hunt the wumpus is, in all likelihood, a bit of heartless mockery programmed into our reality by the beings running this infernal simulation; analogous to how a human master will provide his dog with a squeaky toy shaped like a t-bone steak. the dog appreciates the toy simply for the visceral experience of chomping on it, and is incapable of comprehending that its shape represents an ironic reference to a vastly superior experience; an experience the master withholds from all canines as a matter of policy. "Awww, he thinks he's people!" the master exclaims with a laugh, before resuming his efforts to port hunt the wumpus to a slightly different flavor of UNIX.
"the poor oblivious bastard," the dog thinks to himself, "always pressing the buttons on that thing when he could be chomping on a chew toy."
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