Dead Pixels

Nicky.

Hey, Alison. How can I help?

The police are at the door and they're saying

they've had a report that you've murdered your entire family.

Oh.

OK.

Exquisite.

Simply exquisite.

HE GASPS

The actual police. Nicholas Kettle? This is he.

We had a call earlier this evening that you killed your entire family.

No, no, no, no. OK, this is about a girl, see?

Because I am currently being trolled by an international

consortium of griefers and gankers.

And what they've cooked up for me

here tonight is what's known as a swatting,

wherein the trolls phones the police, "Hello, police,

"Nicky's butchered his mum, dad and brother

"with a serrated utility knife."

And what they're then hoping for is that you will show up

and brutalise me.

Needless to say, very much in the opposite camp.

Says he, nervously eyeing the gentleman's truncheon.

Can we just come in and take a look? Be my guest.

No cadavers here.

What is that?! HE LAUGHS

I'm just kidding! I'm alone.

Ahh!

We just got swatted, Alison.

Still can't believe it. Absolutely buzzing.

They weren't a SWAT team, Nicky.

They were just two cretins with some notebooks.

Meg, one of them had a pepper spray, and he was really quite rude.

Wh...? Alison, why do you look and smell amazing?

Because Jay is coming over.

So if we have anything gamey or weird to talk about,

could we possibly do it now? No, nothing, actually.

Oh, I am thinking of resetting my body clock to

Philippine Central time. Oh, yeah, he's doing that. Right.

And why is he doing that? Just for the weekend.

I fail to see the big deal, Alison. And, you know, this is troll wars.

I am at war with The Disciples.

DVT happens to live in Manila, ergo in order for me to grief him,

the optimal griefing experience, 5pm is now bedtime.

Brilliant, so that...

That's done, and there's no need to ever mention that ever again.

It's cool, Alison. You won't even see us, OK?

Because Endgame content is going live,

so we're hitting the Silkworm Server for a raid.

Again, Silkworm Server, it's just that sort of jargon that

it would be really great to just get out of the way now. Yep.

It's raiding time. We're talking giant PvE bosses in squads of four.

Be still my quivering gonad.

Oof. Oh, it's so weird, isn't it,

how we're all in the dating pool now.

You and Jay, me and Daisy, Meg and tradesmen Greg.

Gah, it's funny how we're so the same.

Oh, hang on, are you going out with your one now?

Well, no, I'm not legally going out with her.

I don't know, but I am attempting to inveigle myself that way hence,

slip it under the radar, like the sailor song Greenbelt Land.

How is everything with your one?

Yeah, my one is fine, thank you, as far as I can tell. I hear that.

Cos who really knows what goes on in their minds.

They are like buffalo, aren't they? Totally unreadable.

Yeah, no, totally.

Did I tell you my one's staying in a condo in Salzburg

with three gay guys?

You did tell me that, yes, once just now

and I think previously on the 18th, 19th and 20th of March.

She's a New Zealander, but she's currently backpacking

extensively around Europe while she finishes her indie game.

It's a sideways scrolling platform

where you play as Frida Kahlo's prosthetic leg.

I think we're probably ready to nut, me and my one. Oh, yeah? Yeah.

So if you hear what sounds like nutting coming from my room,

then it's probably just me getting my nut with my one.

So weird, isn't it? It's like a competition, isn't it?

Who will nut first? Battle of the flatmates.

Yes, I don't think I want to be any part of that, but thank you.

All right. Massive glass of Squash, let's raid.

Shit on my dinner.

What the fuck is this now? Oh, my God. That's the queue.

That's the queue for the raid boss.

IT GROWLS

So hang on, we have to physically queue up just to kill him?

This is bullshit!

If I wanted to stand in line for three hours to have a fight,

I'd go to a fucking nightclub.

I would put on a pair of jeans with some rips in

and I would line up outside the Avenue Bar on Bridge Street

to have my face punched in by a man from Brixworth

with his top button done up! This game always lets me down.

It's like being in an abusive relationship,

but instead of being hit on the head with a saucepan

because I've been talking when Top Gear's on,

I just get endless shitty content.

In fact, you know what, I quit.

Meg, this is a timed exclusive.

We don't kill that panda tonight, we regret it the rest of our dumb,

fucking lives. Fine, then, Usman! Usman, who's this guy?

Relax, that's just Dr Larry. He's my therapist. Your therapist?

So here's the thing, it transpires my wife Zara

is very active on the subreddit Dead Bedrooms.

It's a forum for couples whose sex lives are in the toilet.

Cos apparently once every two months isn't quite enough

for little Miss greedy guts.

Anyway, as part of our circle of healing,

I agreed to attend a solo therapy session with Dr Larry.

You're there with him now? Oh, sure, I am in the lion's den.

Now, I can't remember if it was his idea or my idea to play

Kingdom Scrolls during the session... It was your idea, Usman.

Either way, here we are.

I said I'd show him around so he can figure out if I have a problem.

Spoiler alert, I'm about to line up for four hours

to shoot magic arrows at an endangered species.

Oo-oo-oh. He's writing that down.

I guess Usman just said something incriminating.

Hey, Dr Larry, I hope you've got lots of paper,

cos there is plenty more where that came from.

Ugh! This is going to take hours.

DISTANT MOOING, AIR WOOSHES

UGH!

So, Nicky, I see they're still trolling you. Oh, very much so.

Ordering pizzas, sending taxis, the police,

and now they've started dropping cows on my head.

They've also started hitting me up with voice commands. No idea how.

You look like pancakes. You look like pancakes.

You look like pancakes... I mean, hats off.

It's incredibly effective cos even though I know

I don't look like pancakes, give it six solid hours and, uh, well...

You look like pancakes. ..a guy starts to wonder.

Hey, everyone! I bought a vanity pet!

It was 15 pounds and he doesn't do anything and I fucking love him.

Watch this.

Nah, I thought he do something, but he doesn't.

He doesn't do anything and I fucking love him.

Also I was getting a bit bored up here on my own.

Where are you, Russell?

Oh, it's hobby night, so Annette's asked me just

to wait in the bedroom. Why is that, then?

Cos in her spare time she likes to hunt paedophiles.

Yeah, she tracks predators online

and shames them on Facebook, bless her.

She's just having a Thai curry now texting some monster from Rotherham.

KNOCKS ON DOOR

Greg's here. I'm in a queue, Alison, for the raid boss.

So if you could just keep him busy for like four or five hours.

Five hours?!

How? I don't know, just give him the playing cards out of the drawer.

Fridge magnets. Yeah, let him play with the fridge magnets.

Can you just come, please? Fine! Honestly.

Wh...?

What are you doing? Schmuck bait for Greg. Schmuck bait?

Just car mags and nuts, keep him sweet while I queue.

Just a little distraction.

Sorry, you're laying bait for your boyfriend?

I'm being thoughtful, Alison.

Cars, they're his fucking favourite!

He drives one. Nuts, bloody loves them.

So while gobbling down on nuts, while reading about Toyotas, yeah,

ooh, what a nightmare.

I think he seems really nice. MEG SIGHS

You should open yourself up a bit, Meg. OK, Alison.

I have two objectives for this evening.

Number one, finish the raid. Number two, have romantic sex with Greg.

I want to slay the panda, but equally harvest the seed.

Now, I don't know how much you know about gender and feminism,

but women can have it all. The panda and the fucky-fucky-bang-bang.

But you need to line it up,

and that's all I'm doing right here with the car mags and the nuts.

I'm getting my ducks in a row so I can then either fuck them

or kill them.

Honestly, Meg, I just don't quite know where to put any of this.

Usman, hold my place in the queue. Just send him in.

That's Daisy! Switching to private chat. Daisy, hey!

Sorry, I'm just about to light up a pretty considerable spliff.

Oh, yeah, yeah, same here.

Just spliffing it up to the megamax.

By God's ankles, I am higher than a cat's back.

So I was thinking, uh, if it's not totally lame,

we could maybe have a picnic. If you'd care to spawn on me.

Oh, sandwiches! That's so fucking cool. Thank you.

I made them myself. Mm. They're really tasty.

And so anyway, Nicky, I've been thinking, and...

HONKING

Great, I see the trolls are back.

And he's wearing what appears to be a strap on bratwurst.

Just ignore them, they'll get bored eventually.

HONKING

Daisy, I'm really sorry.

I just feel like this is maybe ruining the whole vibe.

Nicky, it's fine. I'm fine with it. It's totally, totally fine.

HONKING

Actually, you know what, it is a bit weird.

So I'm probably just going to go. Daisy, wait! I'll come with you.

I just think I need to get away from all of this.

So, yeah. Bye, Nicky. HONKING

THEY CHEER

DISTANT MOOING, AIR WOOSHES