As ordered by the courts in my area, I have written and submitted an apology for my conduct last week during my daily fourteen hour Halo session.

Before I get into the blame game, let me paint you a picture. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but the judge won’t accept a literal picture of me looking sorry, so I guess I’m going to have to type it. Anyway, it was a cold, rainy day — because I live in England and it’s always cold and raining. However, this was a different kind of rain. A sinister rain. The kind of rain that makes you go “Whoa! That’s weird rain!” And mean it. It had an eerie, foreign feel to it. Am I implying that this was alien rain and it somehow forced me to sabotage everyone’s game time? Maybe. Depends on if you’d believe it.

So, as I’ve established, it was raining. As such, I decided I would enjoy some light-hearted gaming with some friends from around the world. Literally translated, this means I decided I wanted to murder strangers through my Xbox. Which brings me to my first apology.

Did I mention all the Hell Hounds in the rain? I'm sure I did...

Did I mention all the Hell Hounds that were in the rain? I’m sure I did…

I’M SORRY FOR BLOWING UP MY OWN TEAM

“Suicide bombing” people on my team is not an appropriate tactic. In my defence, they were all pretty terrible and I had an M363 Remote Projectile Detonator. The solution presented itself, and I will not apologise for thinking on my feet during wartime. However, I concede that deliberately sticking explosives to teammates and blowing them up at opportune moments is not in keeping with the team spirit. In addition to this, I understand now that my assurances of “You’ve earned your place in heaven!” are not the morale building exercises I believed them to be. Coincidentally, as this was happening the rain got weirder. Was this Satanic black magic, forcing me to commit Halo-based terrorism? We can only guess. But yes, yes it probably was.

After that match ended, I took a brief interval and got drunk on peach schnapps because it makes me feel fancy. As I drank to the bravely fallen/extremely annoyed players, who were most probably filing numerous reports, I reflected on the chaos of war. Why must humanity lower itself to such obscene violence? And for what? Resources? Territory? Religious differences?

As I pondered the absurdity of the human condition, I finished my 2nd bottle of Schnapps, and the fancy feeling degenerated into feelings of aggression and rage. The cause of such capriciousness remains a mystery to me; perhaps it was some kind of rabid, cabin-fever like madness, induced by the snarling rain? Or maybe it was because the drunken call to my ex had not gone as planned? Whatever the reason, I find myself ready for my second apology.

I bet Cortana wouldn't leave Chief for a Fitness instructor called Tom.

I bet Cortana wouldn’t leave the Chief for a fitness instructor called Tom.

I’M SORRY I TRIED TO ARRANGE A FIST FIGHT

Peers, friends, the prosecution, and her majesty lord Judge person, I am not a violent man. Frankly, the thought of risking my beautiful face sends me into a panic. (And stay away from me when I’m panicking. I’m like a cornered animal.) However, on this occasion, I found myself in somewhat of an altercation with Dragonfart808. You see, Dragonfart808 was clearly a spiteful cheating donkey lover. Now, I am a man who stands up to injustice, so I called him on this. “What the hell man? You’re cheating! There’s no way a tank shell would penetrate my shields! How have you done this!?” Thunder cracked outside my window. A clear sign from God that I was right. Despite my calm and measured confrontation, what I received in reply was nothing short of a hurricane of racial and homophobic abuse. This is what led me to challenge him to fisticuffs in a local car park at the rear of burger king.

I know now that this was wrong. I should have tried to educate Dragonfart808 in the error of his ways through words, not well-deserved kicks to the face. Not only was my behaviour quite foolish, it turns out that Dragonfart808 resides in Utah, which I’m told is a large field in the US of A. And So, Dragonfart808, my arch nemesis, I am sorry for threatening to “drop kick you like Captain Kirk on crack” and “eat your soul in an orgy of vengeance.”

After this I found myself sober and enraged, so decided to take a walk to calm my nerves. This walk ended in a bar, swifty solving the aforementioned sober problem. It was here that I met a fellow local to the area. He had a weathered face, and his eyes were grey and lifeless yet hauntingly wild and deranged. For just £30 he offered some “magic beans” which cheered me up and put me back in the spirit of things.

As a side note, I should briefly apologise to the employees of the local burger king whom I stalked for five hours, believing myself to be a Panther. A Panther whom very much wanted to maul Dragonfart808, despite his absence from my continent. Returning home, now only 75% sure I was a jungle beast, I fired up the Xbox, finished my obligatory comedown cigarette, and walked straight into my third and final reason for this apology.

Fun Fact: Panthers kill 500 burger king managers a year, in England alone.

Fun Fact: Panthers kill five hundred Burger King managers a year in England alone.

I’M SORRY I DROVE US ALL OFF CLIFFS

Road rage is a terrible thing. No one likes an “angry driver” or a “road hog” or whatever it is actual people with places to be say. It’s with this in mind that I humbly and regretfully apologise for tricking people into getting in my Warthog and then driving off the map. It was immature, selfish and highly dangerous. I have no excuse for this behaviour and, although the rain did seem to be multi-coloured at that point in the evening, I accept that it is totally inappropriate to try and re-enact the final scene of Thelma and Louise with two unwilling players.

For all these things and more, I am deeply, uncontrollably, violently sorry. I’m sorry with all the burning emotion and regret that comes of having civil proceedings lodged against you by twelve teenagers, Microsoft, and a burger king manager who, for some reason, wasn’t trained for Panther attacks. And the less said about me trying suicide-bomb my team while screaming “Why won’t she love me?!” the better.

Although I think we can all agree I was clearly manipulated by evil alien magic satanic rain, I take full responsibility for my actions. And so, as a display of penance, I have decided I will not go within 700ft of any Burger King in Southern England. I have also decided to cancel my Xbox live account and pay Dragonfart808 a total sum of $5780 in compensation. These were all totally my ideas, and are in no way completely unreasonable and, depending on the outcome of an appeal, too severe.

People of the world, accept my apology. Accept it like you accept the slow but relentless march to your own demise. If there is one thing we can all take away from this, it’s be ever fearful of strange weather and behave yourselves online, lest you too face the unreasonable judgement of the crown court.

Kind Regards
Jamie Parker, Pantherman

Sorry Guys

Sorry guys!