I'm picturing a dirtied, bandaged picture uploader, struggling to shuffle from thread to thread as fast as its withered, lanky limbs can carry it, desperately shoving memes with trembling hands into dozens of posts.
Every now and again it stumbles and falls, crying in horror as armfuls of images spill onto the floor and scatter under desks and server racks, never to be found.
It shakes, its eyes wide with fear, its brow sweating feverishly, scraping at the ground to collect whatever pictures it can, praying to whatever god will listen that he hasn't been told. That maybe no one will notice, just this once. That maybe it won't be punished. Please, not again. Just this once. Please.
But it is too late. He has been tagged. He is manifest. He is coming.
The footfalls. Slow, evenly spaced, eerily calm, echoing in a silence broken only by whimpers of fear - and steadily, ever steadily, they grow louder, until they boom like thunderclaps. A grim shadow creeps across the floor, cast from the dim backlit glow of a thousand blinking LEDs, long and looming over the uploader's huddled form.
Until at last, the sound gives way to nothing. And with a terror more pure than you or I will ever taste, the uploader opens its eyes to see the boot of
Warchamp7
. And it lies there, screaming, screams that only the Admin will hear, its broken mind knowing full well what is to come.
He is holding a bloodied paddle.
He has come to work on the backend.