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You're addicted to cards. Your life has no meaning without them. Your only goal is to collect them all, and to do so, you'll have to do jobs you hate. But the addiction doesn't pay for itself.
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You’re hopelessly addicted to cards. You eat cards. You dream of cards. You’d sell your soul (and probably already did) just to get one more shiny foil. But cards don’t grow on trees—so to feed your obsession, you’ll take on soul-crushing jobs, endure mind-numbing routines, and grind through life itself… all for that sweet, sweet cardboard.
It all starts with a pack. You tear it open. Your pupils dilate. A duplicate? Doesn’t matter—every pack is pure dopamine straight to the soul. There are hundreds of cards to collect, and spoiler alert: luck won’t be enough. You’re going to work for these cards.
Want more packs? Time to get a job. Not a fun job. Not a glamorous job. We’re talking soul-crushing, brain-numbing, utterly joyless labor. Your dignity costs less than a five-card booster.
Every card has its place. And you know it. What’s the point of living if not to fill every empty slot in your collection binder? Feel the sick satisfaction of a perfect page. Life is chaos, but your card binder doesn’t have to be.
There’s no salvation in this world... But there are cards.
It might not fix your life, but for one glorious second... it kind of feels like it does.
