Post by Peter Quinn on Jun 1, 2014 13:59:14 GMT -5
Until I was about fourteen, I had never heard the term "headshot" used in the context of blowing another person's head off. To me, a headshot was merely a picture of someone's head that they sent to modeling agencies. I suppose it should come as no surprise that I was a tad bit sheltered as a child. My parents tried their very best not to expose me to any unnecessary violence, and for the most part, they did a pretty good job of it. Probably the one mistake that they made was when they let me go to my friend Tommy's house one night.
Unlike my folks, Tommy's parents allowed him to play and watch pretty much anything he wanted, as long as he kept it quiet at night when they were sleeping. I didn't even own a gaming system of any sort, so I could only play something when I was at a friends house. Well, to give some reference this was right around the time online first person shooters started becoming a thing, and thus Tommy wanted to show off his skills at some online game, the name alludes me at the moment, but I recall it having to do with Terrorists and government agents or something. To make a long story short, this kid was a master at his craft, he was catching people off guard left and right, stabbing people in the jugular, the whole nine yards! But what kind of sealed the deal was that most of the time, he was completely silent, focused entirely at the task at hand, almost robot-like in his precision. That was, until he scored a headshot.
I don't know if it was a rare occurrence for him to do this or not, but apparently everytime he scored a headshot, he yelled out that phrase almost any gamer these days would know.
Tommy: BOOM! Headshot! BOOM! Headshot!
After about the tenth time he said it, I had questions for him.
Peter: Okay, seriously dude, why do you keep saying that?
Tommy: What man, you never seen the video?
It took him a moment to remember that my family did not own a computer at the time (they called an expensive waste of time.) After which he left his current game to pull up this website.
Peter: Huh? What's this?
Tommy: It's this new website that came out earlier this year I believe, it's called YouTube. You can find pretty much any video you want on here, it's amazing!
Before my thoughts could travel to the kind of videos this kind of freedom could entail, Tommy had already begun typing in the name of the video he wanted. After finding it in the results, we both watched as this bald dude with obvious mental issues began playing the exact same game Tommy had been playing, even saying "BOOM! Headshot!" just like Tommy had done.
Man on Video: My hearts beating! My hands are shakin', my hands are shakin but I'm STILL SHOOTING, I'm STILL getting the headshots! It's like BOOM! Headshot! BOOM! Headshot! BOOM! HEADSHOT!
My initial reaction was something along the lines of...
Peter: This man should be put in some kind of mental institution.
After which we promptly went back to doing other things, and the phrase completely passed out of my mind for years to come.
And then I met Frank...
I was with the rest of the world in collective shock when Frank revealed himself to Lerch two weeks ago. I had heard about the man while I was doing my research on WCF. What can I say, the guy had a lot of accomplishments to his name. Two time Tag Champion, two time U.S Champ, two time People's Champ, one time World Champ, and third overall Grand Slam Champion. That's a lot of things to put on a resume. However, later records show that he left sometime after One for unknown reasons, claiming to leave on some journey of some sort, but I'm starting to believe that part is bogus. I think maybe he needed to take some kind of leave of absence and just needed an excuse, cause the last few months for this guy...well, hasn't been the most pleasant. Then it turns out that this is the hobo who's been training me the past two months. It perfectly explains why he asked me if I liked Mudkips that one day.
I remember sometime after his reveal he brought to an honest to god gym (not that rundown Six Flags anymore, apparently it was now okay for him to show his face) and began trying to actually teach me some moves. Learning was a little on the tough side still, but after being in the fed for a few months, I stated to feel like I was getting the hang of things. That was, until he told me...
FPV: Okay, now we're going to get into some serious business. I want you to kick me as hard as you can in the chin.
Peter: WHAT?!
FPV: You heard me...I want you to kick me...as hard as you can...in the chin.
Peter: Dude...okay, first off, how am I even supposed to do that? Just kick like a ballerina or something?
Frank just sighed and shook his head in disappointment, then turned to one of the corner turnbuckles.
FPV: Pay close attention.
He backed up for a second before charging towards the turnbuckle and unleashing a superkick so strong it actually managed to go right through the turnbuckle, leaving the stuffing to flow out of it while Frank took his foot out.
FPV: And that, my friend, is the way of the headshot. And now the order stands once again: kick me.
I stepped back to try and imitate what he did, but as soon as I went for the kick, he dodged it, sending my foot to come falling down like a brick.
FPV: Not fast enough. Again.
I tried once more, but again he dodged it like a master.
FPV: Still not fast enough. AGAIN!
I started to grimace out of annoyance before cutting the step back and just going straight for the kick. This time FPV didn't dodge it. Rather, he brushed my foot away like it was a fly, sending me falling down to the mat.
FPV: Too predictable. Once more.
Peter: NO. FUCK THIS SHIT. I'm done!
FPV: Really man, are you going to pull this now? It's not as hard as you think.
Peter: That's easy for you to say, Mr. Headshot master! How the hell am I supposed to-
*SMACK!*
Honestly, I never saw it coming. He slapped like some Four Corners whore, and I took it like one. I fell down to the ground, Frank standing tall over me.
FPV: And this is why you will never improve. Now get up on your feet.
He didn't talk to me like he was angry, more like a disappointed parent. And for some reason, that only pissed me off even more. So I got back up and went for another kick. Only this time, I wasn't merely doing what was told of me...I was making an attack on another person, a person who pissed me off and was going to get what they deserved. I pictured Colin Marshall's face, imagine how sweet it would feel to beat this man on Sunday, a man with an arguably even more pitiful career than mine. One win amongst numerous other losses. At the very least I've managed to make waves here in the WCF, win a title and get trained by this man, all Colin's done since he's joined is bitch and moan about how disappointing he is in himself. From that kick onward I decided to stop being useless, to stop giving up, and to stop being Colin Marshall.
I got him right on the chin, sending him flying back now, right into the same turnbuckle he had ruined only minutes before. I could see it in his face that he was completely caught off guard. Nevertheless when he looked back at me, he was beaming with pride.
Peter: Boom...headshot.
Unlike my folks, Tommy's parents allowed him to play and watch pretty much anything he wanted, as long as he kept it quiet at night when they were sleeping. I didn't even own a gaming system of any sort, so I could only play something when I was at a friends house. Well, to give some reference this was right around the time online first person shooters started becoming a thing, and thus Tommy wanted to show off his skills at some online game, the name alludes me at the moment, but I recall it having to do with Terrorists and government agents or something. To make a long story short, this kid was a master at his craft, he was catching people off guard left and right, stabbing people in the jugular, the whole nine yards! But what kind of sealed the deal was that most of the time, he was completely silent, focused entirely at the task at hand, almost robot-like in his precision. That was, until he scored a headshot.
I don't know if it was a rare occurrence for him to do this or not, but apparently everytime he scored a headshot, he yelled out that phrase almost any gamer these days would know.
Tommy: BOOM! Headshot! BOOM! Headshot!
After about the tenth time he said it, I had questions for him.
Peter: Okay, seriously dude, why do you keep saying that?
Tommy: What man, you never seen the video?
It took him a moment to remember that my family did not own a computer at the time (they called an expensive waste of time.) After which he left his current game to pull up this website.
Peter: Huh? What's this?
Tommy: It's this new website that came out earlier this year I believe, it's called YouTube. You can find pretty much any video you want on here, it's amazing!
Before my thoughts could travel to the kind of videos this kind of freedom could entail, Tommy had already begun typing in the name of the video he wanted. After finding it in the results, we both watched as this bald dude with obvious mental issues began playing the exact same game Tommy had been playing, even saying "BOOM! Headshot!" just like Tommy had done.
Man on Video: My hearts beating! My hands are shakin', my hands are shakin but I'm STILL SHOOTING, I'm STILL getting the headshots! It's like BOOM! Headshot! BOOM! Headshot! BOOM! HEADSHOT!
My initial reaction was something along the lines of...
Peter: This man should be put in some kind of mental institution.
After which we promptly went back to doing other things, and the phrase completely passed out of my mind for years to come.
And then I met Frank...
I was with the rest of the world in collective shock when Frank revealed himself to Lerch two weeks ago. I had heard about the man while I was doing my research on WCF. What can I say, the guy had a lot of accomplishments to his name. Two time Tag Champion, two time U.S Champ, two time People's Champ, one time World Champ, and third overall Grand Slam Champion. That's a lot of things to put on a resume. However, later records show that he left sometime after One for unknown reasons, claiming to leave on some journey of some sort, but I'm starting to believe that part is bogus. I think maybe he needed to take some kind of leave of absence and just needed an excuse, cause the last few months for this guy...well, hasn't been the most pleasant. Then it turns out that this is the hobo who's been training me the past two months. It perfectly explains why he asked me if I liked Mudkips that one day.
I remember sometime after his reveal he brought to an honest to god gym (not that rundown Six Flags anymore, apparently it was now okay for him to show his face) and began trying to actually teach me some moves. Learning was a little on the tough side still, but after being in the fed for a few months, I stated to feel like I was getting the hang of things. That was, until he told me...
FPV: Okay, now we're going to get into some serious business. I want you to kick me as hard as you can in the chin.
Peter: WHAT?!
FPV: You heard me...I want you to kick me...as hard as you can...in the chin.
Peter: Dude...okay, first off, how am I even supposed to do that? Just kick like a ballerina or something?
Frank just sighed and shook his head in disappointment, then turned to one of the corner turnbuckles.
FPV: Pay close attention.
He backed up for a second before charging towards the turnbuckle and unleashing a superkick so strong it actually managed to go right through the turnbuckle, leaving the stuffing to flow out of it while Frank took his foot out.
FPV: And that, my friend, is the way of the headshot. And now the order stands once again: kick me.
I stepped back to try and imitate what he did, but as soon as I went for the kick, he dodged it, sending my foot to come falling down like a brick.
FPV: Not fast enough. Again.
I tried once more, but again he dodged it like a master.
FPV: Still not fast enough. AGAIN!
I started to grimace out of annoyance before cutting the step back and just going straight for the kick. This time FPV didn't dodge it. Rather, he brushed my foot away like it was a fly, sending me falling down to the mat.
FPV: Too predictable. Once more.
Peter: NO. FUCK THIS SHIT. I'm done!
FPV: Really man, are you going to pull this now? It's not as hard as you think.
Peter: That's easy for you to say, Mr. Headshot master! How the hell am I supposed to-
*SMACK!*
Honestly, I never saw it coming. He slapped like some Four Corners whore, and I took it like one. I fell down to the ground, Frank standing tall over me.
FPV: And this is why you will never improve. Now get up on your feet.
He didn't talk to me like he was angry, more like a disappointed parent. And for some reason, that only pissed me off even more. So I got back up and went for another kick. Only this time, I wasn't merely doing what was told of me...I was making an attack on another person, a person who pissed me off and was going to get what they deserved. I pictured Colin Marshall's face, imagine how sweet it would feel to beat this man on Sunday, a man with an arguably even more pitiful career than mine. One win amongst numerous other losses. At the very least I've managed to make waves here in the WCF, win a title and get trained by this man, all Colin's done since he's joined is bitch and moan about how disappointing he is in himself. From that kick onward I decided to stop being useless, to stop giving up, and to stop being Colin Marshall.
I got him right on the chin, sending him flying back now, right into the same turnbuckle he had ruined only minutes before. I could see it in his face that he was completely caught off guard. Nevertheless when he looked back at me, he was beaming with pride.
Peter: Boom...headshot.
