Consider this a classified ad:
Wanted: Reliable mercenary interested in joining a semi-winning team. Must have flexible schedule and be willing to work late nights and weekends. Applicants should demonstrate a tireless and insatiable appetite for killing. Ability to taunt opponents with juvenile insults a plus. Sniper skills a definite plus. Please post resume and/or personal qualifications in the comments section below:
Sadly, this is what it has come to. The Zillionaire platoon of Krusty, Solo, DA and I have been busy spilling the blood of our pre-teen opponents across the outer reaches of the Xbox Live cyberspace. Please understand, these hordes of pre-teens are bloodthirsty and relentless, as most of their life is spent being shoved in lockers and rejected by girls. In other words, picture us 15 years ago… (Alright, fine… five years ago.) Anyway, all of these juveniles are looking to make their mark by knocking off a few Zillionaires. Naturally, we match the ferocity of our opponents, as we take pride not only in annihilating the other team, but also in displaying less maturity in the process.
So why the classified ad? As you might guess, it is becoming extremely difficult for all four of us to get online at the same time. Whenever we fail to field a full squad, Microsoft selects a random player from a select group of social misfits to fill out our team. Guess how this turns out. First off, it is guaranteed our new player will have zero charisma. And most of the time they don’t even talk at all. Believe me, we’ve been matched with a staggeringly disproportionate number of mimes, mutes and silent film stars in these games.
Second, provided our newly assigned teammate doesn’t abruptly quit mid-game, he usually sabotages our team by demonstrating the killing capacity of Spongebob Squarepants while combining it with the dying capacity of Kenny McCormick. The only good thing that comes out of teaming with a random player is that it gives the rest of us someone to blame unequivocally for our defeat. Immediately after the loss, the three of us in the platoon grab our cell phones and make another frantic attempt at reaching our rightful fourth teammate.
And so here we are. We need some reliable gunners that can consistently show up, notch a few kills, and help represent the clan of Zillionaires in our ongoing quest for Halo 2 supremacy. To help applicants get acquainted with some of the people they’d potentially be working with, I’m providing some declassified profiles on our team members…
Occupation: Web Designer
Weapon of Choice: Laser Sword
Strengths: Team leader in kills. Handles a laser sword like a Jedi Knight (thankfully without the mind tricks or befriending of Jar Jar Binks).
Weapon of Choice: Sniper rifle
Strengths: It’s surprising to those that have seen him shoot a basketball, but Solo is our best marksman.
Occupation: Campground Manager
Weapon of Choice: Shotgun
Strengths: Never avoids a firefight. He will fight a tank with a Super Soaker if that’s what it takes. Also, his quality of play increases dramatically when intoxicated.
However, to be fair to potential recruits, I should probably disclose some of the weaknesses our team possesses…
I’ll begin with The Chizzler. For starters, The Chizzler has a pathological predisposition to rebel against any form of organization or team strategy during game play. Usually it is benign, like casually wandering away from the team while we take position in a bunker. Apparently, The Chizzler will suddenly realize he left his car keys by the warp zone or forgot to put the dust cover on the machine gun turret, or some other random errand that is more pressing than covering his teammates.
Unfortunately, it’s almost become pointless to even attempt to develop any sort of team strategy, as The Chizzler will ignore it completely on the grounds of not being labeled a conformist. Sadly, the only way to make The Chizzler follow a game plan is to implement reverse psychology by instructing him to not follow the game plan. For instance, if I want The Chizzler to help guard our position, I might instruct him thusly:
McSex: “Alright guys, let’s hold position behind the small fortress. Krusty and I can guard the perimeter, and Solo will cover us with the sniper rifle. Chizzler, you should wander off like an Alzheimer’s patient and sever communication with the rest of the team… and be sure to take several phone calls during game play.”
And then there’s Solo. As I alluded to above, he is lethal with a sniper rifle. When he gets into a killing groove, few can survive his onslaught. Unfortunately, this also includes his teammates. Essentially, Solo turns into the Manchurian Candidate and begins killing everyone, especially those he’s supposed to protect.
Finally, there’s Krusty. He has the most unreliable Internet connection on the planet. Seriously, the Amish mock his lack of technology. Because he lives on a campground, he is apparently forced to dial into Xbox Live via a telegraph in a nearby ranger station. While the rest of us hold conversations, Krusty is beeping at us in Morse code. And while the rest of us worry about hackers interfering with our Internet connection, Krusty’s primary concern is of raccoons and horseflies. Unfortunately, Krusty’s poor connection can cause the rest of our screens to skip and lag, creating an effect similar to trying to make out a picture on a scrambled cable station. For most of us, this is something we were more skilled at in our adolescent days… (Alright, fine… I’m still good at it.)
So as you can see, it takes a special kind of individual to join our team. We’re looking for a few good men willing to sacrifice their marriage and possibly career in the noble pursuit of hardcore video gaming. You’ve got to pretend to believe your wife when she says “nothing’s wrong” and things are “fine” while she angrily turns the pages of a magazine on the adjacent couch while you play video games all night. You’ve got to be willing to show up late and do a really half-assed job at work because you played past midnight the night before. And you’ve got to be willing to drop everything at a moment’s notice when called upon to join your platoon online. It’s not an easy life. Do you have what it takes?