From level 1 up until recently i've opened all of my boxes.
Life was simple, i woke up with the sun shining in my face, living life as intended, via gambling betting on myself. The birds chirped the song of apeasement whenever i clicked open. Men and Women and alike would flock to my presence. Children would look up to me, a role model.
But the corrupting forces of economy min-maxers in WarEra chat slowly eroded my strong chin and mind, with which i resisted the cold appeal of extra coin. Their toil hard and unceassing like morning wood the wave and tide. They wouldn't stop until i was like they.
The day i sold my first box i never guessed the consequences would appear so quickly.
A sudden appeal to my girlfriends underwear invaded my mind, and resistance was futile.
The call to shave my manliness away maddening.
Even my beard was not safe, after many years of growing, it too fell.
Worst of all, was the sudden need to start brewing my own IPA.
With each box i sold, the alpha in I receeded into corners of my mind previously unknown.
As i write this, i wonder, which version of myself has command of the words and mind.
Am i too far gone?