Failhalla

In the great hall of Failhalla
Each griefer made his brag.
“I burglarised a hundred n00bs
And made off with their swag.”

A leering ogre snickered
As he raised his mug with pride.
“That’s nothing,” said the cyborg lord
Who feasted at his side.

“My suicidal spacefleets
Have utterly destroyed
The galaxy’s economy:
Boy, were they annoyed!

“And now, our newest guest,” he asked,
“What crimes have you achieved?
What innocents have you pissed off?
What treasures have you thieved?”

“I vandalised a website
Where a clique of horrid nerds
Kept getting higher scores than me
For using silly words!”

The other griefers sat there
And they stared into their food,
Till someone broke the silence:
“That sounds… a little… rude?”