Dung Eater’s resemblance to a troll becomes clearest after the fight is over.
Consider “teabagging”. The kill is settled, but the defeated player is still watching. Their corpse supplies a temporary means of reaching them. A few crouches are enough to make the body humiliating to inhabit retrospectively: that was you down there. The winner has found something to do with the loser beyond winning.
Dung Eater’s desecrations have this same surplus of intention. Death doesn’t satisfy him; something must be done to the dead that they cannot leave behind. His curse follows its victims beyond death and into their descendants. The joke practically writes itself: what if teabagging affected the respawn system?
The uglier possibility is that an insult could become part of how a world reproduces itself. A Halo player respawns, but the sting of the humiliation can outlast the gameplay death. Dung Eater gives that persistence a literal form: the gesture is waiting for you in the next life.
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