Rocket Arena. Not online, it was a 5v5 tournament at a LAN. Our team were a bunch of idiots who had only joined for fun, up against actual RA clans. Somehow, we made it to the grand final, against... buggered if I can remember now. But we'd made it, god knows how, and we were holding our own. They were clearly better players, complete with strategy for each map, perfect team play and a lot more experience than us, but we were a team of 5 loud-mouthed, brash late-teens/early-twenties gamers whom individually had our strengths, but would prefer to run around, maybe sticking in pairs, instead of co-ordinate. Hell, I didn't even like Quake 3 and had never played Rocket Arena before the tournament. The only thing really in our favour was that the tournament was sponsored by that company that makes those Shuttle PCs. Possibly called Shuttle or something, so that the tournament was held on 10 standard PCs, with everyone getting the default layout.
By all rights, we should have been trounced by superior ability. It was a first to 21, so should have been a crushing 21-0 defeat. But we held our own, amidst jibes and cajoling... at ourselves. For the most part, we were trailing by one round or tying. At one point, we'd even snuck ahead, 16-15. It was on the next match that the clan decided they would get serious, shout at the universe and raise their power levels to 9000. Within half a minute of the next round beginning, the rest of my team were reduced to spectators, shouting directions at me. I ran around a seemingly empty map for about a minute, before finding them all camped up the top of an open area, waiting for me to come out. I saw them first, panicked at being outnumbered, so started spamming grenades. Slaughtered two of them, the rest jumped and worked their way back up to avenge their team mates. So I did what any suicidal would do. I followed them. Ran back to their little sniper nest, jumped and pulled out my trusty rocket launcher, ensuring I announced my presence by filling every corridor full of tasty rockets. And managed to kill another. Three down, two to go, feeling invincible in the face of superior odds and deafened by the shouts of my team mates, who had all gathered around me for the sole purpose of shouting, I pressed on.
And promptly got railed in the face.
We went on to lose 21-19, but had generated that much of a spectacle that half the LAN had gathered to watch. Though we didn't get the first prize, which was either a hard drive or DVD burner, we did get a consolation prize of a CD chest. I still have that chest, stacked full of CDs, gathering dust, a monument to my glorious lanning days, back before I developed a throbbing hatred for PC gaming.
