Spiraling ever wider in their chaotic adventure, our crew was caught in a frenzy of banter echoing through their headsets. The followers struggled to hear one another over the frantic shouts from the group leader, who managed to belt out taunts with a mouth full of Mountain Dew and Doritos: “Your mom said that last night! Get rekt!”
Meanwhile, the creature known as the Xaurips let out guttural wails of defeat as an envoy from Aedyr hurled insults last heard in the wild, wild west days of Xbox Live. With no need to pause for precision, they spun and blasted away relentlessly. By the end, their stamina hit the ground hard, and that scale armor might have ended up draped in the Living Lands’ version of “mom’s spaghetti” if they hadn’t developed a solid resistance to dizziness.
But giving in was not an option. This wild party was their addiction, with a trove of loot waiting to be claimed, victory dances to perform, and, most critically, fallen enemies’ faces to desecrate with the infamous teabag move.
Back at the camp, they invested in more upgrades for their trusty arquebus, dreaming of the most garish custom skin to grace its barrel, stock, and trigger. They mused over their journey to this point—adopting a playstyle embracing maximum rudeness, all while wondering if their companions secretly disliked them and giving homage to the over-the-top gods of all things MLG.
They recalled the moment it all began with the acquisition of that unique arquebus in Fior Mes Ivèrno. Stroking its barrel, they realized its resemblance to a Barrett 50 Cal—ideal for dishing out heavy doses of lead to adversaries in the most outrageous manner. It was about showing those doubters who mocked their near-completely covered face shielded by a hefty slab of enchanted wood.
“I’ll show you,” they muttered under their breath, determined, despite being a petite woman with striking purple hair, to defy the stereotype of playing as the usual muscular dudes. Starting out in Avowed wasn’t easy, but taking lessons from the early difficulties was invaluable. They learned the necessity of keeping a safe distance from melee foes every thirty seconds to avoid dying. Adjusting their loading technique to fit their spins, they minutely refined their timing, dodging a second needless rotation.
They saw their share of failures, often leaving it to their allies to save their hide. Their mistakes were obvious, even felt the disdain of the divine voice sharing philosophical tidbits thunder inside their head. But it wasn’t the divine lectures that stung; it was the dismal K/D ratio reflecting their blunders, unable to blame any mishaps on lag from Living Lands. Still, hope never dimmed—they weren’t yet the sharpest tool in the gaming shed, but they knew they’d eventually make it.
Drawing inspiration from the Faze Clan’s legacy, they refused to quit. Gradually, they improved. When battles stretched beyond ten minutes, they saw a rise in their hit markers, and as their skill sharpened, those critical headshots became more frequent against the backdrop of an unstoppable kill-o-meter bursting to life, a torrent of steam smelling reminiscent of untidy teenage rooms. An emerging shooting star, they were set to break every norm.
Once ready, they set their sights on 360 no-scope bounty hunting. Being part of an Obsidian RPG universe, the first target was clear. Going full New Vegas, they stockpiled their buffs to face Old Nuna—a fearsome bear. Armed with enough air horns to deafen a village, they ventured into an ancient cave, blasting a mashup of Eminem’s classics and every Minecraft parody imaginable.
Owning the moment was essential; they couldn’t risk missing their single shot. Upon entering, they wiped the blood off their facial gear, consumed everything in their stash, and unleashed chaos, reaching levels so reckless it might have sent a shiver through Danny DeVito himself. Bang, twist, bang, twist; it was like a deadly ballet of hot lead, Cheeto crumbs, and blazing vengeance. They missed some shots, but it was the ones that landed that sealed their victory.
Old Nuna fell, less from ability and more from size making it an easy target. Their victory cries could wake every home as they exclaimed, “Mom, get the camera!” amidst a kaleidoscope of Fedora-tipped gestures winking at them before a flurry of hit markers and familiar symbols hit the screen. They tackled the pesky mushrooms next and capped it with a celebratory teabagging, synced perfectly to the Thomas the Tank Engine theme.
Upon returning to Fior, they noted the animancer’s gaze lingering on them, probably because they recreated Rick Astley’s hit with their cacophony of air horns. Wanting to turn their bounty into a loot-box bonanza, they were denied. Leaning in to confront the bounty master, they mimed recording and announced, “Listen here, you Valian bore. You don’t sound remotely Aedyran, so go crawl back to wherever that is! Take your own advice and find solace in your dirt-chewing wizard antics!”
Confidence high, they walked away, savored the mix of shock and awe around them. Their fate was sealed. From here on, only strength and skill awaited them.
Some breakthrough seemed on the horizon for this group, suggesting the dawn of the Avowed’s 360 no-scope phenom was upon us.
Some fierce entity approached the lands of Thirdborn, its energy drink-fueled brain riddled with undeniable truth.
Inquisitor Lödwyn had raidposted in the wrong district.
