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Matt Ward
Matt Ward is an agent of God sent from on high to punish transgressors, much like Hitler. His divine mission is to mercilessly troll the ever-loving fuck out of neckbeards, /tg/, and the Warhammer 40k fan base at large. His skill in this regard was noticed by the sadistic jews of Games Workshop, who subsequently granted him gainful employment in the field of professional rage solicitation.
He Who Would Drink The Tears Of Manchildren
The man who would become Lord Ward, Antichrist of Autists, began his "hobbyist" career in a most inauspicious manner. He started by writing rulebooks for a tabletop miniatures game set in a Lord of the Rings campaign, but no one could give a fuck less about LOTR. Unable to acquire his lifeblood of lulz in this fashion, Sir Ward extensively studied The Protocols of the Elders of Zion so that he might better understand the overlords of Games Workshop. Having promised them heretofore unheard of troves of precious gold in exchange for providing Ward a writing position in their Warhammer 40k division, they had no choice but to agree. As is custom, the arrangement was sealed with the ritual sacrifice of a gentile infant.
Rise Of The Hierophant
Saint Ward wasted no time in destroying the 40k fandom. He immediately began rewriting the storyline to better serve his favorite army, the Ultramarines... "favorite" because most everyone loathes them. This wasn't the only army to be given the Mary Sue treatment; others had their gameplay rules buffed to the point of nigh invincibility. While fans regard Ward's crunch to be an abomination, they sperg out uncontrollably when reading his fluff. Ward openly stated that the Ultramarines are the greatest of the Space Marines, and that other chapters are both deviant and envious of their superiors. Players (correctly) interpreted this as Master Ward stating "If you use a Space Marine army that isn't the one I like, you're doing it wrong." Using powers of miraculous divination, Matt Ward, Esquire, discovered the paradoxical fact that fat, lonely virgins with more time and money than friends or common sense were appalled by literary depictions of violence against fictional women. Thus, whenever the Sisters of Battle appear in a story or battle report, they are always brutally slaughtered. Even the Grey Knights, the holiest of mankind's warriors, were depicted as purifying themselves by killing these space nuns and bathing in their blood. One can almost pity the wretches who spent hundreds or even thousands of dollars on plastic crap, only to be trolled out of the arena. Almost.
Cries Of The Damned
—Milisim |
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Matt Ward is part of a series on Visit the Trolls Portal for complete coverage. |
Matt Ward is part of a series on Visit the Gaming Portal for complete coverage. |