ꜱᴇᴄᴜʀɪᴛʏ / ꜱᴏꜰᴛᴡᴀʀᴇ / ɴᴏɴ-ᴇᴛʜɪᴄᴀʟ ʜᴀᴄᴋᴇʀ. ᴏʀ "ʙʟᴀᴄᴋʜᴀᴛ" ᴀꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟ ɪᴛ.

the guy below this comment is a chud

the guy below my comment is indian

the guy under my comment thrusts when jacking off

There was once a warrior who swore loyalty to Counter-Strike. He preached the gospel of solo queue honor, of clutch rounds and hard carries through the trenches of matchmaking. He said he was grinding to improve, sharpening his aim, reviewing demos late into the night, all in pursuit of becoming Faceit Level 10. Every match was practice, every 1v5 a stepping stone toward greatness, and he claimed nothing would stand between him and the top.

But then Deadlock whispered his name. What began as “just a few games” became a complete transformation. The solo queue hero disappeared, the grind stopped, and the fire faded. Now he refuses to solo queue, not because he can’t but because, in his words, “my team is the problem.” Every loss is teammates. Every missed shot is lag. Every bad push is “no comms.” Every rank drop is because he “had bots.”

-rep furry