Flappy Bird. What sort of sick person designs something as relentlessly soul-crushing as this work of digital maleficence. The mere visage of his pixelated form strikes fear into the hearts of those who have attempted to steer him through those never ending pipes of horror.
Oh those green pipes! What had once been a portal for my favorite overall-wearing plumber has since morphed into something that haunts my very dreams. They’re like giant green teeth attempting to gorge on my happiness. My childhood memories have been destroyed by a game that could only have been created by Satan himself.
Many people are calling it the new angry birds. Well sure, it’s like angry birds because there’s a bird. But the only thing angry about it is ME! Well prepare yourselves America, because there’s about to be a rage epidemic sweeping the nation. And also cracked smartphone screens, lots and lots of cracked smartphone screens. If you plan on visiting the city anytime soon, you might want to wear a hardhat in anticipation of phones being thrown from the skyscraper windows.
Although I complain about it and am sent into fits of uncontrollable anger, I cannot stop playing or thinking about the game. I am not a masochist, but I willingly subject myself to its anxiety-festering terror over and over again. Just one more try, just one more try. I have to beat my hideous score of 15! Clearly there is something evil afoot.
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