Our man ran with some boosting Timmy bastards and came back to tell the sordid tale.
I didn’t ask for it to happen. Nonetheless, I let it happen.
I’m sure you remember that time your cousin kissed you. You meant to say no, but you didn’t. Afterward, you felt queasy. And a little aroused. The resulting guilt prevented you from making eye contact with your Aunt for days. This is a confession of that sort.
I entered a prematch lobby for domination and joined 11 dudes all with the clan name "bost." Upon arrival, I was notified that the lobby was boosting, and that if I didn't like it, I should leave. My witty response got cut off when a 13th gamertag, SpartanRandomMeaninglessNumber, showed up on the player list and was quickly added to my team. He also needed the same boosting speech. He didn't have his mic plugged in to deliver his response. Didn't matter, the match immediately began to load on Dome. As it did, someone reminded everyone else of the ground rules.
First, everyone was to go to B flag and only B flag. No one was permitted to capture flags A or C. And the second and most important rule was that there was to be absolutely no shooting.
The match began. I ran with my team towards B flag. The other team was also running for B flag from the opposite direction. I expected a collision, something akin to Gandolf and his army of horseman streaming into a sea of orcs to save Helm’s Deep. Since there was to be no shooting, I also expected a frenzied knife fight. I was very surprised when neither an epic battle nor a clash of blades ensued.
Instead, the other team got to the flag first, and my team stopped short. Wtf? Our opponents captured the flag, then all of them, almost in unison, backed away from the flag. My team surged forward, also darn near in unison, and began capturing the flag. So I joined them; +30 xp popped onscreen, and my team backed up. So I backed up. Other team moved forward, captured the flag, and moved back. We moved forward, +30, and moved back. Repeat, repeat, repeat. It was a weird, well-armed, f'd up square dance. Apparently, I was boosting.
As I mentioned before, SpartanSillyRandomNumber did not have his mic turned on. As a result, it wasn’t clear where his mindset was. I didn’t think he realized the match was a boosting-only affair. Not at first anyway. He was not present on the dance floor. Plus, very early in the match, Spartan broke one of the golden rules: he captured the A flag.
My teammates were not pleased. There was much whining, screaming and unusual shrill noises. Some very unfriendly things were said regarding the sexual exploits of Spartan’s mother. My team members made it extra clear that the third, yet unoccupied flag was NOT to be buggered with.
It was shortly after that I suspect SpartanRandomDamnNumber fully realized he wasn’t playing standard domination. The signs were plentiful. No one had been neighborly enough to shoot at him in a game type where gunfire is normally plentiful. His on screen status symbol for the B flag was changing from green to red and back again every 20 seconds. His TV should have been continuously yelling “LOSING B!!” He had to be puzzled that C flag had yet to be taken.
Even if he missed all of these clues, it had to be impossible for him not to notice the twelve well armed, virtual military men, half with green names over their heads, half with red, dancing a synchronized ballet smack dab in the middle of a very small map.
Our dance continued for awhile. Forward, wait. Backward, wait. We dry humped B flag uneventfully for a tedious eternity.
It became clear SpartanPissedOffRandomNumber had seen enough. He captured C flag.
All hell broke loose in my earpiece. If any of the colorful things said about Spartan’s mom were even vaguely true, he should be ashamed.
It got worse quickly.
As the other team moved forward for their turn to mount B, a small object bounced into view from the general direction of where I believed SpartanPineappleTossingRandomNumber to be. A metallic tick, tick sound was audible as the item bounced into the cluster of my opponents. The grenade blew up, two dudes fell down. One of their team turned and unloaded a clip into SpartanFreshlyDeadRandomNumber. One of our team shot he who shot Spartan. Their team returned fire. Both teams opened up, and standard domination play began. We were no longer boosting.
I heard cries like, "not again," "why does this always happen" and “fuck.” It didn't last very long after that. I ended up with more than 2300 xp and a promotion for three kills and 12 minutes of good gaming time lost.
It was really ugly in the post game lobby. There were more not very friendly things said. Spartan quickly disappeared. And since I hadn't really had that good of a time I backed out of the lobby as well.
I was left with a dirty feeling. Not a run-to-the-clinic-for-penicillin-and-topical-ointment dirty. More like a “what the heck did I say about your sister’s boobs in front of your mom while I was drunk” kind of dirty. I had been cheating the system. That sucks.
I can't imagine those guys doing that all night. They had to endure the grief of fighting everyone who entered the pregame lobby to assure newcomers were hip with boosting. They had to manage all the players during the match to keep everyone in line. And then they had to endure the monotony of move forward, wait, move back, wait, repeat. It was hard work. And, here’s a biggy for me: IT WASN’T FUN.
What were they out to gain? Were they trying to speed their way through all ten prestiges? Were they trying to max out at level 65 so they could have all the weapons and perks unlocked? Then what? Impose their superior arsenal and skillz on the rest of the world? Did they just want to brag about a status they didn’t earn? If so, how the hell can they brag about having big boobies when they have grapefruits stuffed in their training bras?
As a legs and ass man, boobs do not impress. Breast size, while appreciated, is not a primary consideration. Rank is the same way. I admire its maturation, but I don’t really care which level I’m on, or how my rank compares to anyone else’s. I don't care that I haven't unlocked all of the weapons or that I haven't quite prestiged yet. Battling my way to prestige provides a lot of enjoyment for me. Unlocking weapons and other goodies at a slow and steady pace is very satisfying. I’d feel as if I’d cheated other CoD players if I boosted my way up through the multiplayer ranks. But I’d also feel like I had cheated myself out of my money’s worth, and more importantly, that I’d cheated myself out of the full experience of what is a damn good game. Fuck that. And fuck you boosters.
I boosted once out of curiosity. I don't care to do it again. I’ve certainly learned my lesson.
Spartan did the right thing by not boosting. Spartan earned an unimpressive 200 experience points by playing the game the way it was designed to be played, the clean, honest way. Spartan identified boosting for the crappy form of cheating that it is, and refused to participate. It’s unfortunate that online gamine communities are not filled with more Spartans. Thank you Spartan 8936. I’ll be raising my next Natty Light in your honor.
Playing with adults more interested in having fun than bragging about their prestige level is much more satisfying. Gaming with people near my own level of immaturity is fantastically fun. These cool folks of whom I speak are plentiful here at 2Old2Play.
