Darkover
Archangel
- Jul 29, 2021
- 5,200
Life™: The Ultimate Subscription Service You Can't Cancel
Congratulations! You've been forcibly enrolled in Life™, the premium, high-stakes, never-ending subscription service that you never signed up for. There's no free trial, no upfront agreement—one day, you just wake up in a fragile, malfunction-prone body with no instruction manual and a set of random biological imperatives dictating your every move.
The terms and conditions? You don't get to read them. You're just here, thrown into existence without consent, forced to navigate a chaotic mess of pain, responsibility, and disappointment, all while pretending it's worth it. You are expected to pay your dues—physically, emotionally, and financially—until your time is up. Failure to comply may result in penalties, including but not limited to suffering, poverty, isolation, or premature deletion.
Welcome to the Prison of Life™!
Not only is Life™ a mandatory subscription service, but it's also a prison cleverly disguised as a playground. You're given just enough distractions—TV, music, cheap thrills—to keep you from noticing the bars. You're told you're free, that you can "be anything you want," but in reality? You're shackled to biological needs, economic servitude, and a society that gaslights you into thinking this is normal.
You're hungry? Work for it.
You're sick? Pay for treatment.
You're depressed? Cope or be judged.
The walls of this prison are built out of inescapable suffering—aging, disease, loss, and the slow realization that nothing truly belongs to you. Not your time, not your happiness, not even your body, which deteriorates against your will. The warden? A mix of societal expectations, biological imperatives, and the illusion of hope.
But Wait… There's an Exit Button! (Kinda.)
Now, here's the biggest joke of all—Life™ actually has an exit button… but it's been intentionally hidden away behind fear, stigma, and endless roadblocks.
The system is designed to keep you locked in at all costs. Even thinking about leaving is met with judgment, guilt-tripping, and patronizing advice about how you should "appreciate what you have." You'll be told:
"It gets better!" (It doesn't.)
"You just need to find meaning!" (Good luck.)
"Think about your loved ones!" (As if they aren't just as trapped as you.)
If Life™ were a fair system, you'd have the right to opt-out at any time, with dignity and without obstacles. But no—because that would mean acknowledging that this whole thing might not be worth it. And if too many people started questioning the service, the entire system might crumble under its own absurdity.
So, instead, you're forced to keep playing. Trapped in an endless, meaningless grind, waiting for your subscription to naturally expire, hoping the end comes quick and painless—because, as we all know, this prison doesn't just let you walk out. It makes you suffer first.
Final Verdict: 0/10 – Would Not Recommend
Life™ is the worst deal imaginable—a subscription that charges you in suffering, a prison that convinces you it's a playground, and a trap designed to keep you inside until your body breaks down completely.
The only consolation? Eventually, everyone's subscription expires.
Wouldn't it be nice if you could just hit "Cancel" and be done with it?
Too bad. The button is hidden.
Congratulations! You've been forcibly enrolled in Life™, the premium, high-stakes, never-ending subscription service that you never signed up for. There's no free trial, no upfront agreement—one day, you just wake up in a fragile, malfunction-prone body with no instruction manual and a set of random biological imperatives dictating your every move.
The terms and conditions? You don't get to read them. You're just here, thrown into existence without consent, forced to navigate a chaotic mess of pain, responsibility, and disappointment, all while pretending it's worth it. You are expected to pay your dues—physically, emotionally, and financially—until your time is up. Failure to comply may result in penalties, including but not limited to suffering, poverty, isolation, or premature deletion.
Welcome to the Prison of Life™!
Not only is Life™ a mandatory subscription service, but it's also a prison cleverly disguised as a playground. You're given just enough distractions—TV, music, cheap thrills—to keep you from noticing the bars. You're told you're free, that you can "be anything you want," but in reality? You're shackled to biological needs, economic servitude, and a society that gaslights you into thinking this is normal.
You're hungry? Work for it.
You're sick? Pay for treatment.
You're depressed? Cope or be judged.
The walls of this prison are built out of inescapable suffering—aging, disease, loss, and the slow realization that nothing truly belongs to you. Not your time, not your happiness, not even your body, which deteriorates against your will. The warden? A mix of societal expectations, biological imperatives, and the illusion of hope.
But Wait… There's an Exit Button! (Kinda.)
Now, here's the biggest joke of all—Life™ actually has an exit button… but it's been intentionally hidden away behind fear, stigma, and endless roadblocks.
The system is designed to keep you locked in at all costs. Even thinking about leaving is met with judgment, guilt-tripping, and patronizing advice about how you should "appreciate what you have." You'll be told:
"It gets better!" (It doesn't.)
"You just need to find meaning!" (Good luck.)
"Think about your loved ones!" (As if they aren't just as trapped as you.)
If Life™ were a fair system, you'd have the right to opt-out at any time, with dignity and without obstacles. But no—because that would mean acknowledging that this whole thing might not be worth it. And if too many people started questioning the service, the entire system might crumble under its own absurdity.
So, instead, you're forced to keep playing. Trapped in an endless, meaningless grind, waiting for your subscription to naturally expire, hoping the end comes quick and painless—because, as we all know, this prison doesn't just let you walk out. It makes you suffer first.
Final Verdict: 0/10 – Would Not Recommend
Life™ is the worst deal imaginable—a subscription that charges you in suffering, a prison that convinces you it's a playground, and a trap designed to keep you inside until your body breaks down completely.
The only consolation? Eventually, everyone's subscription expires.
Wouldn't it be nice if you could just hit "Cancel" and be done with it?
Too bad. The button is hidden.
