Note: This is a retelling of the Roblox game called Piggy: Book 2! It's a sequel to Book 1.
The following defeat of Mr. P, Miguel settles along with the members of the safe place. One day, he meets a long lost criminal named Willow, who seeks reven...
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I last thing I remembered is about my childhood after I pass out from getting jumpscared by the infected pig silhouette. In my childhood, I used to play video games with my friends, but unfortunately, I lose every game, and my friends win. I had a losing streak all of the time.
In my teenage years, we used to play Murder Mystery 2 where we tried to not be killed by the murderer. But for me, I lost every single round when I'm an innocent, or murderer, or sheriff. I sometimes rage quit on these games for good. I've never win any games that I used to play.
One day in my teenage years, I practiced myself to try to win a fighting game. As I tried to defeat the other players to win, I struggled myself on the controls that it was very difficult to me. But unsurprisingly, I lose the game.
"ARGH!" I raged, "This is so stupid! I never going to win!" Since I lose, I angrily throw the controller out of rage, and I tucked my hands angrily for losing the game. "Why am I so bad at everything?!" I questioned myself in anger.
Then, my parents come into my room to comfort me as they see me in frustration. My mother said to me, "Oh honey, I know this must be really frustrating for you." "But you need to learn that nothing in life is going to be handed to you on a silver platter. You have to fight for it.", my father said. He asked, "You understand, don't you, son?"
"Yeah, dad." I replied to him, unenthusiastic. They were nice to me at first that I see their normal faces until my dad said, "Good. Because if you don't, you'll always be a loser." "What?" I asked, seeing my father's voice is distorted. "Listen to your father, loser." my mom said, as her voice is distorted. "Huh?!" I exclaimed.
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When I turn around to my parents, I noticed that their eyes turned red, and their mouths vanished. Both of them wickedly laughed at me. "Mom?! Dad?!" I exclaimed. Then they called me, "Loser..." I realized that my parents don't care about me all this time. They were nice in my childhood, but why did they act this way?
"What's happening?!" I exclaimed, as I questioned myself. Then my father said in a wicked mood, "It'll be your fault." "What will?" I asked them. My mother replied wickedly, "Your friends' deaths. Our deaths. All because... you're weak."
