Assassin's Creed 3: A Satirical Poem on Gaming's Mediocrity

In the land of gaming, where heroes are born, There's a tale of a man, who's been sworn, To fight for freedom, justice, and peace, And his name is Connor, the Assassin's crease.

With tomahawk in hand, and bow on his back, He roams through the land, in his hooded black, Fighting the British, and their tyranny, To make the colonies, a land of the free.

But alas, this game, is not what it seems, For it's filled with bugs, and endless streams, Of glitches, and errors, that make you scream, And rage quit the game, in a fit of steam.

The graphics are poor, the controls are rough, And the cutscenes are long, and often too much, To bear, as you watch, Connor doze off, While the plot drags on, like a limp old cloth.

The NPCs are dumb, and often act strange, Running in circles, or standing in range, Of your hidden blade, as you try to stealth, But they detect you anyway, and sound the alarm bell.

And what's with the hunting, and crafting too, It's like they wanted, to add more to do, But forgot to make it fun, or worthwhile, Leaving you bored, and feeling quite vile.

The multiplayer is a mess, and often laggy, Making it hard, to play with your buddy, And the microtransactions, are a bit too much, For a game that's already, out of touch.

So, in conclusion, Assassin's Creed 3, Is a game that's filled, with mediocrity, And while it may have, some good ideas, It's execution, leaves much to be feared.