This is Garrett Murray's Maniacal Rage

I hate this game. I hate it so much. Every time I open it, I tense up. I dread touching for sunrise. I hate the night. It’s a fucking bastard, the night. And what about the sun? The sun is a lazy bitch who only helps you out in the beginning and then no matter how well you fly it just sits up there, heavy in the sky, ready to fall at your first minor setback.

And speaking of setbacks, why can’t this stupid fucking bird follow the laws of physics? Why does he sometimes smoothly navigate slopes while other times smacking his fat chest on the crest of hills that seem perfectly shaped? Why is island 4 full of curves that seem designed to be impossible to smoothly traverse as if Andreas Illiger—that rotten bastard, that complete asshole—has purposefully designed them to spite me?

I hate this game. I hate it so much. I don’t want to play it. I hate playing it. I don’t enjoy playing it. But every day I open the Game Center Leaderboards and I see that Shawn is still way ahead of me. And so I play it. I cry and I throw a tantrum and I complain and I hate it so much, but I play it.

Go to hell, Andreas Illiger. You rich, genius son of a bitch.