On March 23, 2022, I was poisoned by my constituents.
This is my story.
It began with a simple message. A ping from an old friend, @Fronk, over Discord.
“Join our simulation football league. You’d like it.”
I read the words and snickered.
What a ridiculous concept. I’m not wasting my time with that, I thought to myself.
I oft wonder now what my life would be like had I simply responded “no”, as I’d intended to. But of course, my curiosity got the better of me.
Soon enough, @Fronk had me in a chat with @IceBear32, giving me all the details.
“Create your player, pick your position and assign attributes. You'll be scouted and then drafted.”
Little did I know how deep their hooks were already sunken into my flesh. I was a mere pawn to be toyed with. Disillusioned with dreams of grandeur. Of touchdowns and Ultimini championships. Of fame and glory. I thought I could be their king, when in reality, I was naught but their jester.
This is how they dragged me into their twisted little football league. Not kicking and screaming, but willing and ambitious.
I was naïve. I was a fool. I was a poor, helpless shmuck.
…
Flash forward to today. It is nearly June. Or so the calendar app on my phone tells me. But I do not trust it. I do not trust anyone or anything, nor will I ever again.
The world around me is not what it seems. It has grown difficult to parse the lines between my own reality and the reality of Jasper Fontaine, Tight End for the Norfolk Seawolves.
My wife tells me I have a different name. A job. Pets. Responsibilities. But I know only one thing: Football.
I bake her a lasagna, but she does not reward me with TPE. I am heartbroken. And I begin to wonder…
Why should I work when I could be training for the big game? Why waste time with a second job when my league salary is more than enough to live comfortably? Why spend time with the strangers she claims are my friends and family, when I could be bonding with my Norfolk fleet?
Am I lost?
No.
I am home.
Home amongst my fellow players. Home amongst the prediction threads. The point tasks. The twitter banter and the graphics submissions. I have lived here two months now, and I begin to wonder how I ever survived elsewhere. For what better sustenance is there than the ISFL? It is my nourishment. It is my everything.
It has provided me with friends. It has provided me with purpose. It has provided me with newfound life.
On March 23, 2022, I was poisoned by my constituents.
On that day, LordCoolcats ceased to exist.
And in his place, Jasper Fontaine was born.