“If TSM has any chance of winning this game,” comments poor, naive fool Alan Walton, “they need to start split-pushing and taking towers as soon as possible, or else they won’t stand a chance in the late game.” It’s a quiet Sunday afternoon, and Walton is tuned into the summer split of the League of Legends Championship Series (LCS), currently featuring Cloud9 versus Team Solomid (TSM) in a heated skirmish. His fellow viewers report that they find his commentary extremely KEKW—that is, if they even notice it at all before it disappears at the top of the chat window seconds later.
“I mean, look at TSM’s lineup. Broken Blade is playing Jayce with no Tear,” states the tragically misled buffoon, with all the unearned confidence of a first-year creative writing student. “If this game hits the forty-five-minute mark, his damage output is going to drop off super hard unless he starts winning now, and I mean right now. Guys?” Moments later, Broken Blade flashes under an enemy turret in an attempt to kill a low-health player, but dies instead, his opponent escaping with a mere sliver of health. Walton places a hand to his chin and shakes his head thoughtfully. Meanwhile, dozens of users spam various iterations of the phrase “Broken Brain.”
“Well, I suppose I shouldn’t expect anything less from Cloud9. There’s a reason they’re the most dominant team in the league right now,” continues the hopelessly deluded oaf, still somehow under the impression that anyone is listening or cares. As Cloud9 seizes a decisive advantage, the horde of faceless chat users—each one totally indistinct from every other—begins repeating such phrases as “FreeSM” and “🔥 SPAM 🔥 THIS 🔥 FIRE 🔥 TO 🔥 MAKE 🔥 DL 🔥 RETIRE 🔥.” One person posts the Pink Mercy wings for some reason.
“Still, given the current surge of police brutality protests, I do think it’s mildly insensitive of Blaber to keep using Volibear’s police skin in these games,” the simpleton posits, childlike innocence and a 1080p LED display gleaming in his eyes. “But I don’t know, maybe I’m reading into it too much. What do you guys think?” Walton stares blank-faced at the chat until someone shouts “END VOLIBEAR BRUTALITY,” which the blithering idiot inexplicably interprets as a direct response. He smiles.
The game ends in a resounding victory for Cloud9, much to the chat’s amusement. As the pepeDs begin flooding in, the simpering neanderthal takes a sip of hot chamomile tea. “Yes, pepeD indeed, my friends,” he writes. “PepeD indeed.” The message is deleted for overusing the emote.