Cure: Wear chainmail gloves all day, every day. Even to bed and in the shower. Never remove them. They are a part of you now.

Symptoms: Temporal fluctuations inside your body, but only within the vicinity of your kidneys. One minute they're the kidneys of an elderly person, and the next they're a baby's.

Cure: Eat 10 packets of pop rocks and chug a 2 liter of coke

Symptoms: always speaks in broken Dovahzul

Cure: Unlearn everything you know about every language. It's all just meaningless sounds to you now. Words are nothing more than vibrations in the air, and letters are naught but squiggles and lines on a paper or screen. You are now left with nothing but the abstract flow of your internal thoughts, formed of nothing but images, audio, and pure emotions. You are now free from the confines of society. You are finally your own person. Finally.

Symptoms: Unable to order a sandwich from Subway because you forgot how to speak.

Cure: Slowly relearn all human concepts. Forget chasing your food and plant things. Build homes and farm many types of plants. Invent a new, evolved society that communicates through mental power. Only then will you get your sandwich.

Symptoms: The lesser race insists on war. I don't feel like it.

Cure: [Reyliiksejul los nunon fah naak]
[Muz los bein kip nuz mu fent krii voth jotu ahrk yol]
[Ruz mu fent praal med drogge]

Symptoms: [Nunon tinvaak ahrk pel voth sikke]

(Apologies if this kills the flow of this fun game, but I had to go for it.)

Cure: Eat ten souls and sit on a toad finaly win a staring contest.

Symptoms: Ichy butt, vomiting, anal leakage, dark scales turning in to viagra pills.

Cure: Eat Sanguine

Symptoms: Keep going back to my Oblivion ways

Cure: [al pogaan leinne erei hi halvuut pruzah]

Symptoms: [fin krasaar do dovah tinvaak lost bo wah zuu]

("Halvuut"? Doesn't come up in either translator.)

Cure: Speak only in oversized Comic Sans.

Symptoms: Speaking in fonts instead of normal audio.

Cure: Get off youre electronic divice and get a life. sorry if it seams a little rude

Symproms: Drain Bamage, Moss growing on my body, Demons comeing out of my nose.

Cure: eat salt and drink holy water while singing "Carry on my Wayward Son"

Symptoms: Always thinks there's a hellhound after me

Cure: Finde two guys, one named Dean, the other Sam. thay must be brothers.

Symptoms: I can´t stop hearing voices im my head, my life is a lie, lost my potato.

Cure: Go to purgatory and kill every monster in there

Symptoms: talking in latin, looking for a '67 chevy impala, and puts salt lines on the doors and windows

Cure: cut off your leg, now you can only hop on your arms

Symptoms: randomly forgeting how to walk during the day