MODE 71 — это состояние игровой сингулярности, в котором твой биологический ритм синхронизируется с кодом сервера. Ты перестаешь просто нажимать на кнопки и начинаешь диктовать серверу свои правила. Пока оппоненты тонут в хаосе микромоментов и лишних эмоций, ты входишь в режим ледяного спокойствия.

В этом состоянии враги превращаются в предсказуемые алгоритмы, а ты манипулируешь их позициями. Для носителя MODE 71 больше не существует «сложных клатчей» или «сильных соперников» — есть только геометрия карты и твоя воля. Каждый префаер, каждый стрейф и каждый хэдшот становятся эстетическим манифестом твоего превосходства. Ты больше не играешь в CS — ты становишься самой игрой, достигая абсолютного потока, где любая ошибка исключена на уровне инстинктов.

— I don't think people understood what it was I was doing at Shaffer. I wasn't there to conduct. Any f moron can wave his arms and keep people in tempo. I was there to push people beyond what's expected of them. I believe that is... an absolute necessity. Otherwise, we're depriving the world of the next Louis Armstrong. The next Charlie Parker. I told you that story about how Charlie Parker became Charlie Parker, right?
— Jo Jones threw a cymbal at his head.
— Exactly. Parker's a young kid, pretty good on the sax. Gets up to play at a cutting session, and he fs it up. And Jones nearly decapitates him for it. And he's laughed off-stage. Cries himself to sleep that night, but the next morning, what does he do? He practices. And he practices and he practices with one goal in mind, never to be laughed at again. And a year later, he goes back to the Reno and he steps up on that stage, and plays the best mfing solo the world has ever heard. So imagine if Jones had just said, "Well, that's okay, Charlie. That was all right. Good job." And then Charlie thinks to himself, "Well, s, I did do a pretty good job." End of story. No Bird. That, to me, is an absolute tragedy. But that's just what the world wants now. People wonder why jazz is dying.