EPTI forced myself to stop sticking my fists up my nostrils and take in my surroundings. There were multiple computers lined up against the wall, and in them sat hunched, skeletal figures. At first I was not even sure if they were people until i heard the click-clacking sound of keyboards, as recap after recap was relentlessly pumped out from their minds. Mattresses were scattered around the dirty floor, covered in blood, sweat, tears and God knows what else. While I had seen some disgusting things in my time (I'm sure you all remember my article on KMD), nothing prepared me for the other...items on the floor. Hands lay there, the wrists broken and shattered. I would hazard a guess that these hands belonged to the former employees of this mad regime, and the wrists were strained so much the hands actually dropped off. From there, the employee was sacrificed to the 3 Old Gods of Nazgul, Meat and Rekrul. How do I know that you ask? Because the mutilated corpses lay there, and no one payed any heed to them. I walked towards the hunchbacks sat in the chairs, endlessly working away to provide content for the hungry masses. I tapped one on the shoulder, but I got no response. A nameplate on his monitor told me his name was Fionn. On closer inspection, he seemed to be asleep.
I moved onto the next desk, where I found a young fellow by the name of Zealously. He seemed to have temporarily stopped working to stare at a picture of the popular programer Life. He seemed to be grunting under his breath, and whether or not that was out of joy or pain it was hard to tell. The other work stations were empty, the employees must be dead or taking their 30 minutes of sleep they are allowed for each week. Heyoka kept us moving onto the back of the room, where the head honcho of this horrible hellhole waited. His name is Waxangel, and he sat on a gold-adorned throne, with 3 monitors surrounding him. It was rumoured he had watched every game of Starcraft ever played, and you could see why. His head snapped back and forth between the screens, taking in all the information. His grotesque 6 arms which sprouted out his back flew across the keyboard, editing the peons articles. At his right hand sat a man dressed purely in grey linen, with a shaved head. He seemed to be playing chess with himself, and Heyoka later told me his name was monk. My nervous tour guide then cracked some joke about monk losing his period, which I found utterly distasteful, having just lost my own. After one last sweep of the smelly, sordid room which revealed little more than the sleeping writers, I decided to depart. I originally had planned to stay and experience what it was like to write under these conditions, but I feared my willpower was not strong enough.
I hope this article has shown you, Teamliquid is not perfect. It is a great hulking beast, and like any beast there is some beauty. However, we must not be fooled into complacency by the beauty, and we must stay ever vigilant against the likes of Waxangel and his henchman. I am hatching a plan to destroy this decrepit organisation from the inside, I will reveal more at a later date. For now, I say spare a moment for those who are forced to work under these horrific conditions. They are few, and their burden is great. I'll do what I can, and I ask that you do the same. Good night and God bless.
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Nothing in this article should be taken as fact, and should probably be ignored entirely
