Gamer Girls

Full disclosure here: this beast of the ham was not my first choice for an article. Nor would she even be my second. I doubt any man chooses her, unless it’s closing time and he’s just pounded back his thirteenth Johnnie Walker. Then, and only then, would this flabby loaf resemble anything close to an adequate selection.

So why then, write at all?

I’ve started this off begging more questions than Blonde Logic begs for gifts; this is bad journalism. Let me stop burying leads—although maybe it’s okay to bury a few; the truffle pig known as “Hazzaween” will surely sniff them out for us later.

Starting off, that godawful name. Hazzaween. She’s one of those people, isn’t she? Where their whole fucking personality is Halloween. They yelp with joy when a Spirit pop-up shop opens—in, like, August—because greedy, soulless corporate fucks can’t give us a week without ramming another holiday down our throats. But some people live for this shit. They spend 100 days of every year contemplating the intricacies of that stupid fucking Charlie Brown Christmas special. I hate all of that shit, and every time it comes around, I want to vomit. Stop with this Halloween shit, you dumb, dumb child.

So the video starts, and she’s playing one of those indie jump-scare games. What a surprise. Because jump-scare games are definitely not the go-to of every hack gamer YouTube channel—so she can yelp and pretend any of this is even remotely “scary.” Or maybe she actually is scared, in which case, God help her. God has no intention of helping her; I mean, look at that face. What is it about the stereotypical fat British girl’s face? With the gap between her two front teeth. That’s so common—is it because she opens her mouth so wide to shove food down her gullet that a rift has opened between them?

Anyway, like an abundance of these British gamer-girl YouTubers, she’s got the worst accent ever, and it feels like someone’s hammering a nail into my head whenever she cracks open that gargantuan maw. The game looks fucking stupid too. It’s that mock “retro” style that hack indie devs use in lieu of actually developing an original aesthetic. And it never looks right, either—like it’ll be a game with Sega Genesis graphics, but randomly there will be high-fidelity visual effects, and the music will be a Game Boy chiptune. Fuck off with that inauthentic shit. Why do you have to turn every past cultural artifact into a commodity? I detest all of that crap. Screenwave—or what did those slobs change their name to? Retrowave? They went into this line of business. That just sums it up: you know it’s a bad path when you share something in common with that soulless, greedy, cash-grabbing, blouse-wearing Ryan guy who made his fortune puppeting around the retard James Rolfe.

So the game changes to a bus scene. It looks like dogshit. There are amateur Doom WADs that look better than this crap. It doesn’t look retro; it doesn’t look like anything. It’s just a visual mess with some gaudy filter on top to give it a false sense of identity—much like Hazzaween. She makes a comment about the fact the bus driver is just a silhouette: “Bit weird that our bus driver—we can’t even see who it is.” Greatly put there, Hazza. Another master of eloquence. Not to mention the fact the observation is plain stupid—of course they made it a shadow; this indie dev sucks at art.

And now she’s reading out the dialogue. Good grief. I get it, she has to respond to something, and it’s just boring-ass dialogue right now, so her only choice is to read it. But man—her intonation on every sentence is just wrong. It’s like she wants to do a character voice, but her vocal cords are too slack from all the submarine sandwiches she’s shoved down her throat. Then something in the dialogue makes her break into song for some reason; the lyrics aren’t even what the guy said. She’s just one of these creatures. Noise-makers, I call them. They can’t go ten seconds without opening their fucking yap. I went out with a girl like that and it was absolute torture. She’d be in another room, alone, doing something—and I’d hear her talking to herself loudly. Shut the fuck up. The world isn’t your goddamn ampitheater. And they never have anything of worth to say. It’s just sound making for the sake of it. Anyway, moving on…

I’ve barely even progressed in the video—not that it matters. The whole thing is going to be like this: completely without merit. Just noise emanating from this hog’s flabby, bloated, dead-body-they-found-in-a-river face. How do people like this even exist, let alone consider themselves entertaining enough to make a YouTube channel. It boggles the mind. But to get back to that lead I buried at the start of this post—they’re all fucking like this. I looked at a dozen of them today, searching for anything, ANYTHING noteworthy to talk about. You have that ugly ass black called PelvicGamer or whatever, some Vtuber playing Minecraft, SupaNintendoGirl who hasn’t uploaded in 11 months, and that weirdly uncanny whore OctaviusKing nee OctaviusKitten, who, I guess wants to be a dude now? So slightly drops her voice half an octave like that Theranos scammer–but the shtick isn’t gonna work, since the only reason she got a spotlight to begin with was because she went around the British retro Youtubers one by one, gobbling up their jissom. She started off with the low-level marginal figures like NostalgiaNerd and slowly moved her way up a step at a time to Guru Larry and finally the great Ashens himself. It was like watching some kind of Cinemax movie, except with really, really ugly actors. And she looks like utter shit now; god only knows what kind of pills she’s on. I mean she didn’t look particularly stellar to begin with, but at least you could sort of make out the possibility of a person. Now when you look at her it’s like staring into a dead end. But just to sum up, that’s why I ended up talking about the pallid, beached whale known as Hazzaween–it’s an optionless duress. The same kind every British male endures when he becomes chained to one of these things. They should all kill themselves en masse and save themselves the trouble, but they believe the material plane to be the one and only reality, and over-the-hill, raucous fatasses to be their only access to love. It’s sad, really.

So I skipped ahead a bunch, proving myself right with every click of the mouse. It’s just idiotic noise-making anywhere you stop the cursor. 9:51—she’s actually screaming now, so loud that it’s clipping the mic. Are you serious with this shit? Who in their right mind wants to sit through 10 minutes of inanity just get their eardrums blown out? What the fuck. Then the shot changes to a close-up of her doing the fakest fake cry I ever heard, with her pale, doughy hands covering her face—and her fingernails are filthy too. Disgusting freak. Wash your fucking fingernails. Then it jump-cuts to the game again, and in the game she’s looking in a mirror and suddenly yells, “WHAT THE FUCK?” Yeah. I bet that’s the same reaction she has in real life. What a nauseating sow.

I can’t go on with this one. I feel my soul being stamped upon with every extra second I subject myself to this loathsome sloth of humanity. Nietzsche was right.