Rigged Wiki:Players of the week/2019
Wednesday, 13th of February
|Build: 180cm, 66kg|
|Player Skills: S03, S08, S12, S14, S16, S26|
|Playing Style: Box to Box|
|Germany was having trouble, what a sad, sad story
Where, oh, where was he? Where could that man be?
We looked around -- and then we found -- the man for you and me!
...in any case, it may not be springtime, but /pol/ is back! And there's no better striker to herald the return of a /pol/arizing stalwart than the Führer himself. After all, at a time where Moonman was too busy leading right-wing death squads to sniff out undesirables in the locker rooms, and Alex Jones was too busy being addled by the chemicals in the water to shoot on target, who persevered and brought home the trophy for /pol/?
Natürlich niemand anderes als der Führer.
Behind Hitler all /pol/ follows.
Before him, the Winter Cup, and tomorrow, the world.
Saturday, 23rd of March
|No >YOUR< Program Sucks /3/|
|Build: 175cm, 66kg|
|Player Skills: S08, S13, S24|
|Playing Style: The Destroyer|
|Imagine being scored on by a non-medal CMF. What kind of shitty team would let that happen to them?
Now imagine getting scored on by said non-medal CMF thrice.
Fortunately, there's no player in a better position to shit on other teams than renowned /3/ shitposter No >YOUR< Program Sucks, and this Winter, he did just that. Part of /3/'s ironclad midfield, this player has somehow managed to transmute years of experience in shitflinging about software into shots flung cleanly into the opposing goal. With a brace against /pol/, an extra goal against /tg/, and a quick three-minute shot during a quarterfinal rematch against the ledditors, it's the shitposter's record that best shows off the lethality and tightly-controlled midfield of this Winter's /3/, where seemingly any player could score and any forward drive was a threat — one that took the eventual cup winners /gd/ in order to dismantle.
While /3/ may not have taken the star, they came damn well close, and it's in great part thanks to this embodiment of /3/. Which, by the way — wasn't made in Maya (it's shit), or 3DS Max (it's shit) — it was made in Blender.
You heard me right, get fucked. And that goes for any of you shit Babby-ass teams still doubting /3/ after this run — next Summer, he'll be shitting on you.
Tuesday, 2nd of July
|Build: 185cm, 80kg|
|Player Skills: P03, S06, S12, S16, S24, S26|
|Playing Style: None|
|I have a home project that requires goals, goals, and more goals. I can't just go out and buy them like some teams, so how am I going to get these goals? Just become MacGyver of course!
When scoring is down and the project is looking like a lost cause, there is no one else to turn to other than /diy/ idol MacGyver, and he proved in Spring that there is no one else better to turn to when the job calls for receiving masterclass passes and putting them in the back of the net. Leading the /diy/ attack, he proves that you don't need a gun to have explosive firepower, as his pace and speed down the field allowed him to rack up 6 goals in 4 matches, as well as assisting on one of the other 2 goals for /diy/. Without MacGyver, /diy/ would have lacked creativity throughout the entire pitch, and lacking creativity on /diy/ is a surefire way to get you laughed all the way back to the department store.
While MacGyver and the rest of /diy/ have proven they still have what it takes to make a high-quality model football team after a 3-and-a-half-year trip to the hardware store, they were unfortunately dismantled by an even bigger underdog in /i/, in what was a stellar match that resulted in penalties after MacGyver's 2 goals and converted penalty in the shootout proved not to be enough for the job. Ultimately, Blacksmith missed the deciding penalty, and /diy/ fans everywhere are calling for his forge to be removed because his metalworking has proven to be shit.
Be on the lookout for MacGyver this Summer, as the main handyman looks to keep /diy/ elite, no matter how many hours he'll have to spend tinkering in his workshop to get the best team on the pitch.
Sunday, 11th of August
|Sad Panda /h/|
|Build: 185cm, 82kg|
|Player Skills: S21|
|Playing Style: Offensive Goalkeeper|
|There's a question that's dogged both /h/ newfags and frustrated Cup strikers forever -- how the fuck do I get past this goddamn panda?|
Known as the biggest and most reliable index for drawings of all sorts, exhentai, more popularly as the Sad Panda, was beloved among all /h/ for hosting all their favorite fetishes and art with decades' worth of material. Then, tragedy struck: a new sticky on /h/ told users to backup material on Sad Panda immediately due to new laws in the Netherlands. Users panickedly scrambled to backup everything they could, but -- there's only so much you can save in twelve hours. Though a backup eventually saved everything, the panic and dread that comes from losing the original and having to save so much could not dissipate so easily.
So how did this carry over to the pitch? For their final group stage match against /g/, Sad Panda became an AMF and a gold medal in honor of his many years of service, and just like that PES found a way to reward him.
With a free kick opportunity just outside of the box, the panda put it right into the back of the net, sending /h/ fans into a frenzy, with their lament momentarily forgotten, and the joy of a divegrass miracle filling their hearts. You'd be hard-pressed to write a better doujin plot than that.
But as /h/ fans blew their collective load for the Panda goal, so, it seems, did /h/ -- when the Panda let a heart-breaking goal past him in the last minute of eggsdra diem, /h/’s loss in the Round of 16 was sealed, capping off /h/’s emotional cup run. No matter how sad this made the panda, /h/ fans surely will still love him all the same.
Watch the Winter Cup, coming to a backup save near you soon, to see if /h/ can penetrate the field harder next time!
Monday, 30th of December
|If you doubt the power of the Cup to create stories all its own, allow me to tell you the story of a certain insane Mexican.
It was one day, as a man with a grand sombrero of melted cheese trudged through the searing North American wilderness, that a mirage appeared before his eyes. None alive now know if it was merely the heat of the midday desert sun, or the dwindling bottles of tequila hooked to his belt. But as the man was urged on by a buffering vision of a German in a winter hat, he would soon find himself at the foot of a grand stadium.
With his stomach nearly empty and his life fading, he came to in a locker room lined end to end with culinary delights. A sample here of fast food, a sip of perfect coffee, an exquisite braise of pork ribs, and, as luck would have it -- some good old-fashioned 'go 'za. Though the players assembled were clueless as to why a seemingly random immigrant had found their way into the team lunch, it so happened that they were currently in the market for an eleventh player.
They were not prepared for this man to lead them nearly to great victory, nor for him to outscore everyone else. Or for the fans to constantly demand back his food-tipped hat, so they could celebrate to the ciocarlian fanfares that accompanied his goals. Nor did they expect this man to lead them through their highs and lows, to break the most eldritch of curses, or stay as long as he did.
A moment of silence, Cup fans, for Nachos, one of the old greats. Though mysterious circumstances involving Mexican weed took him away from us all too soon, may his memory serve as a reminder that in the Cup, players need not to be born great, if they can be made great.