Absolutely magnificent game. Just played a match with 3 other friends, all about nova 2-3, intending on having a good time and trying to win. Very quickly, we see that the enemy team is much much better than us, throwing coordinated utility and hitting solid shots. We start to question what's going on here. Is it smurfing? Cheating perhaps?? Are they simply just better than us??? Are we the ones that are bad???? We lose the first half by a landslide, something like 13-2. In the second half, the other team buys negevs, dualies, shotguns, basically throwing and boosting in stupid spots. We get a few rounds back once they hit match point, but our downfall was inevitable, and the game ended with a 16-8 score, leaving a sour and salty taste in our mouths.

As the scoreboard pops up showing the final stats of the game, we wait in anticipation, saliva dripping from our mouths like rabid dogs as we sit in agony not yet knowing what ranks the enemy players were. As the ranks do pop up, time seems to slow down, the whole universe winding down to a stop for what's about to happen. Us four, two nova 3's and two nova 2's, got queued against 2 dmg level players and 3 mg 1 players. And to top it all off, our random teammate, one we never suspected of being a high ranking or smurfing due to his lackluster at best performance, was LE of all ranks.

I was enlightened, untethered from the ground and no longer held back by my inherently human desire for answers. The world made sense. Everything made sense. The match itself, valve's prized and cherished creation, now, too, made sense. No wonder we got destroyed. No wonder they knew every smoke in the book. No wonder they talked so much smack in the chat. They were not simply better than us because they were gifted. No, they were better than us because they had played more and grinded to higher ranks, only to get queued against some salty novas trying to have a good time. I wasted a solid 30 to 45 minutes getting touched and shot in places I can't even describe, and that's not even including the time I took to write this review. Valve matchmaking is screwed, and there's no two ways about it. All we can do now is bend over, unbuckle our belts, pull down our pants, remove our underwear, and revel in the glory that is gaben's monsterous bratwurst pounding us to no end like Iron Mike in the ring. Well played, valve, well played.