> You are not powerful, but by the fires of muspelheim you will soon change that.
> You use your newfound affluence to create the development of a robotic army that overwhelms the nations of the world with steely ease, bringing all of humanity under your oppressive iron fist.
> But as you sit atop your metallic throne, pangs of longing for your long lost love grow in the depths of your power-blackened heart. Grief overcomes you, and when the by-now desperate and starving insurgents sense weakness, they make one final effort to strike at your dark citadel.
> While you lie and dream lonely dreams of the gentle Jerl, the insurgents overwhelm your guards with impassioned and ferverous battle. They storm into your sickeningly luxurious bedroom suite, singing cries of freedom and brandishing crude blades crafted together from what scraps they could steal from your oppressive regime.
> As you face your death, your thoughts turn from your first love to your second: cold-blooded murder.
> You pull a large firearm from its secure hiding place at your bedside, and calmly mow down the rebel fighters.
> As the sound of victorious cries fade and are replaced by that of gunfire and terror, your lonely heart is filled once again with joy.
> You reign for many years more, filling the hours that once were consumed by sad thoughts of Jerl by gleefully executing innocents.
>
> GAME OVER
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