SWTOR Could Learn Something From Porn Site Billing, F**king Sh*t.

There are times when the blue-veined monster whispers nothing-sense to me. It coos at me, driving down my already dessiccated and marooned on the side of my consciousness sense of Rationality. It tells me to do things. From with the dank Dagobah that is my swampy set of boxer briefs, it commands me. Put in your credit card information. Click those buttons. Sign up for that porn site. Dance, monkey! Dance, dinky! Soon all shall be right with the world. Let the buxom shake, let the artificial moans wash over you. Spend your money, do it, do it!

Blasting down my residual resistence with the complete and utter confidence that lies beyond that pay wall is infinitely more infectious to my fetish fantacism than the countless streaming porn sites, I cave. I pay. I mash for a few awkward minutes, and then clarity. The riptide of hormonal release brings me to my senses and I think to myself: you’ve done it again. That slimy slug in your pants cajoled you. Before you go back to browsing Kotaku and refreshing Facebook for the remainder of the evenings, you have to do something.

Cancel your fucking account! Before the billing rescinds into the background noise of your brain. Rattling off already crowded walls where the persistent fantasizes arise from the deadly mix of permanent infantilism, pop culture vomiting in heavy chunks, and responsibilities fist fighting for my attention. So I do! I heed the beckon. And call. Always mind the call. I cancel the subscription to Latex Vomitorioum Bisex Orgy before I forget, and I go on my way.

This is where the germane arises, my friends. Hold on! For do you know what I get after that cancellation? I still have my thirty days of latex, vomiting, dongs and vags, and most importantly of orgies. Even without an active membership. Porn drives the commerce that built the Internet goddammit and from it I demand that all other logic is derived. So why would Electronic Arts deviate from standards the Torch Holders have constructed? There is sense! There is stability! A billing process I can understand.

When I slapped down fat-handed fart-covered bucks for my copy of the Star Wars: Old Republic Nerd Jizz Fest, I was guaranteed something. I was guaranteed a character creator I could use to design my own volumptous Sith vixen to store in my brain. I would close my eyes, hand wandering my body and know that if the Universe is truly the Multiverse, there was a Me somewhere Vomiting on Her in a Latex Orgy of my dreams. Behold the Multiverse!, the realm where I take solace in all the things I will never achieve here.

I was also promised something else.

I was promised thirty free days of access to the Old Musty Republic. An Old Republic replete with the same designs as the Original Republic and the Prequel Republic. It’s amazing how architecture and design haven’t evolved in a Galaxy Far, Far, Away in thousands and thousands of years. Poor-sighted ennui-filled at-war pieces of shit. I was promised thirty free days of access! For some ungodly reason these thirty days, which I had already bought, demanded that I activate a billing subscription. Why! What is this nonsense. I had bought the time. I had earned it, you fucking pigs! You corporo-douches. I had earned it through my fart-covered bucks and my installing and all I wanted to do was login and generate the Multiverse where my penis and persistently further-dangling balls could strap on some latex and be fucked by my Sith Queen. She of the lightsaber and Strap-On of Doom. No! No they said.

Unlike a porn site where after my original digits were placed, I could gargle the barf and squegee the latex for thirty days after purchase, Electronic Arts were not so magnanimous. They demanded supplication. I kowtowed, and entered my digits. The Multiverse must be generated. My Sith Queen must consist. Persist. Exist. For if I cannot glimmer, then I cannot generate. Despite the promises. Despite the purchase. Despite the structures established through the  You Pay For 30 Days With An AMEX Gift Card For Vomit And Bisexuality So The Man Can’t Track You legions.

I bowed. I am not happy.

But there is a Multiverse to generate.