Picked Last 4 Dodgeball

I'm not the type who spends any amount of time constructing elaborate survival plans involving the zombie apocalypse. That said, I do really appreciate shotguns. Like, on a deep level. On top of that, first-person shooters that rely on strategy and cooperation butter my bread, so it may not elicit any gasps of surprise when I reveal to you that I've been playing Left 4 Dead. In point of fact, I've forsaken all others in the pursuit of its mastery.

....well, maybe mastery is a stretch. Let's go with "proficiency." Proficiency meaning that I'm able to keep pace for about twelve steps before I'm pounced on by zombies in hoodies and force-fed my own face.

Unfortunately, as is often true of PC titles, proficiency doesn't quite cut it in the realm of multiplayer (versus mode), where roving bands of super-nerds have made it their explicit goal to kick sand in the face of their lessers. Cyberbullying, it turns out, is a dish best served by a child ten years your junior.

I know why they do it. The perennial last-picks in gym class, they are abused by their more able-bodied peers. I've been there. I've been kicked off of volleyball teams, guys. So I know how you must feel when you get home from another day of state-mandated emasculation. After cracking open a Dr. Pepper and firing up your desktop you just want to pwn somebody. You want to dominate as you have been dominated, yet you find yourself saddled with an impotent teammate, incapable of lifting you up to such heights as you aspire. Anger flares. You say "MC Beeftray is the worst!" or "Can somebody kick MC Beeftray?" or even "MC Beeftray is a stupid name" (!!). Of course, you do this while running full-throttle away from me, since otherwise you might get sprayed with puree-of-chest-cavity. No, that's okay. I'm sure I'll have better luck next round.

Only you don't stick around to find out. With only the words "ragequit" to mark the departure, you drop from the game. I'm stunned. What do you think this is? Tennis? Your temper tantrums have no place in this sport. I mention this to my teammate and before I can type "amirite?" the rest of the team has dropped. Crickets chirp as the game reproachfully boots me back to the lobby. ("You need at least one person on each team to play." Hey, thanks!) How you people manage to play a single round of this game is beyond me.

The shame of it is, this is yet another wonderful game ruined by its user base, a group that has decided to turn the online component into a dimension of torment, a mirror version of their high school athletics experience. The internet was supposed to be the refuge of geeks; instead I'm getting sweaty palms every time I spawn as the Tank, since underperforming in this pivotal role will most surely earn me a rebuke from my teammates (and perhaps also result in a mass server exodus).

I'll keep coming back to it. I know I will. But when does the cycle of violence end? Quoth the GameFAQS message board: "When you stop sucking so much."

Stay awhile and listen!

Oh! Well, hello there.

Welcome to my blog and thanks for dropping by. This post is a bit special in that it is my very first, the progenitor to all my future works. If you happen to be reading this near to the original posting date, know that in ten years you can tell your friends with an air of superiority that you were there back in the day, that you were reading Evan's blog before it was "the thing to do." With any luck, this blog will have been "retooled" and sold out to corporate interests by that point; that you will recall a time before the blog went downhill will only net you further street cred.

Anyways, I just thought I'd get this set up today, since the weather's being all Tokio Hotel right now. But now I find myself called away to walk those rain-slick streets. Wish me luck, hopefully post here again soon.