Fortnite please stop posting skins I want to buy

With almost two months left, I’ve already reached level 100 with the current Fortnite Battle Pass. I’m a true gamer, down with the kids and aware of how I make all my haters – of whom there are many – sweat. Since the addition of Zero Build, this live service has become a juggernaut that I dive into a few times a week to complete my regular quests and challenges before heading to the virtual store and seeing what new loot tickles my fancy .

I pray my family never finds out how much money I’ve spent on Fortnite. It’s probably not so much in the grand scheme of things since most of my cosmetic items have been earned in seasonal Battle Passes and as part of free packs and promotions. Yet for every Meow Skulls variant, there’s a Master Chief or Ariana Grande, pop culture icons who taunt me for daring toss pennies for the joy of randomly controlling them every now and then. This game is the master of FOMO, the unpredictability of each new skin draws me in when it feels like I’ve finally managed to let go. Who am I kidding? I live for this shit.


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For months, to the dismay of my colleagues, I talked about the exciting potential of John Cena’s addition to Fortnite. But I never thought it would actually happen until one fateful day when I was standing in line at the coffee shop and checked my phone. Suddenly, the news team shared a tweet from Epic Games. It was simple and to the point, letting us know that the man who can’t be seen was coming to the greatest game on earth. Please make room for the Doctor of Thuganomics on the Battle Bus or he’ll decorate your candy ass.

John Cena

Last week I bought a sexy knight pack because I simmoned for her, and the week before I couldn’t resist picking up a cute snowboarder I’d never heard of thanks to her fabulous outfit. Now, Dead Space’s Isaac Clarke has popped up, except his bundle is a little different than the usual offerings. The pack costs £10 and includes Isaac Clarke himself, a plasma cutter pickaxe, a bank emote and a series of challenges that lead to 1,500 V-Bucks once you complete them all. Essentially a way to make back the money you spent getting him in the first place. It’s a more involved skin that will likely promote the forthcoming remake. He’s more than a sad engineer with a ghost girlfriend destined to sit in my inventory forever. Now I have a reason to dive into Fortnite for some naughty sessions and take advantage of it.

Fortnite has mastered the art of optional cosmetics, nailing its own charming aesthetic while combining it with a cultural relevance that no one else can match in any medium. We’re well past the point of no return, and if a character exists and maintains a constant level of popularity in our current zeitgeist, chances are they’ll appear in the game sooner or later. It doesn’t matter if they’re fictional or real, that line has long been blurred.

Empty room

There is a beautiful absurdity to Fortnite and how it has slowly become an incomprehensible metaverse with mass appeal. It’s unstoppable, at least for now, and the way it keeps coming up with new interactive ways to interact with music, images, and other people on a level playing field is always mind-blowing. Having lobbies full of recognizable faces is part of that success, leading to conversations about our favorite characters and the desire to own them for ourselves.

I long ago bought a lifetime pass to his shenanigans, picked up skins and quickly discovered the appeal of being my favorite lesbians and sad spaceboys in an unfamiliar but equally fascinating environment. But please, for the sake of my wallet, please stop dropping crackers out of nowhere. I have to feed cats.

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