Life As a Call of Duty Soldier

By Sonny Long

So you’ve just been born and oh what the sweet Jesus is coming at you?! Is that a bullet, a missile, a rocket, a NUCLEAR WARHEAD?! As bad as that sounds, that’s probably the best way to go. Why is that? Because you’ve just been born into Call of Duty: Boom Boom, You Die 17. How? Well, the short answer is because there is no god in this universe. The long answer is that I answered the why and not the how. Nobody really knows how you were birthed, but you were and you will die for the amusement of the one controlling you. Oh, yeah, we lied earlier; there is a god and he’s a twelve year-old racist. But at least he’s on your side, because in the harsh environment you were born into, you’ll be squaring off against other twelve year-old racists.

Let’s just hope you’ve been born into the campaign, where you’ll at least be assigned a rank and a decent-to-cool sounding last name. Also, this helps raise your lifespan by almost a full thirty seconds. In multiplayer, you’ll be doomed to a short life with a name like “titsmcgee69.” That’s if you’re lucky, anyway. Let’s take a look around and… what’s that name above your head? titsmcgee69? Yup, you’re in multiplayer.

Now that you’ve dodged that nuclear rocket-bullet, it’s time you’ve come to terms with the fact that that doesn’t matter. Why? Because there’s twelve more coming at you and the timer is nowhere near zero. Your lifespan is now less than that of a fly’s but at least the cruel overlords of this universe gave you a gun in your hands that… what is this? You can’t put it down?! What?! It’s like you were… bred to fight. It’s your only instinct, your sole purpose. You were never a violent person before you were thrown into this simulation, but now you’ve become the ultimate killing machine, a human weapon whose job it is to wrack up the killstreaks to call in the dogs (What, are you like fifty? They haven’t had dogs for like ten Call of Duty games now.) Who is this? How did this twelve year-old get into the office? (You’re so old. Me and my friends are gonna kill you and teabag your body.) Oh, yeah! Well… Your mom!

What’s going on? What’s happening to me?

Okay, I’m in a simulation now with a gun in my hands. There appears to be a missile-bullet coming at me.

Thanks for reading and follow Sonny on Twitter @fourcornerstuds. If you like his writing style, check out his book here. Remember to subscribe by e-mail at the top of the page for more!