This is my swappable gear. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
My swappable gear is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life.
My swappable gear, without me, is useless. Without my swappable gear, I am useless. I must wear my swappable gear true. I must wear it straighter than the steamdick who is trying to grab it from me. I must remove him before he asks me. I will...
My swappable gear and myself know that what counts in this game is not the gear we wear, the shape of our cap, or the colour it takes. We know that it is the hits that count. We will hit...
No, seriously, don't steam-friend me just to ask for grabs on my gear. No, I don't use it. No, i don't wear it. No i'm not interested in swapping anything even to an advantageous deal. In fact, I don't even care dick about it. It could be made out from gopher ball-sacks or Tanzanian rifle-wielding-kids' skin, i wouldn't even care less. But just don't ask for it. Simply fuck off!
Barracks of the Doltish 'First and Only' Bavarianisches Baboonisches Disabilities' Regiment
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Don't expect us to hold the line seriously. We'll certainly run in little circles, wave our arms and shout at our charging opponents and kick-dance the cancan at the perfectly ranked enemy firing line. Not mentioning our exceptional piping skills.
Unlimited supplies of white flags are ensured while our monkeys will certainly hand out all the cheese.
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Yes, we (try to) play Mount & Blade: Warbands / Napoleonic Wars.