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Pokémon Review your year III

Discussion in 'Chat' started by GGFan, Jan 8, 2019.

  1. GGFan

    GGFan Member

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    2016: Pokémon - Review your year here | Pokémon Perfect

    2017: http://www.pokemonperfect.com/forums/index.php?threads/review-your-year.4763/

    2018 was a roller coaster of emotions and experiences that began at the very end of last year, when my seemingly eternal and ridiculous ban from Smogon was finally lifted. Some viewed this as a shady tactic on the Shark's part, as Hikari was the assistant manager and I had ties with M Dragon, the manager. However, as the former showed his true colors as a worthless, sycophantic idiot who would gleefully fulfill the sexual desires that his infantile superior demands from others, I'd say this theory has been long since debunked. I am especially grateful towards BKC and Peasounay, who argued vehemently on my behalf just before the signup period was over.

    However. What I believe truly resulted in my ban being lifted was my change in character. As many of you know, I've always possessed an uncanny ability to reinvent myself, though there was a great deal of subtle truth behind the acerbic and torturous vitriol with which I battled the vile Russians and flippant Italians in the exciting and dramatic semi finals of the first WCOPP. Even after the champions were crowned, I still wasn't finished fighting the world--especially Smogon, who angered me with his claim of being the best yet ostracizing the person who would have made SPL the most stacked RBY event in history. And so I issued my infamous challenge to Smogon, which BKC disputed and resulted in him directly talking to Hikari. Had it not been for everything that transpired during WCOPP, it's unlikely that I would have ever been unbanned.

    Of course, I have a lot of feelings about my new persona. Not only did I manage to reinvent myself yet again after having made my debut years before ABR was even born, but I came up with a catchphrase as well. I have to thank the embodiment of garbage itself, Real FV13, for inspiring its creation, so I suppose the result was quite fitting. Not only was the catchphrase successful for an adding an extra layer to my character, but discord servers made personalized emojis for it, as well as my face, for nothing is more charming in the land of the internet dedicated to random numbers and cartoons than a cynical and tired old man.

    I was officially unbanned from Smogon in the middle of December, a decision which shocked the masses, including me. It felt strange to be free to interact freely with Smogon’s prepubescent contingency after being the one person whose ban was not lifted in the Christmas forgiveness of 2006. And so I made my first topic there, “I have been unbanned from Smogon, ask me anything,” which riled up Smogon’s ardent loyalist goons, who continued to behave as if their imaginary crusade against a person who committed no wrong to them was still in effect. It also piqued the curiosity of other more innocent, amicable people, so it was not all bad. While I genuinely felt bad for their mental illness, it was interesting to witness that loyalty to one’s community was not dead. I felt a sense of pride on their end, as pathetic as that may be, though, as a guest, I decided to respect their culture.

    My signup post in SPL was reportedly one of the most liked posts in its history. I had gone from despised to beloved in a matter of a day, which was made evident by a massive like mob that eagerly awaited my next messages. Some of Smogon’s younger, mentally challenged tribesmen took offense to an older white man who did not speak in “bros,” “niggas,” and “yo,” but rather with the three “Es:” “elegance,” “eloquence,” and “etiquette.” Thus, they attempted to hurl their horrid, virtual feces at me while speaking a language that was a mix of the darkest black and the ghostliest white. It was easy to overcome this assault and leave them covered in their own mud and filth, as they know only two banal and uninspired colors, while my artistry is eclectic and provocative. However, I also recalled the valuable lesson I learned years ago: “he who is different is disliked.” I am the antithesis of the typical Pokemon player that one would find on Smogon, as I have a disdain for a great deal of the culture and language that dominates Smogon and even Pokemon Perfect at times.

    My power actually went out the morning after the auction, so I was unaware of my fate. I thought there was a strong possibility I was not going to be bought, as this was going to be the most stacked RBY playerbase in the event’s history. Moreover, the fact that certain managers had “made for Smogon” mindsets was not going to help me, as these people were still fighting their one-sided, anti-GGFan crusade. Luckily, M Dragon was the manager of the Sharks and Conflict was one of the team’s franchise players, two people with whom I have a lot of history. M Dragon was one of the obstacles I had to overcome to take #1 on Pokemon Online’s RBY ladder, while I had one of the greatest RBY tournament matches of all time against Conflict in the semi finals of the Pokefans 4Chord Cup. I learned that both of them were highly interested in me, and Conflict even considered me and Troller on the same level, thanks to our history and how great of a year I had in 2017. Although I was among the top 2-4 players at this time, networking and politics play arguably a greater role than ability in determining one’s fate in this tour, so anything could have happened. I ended up on the Sharks, a result which I feel legitimized the playing field and made it a “who’s who” of the decade. Peasounay was there, who was the king of the mountain. Alexander was there, who was the king of yesteryear. Marco was there, who has a case for being the best player of the decade. Lusch was there, who may be able to make the same claim that Marco makes. And now I was there, the last remaining link between antiquity and the present. I had overcome a harsh childhood in the Azureheights era, an adolescence of struggles and hardships in the Netbattle era, and an adulthood of fierce, great challenges in the Pokemon Perfect era to reach this point in Smogon. I was determined to make my run in SPL a successful coming of age, but it wouldn’t be easy.

    On that note, however, I was not going to magnetize this event like “made for Smogon” trolls do, nor do I recommend others fall into the same trap. If being the best RBY player I could be was my goal, I already achieved that. If being one of the greatest of all time was my goal, SPL was not and will never be connected to that, as consistency is the true measure of success, especially in an organization such as Pokemon Perfect, where one plays the best the game has to offer, but all year round. SPL was important for other reasons: to showcase my skills to a bigger, different audience, prove that I was still just as good—if not better—than everyone else despite my age, and, perhaps most importantly, use this opportunity to springboard me into another year of consistency. I didn’t want 2017 to be a fluke, nor did I want my momentum to flag so quickly after everything I accomplished.

    Thus, I tried to separate the “S” from “PL,” as fruitless as that may sound. I knew hundreds of people would be watching my week 1 set against Diegolh—not just Smogon’s competitive contingency—but its mentally ill defects outside it as well. Of the hundreds that watched the most anticipated matchup of the week, some were merely curious to see how well I would perform in this environment, others were hoping fervently that I would fail, and, of course, I had a healthy number of people on my side, those who wanted me to succeed and officially put an end to the “GGFan vs Smogon” war, for my victory was the only way to end it. If I performed badly, I would not hear the end from it from Smogon, whose hatred stemmed primarily from my persistent refusal to conform there and instead establish myself in other organizations. Smogon was attempting to enhance the quality and legitimacy of RBY in his own domain, and now he finally had me competing in what is largely considered his most prestigious event (though I disagree vehemently with this line of thinking). The onus was on me to do well, which would presumably give me the ability to choose the next chapter of the saga, as it would be foolish on Smogon’s part to persist after concrete evidence of success in his empire. Well, there was the RBY Global Championship, but I was not free to be who I wanted to be back then. This time, I would be GGFan from start to finish.

    I have always prided myself on my honesty and candid approach to storytelling. If I said the feelings I experienced upon entering the server and witnessing what felt like an endless list of names foaming at the mouth to see the debut of GGFan and “Shimtup,” the legendary blade that has been passed down throughout the ages to only the most exemplary warriors, were anything less than surreal and even intimidating, it would be a lie as ugly and dirty as Smogon’s moderation staff. Perhaps people who watched “Who Framed Roger Rabbit” upon its release felt the same way I did when they saw Warner Bros and Disney characters coexist, as even I did not think we would see the day when I would be playing in any tournament on Smogon—not as a Hector, a maverick, or a year—but as “GGFan.” How was I going to perform? I had no doubts that I could beat Diegolh, as I had done so before, but he had beaten me previously in what was one of the best sets of 2017. In fact, the set he beat me in was a best-of-three in not SPL, but PPL, so one could certainly say that momentum was on his side.

    I did copious scouting on Diegolh. I was confident as to what he would bring, how he would play, and had a solid grasp of his teambuilding philosophies. I expected to see an Electric in game 1, and that’s what I got. What I didn’t prepare for was the possibility that our one game would take 70 minutes—over half the length of our entire set in PPL. We both had ReflectLax, but there wasn’t much I could do besides wait for an opening. Unfortunately. Lady Fortuna was not on my side; in fact, she wanted to let me know that, if I wanted to excel in SPL, I was going to have to learn to take a loss. No matter how well I played, I kept getting stuck down by slim odds. Considering how long the game was, it was one of the most exasperating experiences I ever had in my long and storied history with this game. While I was dejected after receiving a loss for my sterling efforts, my team helped return me to a positive mindset for the second game. Once again I successfully predicted what kind of team he would bring, and managed to secure the win after some crafty maneuvering, forcing a third game. By this time we had been playing for over 100 minutes, but there was no time for fatigue. I made the wrong choice by choosing Starmie as my last instead of Lapras, as the latter would have matched up against his team incredibly well. I still had a chance, but the five-turn sleep sealed my fate.

    For my first loss I received the usual dose of trolling, as well as hope that I would, shall we say, “crack” like a certain egg did and either run away or get banned. I admit that it was a tough loss to take, not just because of how badly I was robbed in the first game, but how much a win would have given me a much-needed safety net for the subsequent weeks, in which I had to face Lusch, Peasounay, and Marco consecutively. I had a long talk with my teammates, who both empathized and understood my situation, truly making me feel like a valued member of the team and not somebody who was bought for shock value. What Teddeh said in particular truly put things into perspective: “Keep playing the way you did against Diegolh and you’ll be just fine.” Well, it put things into perspective, but not in the way you may think I’m implying. Sure, he meant that what happened in that game was an atrocity—an even bigger robbery than what occurred in week 2 when roudolf faced Metalgross—but there were things I could have done differently too. ReflectLax was the immovable object in the metagame, meaning other ReflectLaxen were merely irresistible objects that did not have the muscle I needed. I thought deeply about that game and how I could better fight Snorlax for the rest of the tour. I didn’t want my games to be decided by which Snorlax would score a critical hit; rather, what if I started thinking outside the box, like I had done so much in 2017?

    My opponents were scouting me as well, so why not take advantage of that? It’d be easy to try something different—even just swapping one move for another—and throw my adversaries off. Lusch had the same mindset, who used Sandslash and Cloyster in our first game, but luckily my team was designed to handle both of them well thanks to my decision to use Blizzard/Thunderbolt Starmie and not FriendlyMie. What also helped was finally trying another Snorlax moveset instead of ReflectLax, which gave me the confidence to keep trying to deceit others with various tricks instead of relying on one single gimmick. Oh, how true that was when Counter Chansey nearly single-handedly won me game 2. After using nothing but the Reflect variant for months, all it took was trying one thing differently to win my first set. Beating Lusch removed so much of the pressure I felt, since I could have easily lost to him as well and then went up against Peasounay 0-2. My teammates were happy, people in the chat showed respect, and the trolling began to die down. I could prepare for Peasounay with a clear head, which I appreciated considering he had become one of my greatest rivals ever and I wanted to beat him more than anybody else.

    The stage was set for us to have the greatest series in the history of the game. I reveled in the big-fight atmosphere this time, preparing for the encounter to the best of my abilities and determined to continue what I started in WCOPP, where I barely won in an intense nailbiter. I knew Peasounay would bring his best, as he always did, especially here. I also knew that, if I could knock off both the #1 and #2 ranked players in the tournament, it would cement myself in the eyes of Smogon’s infantile peanut gallery and be the best way to cap off what had been an amazing run that was still going strong a year later.

    M Dragon, who has never been Peasounay’s biggest supporter, to say the least, felt certain that I would win. However, as someone who has played him countless times, this was a case where I had to ignore my manager’s advice and respect the arduous task that was still far from being complete. Beating Lusch is difficult because of how unpredictable he can be, whereas Peasounay is a hassle because of his impeccable precision. In the first game I chose the right team—a good start for sure, but I needed more than team matchup to win this—and maintained pressure throughout the game. Unfortunately, when I was a commanding position, I was disconnected from the server, which caused the biggest riot of the event, if not in SPL history. I respect M Dragon tremendously for doing everything he could to get the game restarted, fighting the good as my team’s manager, kicking the soil everywhere, throwing things in every direction, and finally storming into the dugout after a heated exchange with both the Cryonicles and the idiotic ABR, who saw my misfortune as a golden opportunity to troll me by saying, “MY BALLS NEED LOVE.” The original decision was upheld, forcing me to play the second game with my back against the wall.

    This time, I didn’t have the favorable matchup, and Peasounay was the one with the advantage. It was a long, torturous game that went over 100 turns, though I was unable to take the lead. The Smogtours chat was divided into two factions: the usual anti-GGFan crusade, and those who felt sympathetic towards the misfortune that befell me, since the game was actually very easy to restart manually. Just when it looked like the man with impeccable precision was about to do in me, he made a costly mistake that gave me a fighting chance to make a comeback. I was indeed able to turn the tables at the very end, barely winning and forcing a third game. This time, I wanted yet another one of my innovations to make its debut: Harden Snorlax. I noticed that a set of Harden and Ice Beam was conducive towards success: I could both paralyze his Chansey and pressure it with Harden, and score a lucky freeze on his Snorlax—and this is exactly what happened. First I froze his Snorlax, and then Harden put in work on Chansey. I got the big breaks I needed to beat my rival once more, shut up the peanut gallery, and complete an amazing, emotionally charged comeback. The camaraderie I experienced in the Sharks discord was some of the most genuine and heartfelt I ever felt in the realm known as Pokemon on the internet.

    And so I managed to defeat two of the big three. Marco—my greatest rival of yesteryear and the one to whom I passed the torch some years ago—was coming off a disappointing year (by his standards) while I had yet to enervate. After a series of close yet losing sets, I also finally managed to get the upper hand in our rivalry in 2017 by scoring some vital victories. However, Marco talked a big game prior and would do everything he could to keep his money where his mouth was.

    Perhaps my set against Marco was more interesting than my one against Peasounay, for it could be seen as an encounter between the game’s two biggest icons. I was the champion of antiquity whose reign of terror continued to flourish in the middle ages, but Marco was the modern monarch, and it was hard to deny that. If I wanted to win, it was clear that I would have to keep thinking outside the box, just like I did against Lusch and Peasounay. I knew Marco would take measures against lead Exeggutor, so I opted for a lead that would handle Jynx better. I played the first game a bit too conservatively, which nearly allowed Marco to make a comeback, but the vicissitudes of Lady Fortuna’s wheel was still compassionate in my favor, and so I took the first game.

    Marco stepped it up in the second round, playing so well that there was little I could do. Thus, it came down to a dramatic third game that everyone except me had hoped for. Maybe it would have been better to trust myself and use a team that was more, shall we say, proven, but I judged how we both played and felt that I needed an unorthodox edge. I used a hyper offensive team that I stole from Ebola of all people, which I felt delivered for the most part. The game came down to Sleep Powder mindgames: if I stayed in and attacked, it would have come down to my full-health Tauros against his 86% paralyzed Chansey, 68% paralyzed Zapdos, and sleeping, full-health Tauros. The win wouldn’t have been guaranteed at all, but I definitely would have had a decent chance of pulling it off. Unfortunately, I switched out to Jynx, who ate a Psychic, and the game subsequently fell apart. It was an overall interesting set for sure, and I was happy to have taken our rivalry to new, uncharted territories. I admit that he got the better of me here: he played better throughout the set and I could have easily lost the first game if one of those tense turns went his way. My hat goes off to him.

    In week 5 I was supposed to play Alexander, another adversary with whom I have a great deal of history. I was his first major test on Pokemon Perfect, facing him in the semi finals of Master Tournament #20. The set was one of the most intense roller coasters of RNG I ever went through, and it went full five loops, too. We later met in the SmogonJr Supreme RBY Tournament that I surreptitiously entered, which I managed to win and, of course, was but the prelude of another GGFan tragedy. We then played in the World Championship and Fuschia Cup, trading wins and establishing our rivalry as a close one. I was eager to play him; however, my VPN was not as willing, which stopped working and thus prevented me from being able to access Smogtours and Ruins of Alph, which resulted in the concoction of the Scooter’s insidious plot to receive the activity win on this basis, even though I still had access to the Chinese server. While I understand there may have been concern as to the legitimacy of this server, at least a couple of other players vouched on my behalf, stating I have, indeed, requested to play tournament games on this server in the past. Regardless who was on my side, however, I also accept that this was still unacceptable for them. What I did have a problem with, was the Scooter’s cowardly manager, Phillip, for unjustly casting aspersions towards my reputation by claiming I had a history of cheating, something only the lowest of Smogon’s legion of idiot toadies would say. Unfortunately, since this WAS Smogon, I must admit it was the perfect argument to make: baseless, craven, inane, and slanderous—the supreme ingredients for the type of dish Smogons yearn for. The real issue was not the fierce words I exchanged; rather, who would fill in for me? M Dragon spent hours trying to prepare Exiline, who had never played RBY much, if at all, and nearly pulled off one of the most exemplary managerial performances we had ever seen when he came oh-so close to beating Smogon’s favorite RBY player.

    Going into week 6 I was far more relaxed. The crowds and incidents in weeks 1, 3, and 5 sufficiently inured me to the raucous behavior and sophomoric tactics the monkeyhouse would resort to in their attempts to win these games. I, on the other hand, did not need to resort to lying and begging for disconnects to exhibit my virility. I just needed to win, and it was going to be easier to do so if I spent some time away from Smogon and my team’s Discord, so that’s what I did. I traveled in the realm outside of Discord, outside of Smogon, outside of Pokemon, and into a land with a big, bustling city, countless sights and scenes to behold, and endless waves of people scurrying to and fro. When I felt I had enjoyed myself thoroughly enough, I returned to the battlefield with a cleared head. This was also the first week I spent almost no time preparing for my opponent, Idiot Ninja, for I felt worrying too much would do me no good. I have played this game for an eternity; as long I went in with a team I was comfortable with, that would be enough. I did notice that he had been using Victreebel a lot, so I felt it might throw him off if I did the same. He actually brought out Gengar, which was a huge threat, but I fired off a lucky Psychic crit through paralysis and took the first game. In the second game I once again thought outside the box, deciding on an offensive team that was not as risky as Ebola’s as it was more defensively sound. I played the early game optimally and won it with a Snorlax Selfdestruct, which saved me from having to play a third. Thus, my impressive record against Idiot Ninja remained unscathed, and I also remained undefeated in sets that I won (I don’t acknowledge my DC loss to Peasounay in game 1 of week 3).

    My spirits were lifted from what happened against Alexander, but my exuberance was short lived—the real challenge was about to start. Earthworm may be no RBY legend, but he is arguably the defining figure of Smogon’s competitive history. To beat him would be to beat the organization’s top franchise player in its biggest event. It would be tantamount to striking out Babe Ruth in the World Series, or blocking a slam dunk attempt from Michael Jordan in the NBA Finals. Yes, I had already beaten the #1 and #2 ranked players and put up a worthy fight against #3, but this would be a different kind of achievement. For years I was ostracized and ridiculed by Smogon for representing its outside competition and being its perpetual arch-nemesis. Nothing would be more efficacious in PP’s ongoing fight to solidify itself as the hub of oldgen competition than to beat its biggest name in its biggest stage. I had to win this for so many reasons—not just for myself and everything I went through over the 13 years I spent competing in every possible organization outside Smogon to hone my skills and reach this level, but also for the ones who have or are going through the same kind of ordeal thanks to Smogon’s ineffectual and immature administration. There was a lot on the line here.

    I had virtually no data on Earthworm, so I settled on bringing a team that I felt had a minimal chance of losing to bad matchup. I went with Victreebel once again, which, unfortunately, was not the best choice as his last was Zapdos. I did, however, successfully manage to put his Tauros to sleep and subsequently killed it, so it wasn’t a total waste. What ensued was a series of intense mindgames that I ended up winning thanks partially to late-game Tauros heroics. Using the same two teams two weeks in a row was not the optimal strategy here, as Earthworm lead with Jynx once again, which put me in a precarious spot from the get go. With Exeggutor asleep on turn 1, it was already an uphill battle, but my ingenious invention, Harden Snorlax, put in a lot of work, bringing me back in the game. My Chansey ended up getting frozen, so I was going to have to overcome the dreaded sleep/freeze if I wanted to win this most honorable duel with Smogon’s finest king. In the end I needed Sing Lapras to win it, which had a reputation for failing me in the past. But this wasn’t the past—it was the present, it was the future, and it was forever. Sing connected on the second turn and Tauros stayed asleep, resulting in what was a legacy-defining win for me. I bested Smogon’s best in the most heavily spectated RBY set since my bout with Diegolh in week 1. No longer were there doubters of my success, no more could they say I wasn’t great because I couldn’t win on Smogon. It was finally over. People congratulated me in private, expressing their surprise by how well I had been performing. Lavos ended up remarking that I was “arguably the most dominant performer in RBY.” McMehgan wrote to me and personally apologized for the tragic events that transpired in the RBY Global Championship four years ago. It was a culmination. It was my coming of age, in a sense.

    What made SPL unique for me was that every week was like a separate chapter of a book that told a different story. In chapter 8 I wanted to settle the score with Metalgross, the nefarious member of team USSR in WCOPP whose cheating was exposed. For my opponent, he wanted to try and end his year on a somewhat positive note at least, and what better way to do it than by defeating the Americans once and for all? Instead of yet another controversial set with so much pressure and pride at stake that it would make egghead transform into a baby so he could produce an appropriate amount of tears and feces, I got.....another controversial set. BKC messaged me shortly before I was going to face Metalgross and told me he wouldn’t show up, and arranged for mael to play me instead. This was a bad case of miscommunication: Metalgross messaged me early in the morning and told me he would be late. I replied saying it would be no problem, but this message from BKC gave me the impression Metalgross wouldn’t be able to play at all, so I assumed I had to play mael. I believe the onus is on Metalgross for not properly communicating with his team members, and I think most people were sympathetic towards me. Perhaps I should have asked questions, but I didn’t think it was necessary.

    Mael ended up being a worthier adversary than Metalgross, taking me to the limit in game 1 and nearly winning. Deception saved me from the jaws of defeat once more, as another oddball Snorlax moveset caught him off guard and sealed the win for me. Mael evened the score with a delightfully devilish moveset of his own: Hyper Beam Starmie. With the score evened one game a piece, I was in a bad hole early on thanks to my Rhydon’s multiple bouts of paralysis, but managed to fight back and had the game won—that is, if Blizzard didn’t miss. Sadly, 10% was all that was needed to prevent me from winning, and I received a disappointing loss. Metalgross sent me a string a childish messages afterwards, violating the golden rule of our game: never trash talk. The Raiders ended up losing every other game they played afterwards. It would have been better if he insulted me in private, but one should not demand sound judgment from those who gleefully carry their own feces. The young generation is peculiar indeed.

    What my loss to Mael reminded me was that the only thing relevant is who your next opponent is. It doesn’t matter how often you’ve won or lost prior: one win is enough to make people panegyrize you on the scale of a Greek epic, while one loss can erase all of your achievements in an instant. If I wanted the final chapter of this story to not be a tragedy, in some people’s eyes a win against Roudolf was vital. I may have been the biggest story of SPL, but he was its shining star, overcoming overwhelming scrutiny and a horrible loss with flying colors. He swept me with relative ease in a previous Master Tour, so I knew I had my work cut out for me. It wasn’t going to be easy.

    Like with my previous three opponents, I was relaxed all week and spent little time preparing, focusing more on mindset rather than probability. I made the right team choice in game 1, but due to a round of unfortunate bad luck which resulted in a Psychic Special fall and full paralysis on the same turn, I found it hard to get past his Exeggutor. I did what I could to stay in the game, but it was always his from the start, and so I lost and fell behind for the first time since week 1. I went with an unusual team choice for game 2, maintaining my philosophy that deception is often the key to victory, but deception can’t always get past a huge, sturdy boulder. This time it was a max roll Psychic on my Jynx that ended up being costly, and I lost to receive my first and last 0-2 loss.

    It was a disappointing end to my season; however, knowing I played both games well and could have won both if those rounds of RNG went differently were at least somewhat reassuring. Moreover, for many people, they only focus on wins and losses and allow others to measure their success, neglecting to see the big picture. I returned to Smogon after the longest ban in its history and participated in what may go down as the most stacked RBY event of all time. The RBY roster in SPL 9 is something truly special, and one I think we’ll either never see again or won’t for a long time to come. I had the chance to play against the tier’s bests, solidified myself, made amends with people, and innovated both myself and my game. I also feel that, given the attention and scrutiny I received throughout the event, many would have either pulled an egghead and quit or performed badly. My overall 12-8 record, while solid, is nothing extraordinary. However, when one factors in the huge circus I inadvertently entertained every week, I believe my performance is, perhaps, one of the greatest in SPL history. I’m proud of the way I played, what I brought to the table, and how I was still able to come up with new tricks despite having played this game for almost two thirds of my life. It’s been a long, arduous, and fascinating journey.

    To be continued. Feel free to review your year in the meantime.
     
    Last edited: Feb 20, 2019
    Altina, Neon, HML am and 4 others like this.
  2. Lutra

    Lutra Site Founder Owner

    Joined:
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    Annus horribilis.

    I’m sure I achieved lots, but nothing really stands out, maybe other than achieving over 1500 simultaneously in all random battle ladders. I have just CC 1v1 and BSS Factory to go random-ladder-wise, but it’s proving difficult to even get 1400 in BSS Factory, and I’ve not quite yet achieved 1500 in CC 1v1 yet. My 1500 in gen5randombattle put me 1st in the ladder. I also got over 2000 in gen7randombattle.

    Earlier this year, I also got 80% win ratio for Victory RoAd in RBY Ubers, which is quite impressive, but I somehow feel a bit disappointed given how much knowledge I had compared to most of the challengers.

    PSPL was also great, getting to semis in our debut. I think I contributed a 3-1 record in gen7randombattle.

    I participated in a couple of randbats tournaments, losing one to the great blitzamarin (staff tournament). I played in RBY invitational, but wasn’t able to enjoy most of it. I think I’ll give RBY invitational a miss this year.
     
    Neon, Disaster Area and tjdaas like this.
  3. Disaster Area

    Disaster Area Little Catto of Furr and Power Member

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    well i graduated uni and got a job and stepped down from leadership thats my year ok
     
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  4. GGFan

    GGFan Member

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    Yes, I see.....
     
  5. Lojh

    Lojh Above Average GSCer Member

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    I finished 7th grade and started 8th grade. This year in august I’m going to high school.
     
  6. SaDiSTiCNarwhal

    SaDiSTiCNarwhal Always tired Member

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    Well, I'm not going to go into great detail like Mr. GGFan here, but I had a good year (for Pokemon at least). I got second after in an MT after dropping 1 game outside of finals, did well in Fuchsia (still don't know how to spell it until my autocorrect comes up) until I had to play Troller, and got 3rd in WC. Besides those moments, the rest of my year was spent losing to Troller for PP tours I think. Oh and I went 5-3 or something in WCOPP and we won (yay). Didn't get drafted for SPL though because they wanted Nails to play RBY over Doubles (also there were better players but we don't gotta talk about that part). Applied to 19 colleges (lol) so while I wait for those I have to come into school to work like a robot and hopefully not fall apart. 2018 as a year overall could have been much better for me but at least I got some shiny pixels on an online competitive Pokemon forum, right?
     
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  7. GGFan

    GGFan Member

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    Hmmmm....
     
  8. GGFan

    GGFan Member

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    Hello.
     
  9. Disaster Area

    Disaster Area Little Catto of Furr and Power Member

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    Hello GGFan
     
  10. GGFan

    GGFan Member

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    Hello.
     

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