I’ve never been inherently proficient at gaming. I’ve never really asserted dominance over a game without at least a sturdy resolve or resilience. It normally transpires that I’m in such a rush to reach the end that my provisions are rarely ameliorated to full effect, as in the case of The Last Of Us. I’m consciously aware of my limitations, discerning many culpable weak points that are ruthlessly exploited in an on-line capacity, but I still adamantly advocate these verifiable admissions with a presumed ignorance to the contrary. This dearth of narrowed credulity is an evident tuition of convenience and intuition, as I gain a periodic feel for the game. I dismiss any other stratagem with brazen flippancy, methodically accessing situations with granulated approach, competent in the respect that I posses a firm grasp of the basic fundamentals; I can’t access this door so I’ll find an alternate route, I can’t bypass this highly elaborate lock with my own simple brain capacity, so I’ll throw my controller across the room in a blind fury, dislodge the accursed disc from my console and shout expletives at my own image that is reflected in its circumference form, rather than resolve the applicable statures with composed deliberation (stupid WatchDogs!). So imagine my surprise when my renounced mediocrity amounted to, well success in a competitive Killzone match.

The Match began in much the same way I have become acquainted with; my predictable capitulation and death. After succumbing to an additional expiration I began to settle, atoning for my previous demeanour’s by landing precision head shots with a couple of clandestine manoeuvres. My covert insertion into enemy territory provided sufficient indentations for reconnaissance and cover from any pursuers wayward assaults. Our opponents were seemingly content to merely delay conflict, congregating in a little formation at the foot of their base. Me, in a rare moment of decisive clarity threw a subversive device with such encroaching velocity that it decimated half of their team! The dispersion range was limited to around 10 feet, leaving the smaller pockets of resistance so disorientated by the blast that I could defeat them with cursive pace. Suitably poised and falsely asserting an accursed swagger, polarised in this instance by my sudden need to pop, lock and drop, I absolved, curiously awaiting for the typical declination that was strangely festooned on my competitors as they continued to yield to my desultory enmity. After multiple kills and a brief recovery period to replenish my dwindling artillery, I resumed my inexplicable dominance by dispatching two distracted aggressors by quickly converging in their vicinity and swiftly alleviating his/her lingering mortality. Verging on the faint resemblance of proficiency, I continued to utilise my feral aggression and dispel another heavily secreted enemy before ascending a steep gradient and succumbing to the same affliction. The match was over.

Judging by the numerical affluence adorning their pseudonyms that indicate the number of challenges each competitor has completed, the match was frequented by visibly accomplished veterans more accustomed to success and dominance; but not this round. Though many were verbally disgruntled by my usurping sovereignty, as I continually warded off a barrage of looming hate and japes often exerted as “noob”, confirmation of my authority was affirmed when the leader-board clarified my position as the bee’s actual knees, where I found it prudent to mark this miraculous occasion with a provocative robot dance (which I couldn’t possibly demonstrate here). I never could have conceived that I would have ascended to such opulent heights. I’m by nature the back up, the supportive pinion in a greater apparatus, the superfluous associate that rears up with interspersed penetration when warranted, the acoustic guitar in a metal band, the lettuce in a burger king whopper, the bra on ample bosomed lady, the…..well you get the idea. This was a domain reserved for the exhibitionists that, for a brief period was accosted by a player of modest ability, a player regularly relegated to the fringes of the statistical relevance, a participant who on many occasions throws grenades when I had actually intended to aim, and a gamer that wasted 10 mins attempting to figure out where the discs are inserted into a PS4 back in November. Yeah. That’s right guys. Me!

What was your favourite on-line accomplishment?