Monkeys with Typewriters Studios

Journal of a Team Fortress 2 Sniper By Hyperion
Dear Red Command: On Monday, August 4, Codename "Sniper" gave his life for our vaguely defined war. Alongside a rusty rifle and a voluminous amount of adult material, he had this journal. It reads as follows: Monday, 12:01 PM Oh god. I'm being deployed to Goldrush again. It's always bloody Goldrush. If Red command has to keep leaving me to die in these hellholes, they could at least give me some variety. The Blues have to have nuked this place at least twenty-three times. Is there even anything left in this desert hellhole to fight over? 12:10 Well, I've found a nice sniper perch. Time to wait for the lemmings to rush out. 1:02 Just ventilated a Medic's skull. You know, my mother always said I should've been a doctor. Maybe I would have if I'd known that there was a magic gun that did all of the work for you. 2:45 A Scout made a funny face before I shot him in the nose. 4:25 I've been standing here for ages. I should really start bringing a couch with me on these missions. Or maybe a bean bag chair. At least I remembered my hat. 5:00 A funny thing happens when you're a sniper. You start feeling disconnected from the conflict around you. You start thinking less like a participant and more like a vengeful observer, dispensing death with the push of a button. The rest of the combatants look like ants. 5:22 Maybe they are ants. 6:04 Yes, they are ants. And I am their master. Was it not I that Red Team Command entrusted with a tool of silent death? Surely this rifle is a mandate... 7:30 Only the sniper has a proper perspective on the world. We see all. We judge all. The Blue defiance of the new Sniper Empire must end. 8:00 Look at that Heavy. Running about, defying my will. Mocking me. He must face divine retribution! 9:24 THE HERETICS MUST SUFFER. The journal ends here. At this point, we believe a Blue Spy severed his spinal column. The assassination fits the M.O of enemy spy "L33T Cobra": a spray painted message delaring the victim "owned". It is HIGHLY recommended that you heavily edit this journal before considering sending it to next of kin.

Journal of a Team Fortress 2 Sniper

By Hyperion

Dear Red Command:

On Monday, August 4, Codename "Sniper" gave his life for our vaguely defined war. Alongside a rusty rifle and a voluminous amount of adult material, he had this journal. It reads as follows:

Monday, 12:01 PM

Oh god. I'm being deployed to Goldrush again. It's always bloody Goldrush. If Red command has to keep leaving me to die in these hellholes, they could at least give me some variety.

The Blues have to have nuked this place at least twenty-three times. Is there even anything left in this desert hellhole to fight over?

12:10

Well, I've found a nice sniper perch. Time to wait for the lemmings to rush out.

1:02

Just ventilated a Medic's skull.

You know, my mother always said I should've been a doctor. Maybe I would have if I'd known that there was a magic gun that did all of the work for you.

2:45

A Scout made a funny face before I shot him in the nose.

4:25

I've been standing here for ages. I should really start bringing a couch with me on these missions. Or maybe a bean bag chair.

At least I remembered my hat.

5:00

A funny thing happens when you're a sniper. You start feeling disconnected from the conflict around you. You start thinking less like a participant and more like a vengeful observer, dispensing death with the push of a button. The rest of the combatants look like ants.

5:22

Maybe they are ants.

6:04

Yes, they are ants. And I am their master. Was it not I that Red Team Command entrusted with a tool of silent death? Surely this rifle is a mandate...

7:30

Only the sniper has a proper perspective on the world. We see all. We judge all.

The Blue defiance of the new Sniper Empire must end.

8:00

Look at that Heavy. Running about, defying my will. Mocking me. He must face divine retribution!

9:24

THE HERETICS MUST SUFFER.

The journal ends here. At this point, we believe a Blue Spy severed his spinal column. The assassination fits the M.O of enemy spy "L33T Cobra": a spray painted message delaring the victim "owned".

It is HIGHLY recommended that you heavily edit this journal before considering sending it to next of kin.

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