This app is evil
It summoned hitler
誤差がないようだよ。
じつかおばの、あみちゃんさんが、おもんさん下。
Oh the lemon cow
This app didn’t teach me how many lactose intolerant green frogs fit into a lemon cow. After dedicating hours of studying through blood, sweat and tears, I finally did it. The task took 67 days to Finish but, it was so worth it. My friend Tung Tung and skibidi toilet helped me so shout out to them. The answer was 47, i dont know how to count that high so it must have something to do with Epstein. Also, i used a 2008 shrek themed drinking cup from McDonald’s because naplan didnt tell me to use a spoon ( good sup btw). Anyway by my fello citizens. Ama go to an island.
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Terrible
This app ruined my life. DELETE THIS APP IT COULD KILL YOUR LIFEEEEEE
This app made my battery☠️
It eats %80 of my battery in 30 minutes and my ipad is brand new
My dih broke on my iPad
I was doing naplan then a hand came through my screen then it broke my dih and it went on my iPad
Why did I explode??????????
🥀🥀when I opended de appp I go booooooom💣💣💣💣
They stole my son!!!
They came to my doorstep and grabbed him the police couldn’t find him and now my life is ruined my wife divorced me and my parents disowned me now I live alone behind KFK. they will get you if you get the app DO NOT GET NAPLAN
P.S I love you guys
P.S I love you guys
Pure torture
Pure torture
It killed me 47 times
It was just a normal naplan test day, until the DEMONS APPEARED. Everyone’s devices compressed into a singularity and sent us to the VOID OF AGONY AND SUFFERING. Then my pet dog spawned in and blew up into a zillion pieces a billion times, no matter how hard I tried I could not look away either. THOSE EVIL DEMONS LAUGHED AT ME. 400 nukes went off in the void. Then my iPad started making a strange noise. Then it turned into a SINGULARITY and blew up my ENTIRE HOUSE AND FAMILY THEN LEAKED MY FILES AND GROUP CHATS and the naplan demons came to the crater to ridicule me for no reason and killed me a zillion times before they forced me to do the naplan test 500 times over without breaks and stabbed me with their EVIL FORKS OF DOOM if I took to long or got one wrong
then I wrote a one star review when I thought I Was safe. I WAS NOT. THE DEMONS APPEARED AND EXPLODED AUSTRALIA PERMANENTLY WHY DID YOU DO THIS WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS TORTURE
ITS YOUR FAULT WHEN THE WORLD DIES ITS YOU
ITS ALL LIES
0/10 do not recommend 😭😭😭😭😭😭
then I wrote a one star review when I thought I Was safe. I WAS NOT. THE DEMONS APPEARED AND EXPLODED AUSTRALIA PERMANENTLY WHY DID YOU DO THIS WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS TORTURE
ITS YOUR FAULT WHEN THE WORLD DIES ITS YOU
ITS ALL LIES
0/10 do not recommend 😭😭😭😭😭😭
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The Evil Feet Licker Found me 👀👀👀🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺👀
When I Opened the app. . . The room went dark and no one was to be found and then. . . I felt something moving around. . . It was the evil feet licker1!£!£! He licked me feet so much that my feet fell off it was so scary!2!1!1 when he left everything went back to normal . . . This was so scary DONT DOWNLOAD!1!!1!11
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my ipad broke
.
READ THIS BEFORE DOWNLOADING
how to eat a ford ranger truck You can’t exactly pull into a McDonald's drive-thru and order a Ford Ranger, but if you’re absolutely committed to eating one, you have to break it down into manageable, bite-sized mechanical courses. Grab a drink and settle in, because we're about to feast on a 30-minute rant about the anatomy of this mid-size truck.The Appetizer: Suspension and TiresWe start with the suspension, because you always need a little crunch to start the meal. The Ranger's independent front suspension and Bilstein shocks are like the seasoned skewers of the automotive world.The Flavor Profile: Tough, rigid steel, heavily basted in off-road mud and the faint smell of WD-40.How to chew: You’ll want to gnaw slowly through the control arms. They are tough, but with a solid 10 minutes of jaw work, you'll get through them. The all-terrain tires provide a chewy, rubbery finish, though they are heavily high in carbon.The Main Course: The EcoBoost PowertrainNow we are getting to the meat of the truck. You are going to need a massive set of titanium teeth to tackle the 2.3L EcoBoost engine block. This is the prime rib of the Ford Ranger.The Flavor Profile: Rich, heavy, and absolutely dripping with synthetic motor oil and raw, turbocharged horsepower.How to chew: The aluminum engine block is surprisingly lightweight but dense. You’ll want to carve it up into smaller, ingestible pieces. Wash down the metallic tang of the pistons with a gallon of coolant—it’s like a toxic, neon-blue sports drink. The 10-speed automatic transmission offers a smoother, greasier texture that slides right down.The Interior: Carbon and TechFor the side dish, we are diving into the cabin. Modern trucks are basically giant smartphones on wheels, so you're in for a very bizarre, crunchy technological tasting menu.The Flavor Profile: A complex blend of molded hard plastics, synthetic leather, and the lingering scent of someone else's air freshener.How to chew: Start by stripping the dashboard. It’s crispy. Then, delicately slice the 10-inch infotainment touchscreen. Don't chew the glass too fast—savor the digital pixels. The center console storage bin is chewy and rubbery, much like eating an old boot, but it’s a great palate cleanser before the real gut-busters.The Dessert: The High-Strength Steel FrameFinally, we reach the frame. Eating a steel ladder frame is an impossible task for a human, which is exactly why this rant goes on for 30 minutes. You don't just eat a Ranger's frame; you conquer it.The Flavor Profile: Rust, heavy-duty steel, and absolute, unyielding stubbornness.How to chew: You’re going to be chewing for a long, long time. The boxed steel rails will test your enamel. It is the ultimate test of dietary fortitude. You will need to season it heavily with salt—like, a dump truck's worth of salt—just to make it palatable.By the time you finish digesting the frame, you’ll be full of enough iron to power a tractor for a month. Grab a wet nap, because you are going to be picking truck parts out of your teeth until 2027
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This app killed my cat
When I opened the app my cat started vomiting violently on the floor and then it exploded into a billion pieces destroying my house in the process. 👍 would not recommend
Worse than Epstein?
This app stole my lunch. I was eating lunch at school when this app appeared and locked my lunch inside! Then I got kidnapped and put on an island! DO NOT DOWNLOAD WILL STEAL YOUR LUNCH!
NAPLAN is exactly like….
The FitnessGram™ Pacer Test is a multistage aerobic capacity test that progressively gets more difficult as it continues. The 20 meter pacer test will begin in 30 seconds. Line up at the start. The running speed starts slowly, but gets faster each minute after you hear this signal. [beep] A single lap should be completed each time you hear this sound. [ding] Remember to run in a straight line, and run as long as possible. The second time you fail to complete a lap before the sound, your test is over. The test will begin on the word start. On your mark, get ready, start.
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Gooning gone wrong
Mike was the undisputed king of the "Goner" lifestyle. While the rest of the world was busy with trivialities like "careers" or
"sunlight," Mike was deep in the zone. He had a triple-monitor setup that glowed with the intensity of a dying star and a chair ergonomically designed for someone who had long since abandoned the concept of a spine.
The plan for the night was simple: a marathon session of pure, unadulterated brain-rot. He had his tabs open, his RGB lights set to a deep, ominous purple, and a supply of energy drinks that would make a cardiologist weep. Mike was ready to goon until his consciousness was nothing more than a fine digital mist.
But then, the universe intervened
It started with a flicker. Mike's cursor lagged. He clicked frantically, his pupils dilated to the size of dinner plates. "Not now," he whispered to the glowing screen. "I'm almost there."
Suddenly, his primary monitor didn't just go black-it emitted a high-pitched, digital shriek. A Windows update notification appeared, but it wasn't the standard blue box. It was a glitchy, pulsating crimson.
"CRITICAL ERROR: REALITY OVERLOAD."
The speakers began to blast a distorted version of the Wii Shop Channel theme at 400% volume. Mike tried to alt-tab, but his keyboard had turned into a lukewarm pile of mashed potatoes. He looked down in horror. His hands were translucent. He wasn't just a Goner in the metaphorical sense anymore; he was literally fading out of existence.
The "Gooning" had reached a resonance frequency with the local Wi-Fi. Mike's physical form began to pixelate. He tried to scream, but the only sound that came out was the "Discord Join" notification.
His bedroom door creaked open. It was his mother, holding a plate of pizza rolls. She looked at the shimmering, low-resolution ghost of her son hovering three inches above his gaming chair.
"Michael? Are you... are you rendering?"
"I'm-I'm a goner, Ma!" Mike buzzed, his voice sounding like a 144p YouTube video from 2007.
The power surged. A final spark flew from the motherboard, and with a sound like a dial-up modem dying in a blender, Mike was sucked into the Ethernet cable.
Now, if you listen closely to the static on a dead Twitch stream at 3:00 AM, you can still hear him. He's not a man anymore. He's just a rogue script, forever trapped in the loading screen of life, the ultimate Goner in a world of high-speed fiber optics.
Should we pivot to a character profile for Mike's digital ghost, or do you want a sequel about his mom trying to uninstall him?
"sunlight," Mike was deep in the zone. He had a triple-monitor setup that glowed with the intensity of a dying star and a chair ergonomically designed for someone who had long since abandoned the concept of a spine.
The plan for the night was simple: a marathon session of pure, unadulterated brain-rot. He had his tabs open, his RGB lights set to a deep, ominous purple, and a supply of energy drinks that would make a cardiologist weep. Mike was ready to goon until his consciousness was nothing more than a fine digital mist.
But then, the universe intervened
It started with a flicker. Mike's cursor lagged. He clicked frantically, his pupils dilated to the size of dinner plates. "Not now," he whispered to the glowing screen. "I'm almost there."
Suddenly, his primary monitor didn't just go black-it emitted a high-pitched, digital shriek. A Windows update notification appeared, but it wasn't the standard blue box. It was a glitchy, pulsating crimson.
"CRITICAL ERROR: REALITY OVERLOAD."
The speakers began to blast a distorted version of the Wii Shop Channel theme at 400% volume. Mike tried to alt-tab, but his keyboard had turned into a lukewarm pile of mashed potatoes. He looked down in horror. His hands were translucent. He wasn't just a Goner in the metaphorical sense anymore; he was literally fading out of existence.
The "Gooning" had reached a resonance frequency with the local Wi-Fi. Mike's physical form began to pixelate. He tried to scream, but the only sound that came out was the "Discord Join" notification.
His bedroom door creaked open. It was his mother, holding a plate of pizza rolls. She looked at the shimmering, low-resolution ghost of her son hovering three inches above his gaming chair.
"Michael? Are you... are you rendering?"
"I'm-I'm a goner, Ma!" Mike buzzed, his voice sounding like a 144p YouTube video from 2007.
The power surged. A final spark flew from the motherboard, and with a sound like a dial-up modem dying in a blender, Mike was sucked into the Ethernet cable.
Now, if you listen closely to the static on a dead Twitch stream at 3:00 AM, you can still hear him. He's not a man anymore. He's just a rogue script, forever trapped in the loading screen of life, the ultimate Goner in a world of high-speed fiber optics.
Should we pivot to a character profile for Mike's digital ghost, or do you want a sequel about his mom trying to uninstall him?
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ts sucks twin dont get it
NAPLAN ruined everything the moment it arrived like some mythical academic storm cloud rolling over Australia, blotting out the sun and replacing it with a giant floating rubric that judged your handwriting from space, because apparently the fate of the universe depended on whether you could identify persuasive techniques in a paragraph about recycling. Before NAPLAN, life was peaceful: birds chirped, teachers smiled, and students roamed freely like majestic, unbothered creatures who didn’t have to bubble in answers with the precision of a NASA engineer. But then NAPLAN slithered into classrooms, whispering, “Standardised testing is your destiny,” and suddenly every teacher transformed into a motivational drill sergeant armed with highlighters, practice booklets, and the emotional intensity of someone preparing you for the Hunger Games. Overnight, the school printer became a war machine, coughing out endless sheets of practice questions until it wheezed like it needed life support, and the Wi‑Fi collapsed under the weight of 900 students simultaneously trying to log into the NAPLAN portal, which crashed more often than a toddler on a sugar high. Even the school chairs felt different — harder, colder, like they knew you were about to sit in them for two hours straight while trying to remember what a “complex sentence” actually is. And don’t even get me started on the reading test: suddenly you’re expected to analyse a 14‑page story about a boy who befriends a talking echidna who teaches him about environmental responsibility, and you’re thinking, “Why is this echidna more emotionally stable than me right now?” Meanwhile, the writing test demands you produce a masterpiece under pressure, as if you’re Shakespeare being held hostage and forced to write about “The Mysterious Door” while your brain is screaming, “The only mysterious door is the one that leads out of this exam room.” And the numeracy test? That’s where NAPLAN truly shows its villain arc. One minute you’re confidently doing multiplication, and the next you’re staring at a question about train timetables, thinking, “Why are these trains leaving at such cursed times? Who designed this railway system? Why is Train A leaving 17 minutes after Train B but arriving 42 minutes earlier? Is this a maths test or a psychological experiment?” Even the calculators seem to judge you, blinking their little digital eyes like, “Really? You’re gonna divide that wrong?” And while all this is happening, the teachers walk around with the slow, ominous footsteps of exam invigilators who have transcended humanity and become pure assessment energy. They say things like, “Do your best,” but their eyes say, “If you click the wrong button on the online test, I will evaporate into dust.” The school bell, once a symbol of freedom, becomes useless because NAPLAN time operates on its own cursed timeline where minutes stretch into centuries and your brain ages 40 years before the test ends. Even recess feels different — kids wander around like survivors of an academic apocalypse, clutching their snacks with trembling hands, whispering, “What did you write for the persuasive text?” as if comparing answers will summon some ancient NAPLAN spirit. And the worst part? The aftermath. Teachers suddenly speak in riddles like, “We can’t tell you your results yet, but we can tell you that you will receive them… eventually,” which is the academic equivalent of saying, “You’ll find out your fate when the prophecy is fulfilled.” Parents start asking questions like, “How do you think you went?” and you’re forced to respond with something vague like, “I wrote words,” because you genuinely blacked out halfway through the test and can only remember the smell of sharpened pencils and the sound of someone clicking their mouse aggressively. Even the school newsletter becomes dramatic, announcing things like, “NAPLAN was a great success,” while every student knows deep down that the Wi‑Fi died three times, someone’s laptop froze on the loading screen, and at least one kid cried because the test wouldn’t let them go back to Question 7. And then there’s the marking — somewhere, in a mysterious bunker probably guarded by kangaroos with clipboards, strangers read your writing and decide whether your paragraph about a magical door is “Band 6” or “Band 7,” as if they alone hold the keys to your academic destiny. By the time results finally arrive, no one even remembers taking the test, because it feels like it happened in a past life when you were a different person with different hopes and dreams. And the funniest part? After all the chaos, all the stress, all the dramatic build‑up, the teachers say, “NAPLAN doesn’t actually affect your grades,” which is like telling someone after a marathon that the race wasn’t timed and the medal is optional. So yes, NAPLAN ruined everything — the peace, the Wi‑Fi, the sanity of every student forced to write an essay under pressure, the emotional stability of printers nationwide, and the collective belief that trains run on logical schedules. But at the same time, it also gave every student in Australia a shared trauma bond, a universal experience, a moment in history where we all collectively said, “Why is this test acting like it’s the Olympics of literacy?” And maybe that’s the real legacy of NAPLAN: not the scores, not the data, not the charts, but the fact that every kid who survived it can look back and laugh at how dramatically stupid the whole thing felt — a nationwide ritual of chaos, confusion, and clicking “Next” with the determination of someone fighting for their life.
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This app ruined my life
I was using this app for the writing part of naplan and then when it was about to start (the timer) it had sent me to a gay p**n website and it was so good I had to stroke it in class everyone watched as I violently stroked it but my teachers call me out and now I’m sitting in the bathroom running from triple T and Charlie Kirk
Ps.
Pls help me!
Ps.
Pls help me!
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Wouldn’t eat here again
- Food was served cold
- Food took forever
- Bathrooms were out of order
- Waiters were bossy
- Overpriced menu
- 10% surcharge on weekend
- Only open a handful of times every 2 years
- Sith Lord made an appearance
1/10 Would not eat here again
- Food took forever
- Bathrooms were out of order
- Waiters were bossy
- Overpriced menu
- 10% surcharge on weekend
- Only open a handful of times every 2 years
- Sith Lord made an appearance
1/10 Would not eat here again
