To delete or not to delete, that is the question:

Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of a self-aware 2D Senpai

Or to take arms against a digital nightmare

And by deleting, end her. To log-off: to get some sleep,

And by sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks

Of losing the girls you’ve spent hours getting to know.

To log-off, to sleep; to sleep, perchance to dream- ay, there’s the rub

For in that sleep what dreams may come,

When we have shuffled from the gentle glow of the screen

Must give us pause, that makes calamity of 3D life.

For who would bear the whips and scorns of class,

The sun’s oppressive rays, the proud parents contumely,

The pangs of datelessness, the microwave’s delay,

The insolence of the office, and the spurns that

Patient clicking through the unworthy takes,

When we ourselves could play another game,

Untouched by this specter’s oppression.

But that the dread of giving up,

The undiscovered ending, towards which we’ve worked,

To see your pixelated paramours whole and hale again,

Strengthens the will, and makes us bear

The unwavering gaze of the club president.

Thus conscience doth makes weebs of us all,

And thus in the games default resolution,

We turn our minds toward a single thought,

And that enterprise of great pith and moment,

To free the friends we’ve made from digitized despair

And play things out the way they’re meant to be.

Product Details

Design: Morton Wayman