As much as I'd like to keep up the charade that I'm not a very competitive player in most games, the degree to which I've been lying to myself has become painfully evident as I get back into Rust. It's been a while, but now I remember why I quit—this game brings the devil out of me. A petty, vindictive, camping-outside-your-door-at-night devil.
In my defense, I'm perfectly pleasant when you're nice to me. But kill me outside the recycler after I've just traded hoards of junk for valuables? Menace. Maybe not the most threatening menace, as I'm not a very good shot, but at the very least I'm lobbing grenades in your door before you take me down. Cross me in any game where there was an option for peace and I will initiate revenge mode while also reverting to my elementary school defense of well, he started it.
