hatchet, matches, a coyote backpack, and one grilled meat. My name is Yung 2 Wieners. I don't know who you are, why you killed me, or why you spent so long watching me crawl around in the trees so that I could drink an irl soda without logging off (my bad), but I have one thing to say to you: thanks for the stuff.