(no subject)

[touchofgenius]

I cannot even begin to describe to you people how utterly disturbing it is to wake up in the morning and see a commercial for a video game based on your life. People are profiting from my life - really I should be saying "my death", but that just takes this to a whole new morbid level that I don't even want to get into.

Whoever the hell these Capcom people are need to knock it the fuck off before I find a way to accuse them for my murder and/or sue them for mental distress. I mean, hell, I'd really like to enjoy drinking my coffee and watching the movin' pi'ture box without having to relive the horrible memories of that time I got shot to death and destroyed an entire city, if that's a-okay with these people. Maybe I'd be able to make a case for neglect considering they are kind of like my parents or something, I guess? I don't know. I'm not a lawyer. Actually, speaking of. Edgeworth, Phoenix, I've got a really funny story to tell you guys some time.

Does anyone else actually live in a world where they are knowingly fictional? Because it's hard. It's hard and nobody understands.

Comments

[video]

[samuraiprosecutor]

[Chin in his hand. he seems to be giving the matter serious consideration, probably beyond the level it actually warrants.] I doubt their heads would pop off; not immediately, at least. Before that happened you'd have to prove to them beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are you and not just a remarkably convincing fan pretending to be you. Given you have no records on their world to prove your identity one way or the other and your claim would be patently ridiculous by any sane person's standards, it seems unlikely that your efforts could succeed. If you failed, the supposed 'creators' could continue to believe you were either a charlatan or mentally unbalanced fanatic...either of which would still fit comfortably into their perceptions of the nature of the universe, no nervous breakdowns needed.

[He blinks, frowns warily at him.] ...What were you?

[video]

[notahandbag.livejournal.com]

Ouch, swing and a miss... Though I guess I could give them a personal demonstration of my viruses. That might make them believe me, or at the very least, be scared of me.

[Birkin shrugs, man has reminiscing on this failed venture sure gotten uninteresting...] I was what was known as G. You've got YouTube in your world right? Just look it up there; easier than trying to explain it.