The poem A pilot and a big adventure is dedicated to all who grind in War Robots despite the odds. Enjoy reading!
There’s a game they call War Robots.
It’s a simulacrum on steroids
You are a pilot. You are in charge
Of a big adventure at large.
Many are the weapons that you use.
Some are of a known quality;
Bullets, plasma, energy weapons.
There are many options for the hunt.
As you traverse the maze that is
War Robots, you see the ages pass.
Gep Mags, Rhinos, Lancelots, Dash.
Stealth and Shocktrain? Ares and Ao Jun?
Then, there’s the Leech, but you enjoy the
fight. After all, who doesn’t want to be
stomped by a S-clan? You just play the game
with squadmates. It is more fun now. Much wow!
Finally, here comes the Titans. It is
the start of the abyss. As the cold ice
embraces Ravanas, you’re back to dust.
It is the new thing now. Your friends are gone.
If you’re lucky, you can earn from YouTube.
Or the Pixonic gods will give you your
own character in-game. Amazing.
Maybe an art or text; it matters not.
In the end, you recall your last group pic.
It was an image at the top of Rome.
You were a pilot. You saw how the
adventure ended. No one’s left now.
All that’s left of you are the memories
and bonds that you made in this path of war.