User blog:TheOmightypotato/A Cry For Help

Roblox Phenomenons: The Messager

The Messager is a tribe of users trapped in detorted realms. Many of them don't remember how they got there, rendering them helpless. They are left to be tortured by admins, whether for experimentation or just for entertainment, they've felt more pain than imaginable. Despite the cruelty they face, Builderman looked into his heart and gave them a way to escape, The Inbox. Inbox's were universal forms of communication that enabled the user to communicate with other users of different realms. Unfortunately, many users ignore this feature, forcing The Messagers to continue their agony.

It's snowing outside, trapping me and my friend indoors. We tried everything to open the door, but no luck. "You can give it a rest, Thrower." I watch as Thrower pitifully slams himself into the door of the building before finally giving it a rest. I shuffle around some dust bricks, no internet or cable sure did bore me. Seeing my boredom, my friend Thrower comes back with some letters. "Maybe we can be up-to-date with our mail!" Thrower normally has great ideas to keep us entertained, but this one left me puzzled, "Who reads the mail, nubs?" Thrower, clearly not amused by my joke, objects my statement. "Hey, maybe you'll find details about something interesting going on right now rather than being cooped up in your room like a loser." Honestly, he had a point there. I've been playing the same roleplay game alone for months now, maybe it was time to do something else for a change. We began reading through the letters one-by-one. Some of them were just boring one sentence messages while others were annoying "Free Robux" scams. Some of the more clever messages were humorous, making us laugh. When we were finished reading the letters, we went to go put them back on the shelf in my friends room, when suddenly a letter slipped through a small crack in the shelf. It was wrinkled and dirty, with a nearly unrecognizable adress smack in the middle of the envelope. One thing that caught my eye was that it didn't have the official Roblox stamp on it, but rather a custom made one. Opening the envelope revealed a brown slip of paper with the following text:

"I've been here for 3 years now. I haven't seen light in so long. I can't even understand what I am writing anymore. I think I am going crazy. All I see is disorted images of HIM. One day, Roblox came into my-y ro-om. H-h-he saw me crying. He told me, "There there, it's going to be okay." Okay. Okay.

OKAY

OKAY

OKAY

O-K-A-Y

O

K

A

Y

.

Beyond that, I found the rest of the page unrecognizable. Just when I finished reading, I see Thrower holding up a machete. "That isn't your letter, that isn't your business," he swung it towards me, making me lucky to live to hear more. "I am their savior, me me ME!" The handle of his weapon knocked me out cold.

Thrower was right, inboxes can be interesting. How would I know the truth if I never checked it? I am one of his friends, one of his children, one of his co-workers. I work with him to save the people of the suffering realm, we find cures to save these dying people and we entertain them whenever they're bored. Our boss will be so proud when he discovers that we are working so hard, especially after all of my absences. He'd be so happy that we got along with these children they call.

The Messagers.