Guest Thu Oct 15, 2009 9:16 pm
I just want to say... I hate Bungie... but not in the way I hate Epic... I hate Epic in a way that if it were a person I'd force them to play a broken game of my creation for countless hours on end trying to obtain freedom by acquiring impossible goals set within said game which being broken inherently prevented them from obtaining them.
I hate Bungie in the way that if it were a person I'd strike her and bruise her before fucking the shit out of her and then telling her I love her and treating her tenderly... so... S&M hate which IMO = rough love...
I bring this up because I should be praising to one and all that I have Halo 3 maxed out, (legit mind you), and that the elusive "Save This Film" achievement, (gaining a perfection on a slayer match on a mythic map while winning the match also), is now mine. Alas, BS comes up and prevents me from this long awaited and much deserved celebration.
Four times last night.... count them again... FOUR-FUCKING TIMES... I was not only close I could taste the sweetness of this award, I could see the fallen heroes of old; my comrades from the days of Halo:CE and Halo 2. Hear their laughter, their calling and their congratulations as I strode toward the path in Elysium. I would be joining them; be amongst them where I always should have been. Yet suddenly I am RIPPED violently from this world, from this paradise of heroes... for twice my team fails to win the game and my "perfection", (one match going 16-0 and another 22-0), is now dashed... another time, I am but mere moments from gaining the achievement. I forget myself, I become haughty in speech and action; woe to me for the Halo Gods see and hear all and punish those who hold hubris close to their heart. I was cast down by a random fragmentation grenade; its owner wishing to kill someone else yet missed completely, banking the grenade past his mark while it gingerly bounced and found a hole near to where I was standing... and I was humbled. Though I sacrifice to the Halo Gods and pay them homage, they will not allow me to act as if my name ends in Superbus... And finally, the worst incident of the evening, was when I was but assured victory, I was 17-0, we were ahead by 14 kills with only 2 needed to win the game. I could see Nike herself in all her winged glory descending from the heavens with a laurel in hand, stretching her pale arm to place the crown upon my head with her delicate, divine fingers when suddenly I was cast down a fourth time and final time. This time, not by my own avarice for more glory, nor for my haughty remarks, and neither by the luck or skill of a determined and defeated foe... no... I was betrayed! My comrades, either with jealousy in their hearts that I was going to gain the achievement and they were not; maybe because they were trying to be humorous in their own pre-pubescent ways or simply because they should not be trusted with a power weapon because they cannot understand the workings of a shoelace let alone the mechanics and precautions involved with operating heavy machinery. Regardless, it was decided amongst one of them that I wished for a rocket to rendezvous with the side of my skull and I was humbled yet a fourth and final time.
I took time away from the battlefields after these events. Away from the sand covered complex colored red by blood known as Sandbox; far from the nostalgic confinements of Heretic which echo of glory days of yesteryear and of MLG 'pwning'; distant from a factory in which worms are made to be walking gods and instruments of destruction known as Assembly and away from the salt encrusted docks freshly painted crimson known as Longshore... I lamented; alone and broken.
I cursed the Halo gods and their fickle nature, bestowing martial prowess the likes of which are not seen by mortal eyes upon my comrades and I, assuring us victory yet at the same time ensuring we cannot rise too high lest we challenge their apparent shaky hold on the heavens and crown ourselves in their stead.
But I am renewed by rest and by faith in the lords of the ancient rings. Filled with zealous fervor to once again hold rifle in hand and stand before all those mighty tides of darkness and ignorance who threaten to further engulf the once respected online community, dragging it down deeper in the pit of idiocy, immaturely and annoyance. I am armed with my faith and my conviction in my true comrades who I have seen countless battles with over innumerable fields; companions who when lesser men would have fled or given no more resistance instead charged headlong into Hades vast domain and snatched victory from the gaping maw of defeat time and time again. I have learned the price of hubris last night my friends and compatriots... felt the bite of the gadfly, the heat on my wax feathered wings and the sting of the poisoned arrow in my heel... I know now the price of hubris... and I shall not allow it to blind me again...
Something wicked this way comes...
...Fear the Wrath of Achilles.
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