Five patches a year oh, what a delight,
New tanks! New jets! …Except, not quite.
We wait, we hope, we stare at the screen,
The second patch still unseen.
The leaks drip in, the rumors fly,
Tomorrow, they claim but we know that’s a lie.
Gaijin teases, then vanishes fast,
Leaving us stranded, refreshing en masse.
The devs sip tea, unbothered, composed,
While we haunt the forums desperate, exposed.
Would it kill them to give us a date?
Or do they revel in the chaos they create?
Days turn to weeks, speculation runs wild,
A wishlist grows, each feature compiled.
New maps, new modes dreams taking flight,
But silence lingers, veiled in night.
At last, the update arrives in a flash,
A torrent of content, a frenzied dash.
We rush to unlock, to grind, to test,
The dopamine surges we feel possessed.
Then bugs emerge, quirks take hold,
Some models are wrong, some mechanics too bold.
The forums ignite, the critics descend,
Balance debates a cycle without end.
Yet even as flaws begin to show,
We fight, we learn, adapt, and grow.
Another match, another run,
The battlefield calls the war is won.
And when the dust of battle fades,
The cycle resets, the hunger remains.
Another patch, another plea,
Another wait but we’ll always be.
For no matter how long the updates delay,
We return, we grind,
we fight, we stay.