Do you hear the outrage in my voice (even though I’m typing)?
Look, I get that the theme of the game is candy. That’s awesome. I even like how you incorporated striped and wrapped and sprinkled chocolates. That always made me a tad hungry, and so your collusion with both the Americans for Diabetes and the sugar industry didn’t really bother me.
Licorice gave me a slight pause. Using it as the bars of a prison over certain candies didn’t ruin one of my favorite confections, but it didn’t make me love or want it more.
|I like the pretty lights.|
Whipped cream as a barrier device was a unique challenge, but I still wasn’t angry your choices.
Chocolate. Grrr. A cancer that grows and grows. It can't be bargained with. It can't be reasoned with. It doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until it takes over every square but those occupied by ingredients!
Oh, chocolate. For Hate’s sake, I spit at thee. From Hell’s heart I stab at thee.
But that didn’t cross the line. You tasked me. You tasked me and I answered.
|George does not approve.|
But now, Candy Crush, now you’ve gone too far with your time bombs. Not only have you taken away chocolate, which really wasn’t a great loss, but you’ve stolen my love of explosives. Any problem on Earth can be solved with the careful application of high explosives, but you’ve turned that maxim on its head. You, Candy Crush, with your smug, saccharine sweet storytelling, you’ve decided to play God. You’ve tampered with something that is pure and innocent and corrupted it for your own twisted ends.
You’ve played Dr. Frankenstein and digitally turned explosives into a MONSTER.
I only have one thing to say to you: Good day!