Back in the dark ages of middle school, young AntiSqueaker, had a problem with pueberty. Namely a cracking voice, combined with acne and his body growing at an uncomfortable rate. Playing Halo, Diablo 2, Planetside I was constantly blasted for being a Squeaker.
Rage consumed my being, for though I had a squeaky voice, my soul, my very essence was free of the dreaded taint.
I suffered, OH HOW I SUFFERED, in vidya games until the last taint of the miasma had worked its way from my throat, and I emerged clean and free! With all the tenacity, cleverness, and forethought my still teenage mind, I rallied against my years of terror and sorrow.
I emerged, more than a teenager. More than a man. I became an ideal, a veritable force of nature, the driving force of life itself. I shed my previous handle and adopted the grim mask of: ANTISQUEAKER. Let all those who rage immaturely at games tremble before my scathing sarcasm, and lament at my lack of mercy!
(tl;dr pueberty sucked for me big time and I'm unoriginal)