Warning: This poem has been created simply for my own amusement. If you are offended by this, good! That's the general idea.

Poem of Self-Amusement

It all began with that brand-new game,

Assassin’s Creed for Xbox.

Don’t care if you like PS3

And PC’s worse than firefox.

You began the game, sat in your chair,

Readied to be bored and unsatisfied.

However, that first glimpse of 1191 A.D.

Immediately threw you on the Assassin’s side.

Your skills were pathetic and climbing a mess,

Falling to your death occurred often.

Dying by the sword was a little bit harder

Since Ubisoft thought player skills had softened.

Still, you kept on, killing some peeps,

Deciding that Templars were evil.

Of course you ignored that you were a killer

‘Cause Templars are nothing but weevils.

And you, pathetic Assassin, claimed your land

Declared your country was ‘free’.

Of course, when someone asked what you meant,

You just mumbled that they couldn’t ‘see’.

This little player became a member

Of the Wikipedia for the Creed.

His first edits sucked in grammar and spelling

But he didn’t care; to edit was a need.

Our nooblet argued and theorised so much

He caught the eye of the Istrutorre.

Not for some good, of course, but

For his attempts at edits and English, for they

Were nothing but rubbish and useless as well

Vandalism, not meant but existing.

Our little nooblet ragequit and came back

To find his name ‘blocked’ from online listing.

So to you, little nooblet, defender of killers

When the block ends, come on back.

For we have great need for idiots like you

In amusement, which we lack.

Thankyou for reading, and remember, though a lot of this poem is true, our lack of amusement is also true. Keep on coming, vandals!

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