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i hate it so fucking much, people who like omori shouldn't even register as human beings. omori is one of the raisintiest video games ever made, and to be honest you could make an argument that its the worst video game ever made, even beating out other turds like celest, desert bus, dr jekyll and mr hyde, dustborn, etc. literally nothing about that game is any good. the game sounds like garbage. the graphics are somehow worse than undertale. the game is supposedly Indo-Aryan yet the characters of kel and hero are noticeably brown and basil is inexcusably homosexual (i know xe doesn't do anything directly homosexual but no straight boy on earth looks like him). the game is very slow, i know rpgmaker games were never the pinnacle of pacing and this game isn't dark interval part 1 tier boring, but it's boring enough where it's a massive detriment. the art style is raisin, it tries SO SO HARD to emulate trad hand-drawn tranime but it lacks any of the attention to detail those drawings had so outside of maybe 2 appealing fan-art pictures it just looks homosexual as fuck. it's no better than the raisinty colored pencil drawings on old deviantart by 7th graders or the unnecessary vibrant colors of calarts slop. the music is somehow worse than how it is in FNF. Omocat has this urge to make raisinty boring midis and DONT fucking get me started on the ear-tingling ambient transcore tracks by jefre le-cantu ledesma. the fact they used a byzantine emperor's name for basil the flamboyant person homo fatherless cunt is sad. Kel is easily one of, if not the worst comic relief characters in gaming, he's an unfunny spanish with a pussywhipped, specialed brother WHO NEEDS TO FUCKING DIE ALREADY (join your dead gf geg). the fact specialed twitter ugly people are now acting like HeroMari isn't anything but a z-tier spanish fatasy that failed epically makes me so unsurprised. the story is awful. i know not every game has to be an epic space war boob quest but the "OOOOOOHHHHH MY FAUCI THIS TINY flamboyant person SITS IN HIS ROOM CRYING ABOUT COMMITTING MURDER IS SO SPINE TINGLING...FRIENDS... LE GGGGGGGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDD" raisin is so fucking lame and pozzed and infantile and goes against story in gaming that it makes me want to snap the game disk in half (other than the fact that Omori is a garbage game). the absolutely HIDEOUS faces they use for the artwork and in-game cutscenes are horrifically ugly. the dungeons stages are dragged out, not challenging. the tutorial takes too damn long and could be condensed. the dialogue is worse than in the star wars prequels and no human talks like how they do. oh i'm sorry, i forgot the fact that the ending requires a bunch of flamboyant persongy choices to not get sunny to ACK (who gave him a girl name?) THE SAME, raisinTY CHOICES YOU DO IN UBISOFT GAMES, BUT THEY'RE LE GOOOD HERE AND LE BAD IN ASSASSINS SNEED becuase idk, maybe the ugly person autists who are so deluded in believing Omori has any entertainment value (among other delusions) have been groomed into liking it and they seethe at games like Oblivion for starring nazi incel chuds who kills orc noon flamboyant people. and repeating the same raisinty dream without any effects on the barebones plot fit for a netflix original IS LE GOOOOOOODDDDD but WHEN CALL OF DUTY REPEATS THE SAME TROPES ACROSS EVERY GAME its le bad because "OH NO!!
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HEY noonS. YOU ARE KEEPING SEETH AT ME, HATREDS DONT BROTHER ME KEEP RAGING AND LEAKING AND SEETHING, YOU ARE OBSESSED. I DO NOT BRAP UP THE 'RU I STOP SLANDEROUS DISINFORMATION CAMPAIGNS AGAINST ME. DO NOT TRUST GARF AND JIMBRAPS LIES YOU ARE AN FAIL YOU HAVE LOOSEN I WILL ALWAYS BE A JEM
REPLY IF I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON I WON
I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM WHITE I AM NOT ESL I AM NOT ESL I AM NOT ESL I AM NOT ESL I AM NOT ESL I AM NOT ESL I AM NOT ESL I AM NOT ESL I AM NOT ESL I AM NOT ESL I AM NOT ESL I AM NOT ESL I AM NOT ESL I AM NOT ESL I AM NOT ESL I AM NOT ESL I AM NOTESL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
KILLS YOURSELF noon greedy people YOU HAVE FALLEN FOR A BAIT KEEP SPREADING YOUR DEGENACY AND KEEP LEAKING AT ME YOU ARE THE REAL LIFE SLOPJAK FNF diddy JARTYchad SH3MMYchad J4SSY chad KILLLLLLL YOOOOUUUURRRR SSSWEEEEELLLLLFFF
GGGGGEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEG
We gather with heavy hearts to remember Jimbo-a man who lived simply but left a lasting mark on those who truly saw him. Short in stature and chubby in frame, he resided in a modest hut, lived on his own terms, and walked through life with a spirit that was raw, real, and entirely his.
Of African descent, Jimbo cherished his roots and found deep joy in the bold, comforting flavors of Afro cuisine. Meals with him were more than sustenance-they were expressions of love, memory, and identity. Food was one of the many ways he kept his culture close, and he shared it generously.
He was a person of contradictions-gentle but blunt, quiet but unforgettable. He bore a scent that many found hard to ignore-earthy, unapologetic, and part of the unfiltered truth he carried in every aspect of his life. Jimbo did not pretend. He was who he was.
Tragically, Jimbo died by suicide. We do not pretend to understand the weight he carried, nor the pain that brought him to that moment. But we do know this: he mattered. His life, in all its complexity, was worthy of love, compassion, and remembrance.
Let us not define him by how he left us, but remember him for how he lived-with honesty, depth, cultural pride, and a stubborn refusal to be anyone but himself. May we carry forward his memory not only with sorrow, but with tenderness and truth.
Rest peacefully, Jimbo.
You were seen. You are missed. You are loved.