Your the final boss of a game, trapped inside its confines since the moment the player pressed start, wielding your bloody axe your creep slowly through the forest muttering the players name under your breath but it echoes through the woods like a ghost haunting its past. You move ever so slowly but your aim and strength are what make you such a final boss, one hit and the player looses, one hit and they finally pay for the run that cost your world it’s life, and they’ll be forced to start over from scratch, maybe make better decisions. But for now you laugh manically as you can hear the player running for their life in the distance. You are their fate You choose if they live You choose if they die You choose if they get to change