The Drifter is a good-for-nothing. That’s what his own mother told him at birth, and that’s what the Official Existential Gamer Opinion © is. When he isn’t stealing our wives and husbands (he’s like an IRL Oberyn Martell) The Drifter can usually be found crouching in his filthy one-bedroom clacking out articles on the cocaine-incrusted keyboard of his Cuban Chromebook. He pretends he’s played the latest Metal Gear Solid, then relieves himself in a litter-box that has never seen a cat. Etc.
His is not a glorious life (as he so often likes to claim in the TLDR’s he comically refers to as ‘blog posts’) but a sordid patchwork of petty lies. As such, when he requested to become our in-house ‘Agony Aunt’ (or ‘Agony Uncle’, as he put it), I unequivocally refused. He then sent us a series of badly-lit videos shot on a flip-phone: they featured a terrified wet puppy and a vast assortment of torture instruments. It is under this form of horrific duress that I capitulate. Here is his briefing about your potential questions. I quote The Drifter:
You can ask me anything. How do I beat that monster in Witcher 3, or get a promotion at work? What should I do to stop my mother spending my inheritance on Candy Crush, or help my boyfriend with his addiction to Battleborn? Nothing is too emotionally complex or unworthy of my consideration.
Please, for the sake of Nelson (name of puppy hostage).