I was in a game of Warzone. I started off pretty well, got some decent kills with a level 3 BR and my trusty Carbine. I even eliminated both Hunter Elders.
But then the enemy captured the Spire.
Then they eliminated Tankmaster Rok even though I was filling it with explosive rounds with an ONI Warthog.
Then they eliminated Captain Hestro despite me taking him on with a Damage Boost II.
And then, they took both of our armories.
Our base was vulnerable, our hopes were dashed, and our hearts were crushed. As their score sped closer and closer to 1000, and as 25VP boss after 25VP boss was robbed from our fingers, my motivation and confidence dissipated into a melancholy dust. And then that dust faded into nothing. We were losing by 400 points. Nothing was possible.
But then, something magical happened. When the enemy reached 800 points, Palmer’s soothing, motherly voice spoke through the comms. She was caring and understanding, sympathetic and solemn.
She told us, with her voice touching each of our hearts in a way never felt before, that we could still destroy the enemy core.
It didn’t matter that the enemy was winning by 400 points.
It didn’t matter that the enemy controlled all bases.
It didn’t matter that Warden Eternal was at the Crossroads, nor that he was a high priority target.
What mattered was that we weren’t out of this yet, and we could STILL destroy the enemy core.
And it was at that moment, when I—fueled by Palmer’s eloquent inspiration of myself—rallied my sullen team upon a task of capturing all bases, that I lagged out of the match and received a lengthy quit ban.