This printer was going to change my life. If nothing else, I could make a working gun with it.
That was three weeks ago. Today I am a broken man. My entire flat stinks of burnt plastic. My fingers are covered in cuts and scabs. If I ever hear the word "extruder" again, I'm going to slit my throat. My life has turned into a mangled CDT lab of confusion and frustration and microscopic foreign bodies that I'm pretty sure have lodged into my eyeball. (Heritage, 2013).
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