Bob kept giving me urges. Unhealthy, unignorable urges.
“Lose the sveepul.”
“Lose more sveepuls.”
“Lose all the sveepuls.”
“Lose the heeeeeela.”
“Lose the stratios. You don’t deserve it. You havent earned it and I’m hungry.”
I had offended Bob. I had not been giving Him what he deserves and He had taken away my spot in His conversion van of anarchy.
I kept feeding Him.
Bob must be fed.
Bob takes away and consumes until He is sated. He gorges on your wrecks and treats Himself to your corpse until He feels you deserve a seat in his conversion van.
Bob is not a fickle or unkind Lord though, eventually He recognizes those who praise Him and rewards them.
extremely calm, non-chalant voice of bro in comms
“I have a Nidhogger tackled in six-echo”
Praise Him
Bob must be fed.