You know it's really demoralizing to let your own feet be prostituted by just mere games, right?
Think a moment, only your closest peers and loved ones saw your feet, your mother, friends, even your partner. Yet some of you think that sending your feetpics to owl will accomplish anything other than degrading your entire bloodline for a $30 AAAslop game and maybe, MAYBE, a mediocre one.

>“Muh body my choice”
Yeah, your choice to become the jerking off material in someone’s degenerate feet folder for the low low price of a Steam game that you'll never platinum.

>“It’s just feet bro, don’t be a envious loser lol”
No, you don’t get it. It’s not about the feet. It’s about the complete spiritual bankruptcy that led you to believe this is a fair trade. Feet for game time? That’s not a fair deal, that’s the death of morals, and you’re grinning like others are envious.

You used to walk barefoot on gravel, scream about freedom and privacy.
Now you’re meticulously photographing your socks in warm light inside your favela, hoping Owl sends you Balatro Deluxe Cum Edition.

Imagine your ancestors dying in wars for liberty so you could be here—at night on /b/, negotiating toe-angles for digital shit.

And for what?
Some pixel tits in waifu game shit and a badge you’ll hide anyway because deep down, you know you're not just down bad—you're lost.

It's not worth it turning from a beggar to a whore...


Enjoy your Steam game, footfag.