Someone’s a bit of a gamer, aren’t they? Someone here likes videos, and his name is you. You just love hunching over that glaring monitor into the waning hours of the night, drenched in sweat and Dorito dust, Mountain Dew cascading down your gullet as it spills over the sides of your mouth onto your soft, yet soon to be crusty teenage mutant ninja turtles T-shirt. As your might fist clenched the mouse you navigate to the holy library. Home of all sacred knowledge and wisdom that has graciously been bestowed upon you by the lord. Salivating, your lip begins to tremble. Your push your glasses further up toward your eyes with a damp, meaty thumb. You brush your hair aside, a glint in your eye as you recall that the greasy hair follicles that lay upon your head are potent enough to start a grease fire. You fix your fedora so it sits steadfast on your scalp, and suck in a mighty breath. It’s time. You open steam, and proceed to your library. At the bottom of the list it lays, not out of merit, but rather it’s name. The Witcher 3. A lovely little indie gem you came across a few weeks back. As the playtime counter extends off the screen, presumably into infinity, you launch the game once more, hoping to increase it further. The game boots at a modest speed, your hardware slowed only by the globs of strange liquid seeping from them. But alas, time is of no importance now. For you may finally lay your eyes upon him once more. Gerald of Revita. A finer specimen no man could conjure. Hair as white as snow, fiery eyes contrasting his pale, scarred skin which lay thinly on his muscled and hardened body below. You exhale, your breath stolen from your lungs by this hunk that lay before you. As you reach for your jar of Vaseline, you know what must be done. And you rejoice, for you shall cherish it once again.