Listen here, you insignificant, palette-dropping worm. I've been playing Dead by Daylight since the Entity first breathed life into the fog, and let me tell you, I am the fog. I've faced the sweatiest flashlight clickers, the most cracked Blights, and the filthiest 4-man SWFs running BNPs—and not a single one has ever made me break a sweat. You think you're clever, looping me around Shaq? Pathetic. My mind games are so advanced, they'd make a chess grandmaster cry. My map awareness is omniscient, my perk synergies are divine, and my strategies? Simply god-tier.

You think you can challenge me? Wrong. I've forgotten more about this game than you'll ever know. When you hear that Terror Radius, it’s already too late—I'm five steps ahead, waiting for you to make the same rookie mistake as the rest of them. So, go ahead. Vault that window. Drop that palette. Click that flashlight. It won’t save you. You’re not facing just a killer or a survivor—you’re facing the apex predator of the fog. And let me tell you something: there’s no escape. GG EZ, scrub.