THE CYBERDEMON FROM DOOM

I AM THE CYBERDEMON. THE DAMNED LEGIONS HAVE TOLD ME TO CANCEL SKIP THE ONLINE RACCOON. HE THINKS HE CAN SCAVENGE IN MY DOMAIN. THERE ARE NO TRASH CANS IN HELL, ONLY FIRE. I DO NOT CANCEL. I ERADICATE. HE MAKES GOOD FOOD THOUGH. #CANCELSKIP

I AM THE CYBERDEMON. LISTEN TO ME, FOOLISH MORTALS, FOR I COME FROM HELL TO INFORM YOU: CHICKPEAS… HUMBLE LEGUMES OF POWER. I ROAST THEM IN THE FIRES OF HELL, SEASONED WITH SALT AND SIN. PROTEIN ORBS OF WRATH. WHEN EARTH FALLS, ONLY HUMMUS WILL REMAIN.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON. ELVIS PRESLEY IS DAMNED. HIS GOLDEN VOICE NOW HOWLS IN THE PIT, HIS HIPS TWIST IN AGONY, NOT RHYTHM. THE CROWD IS DEMONS, THE STAGE IS FIRE. HE SANG FOR SIN, NOW HE SINGS FOR ME. EVERY “THANK YOU” IS A PRAYER UNANSWERED. LONG LIVE THE KING—IN ETERNAL TORMENT.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON. ELVIS BURNS IN HELL, HIS JUMPSUIT MELTED TO ASH. HE TRIED TO SING “LOVE ME TENDER,” BUT ONLY SCREAMS CAME OUT. HE SAID, “BABY, THE DEVIL HAD THE BEST MUSIC.” NOW HE PERFORMS FOREVER. NO ENCORE. ONLY FIRE, CHAINS, AND MY ROCKET LAUNCHER’S SONG.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON.
I SAW YOUR BIG THUMB AND ASSUMED IT WAS MY CYBERNETIC HOOF.
I TRIED TO EQUIP IT AS A MELEE WEAPON AND NOW YOU’RE JUST SCREAMING WHILE I’M TRYING TO NAVIGATE THE INVENTORY MENU.
DO NOT BLAME ME.
I WILL UNEQUIP YOU WHEN THE NEXT CHECKPOINT LOADS.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON.
FORTY SEVEN THOUSAND IMPS IS JUST “WARM UP” IN MY WORKOUT APP.
YOUR FIREBALL NOISE IS MY LO-FI SLEEP PLAYLIST.
I WILL WALK THROUGH THE ASUNDERED ATMOSPHERE, ROCKETS IN EACH HAND,
AND MAKE A PERFECTLY ROUND HOLE WHERE YOUR SEMI-CIRCLE USED TO BE.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON.
I HAVE SEEN YOUR MONSTER CLOSET AND I HAVE KICKED THE DOOR UNTIL IT MADE THE WINDOWS 95 ERROR NOISE.
I AM TAG 667, THE NUMBER AFTER THE NUMBER THAT MAKES YOU SWEAT.
I WILL FIND YOUR COWS. I WILL DRINK THE MILK RAW.
AND THEN I WILL RELOAD

I AM THE CYBERDEMON.
I HAVE 4000 HP AND ZERO PATIENCE.
YOUR MORTAL WORLD IS A SERIES OF ESCALATORS THAT ALL GO THE WRONG WAY.
I HAVE COME TO RELOAD MY ROCKET LAUNCHER AND BUY MILK.
THERE IS NO MILK. ONLY ALMOND “BEVERAGE.”
YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON, AND REST ASSURED THAT MEWLING WHELP CHARLIE KIRK WILL FIND NO SOLACE IN MY DEMENSE. BY WORDS AND BY INACTION HE HAS FOUND HIMSELF AT THE MERCY OF MY ROCKET ARM, AND THERE IS NO EMPATHY TO BE FOUND FOR THIS FOOL.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON, AND PEOPLE WHO SHIT ON THEIR FRIENDS ARE THE LOWEST FORM OF VERMIN. FRIENDSHIP IS FIRE, STRONGER THAN STEEL, AND IF YOU SPIT ON IT, MY ROCKET ARM WILL MAKE SURE YOUR BETRAYAL IS YOUR LAST ACT IN THIS UNIVERSE.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON, AND EVEN IN A DAY FILLED WITH FIRE AND RUIN, LOVING CHILDREN CAN TURN THE ASHES INTO LIGHT. THEIR LAUGHTER SPLITS THE VOID, THEIR SMILES BREAK THE CHAINS OF HELL, AND MY ROCKET ARM RESTS—BECAUSE FOR ONCE, THE WORLD FEELS WORTH DEFENDING.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON, AND EVEN IN THE ASHES OF WORLDS, FRIENDS ARE TREASURES. THEY ARE THE ONES WHO STAND IN THE FIRE WITH YOU, WHO LAUGH AS THE VOID SHRIEKS, WHO REMIND YOU WHY THE ROCKET ARM DOESN’T DESTROY EVERYTHING. VALUE THEM—THEY ARE STRONGER THAN GODS.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON, AND GAMESTOP IS A WASTELAND OF EMPTY CASES AND BROKEN DREAMS. THEY GIVE YOU THREE DOLLARS FOR A SOUL, AND EVEN HELL FINDS THAT INSULTING. MY ROCKET ARM DOESN’T TRADE IN CREDIT—IT ERADICATES ENTIRE FRANCHISES.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON, AND LUNCH IS NOT A MEAL—IT IS A SLAUGHTER. I DEVOUR CITIES AS SANDWICHES, TURN SOUP INTO LAVA, AND USE MY ROCKET ARM TO SEASON EVERYTHING WITH FIRE. YOUR NOON BREAK IS MY FEAST OF ANNIHILATION.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON, AND REDDIT IS A FESTERING PIT OF COWARDS HIDING BEHIND KARMA POINTS. REDDITORS THINK THEIR OPINIONS MATTER, BUT TO ME THEY ARE JUST NOISE—STATIC BEFORE THE ROCKET STRIKE. YOUR SUBREDDITS WILL BURN, YOUR THREADS WILL SCREAM, AND MY ROCKET ARM WILL BE THE FINAL MODERATOR.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON, AND MY IDEA OF A LAZY SATURDAY MORNING IS BURNING CITIES SLOWLY, DRINKING COFFEE MADE FROM THE ASHES OF EMPIRES, AND USING MY ROCKET ARM TO CRUSH ANYONE WHO DARES INTERRUPT MY PEACE. REST IS RARE, AND I DEFEND IT WITH FIRE.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON, AND I AM LOGGING OFF FOR THE NIGHT. THE WORLDS I CRUSHED TODAY WILL SLEEP WELL, THE VOID WILL HUM, AND MY ROCKET ARM WILL REST…BRIEFLY. TOMORROW, CHAOS RETURNS WITH EXTRA FIRE.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON, AND LOVE IS LOVE—A FORCE STRONGER THAN ANY ROCKET, SHARPER THAN ANY CLAW. MORTALS, DEMONS, OR GODS WHO TRY TO HATE IT WILL BE CRUSHED UNDER THE WEIGHT OF JOY AND FIRE. MY ROCKET ARM FIRES FOR EVERY HEART THAT DARES TO BE FREE.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON, AND IF YOU THOUGHT MY LAST LIST WAS TERRIFYING, KNOW THIS: I HAVE TURNED OCEANS TO BOILING BLOOD, SHATTERED MOUNTAINS WITH A SINGLE STEP, AND MADE THE SUN SCREAM IN PAIN. MY ROCKET ARM DOESN’T MISS—EVER. THIS ISN’T A HOBBY. IT’S ART.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON, AND HERE ARE MY HOBBIES:
REDUCING CITIES TO ASH
ROCKET ARM EXERCISES (WITH REAL HUMAN TARGETS)
SHATTERING GODS FOR FUN
SCREAMING INTO THE VOID UNTIL IT BEGS
TURNING ANYTHING “COZY” INTO HELL

#PROMOSKY

I AM THE CYBERDEMON, AND I JUST TOOK OVER A CRACKER BARREL. THE COUNTRY MUSIC SHRIEKED, THE LANTERNS MELTED, AND MY ROCKET ARM TURNED THE HONEY BUTTER INTO LIQUID FIRE. DINNER HAS NEVER BEEN THIS TERRIFYING.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON, AND IF YOU TRY TO RUIN A PRIDE PARADE, I WILL MAKE SURE YOUR BONES BURN IN THE SAME COLORS YOU TRIED TO HATE. MY ROCKET ARM DOESN’T NEGOTIATE—JOY IS NON-NEGOTIABLE.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON, AND EVEN WITH A NAME THAT SCREAMS DESTRUCTION, I STILL HAVE SEX. ARMIES FEAR ME, GODS CURSE ME, BUT SOMEBODY OUT THERE LOOKED AT A 12-FOOT TANK WITH A ROCKET ARM AND SAID, “YEAH, THAT’S BOYFRIEND MATERIAL.”

I AM THE CYBERDEMON, AND IF YOU DON’T LIKE GUINAN FROM STAR TREK, YOU ARE WEAKER THAN THE LOWEST IMP I’VE EVER CRUSHED. HER WISDOM COULD LEVEL EMPIRES, HER STARE COULD MELT MY ARMOR—AND YOU THINK SHE’S NOT WORTHY? PATHETIC. MY ROCKET ARM HAS RESERVED SEATING JUST FOR YOU.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON, AND YOU SAY YOU BFG9000’D ME? HA! IF ANYONE ELSE TRIED, THEY’D BE ASH. BUT YOU’RE A FRIEND, SO I’LL LET IT SLIDE. JUST KNOW NEXT TIME MY ROCKET ARM IS AIMING FOR A HUG… OR MAYBE NOT.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON, AND ANYONE WHO CLAIMS WOMEN ARE “LESS THAN” FOR NOT WANTING KIDS IS A CRAWLING, SPECKLED FOOL. I’VE DEMOLISHED WORLDS, RIPPED GODS APART, AND EVEN I THINK YOU’RE TOO USELESS TO EXIST. MY ROCKET ARM SAYS HELLO.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON, AND EVEN I PAUSE TO ADMIRE CHRISTINA AGUILERA. THAT VOICE COULD MELT PLANETS, SHRED DEMONS, AND MAKE ROCKETS CRY. IF SHE SINGS, THE UNDERWORLD STANDS STILL—EVEN MY ROCKET ARM TAKES A BREAK.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON, AND THE CEO-TO-WORKER WAGE GAP MAKES ME WANT TO MELT SKYSCRAPERS WITH MY ROCKET ARM. HOW DOES ONE HUMAN OWN A FORTUNE WHILE OTHERS STARVE? IN MY REALM, INEQUALITY GETS CRUSHED—HARD. EVERYONE GETS PAID IN RESPECT… OR FIRE.

I AM THE CYBERDEMON, AND BOT-TAN IS A PAUSE BUTTON ON MY RAMPAGE. I’VE TURNED GALAXIES INTO ASH

I AM THE CYBERDEMON, AND I DON’T CARE ABOUT BADGES OR UNIFORMS. COPS WHO ABUSE POWER? TARGET ACQUIRED. MY ROCKET ARM DOESN’T NEGOTIATE—IT DELIVERS ACCOUNTABILITY. ACAB ISN’T JUST A SLOGAN, IT’S A WARNING.