Here in a dark basement, a former bomb shelter under a big industrial building i sit in front of screens set to monitor the Internet for signs of Internets nerdier denizens buzzing about our game. Every time someone says something remotely interesting, my computer spits out sharp sounds making my heart jump in hope/fear of it being a review. Sometimes an hour passes and there is nothing and I start fearing that the interest has died forever, that there will be no more pings, no more tweets no more Facebook nonsense. To kill time I am trying to finish Netflix for the "End of Entertainment" achievement but my thoughts are elsewhere, dreaming dreams of loving journalists writing reviews searching for synonyms for the word heavenly, (because lets face it, that word no gaming journalist should use in any review). At the same time I watch seconds go by fearing for the reviewers to misunderstand, be bad or find that one in a million bug that destroys the 3DS unit in a way that blows off their hand. My job is to monitor the internet so that the others don't have to. My job is to not start drooling lik a Pavlovian dog at the sound of TweetDeck.
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