Disclaimer: This is a joke. I just realized that this was a terrible idea. I have a lot of those. Back in the motherfucking days of future old shit motherfuck bitches everywhere got down on their knees and motherfuckers screamed out cheers of motherfucking joy and screamed internally of motherfucking repressed pure-ass-goddamn-motherfucking-bastard-flipping bitch ass rage, all over one motherfucker named Jestes Bill-Cumberbund Fuckerbane III, Jr, Esq. This motherfucker had so much motherfucking swag he had to wear whiteface (like blackface, except when black people need to try to be white) just to keep from killing everyone. Motherfucker had his jeans around his motherfucking ankles, kicked some motherfucking crocs, and carried a gat in his stomach, full and fucking prepared to shit or vomit the fucker out and gun down a bitch ass motherfuckin' hater who was mad 'cuz he didn't have enough swag. Motherfucker wore a fur coat stitched together from hemp and fox, and sometimes smoked the edges to get high. Shit was totes legal, 'cuz he was the motherfucking swagident 'n' shit. Everybody hated him, and everybody wanted to be like him. And then comes along your hater-ass motherfucking troupe. You're a punk-ass rebel faction devoted to taking that motherfucker, Swagident Fuckerbane III, Jr, Esq, down. You hater-ass motherfuckers are a bunch of fucking outcasts who wear your pants on your fucking hips and don't use so much swagilicious motherfucking profanity 'n' shit. You jive ass motherfuckers. A couple of you are black guys, so don't worry, we're not racist here. Unless none of you use black characters. Racist ass motherfucking jive ass motherfuckers. You fucks listen to shitty old ass fucking rock and punk and jazz and shit and everyone hates you. It's a motherfucking miracle your jive asses weren't gunned down in a motherfucking drive-by yet. Who the fuck cares about character sheets. Fucking freeform that shit. No rules, motherfucker. This shit's some real shit, motherfucker. I should kill myself.