Holy Guacamole the KCD2 vs Expedition 33 award cope is real!
I see 2 main talking points...
'KCD2 WAS ROBBED!' ... can't be robbed of something that was never yours
'Ex 33 isn't an RPG!'... what do I even say to that? Thats so dumb its insane... not knowing what a genre is...
Its like when people say 'soulslike' is its own genre... no it isn't. Its a subset of action. All it does within that is have some core mechanics/principles.
Not all soulslikes have all the principles but they have enough.
Difficulty
Atmosphere/environmental story telling
Rest points that reset enemies
Currency you lose on death
Purposely clunky
Big bad bosses
Etc etc
None of those are unique but the combination leads to the distinction.
The main reason they gave for ex 33 not being an RPG is the lack of branching story and choice...
My brother in christ... thats not the only principle rpg's follow...
We can't show this anywhere else on the internet but here. Enjoy.
Who Are You?
"Just an guy (or ""Normal Man"" if you'd prefer) that likes video games and anime and cats (especially mine, as seen in my profile pic here). I tend to gravitate towards the more obscure and interesting stuff over safe/samey mainstream slop. I am vehemently against all monetization in games other than paying for a copy up-front once; games that want money in any other way are ones I avoid - so absolutely no live service games, MMOs, or basically anything multiplayer-focused. That definitely limits what I play in terms of modern games, but I really don't think I'm missing much by taking that stance.
I've been on the internet forever, but didn't post a whole lot (although I still have some of the oldest reviews and FAQs for a few Sega Genesis titles up on GameFAQs under an old name) and stopped completely for a long time following the rise of the big all-encompassing social media websites because I wanted nothing to do with them. I'm a very private individual and don't want to broadcast anything about myself to the ...
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We never meant for today to turn into a full-blown pilgrimage. Originally, we planned a livestream. Buc-ee’s would be the backdrop — oversized snacks, perfectly arranged brisket burritos, and the distinct scent of gasoline and nostalgia in the air. But, somewhere between idea and execution, we said “nah.”
Instead, we lived it.
Before we even stepped through Buc-ee’s automatic doors, we were greeted by a fan — a small but energizing reminder that what we do matters to people. And then, with the kind of anticipation you normally reserve for concerts or Christmas mornings, Blabs declared her one true goal: eat.
Blabs, already vibrating with excitement, stood before the sandwich counter like a worshipper at an altar. Her hands jazzed, clasped, fluttered, pointed. The Big Buckin’ Brisket Sandwich was tempting, but the Carolina Pulled Pork stole her soul. She literally hugged the sign.
“Ohhh, maybe I’ll get both,” she mused. “I’m getting fat-ass today.”
A bold declaration. A Buc-ee’s declaration.
She danced toward the bakery. Oatmeal raisin cookies, massive cinnamon rolls, muffins the size of small dogs — she surveyed them all like a war general planning a sweet invasion. Meanwhile, I was struggling with my own indecision. Chicken and fries? A burrito? Brisket? Cheesesteak? It was a battlefield of carbs and smoked meats.
Eventually, I landed on the pulled pork. Blabs did too. And just like that, we made our way out to the car — two champions, two sandwiches, no napkins.
We forgot drinks. That was mistake number one. Mistake number two was thinking I’d get the first bite in before Blabs.
Because by the time I opened my sandwich wrapper, she was halfway done. I've never seen anyone eat a barbecue sandwich with such speed, such joy, such… grace? Is that the word? Probably not. But impressive? Hell yes.
She danced with every bite. She hoovered. She transcended. “It’s so freaking good, bro,” she managed between mouthfuls.
It wasn’t just eating. It was a performance.
When the last bite vanished, she leaned back, fully satisfied, glowing like someone who just achieved true peace. Ten out of ten. Would eat again. Probably twice today.
Meanwhile, I was still on bite one.
But we weren’t done. Oh no. You can’t just leave Buc-ee’s after one round. We went back in, like hobbits returning to Mordor — except instead of a cursed ring, we were chasing pecans and Rice Krispie Treats.
Blabs wandered through the store like she was in a trance. Candies. Drinks. Nuts. Bakery goods. That glazed pecan display practically called to her by name. She considered everything and then some: peppered turkey strips, oatmeal raisin cookies (again), fudge, Rice Krispie Treats the size of VHS tapes. She caved. She grabbed a cart.
Women be shopping. Yes, even at Buc-ee’s.
There was a moment of existential crisis near the fudge. A penny press nearly brought her to tears of joy. She packed pennies. This was not her first Buc-ee’s rodeo.
At one point, we passed a teenage influencer loudly proclaiming to his 12 followers, “THIS is Buc-ee’s.” Blabs side-eyed him while gripping her peppered turkey like a survivalist. She wasn’t here to post. She was here to consume.
At checkout, the final damage: $39.16. Worth every penny.
She debated adding more beaver nuggets but showed rare restraint. As we walked out, the Texas heat hit like a wave, and the sadness set in. The doors whooshed shut behind her — the gates of Valhalla, closing. There was a look in her eyes. The look of someone who’d found love… and had to leave it behind.
In her bag: one brisket burrito, to be savored across the next few nights like a squirrel rationing acorns. In her heart: memories of pulled pork perfection.
And maybe — just maybe — we bring the King of the Couch crew here next time. An army of content creators, united under the Buc-ee’s banner, battling it out, fueled by brisket and joy.
Until then, we live with the memory. And Blabs? She’ll dream of that sandwich.
