Name: Commander Black-Hammer
Rank: Below tutorial level
Reaction time: Measured with a sundial
IQ: A solid 3. Might drop to 2 on weekends

I was born in a lag spike and raised by loading screens. My parents tried to name me “Skill Issue,” but the hospital wouldn’t allow it. I once played a racing game and got lost on the first turn. One time I tried to melee an enemy but ended up uninstalling my game instead.

I am a professional respawner with a PHD in missing every shot. I have the tactical awareness of a blindfolded squirrel and the aim of a broken Roomba. If throwing games was an Olympic sport, I’d still somehow lose. My internet connection is powered by sheer willpower and an old microwave.

My teammates have a support group for dealing with me. Every time I try to clutch, my own shadow leaves the room out of embarrassment. My keyboard is coated in Dorito dust, my mouse has suffered more clicks than my brain has processed thoughts, and my monitor is currently being held hostage by my fists.

One time I threw a grenade, and it killed me in another game. I once rage-quit so hard that my router filed for divorce. My K/D ratio is legally classified as a disaster zone. My last clutch moment was in 2014, and I still talk about it like it was yesterday.

Motto: "It’s not me, it’s the game. Also, my team. Also, the sun was in my eyes."