So, basically, I've been playing this game for like, 15 years. I've had my share of glory or you know, whatever. This isn't about that.
Anyway, I'm in a guild with like, all of my best friends. We're like, always online, going hard, going easy, going out - it's a fucking hoot and a half. Man, friendship is great. So, yeah, I got all my friends to transfer to this server, I got us a guild, I named it something hilarious, I made sure every man, woman and child within my realm of responsibility got Gladiator; and then, on the seventh day, when all that was finished: I made an RBG team.
To my surprise, however, we rapidly became a force to be reckoned with - this thread isn't about that. Yeah, we're undefeated or whatever. Who cares. The problem here is that our enemies continually contribute the team's success to the wrong players.
Fluffywrath's team? Are you kidding me? Fluffywrath is like eleven years old and spends every game watching soccer replays on YouTube to the point where we can't even trust him to do anything. Our most recent game, for example. I'm all alone at the mines and BAM! Furious Gladiator Lipstickfx and Furious Gladiator Audio roll up to me, while I'm all alone in hiding at the Lighthouse. So what do I do? The obvious choice to me was a strategy very similar to my strategy in arenas: kill the Mage to prevent him from playing against me. I do this like, literally 2v1. Great, now I'm basically the Achilles of Battle for Gilneas.
Oh, but wait.. here comes Fluffywrath, freshly alt-tabbed from watching David Beckham fuck a Soccer ball while all of Manchester United shoots a gay porno around him and grabs the killing blow on Audio for a successful defense and, apparently, successful team ownership.
Wow, next thing I know my years of real life combat leadership experience are thrown right out the window, into a puddle of water(which we will cover later) and I have had nothing to do with my team's success. Years of grooming Spacejellyz for leadership, raising him over the internet as if he was my cyber, albeit bastard, son - all for nothing.
Anyway, a few minutes go on, a few more legends are forged in the heat of our spell-and-sword clash, what we do in Battle for Gilneas echoes in eternity - whatever, nobody cares. What I care about is now all of the sudden I hear Fluffywrath's mom over his microphone, trying to help him read/sound out some of the tells he's getting from our recently-made-embittered, defeated foes.
Victory is ours..or is it? Apparently, the R1 Illidan crew is sponsored by MC Escher or something, because like 6 alts log on whispering poor Fluffywrath's mother the most incoherent business of all time about, "our dryspell being over"(which I don't understand..unless somehow they knew that my years of being a combat veteran landed in the aforementioned puddle, and has now been evaporated - a strange, meteorological insult. I guess the intricacies of the real-life-experience meta-game escape me still.)and then some more whispering about us being, "one and done." ..all under the assumption that the prodigal Fluffywrath has assumed command before even successfully completing puberty.
Holy carp. I'd say I expected more from you guys but I guess that isn't my place seeing as how Filovirus saw fit to remove me as my team's captain. While we may have won the battle, your misconstruing of our hierarchy has left us unable to carry on any further, and you have won the war.