The screen is dark, and a dull rhythm sounds in the headphones, creating a gloomy atmosphere. The signature on the screen: "Access to a black metal band."

—So, you're all a disgrace here," his recording begins, his voice harsh and hoarse with anger. — How can you call yourself metalheads? You're just pathetic scum! Black metal is not just a musical genre, it's a philosophy! It's an art that you kill with your silly smiles and fake chords!

The noise of his untidy attic can be heard in the background, being torn to pieces by the sounds as he abruptly continues, ignoring the objections.

"You're all just kids playing rock stars!" Don't you understand that this humiliates us all? I've been involved in this music, this culture since a very young age, and you're just parasitizing it! Your fake will only save us from shame! I hate you, you and your stupidity!

Saying the last words, the guy turns off the recording with rage, angrily splashing hatred through the screen, unleashing all his aggression on people. It's his way of expressing himself, his cry of the soul in a world that doesn't want to hear him.