Game 4, Thread 3. Overflow Overflow Overflow

This game won't end. Passively aggressively reccing everything. I'm tired. You are tired. Let's just call the whole thing off.

The above is for your listening pleasure. The song of storms takes. It never gives. We are all prisoners. This is our penance, our curse.

There will be no rest, there will be no victory. Only tired losers, no matter the outcome.

I don't know whether to say I am proud of you who have remained, or question your choice to stay.

Regardless, we go on.

Here we go. We got this. I think...