Regret. It comes in many forms.
Some cheat themselves on “cheat meal” night, filling up on both food and self-loathing, while some dwell on missed opportunities along the walk of life. For me, however, regret has manifested itself in the lengths I resorted to in my hunt for Reaper’s Mariachi skin in Overwatch.
I always laughed at Oblivion’s horse armour. I ridiculed people who bought hats in Team Fortress. But I’m no better, I’m cut from the very same cloth as these people. It’s not a fine silk either, more like a tawdry hessian sack. Like one who pokes and prods at Call of Duty’s shortcomings yet continues to buy it each and every damn year, I’d become the problem.