Kill/Death Ratio: The Evolution of an FPS Gamer
This is what happens when you throw bolognese at my crew
Battlefield 3 is quite literally just around the corner. I know many of you out there, including myself, are dying with anticipation for the game to release epic, hellatious death upon your retinas, gradually destroying the living tissue in the process. I can’t wait! With the Beta’s end last week, I didn’t have the chance to say good-bye. Not even one last headshot from my beautiful MK11. *sad face* In any case, I, along with my comical cohort Prometheus, had the lesser part of a week’s time to have our grubby, little hands on the Beta… and need we say more? Having my main account banned for a week due to some PSHome discrepancies, I created a new handle (Cozb3Sw3ter) to begin my rampage across the massively, intense greenery of the Operation Metro map. Wow, my eyes had been blown by the lips of a graphical goddess, the likes of which I could never quite describe her unadultered beauty. Or how in the fack of Fockland did she fellatio my eyeballs? Well, it happened and no amount of screams to provide “Proof or GTFO” can help your soddy, crumbling soul. Like Elizabeth Banks in a hair color commercial, “I fell in love.” And just like my golden brown, receding hair line, it was gone all too quickly.
Laugh while you can, son. You’ll be crying soon enough
I hadn’t been given enough time to explore! Once my main account came back online, I started anew, somehow thinking DICE would reward those of us who played the beta and gave valuable insight. If by valuable, you mean, “Where the focks my GOL rifle?!?!?! Vulking DICE nubs!” That’s right, C.S. Friedman reference, but ladies, “Contain yaselves.” OH! old SNL reference! What?! Holy smack, not even Wendy can hold my value menu down. Anywho, DICE explained that once the Beta went down, so too did Battlelog, in order for all my stats (1.5 k/dr, 325 spm, 30% acc) to be reset to ZERO upon the games’ official release. I raged harder than any Hardly brother ever could. Not only did I play from zero twice, but eventually for a third time. UGH! All-in-all, aside from a few glitches and flashlights more powerful than the sun glaring into my eyeballs, it was a rewarding experience and great, big THANKS to DICE and EA for allowing me and many other Battlefield fans to have a hit of heaven from that sweet, digital needle before we come back on the 25th to get hooked all over again.
Plan to have plenty of Visine and water… and a nearby toilet
But that’s not why we’re here, is it? You can go to BF3blog.com to get your fix, can’t you? Or you can get all the exclusive interviews and footage from Shacknews or IGN. You come here for perspective; a bit of insight, if you will. Something that says, “Where’s my voice in all this? Where is my bureaucratic representative that speaks out for the little guy?” Well, I’m not here to do that either. No I’m writing to you, dear reader, to divulge a little gaming history about myself. It’s somewhere between mind preparation and reminiscing on the good ole days.
You see, growing up as a tadpole, I was heavily involved in sports. My awesome, although tough-hearted, popsicle (what I call my dad) always had this crazy idea that I was destined for the Texas Rangers baseball club. Unfortunately for him my motivation for anything, other than reading and playing with my friends, was severely lacking. Eventually, my love for reading completely vanished and all I wanted to do was hang out with my friends. Even as smart as I was, I hardly applied myself, leaving my pops to verbally bash me. Who knew a hispanic father could be exactly like the asian dad meme? Honestly, that’s how my dad was.
I could never handle the pressure so I gave up, because it was so much easier to be a sarcastic dickwipe to someone 25 years older than you than it was to say, “I’m sorry! I promise all A’s this semester and every semester! Please just put that bazooka away!” The bazooka was my mom, by the way; a calm, beautiful river plentiful with salmon and scenery to make Bob Ross blush, until the rain season arrives to flood everything in it’s path and purge the area of anything that lives. Fun Fact: Noah’s flood was just God warning Noah that his wife was batshit furious at him for not putting the toilet seat down. So he told Noah to make a boat to save humanity and animal-kind. What? It’s in the Bible! Women’s scorn and all that.
“Listen Up! Wifey’s coming this way! If she asks, we’re building it for her!”
So what motivates a parent to motivate their child when all else fails? BARGAINING CHIPS! And no, it’s not a new Lay’s product. Although I’m sure it would be an awesome product placement tool for when a loved one dies. Acceptance Chips, anyone? In this case, the chip was a Nintendo Entertainment System. Quite a few of them in fact. For the most part, it worked out for both of us. Eventually, I just didn’t give a shit anymore and spent hours in front of the tv, preparing for the inevitable mallard duck invasion. So time and again, my dad would waltz in like he owned the place, grab my NES, and commence to jigglin’ all up on it…with his Justin boots, like some ornery country music singer. He wasn’t always so over-dramatic, though. He once tried to help me fix a game, Gunsmoke, by putting it in the microwave and letting the microchip inside heat up. Little did he realize that the frail, gray plastic protecting the microchip wasn’t doing it’s job properly as it grew one of those grotesque bubbles you hate to see on your pizzas. I am totally not being sarcastic and I get the irony of the game’s name. I got it while it was occuring and I was 10. To his credit, the guy worked at AMD for 20 years and he supervised in wafer production. He figured, “Why not? This $30 microwave is just as good as the million dollar equipment at work.” When he took out the burnt cartridge he exclaimed, “Nailed it!” and popped the game right into the NES(my 4th incarnation by this point) like it was a facking toaster. “Never again,” I said to myself and continued along my quirky existence.
When he first mentioned it, this is what came to mind…
…and this…this is what happened.
Thankfully, the yes-men at Sony created the Playstation, but it wasn’t until years later that I would get my hands on a cd-playing game system; The Sega Saturn. That’s right, the 3-in-1 pack; Virtua Cop, Virtua Fighter and the awful 2 levels of Daytona USA…4 if you count the mirror tracks. The only appealing aspect of DUSA was the horse cheat and even then it was more enjoyable just to have your index and middle finger doing a running motion as you were driving around the track. Eat your heart out, Lloyd. Try it!
I even found one with awesome music. Put it in fullscreen mode and have at it!
Shortly after making the jump to cd-based games, and after getting the awesome Saturn/PC-combo for Christmas, a friend of mine let me borrow a little game called…Diablo. Diablo was my gateway drug to the pc-gaming market. I won’t go into details of the awesomeness of this game, because we all already know. Then came the stellar C&C series. But it wasn’t until years later, that I would meet Prometheus and his friend whom I shall call Dragontears, that I was introduced to Counterstrike 1.6. And yes, he got his name from the lackluster Dean Koontz novel.
Just because you put “187” at the end, doesn’t mean it’s original
After first playing, CS1.6, I hated it because I sucked hard boiled eggs at it. Dragontears, on the other hand, was a fucking mastermind. He was my General Patton in every short-lived match and would rain fiery insults at me for not following instructions to the tee. Needless to say, he took my big ass under his small wings, think Chris Farley being hugged by a sparrow, and showed me how to pwn nubs left and right. Sometimes he even taught me how to TMP snipe, AWP-no scope and dually pwning. I’ve since forgotten all of that but maybe now you understand where this is going. CS1.6 was my FPS cherry and what a beautiful time I had with it. Like all first times, it was exciting and new but also uncomfortable and frustrating and almost always ended prematurely(I couldn’t resist). Seriously, those bots were hard to lay down. Once Valve’s Source engine was revealed, CS:Source and Half-Life 2 was all I seemed to play. I was such a hardcore PC gamer, I didn’t even own a Playstation 2 until just after the PS3 was released. Even then, my ps2 was nothing more than a glorified arcade machine with titles like the DBZ:Tenkaichi series and Tekken 5 and a few of the better Capcom fighting games. Somewhere along the line, I was introduced to Battlefield 1942, which had a much different dynamic compared to Counter-strike. You could man boats, trucks, tanks and fly dog fighters! “Awesome!” I thought. When I wasn’t busy crashing my plane from 2 meters off the ground, I was lying belly deep along the coast of Wake Island, trying to bathe in the digital sun. Word to the wise; it’s hard to find a secluded section of beach when two warring factions are slaying eachother as mortar rounds blast dangerously close to your cooler full of Corona’s and ham sandwiches.
Honey, we better go. It’s starting to look like a full-scale invasion.
Eventually I grew tired of Counterstrike and Battlefield and was in need of something a little more “refreshing.” That’s when my girlfriend(now wife) and I decided to kill ourselves and join the Horde ranks as an in-love, Undead Warrior duo. Yes, I entered the World of Warcraft. The game that alienated and tainted a whole genre of gamers from the rest of the gaming world as well as the general public. I became nothing more than a fat, sluggish man-jabba with non-hipster glasses and a penchant for flaming others in Barrens chat. Did I mention I was “prone to carpal tunnel?” Or at least that’s what flamer’s and haters would have you believe. Oh but my girlfriend, being a female and all was some uber-cyber goddess heaven-sent to meet your every sexual fantasy and be your ultimate yes-girl. I’ve seen enough hentai to know, that’s not how real life works. Well, to be frank(you can be Donna), my wife is an utter bitch(still very beautiful), and(here she comes) oh boy, does Our Holy Father know that I love her until this remote-detonated bomb is one menstruation away from sending me to my grave. Don’t you just love stereotypes? The best part was being blamed for hooking up through WoW like some sort of eharmony thing. Ew, no. I mean, there’s people who do it, and great for you if you can find a booty call in Orgrimmar at 3am, but that’s not me. There’s were some strange times for us both and we both ended our journey into the unknown shortly after. For another time, I suppose.
“Hey baby! I’ll show you what it means to get cold-cocked! Hey, where you goin’?!”
Fast forward from 2007 to 2009 and boom! The world exploded within itself, otherwise known as an implosion, or as Albert Einstein once referred to it as, “…sharting.” It was late November, the leaves were burning gray with blandness. The shores of Durotar ran red with the blood of my enemies. Those Level 5 hogs needed to go. Yeah I was back in WoW! But my subscription was already cancelled and I had two weeks left. Then my brother-in-law, I call him Marble, was in desperate need of an iPhone. I was in desperate need of a PS3. My girlfriend(now wife) had an iPhone. Marble’s girlfriend(since departed) had a PS3, but the disc reader was broken. I’m a frequent guest at Tek Republik(great deals like MMO Monday, $2 Tuesdays, WoW Wednesdays and Friday Night Strike/Ladie’s Night where the ladies dance for free). They happen to do console repair. It was an even trade. So Marble took (or stole) the PS3, my wife handed over the iPhone and I had the PS3 sent to Tek for repair. Turns out when we got it, Marble found there were 3 games(all unusable) jammed tightly into the disc reader, thus breaking the cogs and gears that make the disc spin. Although not a bad idea for future developers to take into consideration, Marble’s girlfriend quickly realized that her PS3 was not, in fact, a 6-disc cd changer. What a dumb, stupid, idiotic girlfriend. Thank God they don’t date anymore. Tek fixed it with no problem, charged me $80 plus a warranty in case it broke(2 years and going strong!) and to top it off, my brother(Bobbybeatle) was handed an extra copy of the hottest game that month, and through to next year! Modern Warfare 2.
Having never played any Call of Duty game outside of World at War, which was two weeks prior to playing Modern Warfare 2, my knowledge of console FPS was drastically small and outdated in comparison to Modern Warfare 2′s gameplay mecahnics. The multiplayer, even the single player, made me feel like I was playing NFL Blitz with a rifle and grenade whilst desperately avoiding the game-equivalent of Ray Lewis strapped with a rocket launcher and shotgun as I watched him squat over the bodies of his dead foes as he mercilessly teabagged them. But my machinations of this horribly altered Ray Lewis were quickly obliterated by the screeching sounds of a prepubescent boy as he verbally abused me with words like fag-donut, baby dick and my personal favorite, mango volva. Not to be outdone by some 13-year-old who escaped his rag stain prison, I stepped my game up with my excellent verbal judo, my real-life experiences with real hand guns and set out to destroy those who would dare call me a noob. Six months later, I was finally able to break even with a solid 1.1 K/DR. I got really good but, like a pornstar empty of all emotion, I wasn’t truly satisfied. Having prestiged once and earning all the titles I actually liked, I was left feeling like I still hadn’t achieved anything. It all seemed meaningless. Do I really want or need to prestige 10 times? Is this just some sad excuse to reset all your stats just to keep the game fresh? I was no longer turned on by the online experience and the trash talk didn’t help either. No amount of, “I let my score do the talking,” ever really shuts down a troll, especially a troll with a purpose.
Then, on a sunny day in late March, I was walking outside. Then the sun hit my eyes. So I walked back inside, put blankets over the windows, finally convincing my neighbors I was running a meth lab, and fired up my PS3. I logged on to find two PSN buddies, Bobbybeatle and Karlthcow(“e” not only silent, but non-existent) playing Battlefield Bad Company 2. I immediately sent furious messages exclaiming why they should be playing the same game as me. Beatle replied with, “You fuck! Get BC2! It’s fucking pwns MW2!” Not one to argue with an angry brother screaming acronyms at me through a digital message, I went and bought the game.
In this instance, when I say “brother,” it means we’re related
Oh baby! Baby! Baby, Baby, Baby! Oh yeah!(any Boyz II Men reference) This game was, and still is, addictive. Even more addictive than Modern Warfare 2. It has everything MW2 didn’t have(better weapon damage, vehicles, mortar strikes, huge textured maps) and it doesn’t have anything MW2 has(flamers, insanely stupid glitches, trolls, unbalanced weapons, matches that end faster than Kevin James’ hunger pains). Squads were the biggest perk for me. To only be able to talk to your friends without having to individually mute everyone. I just realized I’m an isolationist and I still love it. It’s the equivalent to a casual online chat while you play a 15 minute round with your pals. No shit talking. Just fun/competitive/unadultered gameplay, and enough ribbons and leveling to keep you occupied for the next year and a half. That’s the time it takes for people that have jobs and children and bills to rage over. Oh, and friends that actually want to go out and have good times…in public. Did I mention I platinumed out? Oh yeah! Count it!
For now, I’m just anxiously counting the days until Battlefield 3 is released. make to friend me on your PSN account!