On December 11 2013 11:46 GhandiEAGLE wrote:
So as i sit here with tissues soaked with blood just lying all around me, I realize that I just played one of the weirdest games of my life.
This shit is long, read if you dare. It starts out mundane, but things really escalate quickly. Also don't read if you're squeamish about blood, lol
+ Show Spoiler +
So as i sit here with tissues soaked with blood just lying all around me, I realize that I just played one of the weirdest games of my life.
This shit is long, read if you dare. It starts out mundane, but things really escalate quickly. Also don't read if you're squeamish about blood, lol
+ Show Spoiler +
I enter the game, and do a simple calling of ADC, since I'm second pick. Then the third pick, immediately after me, calls ADC as well. I ask him why he should be adc, since I'm reasonable and was willing to give up the role if I had to (being second pick, I could have gone anywhere I chose). The guy explains that he's a plat who fell way down thanks to duoing with a friend, but he only got to plat by playing adc and mid, which was already called by the firstpick. I shrug, give it to him, what the hell. He picks Ezreal, and seems pretty gracious.
The game starts, and right as it begins my nose starts twitching in a most ominous way. I know this feeling, and I shudder as I realize that a bloody nose is coming on (my bloody noses are silent killers. They watch, wait, and when the time is right, attack with force and brutal rapidity). As I do my best to keep inhaling through my nose and not let any blood spill out, the Ezreal gets firstblood and starts acting incredibly obnoxious to the enemy team. He then gets really overconfident from this 1/0/0 score, and starts harping on our annie mid, telling her how shitty she is (this guy wasn't a troll, just straight-up toxic). I get worried, and being the being the beautifully eloquent teenager that I am, I type a gruff "shut the fuck up." My mood coming into that game, combined with the fact that I was actively trying to conserve words due to my allocating of my focus to stopping blood from pouring out of my nose, made for a very rude and ineffective sentence. I had now become the other dick.
Meanwhile Ezreal starts bitching on how annoying it is that he has to carry every game that he plays thanks to "these shitter golds." Annie, who was the cause of this proclamation, was 0/3/0, and on the verge of ragequitting thanks to the constant harassment that she was enduring from both sides. I get angry at the Ez, as was inevitable, but refrained from typing. However, one thing he said that was just absolute BS made me yell out "what the fuck?!?!?!" very loudly. As it turns out, trying to keep the blood IN one's nose does not go hand in hand with yelling out expletives. All this built-up blood sprayed from my mouth and nose all over my computer and clothes, and as of my typing this, a good deal of it is still on my screen.
I get incredibly frustrated from this, which just makes me bleed even more profusely than before. Since my "setup" is me lying down on my bed, playing with a netbook on my lap, there's cords and books on top of me that stop me from easily getting up. But as the blood poors, I realize that I have no choice but to cowboy up, and I just flip it all off of me to quickly bolt for the bathroom. My blood is going everywhere, spraying the walls as I continue to mix the bursty, discontinuous streams of red with a pure jetstream of valuable and potentially reusable expletives. Meanwhile, I can feel the Ezreal getting mad at me for going AFK. 1 minute later I've gathered the necessary tissues to being playing, and I make a beeline for my room again, a Kleenex hastily shoved up against my right nostril. I leap onto the bed, gather up what remains of my sloppy rig, and dump it at my feet as I sit up and realize what I must do. I'm two levels and 60 cs down, playing with a netbook at my feet, thighs hugging my chest as my kneecaps press against the tissue held up against my nose, three layers strong.
I yell to the wind "fuck it!," and immediately rush mid, swapping out tissues with great speed and haste every thirty seconds, as if I were an assembly factory. I can barely see the screen thanks to my right eyeball pressed against my knee, but I can see just enough to know that I was going to dive the Viktor, who currently possessed full health, which was quite a bit considering my levl 6 wukong at 35% HP. However, this depressed, downtrodden Annie sees my glorious white armor (General Wukong op) and is inspired. We work as a beautiful unit, as she flashes in to land the tibbers stun and I dive in, staff shining in the sun of the rift, and Viktor soars skyward, knocked up by the Wukong ultimate. Wukong's cheers of exhilaration are heard as he spins out of tower range, while the steaming pile of gears and junk that had once been Viktor lays gruesomely disassembled.
The enemy Yi gets fed and pulls out a quadrakill with me surviving sub-100 hp, and so that was a buzzkill.
But then, as we lost our middle inhibitor turret, as the Ezreal screams and rages from the summoner fountain, as my allied Sejuani silently recalls from her place in the top lane, as the Annie desperately tries to clear the wave at our inhib, a sentence appears that few people, least of all me, expected to see.
"Lol whatever. I'm leaving."
Viktor decided to afk. Ezreal was about to get Gold 2, why not give him the win? It was with that reason that Viktor left the game.
We were back in it.
This Ezreal kid decided it was up to him to carry after all. He was the chosen one. We didn't have the game won yet, as the Yi was insanely fed, but we did know that we had the most bullshit CC we could hope for. The game was practically ours.
Then, once again, I was struck dumb by the realization of a cold, hard truth.
I was out of tissues.
Suddenly, as if right on queue, this song comes up. Please play it as you read this.
The game was on a timer now. How much blood would I suffer to get onto my personal belongings before I decided to turn life around?
Then, I remember one thing a wise man had said, before I had started upon this path.
"Chicks dig elo."
There was no mercy now.
THE TIME IS NOW
THE DAY IS HERE
As a team of five bold warriors, we marched across the map just as the chorus reaches its apex. It was beautiful. The enemy team charged at us, meeting us headfirst in the middle of the map, as the final clash to decide all wars began. The Yi started by dodging the first two stuns (Annie and Sej) with an Alpha Strike, and slaying the Annie nearly instantly. Ezreal, who was fed, picked off their ADC and support. Sona ulted the last one, who was again taken down by the Ezreal. But as he got that kill, the Yi 's Alpha Strike returned, and he slashed through Ezreal like a cake. It was seemingly done by an afterimage, as he then leaped into the Sej and began cutting her down. She was like a mighty oak, helpless against Paul Bunyan's mighty steel. All hope, it seemed, was lost.
Legend has it that the "cry heard 'round the world" still echoes on in dark caverns and spacey glaciers, never really failing. As that cry tore from the lips of a bloodied, battered GhandiEAGLE, he charged into the Yi, who was sitting at 20% of his health.
Blood flew from my nose, spattering my room, careening off of walls and posters and splashing upon the wooden floor. The blood ran free, yes, but not as free as my spirit. I used all of my abilities, my soul burning like the sun, and bursted that Yi down. He fell with a weak cry, crumpling to the ground as the Wukong of Legend continued swirling around with his magic staff, a euphoric cry echoing from both his lips and mine. The enemy team, demoralized by such a beautiful moment, surrendered.
I reveled in my crazy victory as the world seemed to spin around me. I was drunk on the strength of my spirit.
No, wait, my head was spinning because I was dizzy. Because I lost a LOT of blood.
My room is a fucking mess.
...I need to lie down.
The game starts, and right as it begins my nose starts twitching in a most ominous way. I know this feeling, and I shudder as I realize that a bloody nose is coming on (my bloody noses are silent killers. They watch, wait, and when the time is right, attack with force and brutal rapidity). As I do my best to keep inhaling through my nose and not let any blood spill out, the Ezreal gets firstblood and starts acting incredibly obnoxious to the enemy team. He then gets really overconfident from this 1/0/0 score, and starts harping on our annie mid, telling her how shitty she is (this guy wasn't a troll, just straight-up toxic). I get worried, and being the being the beautifully eloquent teenager that I am, I type a gruff "shut the fuck up." My mood coming into that game, combined with the fact that I was actively trying to conserve words due to my allocating of my focus to stopping blood from pouring out of my nose, made for a very rude and ineffective sentence. I had now become the other dick.
Meanwhile Ezreal starts bitching on how annoying it is that he has to carry every game that he plays thanks to "these shitter golds." Annie, who was the cause of this proclamation, was 0/3/0, and on the verge of ragequitting thanks to the constant harassment that she was enduring from both sides. I get angry at the Ez, as was inevitable, but refrained from typing. However, one thing he said that was just absolute BS made me yell out "what the fuck?!?!?!" very loudly. As it turns out, trying to keep the blood IN one's nose does not go hand in hand with yelling out expletives. All this built-up blood sprayed from my mouth and nose all over my computer and clothes, and as of my typing this, a good deal of it is still on my screen.
I get incredibly frustrated from this, which just makes me bleed even more profusely than before. Since my "setup" is me lying down on my bed, playing with a netbook on my lap, there's cords and books on top of me that stop me from easily getting up. But as the blood poors, I realize that I have no choice but to cowboy up, and I just flip it all off of me to quickly bolt for the bathroom. My blood is going everywhere, spraying the walls as I continue to mix the bursty, discontinuous streams of red with a pure jetstream of valuable and potentially reusable expletives. Meanwhile, I can feel the Ezreal getting mad at me for going AFK. 1 minute later I've gathered the necessary tissues to being playing, and I make a beeline for my room again, a Kleenex hastily shoved up against my right nostril. I leap onto the bed, gather up what remains of my sloppy rig, and dump it at my feet as I sit up and realize what I must do. I'm two levels and 60 cs down, playing with a netbook at my feet, thighs hugging my chest as my kneecaps press against the tissue held up against my nose, three layers strong.
I yell to the wind "fuck it!," and immediately rush mid, swapping out tissues with great speed and haste every thirty seconds, as if I were an assembly factory. I can barely see the screen thanks to my right eyeball pressed against my knee, but I can see just enough to know that I was going to dive the Viktor, who currently possessed full health, which was quite a bit considering my levl 6 wukong at 35% HP. However, this depressed, downtrodden Annie sees my glorious white armor (General Wukong op) and is inspired. We work as a beautiful unit, as she flashes in to land the tibbers stun and I dive in, staff shining in the sun of the rift, and Viktor soars skyward, knocked up by the Wukong ultimate. Wukong's cheers of exhilaration are heard as he spins out of tower range, while the steaming pile of gears and junk that had once been Viktor lays gruesomely disassembled.
The enemy Yi gets fed and pulls out a quadrakill with me surviving sub-100 hp, and so that was a buzzkill.
But then, as we lost our middle inhibitor turret, as the Ezreal screams and rages from the summoner fountain, as my allied Sejuani silently recalls from her place in the top lane, as the Annie desperately tries to clear the wave at our inhib, a sentence appears that few people, least of all me, expected to see.
"Lol whatever. I'm leaving."
Viktor decided to afk. Ezreal was about to get Gold 2, why not give him the win? It was with that reason that Viktor left the game.
We were back in it.
This Ezreal kid decided it was up to him to carry after all. He was the chosen one. We didn't have the game won yet, as the Yi was insanely fed, but we did know that we had the most bullshit CC we could hope for. The game was practically ours.
Then, once again, I was struck dumb by the realization of a cold, hard truth.
I was out of tissues.
Suddenly, as if right on queue, this song comes up. Please play it as you read this.
The game was on a timer now. How much blood would I suffer to get onto my personal belongings before I decided to turn life around?
Then, I remember one thing a wise man had said, before I had started upon this path.
"Chicks dig elo."
There was no mercy now.
THE TIME IS NOW
THE DAY IS HERE
As a team of five bold warriors, we marched across the map just as the chorus reaches its apex. It was beautiful. The enemy team charged at us, meeting us headfirst in the middle of the map, as the final clash to decide all wars began. The Yi started by dodging the first two stuns (Annie and Sej) with an Alpha Strike, and slaying the Annie nearly instantly. Ezreal, who was fed, picked off their ADC and support. Sona ulted the last one, who was again taken down by the Ezreal. But as he got that kill, the Yi 's Alpha Strike returned, and he slashed through Ezreal like a cake. It was seemingly done by an afterimage, as he then leaped into the Sej and began cutting her down. She was like a mighty oak, helpless against Paul Bunyan's mighty steel. All hope, it seemed, was lost.
Legend has it that the "cry heard 'round the world" still echoes on in dark caverns and spacey glaciers, never really failing. As that cry tore from the lips of a bloodied, battered GhandiEAGLE, he charged into the Yi, who was sitting at 20% of his health.
Blood flew from my nose, spattering my room, careening off of walls and posters and splashing upon the wooden floor. The blood ran free, yes, but not as free as my spirit. I used all of my abilities, my soul burning like the sun, and bursted that Yi down. He fell with a weak cry, crumpling to the ground as the Wukong of Legend continued swirling around with his magic staff, a euphoric cry echoing from both his lips and mine. The enemy team, demoralized by such a beautiful moment, surrendered.
I reveled in my crazy victory as the world seemed to spin around me. I was drunk on the strength of my spirit.
No, wait, my head was spinning because I was dizzy. Because I lost a LOT of blood.
My room is a fucking mess.
...I need to lie down.
The tl;dr version: Ghandi got a nosebleed in the middle of the game, fell behind after going afk for tissues to stop the nosebleed. Ally Ez was a douche and his team was against a fed Yi. Enemy Viktor left, and even fed Yi can't beat 4v5 when Ez is also fed and a well-timed Wukong ult (from Ghandi) in the last team fight sealed the win.
Also Ghandi, pick up your goddam room.