devtrackers.gg
BLUF: got Reckoner. am dead.
I always wanted it. Eying it from a distance. Loved Gambit from the beginning and hated it just as much...
But I could just, never bring myself to the subjugation of the grind. Until quarantine, and Seventeenthmoon's warning echoing in my head... despite myself, I wanted to be one of you.
So 4 days ago I looked my wife in the face and said, "I'm going for reckoner..." and she said, "ok."
She watched as I threw myself into the Drifter's embrace. She saw me devolve into a single minded creature of hunger... Hunting medals with zero regard for self, much less others. She witnessed the contempt for all the mouth-breathing butt-faces (farts incarnate) who hawked MY motes. And the bozos who dare kill adds on MY turf when I am busting my 'nards hunting massacres solo (because my one friend didn't fall for my subtle ploys to lure him into prime with me... Looking at you Sam).
She heard my gasps of exasperation when that particular Titan B-hole came power diving out of nowhere to obliterate the last blocker, time after time. And she laughed on the floor while I shrieked in terror as that invader thirsted after me with his shotgun, spraying pellets up my thicc 20-mote cheeks. And while I laugh-cried of relief with 2 hp when his invasion time expired... She was there laugh-crying with me. (or at me... I can never tell).
She winced as I stared at her blankly with my finger pointing at the final mote count of the match. 49. She watched the recordings of me lethally pole-dancing through a full crowd (of exactly 15 dudes). And she watched again as I counted the seconds between each kill. Finally, she listened as I presented my conclusion... "This game busted."
She shook her head at me as I stood by the blockers leeching our bank, pretending to kill them but really worshipping them for their glorious contribution towards my phat half-bank. And when I stood on the enemy bank twirling my stick as fast as I could, pivoting madly to face each foe, she was... in the other room pretending I wasn't still doing this to myself.
And when re-entering the reckoning to complete armor sets, she returned to watch as I acquired every single piece of armor except the ones I needed... She watched as my monkey brain forgot to put powerful motes in the bank. And she witnessed my sad body careening through the air, dooming the entire bridge run to a failure.
She saw the elation of gratification (in the form of micro fist pumps) when medals were attained, one by one, and how those small sparks of joy were enough to carry me through...
And at the end, she saw the sleep deprived sap she calls 'husband' standing in his underwear... Staring out the window blankly, reluctant to even apply the seal.
Here stands a Reckoner. A masochist for masochism's sake.
I went to Drifter, hugged him as he whispered sweet nothings into my ear, and then jumped off the tower
Edit: I enjoy your comments. Added a few paragraphs of additional pain.
External link →