Photo ID: Somewhere in the deepest, most secret Disney executive offices, there's a weekly meeting where a bunch of upper-mid-level execs come in and do a different blend of experimental drugs trying to Space Navigator their way into comprehending how to recreate Fortnite's success as the inexplicable hodgepodge of every possible completely random distantly game-relevant franchise into one massive gray goo ball that it is
Every other month they pop a new vacuum bagged clone of Walt Disney bred for the singular purpose of being born with inpiration for how to mimic Fortnite as an interactive universe they could shovel all their IPs through infinitely, and the clone, blinded by the powerful tube lights and burden of its existence just screams and begs to be terminated immediately, because the only thing is knows is that it has no chance of fulfilling its purpose in existence, and every single heartbeat it exists for is just a mockery of existence
