Summary: This is the story of a man who had lived his life in glory and loneliness. He is a man of this world and apart from it. His achievements are many but his suffering is his alone. His name is Kripparrian and this is his story.
Discovering Discovery at Mickey D's
Written from the perspective of Kripparrian
"Hello! Welcome to McDonalds. May I take your order?"
My opponent smiles at me. He looks like he's some scrub barely in high school. Blizzard has shit matchmaking. 'A Worthy Opponent' my vegan ass he is.
I look at my hand. It was 11:00, just in time for the breakfast mulligan. That means the hash browns got tossed out. There were safe options, such as a salad or a Royale with Cheese (Canadians use the metric system you filthy Americans. Please subscribe and give me more of your Donald-dollaroos). But only cowards go with the safe options. I'm fucking Kripparrian. I'm a fucking madman.
"Yeah, I'll take a Happy Meal."
"Of course, sir-"
"Medium, Diet Coke, No meat"
Every since Blizzard introduced the Discovery mechanic, the choices became obvious. There shouldn't be any hesitation in picking your meal, side and drinks. It takes a true noob to spend more than a minute deciding how to use their welfare checks.
While I mused the socio-cultural importance of Austrian supply-side economics, the cashier was still contemplating my moves. "Medium… Diet Coke… No meat? Uh, sir. A happy meal comes with a hamburger or cheeseburger. Both of those include meat."
"So what do you mean 'no meat'?"
"You hold the meat. You know, not put it in." I can't believe I have to explain to this rank-23 scrub how the game works. Fuck this matchmaking. Stupid American no understand master race Canadian English.
"So to be clear. You just want the bread patty? No meat?"
"Well no. I mean I want the ketchup and onions and the cheese. I'm a vegetarian, not a fucking cow."
My opponent looks at me, his finger hovering over his screen. He is unsure what move to make. Hurry the fuck up and make a move goddamn. It's not rocket science. Finally he presses a button on his control board. It rings up a tab.
"Okay, very good sir. Anything else?"
Finally his turn is over.
"No I'm good. The Light will burn you!"
I pass and emote. #LegendPlays
I took a seat at a booth. I could feel the stickiness of the plastic bench assaulting my khakis.
At last my Happy Meal came.
Part of Hearthstone skill is mastery of RNG. This season's toy line was a special Hearthstone toys. There was Murlocs, Demons, etc… but I know what I truly wanted.
I wanted Jaina.
I took a deep breath. I clicked all the clickables. I turned the yellow 'M'-shaped handle into a 'W'.
Then I opened the box.
It was another fucking Murloc.
Okay, fucking christ. Time to salt.
"Excuse me. Cashier. Yeah, hey you!"
"This is bullshit RNG."
"What is, sir?"
"I got a Murloc. I got like twenty of them. Now look. There's six possible toys. Murlocs, Demon, Mech, Warlock, Sheep, and Jaina. And it's like, my one hundredth draw but I haven't pulled a single Jaina. Do you realize what are the probabilities of that?"
The cashier began reaching for a calculator.
"Okay. Stop right there. Let me show you filthy American how to do math. The probability of me not getting Jaina after one hundred motherfucking draws is precisely equal to BULLSHIT."
"Do you want a Jaina? Because I can just go to the bin and grab a Jaina-"
"Fuck no. I want another Happy Meal. Same order as before. Actually make it twenty." I slam a 100 Canadian dollar onto the counter. "Make it snappy. Chop chop." I clapped when I said chop chop. I liked that.
"What is this?" The cashier held the bill up in the light. "Is this even real?"
"It's a Canadian Dollar."
"Who's the guy on it? Is that Issac Newton?"
"No, that's the eighth Prime Minister of Canada."
"No you fuckwit. Robert Borden."
The cashier hung in Rank-23 head in shame. Your lucky Blizzard is merciful because you'd be Rank-24 on the Kripparrian Ladder. "Sorry. I'm not good with trivia."
My blood began to boil.
"Canadian history isn't fucking trivia!"
I felt my face flush red with rage. My blood pressure spiked to the six-hundreds. Rania wasn't around to give me one of my sleepy-sleepy-night-night shots. I could feel my eyes pop out of its sockets.
There was only one solution:
The salt must flow.
"Now I don't know where you've come from-"
"I'm from Irvine, California."
"-but, OH YES! Typical American migrant! You come to our great country of Canada to steal our healthcare and beautiful moose-women. You no understand our great country's history! This is why we need to build a wall, to keep you American-oids out!"
"Sir, you're in Irvine, California."
I looked behind me. There it was, Blizzard Headquarters. I could hear Ben Brode's laughter shatter a thousand virgin worlds as he consigned a billion trillion Tinyfins to death.
It was the perfect answer. This cashier needed me to be in this EXACT location for that line to work. What the fuck is this bullshit RNG? What are the chances that out of the hundred thousand, nay - million - of McDonalds on planet Earth I'd be in the McDonalds that's right outside Irvine, California?
That's utterly BULLSHIT.
"Fuck this RNG," I said throwing twenty Happy Meals at his face.
"Kripp… we've talked about this before."
"Fuck you and bail me."
Ben Brode simply shook his head and handed the guard a big, fat wad of cash.
Brode knew he needed me and I needed him. It was only a minor assault charge. Luckily I was in America where money is the king of justice. In Canada they would have hung, drawn, and quartered me like Oliver Cromwell.
"I'm glad you got me out of that shitfest," I said as we exited the prison to fresh freedom.
The prison was a shit. The guards on duty were playing a typical tier-1 law enforcement deck. Any play I make would get countered. Try to get a tray of prison food? He'd knock it out with a baton-card. Try to talk to some inmates and make friends? He'd summon a couple of bruisers to go Shawshank on my ass. Not to mention there was one guard who would just walk in and watch me every time I showered. Just watch. Fucker keeps roping every single turn while I was there just scratching my nuts. Dude, will you finish your turn? Please?
Soon we were out on the streets in the cold night walking towards Blizzard HQ.
"You know it's bad when your dealer has to bail you out right?"
"Just give me a fix will ya?"
Brode sighed. He tossed me a fresh Arena ticket. I quickly ripped it and snorted it.
That sweet, sweet draft… was simply divine…
… but this only got me to normal.
"When the hell are you going to upgrade this stuff? I need something stronger. You know Shadowverse has-"
"Kripp… we talked about this…"
"But Ben! I need something stronger… I need something to… you know…" I leaned in closer. "... help arouse me."
Ben tossed an arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer.
"Let me tell you about a lil something we got in beta…"
"What is it? Is this another Tavern Brawl shit? You know I hate Tavern Brawls."
Ben shook his head.
"We're calling it… 'Dungeon Run'..."
Discovering Discovery at Mickey D's Fin