At times, Glitchpunk can have quite a bit of havoc going on at once, incited by both the player and random NPCs. But even with all of the vehicular accidents, beatdowns, and shootouts, there is an even more sinister source of death and violence, seemingly operating of its own volition. And this one vicious entity is the cause of numerous fatalities, the likes of which have not been seen in recent history, or perhaps ever.

I am talking, of course, about the huge industrial exhaust fan, placed at what otherwise seems like a normal pedestrian foot tunnel, shredding all who dare enter.

I first encountered this tube of death while running around like a headless chicken, trying to be a good little assassin android. Like most of its other unsuspecting victims, I took it for what it appeared to be: a hallway that cut through adjacent alleyways, a nice shortcut from having to otherwise run the course around a rather large industrial building.

Well, you can imagine my surprise when I came across this mighty fan, literally slicing and dicing damn near every hapless soul that dares to cross its threshold, seemingly with no rhyme nor reason.

Luckily, my hastened gait had been slowed to a creeping crawl before I noticed a couple of bloody stains on the sidewalk ahead of me, a goopy soup of guts and skin and poop. “What caused such viscera?” I was forced to wonder aloud.

And it was through this enunciated quandary that I was afforded the time to behold the enormous, spinning blade looming before me, which I surely would’ve blindly marched lockstep directly into had I not been so keenly astute. As I stood there, frozen in the presence of such an omnipotent force, I could do naught but stare as at least a half dozen poor saps fell prey to this rotating murder wheel. I couldn’t help but to be tempted by the shiny trinkets these serrated simpletons left in their liquid wake; perhaps with the intention they would serve to help pay for the therapy my character would no doubt need after having witnessed such senseless, unfeeling carnage.

And so it was, with all of my courage summoned, I made my mad dash to reap the rewards, lucky enough to avoid joining the ranks of these gnashed-up goons. I also vowed silence in the matter, a stipend on behalf of this murderous machine which would allow its uncontested killing spree to continue, unabated. I gave the fan a knowing nod, plotting my return in which I would collect yet another heap of shiny rewards.

But alas, as a result of my greed and foolhardy disregard for the malice of this mechanical menace, I too, in the end, was reduced to chopped liver, sliced to smithereens. And there I lie, a red pool of liquid, a bloody warning sign to all who might follow in my wake.

Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

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