I am the Retro Slayer.
Forged in relentless fire. Tempered in the crushing weight of solitude and pain.
Single father. Remnant of a world that forgot how to fight.
I stalk the ruins of this broken age, a gamepad in one hand, a warrior’s wrath in the other. Raised on 16-bit battlefields, thunderous metal anthems, blood-soaked manga pages, and the savage heartbeat of ’80s and ’90s cinema.
I don’t follow trends—I hunt them. I break them. I outlast everything they throw at me.
Fueled by cold, unflinching science—astronomy, cosmology, biology—the brutal truths of an indifferent universe.
Trained in martial arts not for glory, but to survive the war inside and out.
No gods. No masters. No mercy for weakness. Only grit, instinct, and the unbreakable blood oath to my children.
I don’t just endure.
I survive.
And make no mistake—if you stand in my way, I will fucking break you.
All of you. Motherfuckers.
