call of duty LP 11-11-09

This past Tuesday was a day to celebrate the release of one of the most anticipated games of all time, Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. To commemorate the occasion, I stocked up on plenty of Taco Bell and Mountain Dew, the provisions one needs when one decides to ignore the real world and play a video game for 12 hours straight.

After running through the Campaign mode fairly quickly, I turned my sights to the real meat of the game, the multiplayer. Being a seasoned Xbox Live multiplayer veteran, I like to think I know what to expect when it comes to trash talking. When I play a game from the Halo series, for instance, I should mentally prepare myself for a barrage of anti-Semitic and anti-homosexual rhetoric flung about carelessly by 12-14 year olds that will probably grow up to be either very successful rapists or politicians.

When I play Gears of War 2, I should know that the people playing it are essentially high school football jocks that are wrapped in a nerdy candy coating. They may not know much about sports, but they take that same sports fan intensity and fanaticism and they apply it to things like Anime and video games. Thus, the trash talking tends to be more about how you, the loser of the match or round, are a faggot that should never have even bought the game due to your propensity for sucking at things that they, the trash talker, are really good at.

Call of Duty is a little different, though. Not much more, mind you. But enough to where it’s slightly noticeable. When it comes to a Call of Duty multiplayer match, people seem to be a bit more gentlemanly. Again, not much more, just a tiny bit more. The game seems to be played by older guys that play it for the fun, as opposed to people that treat the faceless medium of online play like an offshore bank account designed specifically for hatred and vitriol; a place their stupidity can exist without existing.

So imagine my surprise when I started to play Modern Warfare 2’s multiplayer and found that all of the Halo assholes and the Gears of War douchebags had gravitated to Call of Duty. Actually, don’t imagine it. I’ll just tell you. I was, like, 1 million surprised (that is, if surprise were measured numerically). Only a couple of matches in I found myself being sucked in to the world of assholes that think calling you every slur in the great big book of slurs within a 10 minuet time span will net their squad a couple hundred bonus points at the end of the match.

After a few more rounds of this, I decided to accept it and actually try to have some fun with it. I decided to join the ranks of the assholes. I decided that I was going to see how far I could push these assholes by turning the tables on them.

Every time someone, whether they be on my team or not, started acting a dick, I fired back with a little something of my own, hoping they would fire back.

After each exchange, I carefully wrote down everything that was said. Here are the 3 that stick out the most.

Oh, and I have to warn you, these are all real.

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The Australian

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Australian: Yeah, I fuckin’ killed all you little bastards. Fuckin’ raped you all. Ha!

Me: Good show, Good show.

Australian: fuckin’-A, man. Little shits.

Me: Crikey, mate!

Australian:…

Me: That’s not a knife, THAT’S a knife.

Australian: You should suck on a fat cock, yeah?

Me: Fosters, Australian for Koala piss.

Australian: I killed all you little fuckers, so I don’t give a shit.

Me: Australia, come for the kangaroo meat, stay for the experience of being amongst a country of criminal descendants.

Australian: If I saw you in real life I’d fuckin’ — put a fuckin’ shotgun in your asshole. I’d rape you with a fuckin’ shot gun!

Me: Now, is the bloomin’ onion Australia’s largest national export, or is it your irrelevance?

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The Child

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Child: Oh My God! You and you’re fucking fraging, man! Stop being such a faggot, dude!

Me: Well, evidently being a faggot is what makes me a champion. Every morning I wake up and eat a bowl of dicks. You know why?

Child: Why?

Me: Because dicks is the breakfast of champions! And faggots. Which I apparently am. Because I killed you. A lot.

(In the lobby waiting for the next match to start)

Child: Who’s the faggot now, bitch?! I Fucking owned you!

Me: Well, by your rules, you would now be the faggot because you killed me. Only faggots kill people.

Child: Shut up, faggot!

Me: The logic! IT’S –IT’S TURNED ON YOU!

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The Redneck

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Redneck: That’s how we do, nigga!

Me: Please, for the love of god, do not say “nigga.” It just makes you seem whiter. It’s like seeing an albino rocking out to Christopher Cross.

Redneck: Who?

Me: Saaaaaailing Takes me awaaaaaaaaay to where I’ve always heard it could be!! C’mon, man! Christopher fucking Cross? Saaaaaailing Takes me awaaaaaaaaay! You’re a honkey! You’re like a mayonnaise stain on Klan hood, you have to know about Christopher Cross!

Redneck: Fuck right I’m white! At least I’m not some fucking A-rab or some dirty shit.

Me: If that was supposed to insinuate that I’m Arab, you’re pretty far off, man. And even if I were, it would be better than being a redneck.

Redneck: How would you even know I’m a redneck? You can’t see me. You don’t know if I have a confederate flag or something.

Me: Well, you might be a redneck if you’re you.