June 2013 - Chapter 1: Fresh cornflakes

With eyes new to prison cell styled room around it, Newblet looked at the battle finder in consideration. It was a scrub afraid to start anything it couldn't finish. Afraid of leaving things unresolved, but it decided it was being silly. Nothing to fear. Who knows, it may be a waste of time, but it wasn't going to waste much more time looking over all the skills.

It went to the market and looked at all of the weapons, disregarding the stats and p!ssing away the only skill points it had, it decided to max out dropsuit precision, like the scrub it was.

As it's clone transported into the MCC warbarge it saw many other mercenaries giving it a once over. It felt the strange urge to curl up in a ball and die as the other mercs swag was overwhelming.

It looked at the timer... 32 seconds left of feeling even less irrelevant and un cool than it already did.

Finally, it entered the MCC and deployed onto district V. Dropping out of the MCC, It felt the wind hit Its skin through it's Dropsuit. It had almost forgot it even existed beneath the thin layers of duct tape and hard toilet roll tubes it was encased in. It could see how easy it would be to get completely owned repeatedly.

Descending more rapidly than it anticipated, it grew dangerously bold with every meter it gained and waited until it realised it didn't know how to stop itself splatting on the floor like a scrub. It now knew that it was probably a good idea to check the operating manual before newbing out in the heat of battle.




July 2013 - Chapter 2: From scrub to newb

It had been a month.

A month of continuous beat downs and feelings of being completely irrelevant and getting owned at every turn.

It turned out that Newblet was too crap to use snipers. Everytime Newblet tried to take a shot, it missed. Newblet was just too bad for that kind of thing.

Newblet saw the bar for it's local chat flashing. Raising it's eyebrow, it wondered if anyone on this game was for real. it stubbornly ignored it after laughing to itself over and over as Newblet was pretty fked up and a bit special. With a heavy sigh, It went through the weapons. What could be fun? Newblet was having a hard time as it was so bad that nothing mattered, Newblet would still do bad with an ohk weapon anyway. Some things just can;t be fixed.

Hmmm... Shotguns? Without any further hesitation it deployed info a match after fitting it's suit. Needless to say, Newblet was so bad that 1 or 2 hit kills just didnt carry it enough and it got owned repeatedly.

It seemed that there was no hope for Newblet and rightly so.

This game was far more difficult than it had imagined but that's only because it was really terribad. Apparently it was playing against real players. Not robots. Newblet was so bad that it had thought it was playing against bots on extremely hard mode. It was really that bad that it truly though it was playing single player.




July 2013 - Chapter 3: The respect Newblet never had

Logging into DUST, Newblet accepted the terms and waited for the data to synchronize. 40,000 people were on the server? Where was everyone? Not nearly so many people talked in the chat. It was too ill informed to understand.

The game finished loading and it went into the next screen and was amazed at what it saw. Holy crap! There must have been some reward or something. it had 1 million skill points to spend! This wasn't there last night...

Newblet didn't queston its gift and went on to happily spend it.. it refused to think about it and spent the skill points on stuff it shouldn't have. Newblet also put basic light frames to level 5 because it seemd like a good idea.

Newblet decided that placing level 1 in everything was the best idea as well. How could it go wrong?

Level 1 plasma cannons... Newblet never felt more overpowered.

Newblet was sure it would soon be rising above the other more experienced players with it's out-of-this-world skill placement.

Glancing at the Local chat, Newblet scrunched up its face in confusion as it remembered those 40,000 players

But where were they?


August 2013 - Chapter 4: Where's the fotm scrubs at?

Newblet fired it's last shot but missed the mark and went flying backwards as a red guy killed her. This was the norm for Newblet and no amount of practice would make it any better. After a couple more deaths and a kill assist the battle finally ended. Not surprisingly Its team was defeated. Shoulders slumped, Newblet respawned directly into it's Mercenary Quarters. Newblet was sad and a bit of a state. Every time the Caldari lost a ship was another dent in the bank. Besides that, Newblet sucked balls, like really badly.

As Newblet laid down on it's hard jail cell styled bed and continued to beat one out over it's failures, a letter made it's way through the open slot and into it's mailbox. Newblet got Mail? Who would bother to write to such a scrub. Newblet was not only a complete special case but also a complete invalid.

"CCP orders you to join Dust University as you are that bad that you will get deleted otherwise"

Now more confused than ever, Newblet responded,

"What's that?"

Needless to say, Newblet was one sandwich short of a picnic and had actually tried to reply to the letter there and then.