Type-B: Dreaming of a New Era

Chef

10810 Posts

June 28 2009 23:12 GMT

Type-B

      Type-B sat alone on a white wood bench in the middle of the local park. It was a hot and miserable day, but this was not what caused him to sweat. What caused him to sweat was the swirl of thoughts containing his past, present, and especially his future.
      “My life is rotten,” he muttered to himself. He kicked the ground. He thought of the game of 3v3 NR20 he’d just lost. If his opponents had had just a few less battle cruisers, just a few less carriers… Type-B’s head sank, and he stared at his shoes. Behind his shoes lying the grass he spotted something odd.
      A black notebook with white letters on its cover that spelt ‘Bonjwa Note’ lay lost. Huh? What the hell is this? Type-B thought. He picked it up and opened it to the first page. “The player who’s name is written in this note shall lose his or her next game,” was written right at the top. “This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person’s face in his or her mind when writing the name. Therefore, players sharing the same name will not lose,” was written below the first rule.
      ”What a joke,” Type-B said. He thought of throwing it in the trash can beside the bench, but it wouldn’t leave his fingers. He sighed, almost laughing at how desperate he must be to even consider trying it. But he was desperate. He went to the nearest PCBang and logged into StarCraft on one of the computers. He would test the powers of the note. He created a game called “1v1 Pros only” on Heartbreak Ridge. He’d never played the map before, and he definitely wasn’t a pro.
      Leta joined the game. Type-B hadn’t expected that. A real pro? he thought. This would be interesting. He even chose his main race, Terran, to play Type-B’s Zerg. It was Leta’s best match-up, and Type-B was almost certain to lose anyway even he’d offraced. Almost, Type-B thought. He wrote Leta’s name in the Bonjwa Note. He laughed to himself. This was ludicrous, there was no way this note would work.
      The game began and Type-B decided on his usual game plan: Turtle up and try to survive as long as possible. Type-B had never had delusions of living long enough to attack before, and so the thought did not occur to him.
      Leta’s first army came rolling out. It was a massacre. All of his units died. What a pointless effort, Type-B thought. The blood of thirty marines and medics lay at the feet of his 4 sunken colonies. Type-B expanded twice and thought that maybe this time he would make it past the twelve minute mark, his all-time record for surviving. Another attack came. Fifteen tanks, forty marines and medics, and six science vessels exploded under the might of Type-B’s twenty hydralisks. He felt as if during that battle, his hands had had minds of their own. He simply had to watch in awe as they overcame the odds time and time again.
      It was nearly thirty minutes into the game when Type-B realised he wasn’t going to lose. What do I do now? he thought. He’d never been in this situation before. What was it players who beat him always did? How did one end the game when they didn’t lose? An epiphany struck Type-B. They… they… ATTACK! He A-moved his army into Leta’s base, and only a minute later, Leta typed “gg.”
      Type-B was ecstatic. The Bonjwa Note worked! This was incredible. He was almost so ebullient that he didn’t catch the next message Leta sent him. “Would you like to join SPARKEYZ?”
      It was Type-B’s dream to be a progamer. He accepted immediately so Leta told him where the gamehouse was, and when to come for discussion of his contract. It was only on his way home, that Type-B felt regretful.
      Is it right for me to win games this way? Isn’t this cheating? Am I taking the position of someone who deserves it more? His teeth grated against each other. No. StarCraft has been rotting since the downfall of Savior. StarCraft needs a new Bonjwa to continue… I will be that Bonjwa. I will be the Bonjwa of a new era.Type-B felt a sudden sense of duty. As if not using the Bonjwa note would mean the total destruction of StarCraft eSports forever. He had to do it.
      It was late that night after dreaming of the new era he would dominate that Type-B screamed. A white man towered over his bed, looking down at him. He had a beard and red hair, and spoke in a booming deep voice. “You have my Bonjwa Note,” he said.
      ”I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Type-B begged, “I didn’t know it was yours!”
      ”Calm down, Type-B. I am letting you borrow it.”
      ”W-What? Who are you? Why are you giving it to me?”
      ”My name is Manlifesto. Each time a Korean cries, my beard grows ever thicker. I gave you the note because losing to you would make anyone cry,” Manlifesto laughed hardily. Type-B felt insulted, but had to agree.
      ”And there’s no catch?”
      ”Only that it in end, I will be the one to write your name in the note, and make you cry.” Type-B thought this sounded fair enough. He would lose anyway without the note, so why not at least win for awhile? Type-B laughed. Manlifesto laughed. Then Type-B cackled, and Manlifesto snickered. “Koreans are interesting,” Manlifesto said to himself, grinning wickedly.

      The next few weeks of Type-B’s life were very busy. Daily he wrote the names of progamers, and daily progamers lost games. Type-B was careful not to let the power go to his head, however. At least not yet. He took the occasional loss, and allowed other progamers to take games from him to avoid suspicion. Type-B wanted to be a rising star. One who went from mortal to god before everyone’s eyes. Who gave the people hope that someone would once again dominate everything in StarCraft. He would need to ease them into it. After going a long time Bonjwaless, the people would not easily accept a new one. It would have to appear natural.
      The OSL began, and Type-B got impatient. He decided he would win this title, and began using the Bonjwa Note more frequently than ever. When he’d get hungry, he’d take a potato chip… AND EAT IT. When he needed to win a game to progress to the next round of the OSL, he’d take a progamer’s name, and write it in the note. Everything was working, and even Manlifesto’s constant giggling could not ruin the excitement Type-B felt of ushering in his new era.
      The names of the progamer’s he was writing were beginning to make him anxious, however. Recently he’d written down Stork and Best’s names. Two of the legendary six dragons were slain just for his quest for glory. Sacrifices must be made, Type-B thought. On July 3rd, Fantasy will be next.

+ Show Spoiler +