An Open Letter to a 'Badass Bruiser' in the Video Game "Borderlands"

Dear Badass Bruiser,

I write today in hopes of resolving an issue that recently arose between us, an issue that I feel threatens the very social fabric of the planet Pandora.

We have always had our differences. I am a so-called "Vault hunter," a mercenary in search of a mythical bounty of alien technology. You are a leader of men, a chief among your fellow warriors, albeit one whose way of life revolves around banditry. That our paths would cross and our purposes would be at odds is practically a given.

I must emphasize that I do not hold any grudges against you for shooting at me with a corrosive machine gun. We met on the kampfplatz of battle as fellow warriors, men of action, men of valor, equal in strength and courage, but fated to oppose one another. You fought valiantly and, please believe me, you have my most profound respect.

No, I write to complain of a merely logistical issue, one that stretches the very limits of plausibility:

I shot you in the fucking head with a combat rifle and you didn't die.

In fact, I shot you in the head three times. This simply does not make any sense! I know that you are very big, and that you have an abundance of health (as indicated by the red bar that floats in front of you while I shoot you.) But the most elementary understanding of anatomy would seem to indicate that your brain is still inside of your head, and further that if your brain is shot full of rifle bullets, you would proceed to, you know, die.

Please, consider the implications of your actions: by surviving three shots to the dome, you've undermined the very realism of our shared environment.

It is my hope that we can resolve this issue without further bloodshed. Just die when I shoot you in the head and everything will be fine.

Yours,
"Roland," soldier class, level 26.