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Lame

Underwhelming. Lacking in form or substance. Buried by masses of uninteresting and unoriginal content.

The opposite of Extreme.

Every Light has its Dark. Every Good has its Evil. And so it is that in the face of the awe inspiring, impressive and intestine grabbing Extreme, Lame feebly crawled out from some rock, and lacked even the Extreme needed to die.

Its existence a mere theoretical conjecture, and a flimsy one in the overwhelming power of Extreme, Lameness has no place in The Song of the Sorcelator.

Lameness is some pansy-ass skinny dude with mis-shapen ears waving around a twiggy bow and wearing leaves.

Lameness is some whiny, young writer dude with only ONE INTEREST.

Lameness is the feeling you have when you're alone in that time just before sleeping when you wonder if the things you care about mean anything at all.