I am a King main, for my sins. There’s something about parading around as a towering slab of hardened meat, topped off with a jaguar mask, that does it for me. Clotheslining a J-Pop icon, repeatedly kicking a bear in the shins, or slamming the soles of both feet into a geriatric sociopath feels good. Mixing up throws and making people rage in lobbies as I spend about 60 seconds breaking all their limbs, one by one, gives me a dopamine hit.
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