"Let's see... 'no usage of full-auto inside the dorm room'... huh...?"
I was currently reading through a whole mountain stack of paperwork inside the lounge of the administrative station—the "office" of the Grunt Armory. It had been half an hour since I began shifting and signing through paperwork after paperwork stacked on the coffee table of the lounge while I sat hunched on the couch.
There was a whole bunch of them ranging from Terms of Service, Terms of Agreement, Terms of Use, Privacy Policy, End User License Agreement, Regulations, and many, many more.
Every single term and rule you could think of was stacked together. It boggled me to no end that in order to get my grunt equipment, I would need to read all of this paperwork and sign agreements to each and every one of them.