It Feels Like We're Fucked

The defining feature ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of Pazizik's streamer-targeted tournaments—the Mat-at Daehoe, the Dog Mom Tournament, the Good Job Tournament, and the rest—has to be the player auction held a week before the event. It's popular enough to get its own dedicated broadcast. Viewers love watching how much their favorite streamer sells for, or how many times they get passed over. Speculation runs wild when someone unfamiliar, or someone people know but who've never touched Combative, gets sold or passed at unexpected prices. And if the managers' picks get tangled and one side ends up overloaded with weak players, forming the absolute worst team possible, that's when the community erupts into all-out war.

"Is that manager out of his mind? How do you screw up an auction this badly?" "Aigo, there goes our streamer's shot at the championship again." But the high-tier players who end up taking on manager roles don't have it easy either. It's not like they fail on purpose. Twenty players split across five tiers by skill. Even within the same tier, positions vary wildly—some can only cover one role, others three. You have to secure order-capable players and tactical operators (smoke) from the 1-2 tiers first. Spend too many points nailing the most important pick and you wreck the rest of the auction. Pinch pennies and you fail to build the team you wanted. On top of that, you need to grab players you personally prefer. Each manager has different positions they can coach effectively, and team chemistry matters for smooth operation. And each player only gets about a minute on the block. You have to revise your strategy in real time as players are taken from the pool, manage your remaining points, and build a five-man team with one from each tier. It's hardly an easy task. No matter how thoroughly you prepare, something always goes wrong somewhere.

The auction order itself foreshadowed chaos. The two players considered the cornerstone picks for this tournament had been placed at the very end.

"Whoa. This auction is about to get wild. Look at the order—it's insane!"

"Let me explain why we're making such a big deal about the order."

"As I keep repeating, there are only four players in this tournament who can call shots. And only two of them are above 2-tier: Taro in 1-tier and Serena in 2-tier. Those two are dead last. We're in trouble."

Even though skills have been added to make the game more accessible, its foundation is still a heavy military FPS. Teams with good synergy and solid tactics hold a massive advantage. To be tactically perfect? You need at least one player with a clear voice who can issue orders and move the entire team. The Challenger-tier managers can't give detailed in-game instructions themselves, after all. That's why order-capable high-tier players receive huge premiums, especially tactical operators with smoke like Serena and entry fraggers with flashes like Taro. It's far more efficient to have them open the way themselves than to order someone else to "drop smoke!" or "flash!" On top of that, Taro was last year's champion and MVP, so every team wanted him.

"Until Serena's turn comes up, everything will stay quiet. Like the calm before the storm."

"Exactly. No one can spend points recklessly. The most important players are at the very end—how could they?"

In other words, most players from here on would get passed over. Someone like me, unproven, whose submitted clip showed me getting two kills with an aggressive playstyle before dying? And first in line? Obviously…

"As expected, Mazia has been passed over immediately."

"It seems the managers found it difficult to bid right away. This player is fairly well-known in Battle Colosseum, but she only has a few days of Combative experience. The clip she submitted certainly showed mechanical skill, but it lacked Combative fundamentals, if that makes sense. Far too aggressive?"

"Right. Still, she's too good a player to let someone else have cheaply. The managers probably passed on purpose to avoid a bidding war, planning to secure their priorities first."

"Exactly. The mindset seems to be 'let's grab the important ones first and think about the rest later,' right?"

Since I'd expected this, I simply nodded without a word. The viewers let out sighs of relief.

"I'm busy with work. How could I stream on top of that?"

"There's a misunderstanding. I only did that back then because managing the members' office was part of my job."

"It just sort of happened. The position came with serious responsibilities, so I did my best. I entered the tournament because doing well would help promote Parallel."

After that, things went exactly as expected. Aside from a few 4-5 tier players, it was a nonstop relay of passes. But the longer everyone held their breath waiting for Serena's turn, the heavier the pressure became for her. After all, every single person was watching only her and Taro right now.

"Uwaaaaah…"

"Serena hasn't been able to speak properly for a while now?"

"Fourteen passes is pretty significant. This is actually bad."

"One team is definitely going to get struck by lightning. Everyone left has over 950 points remaining."

Finally, Serena's turn arrived. The previously quiet auction window immediately lit up with a bid.

- Yeonggun 500p

"Double the usual starting bid?!"

"Holy crap, Yeonggun gave up on a 1-tier player."

"He's really dropping 500 right from the start?"

Expensive players usually close between 500 and 600 points. Opening at 500 meant he was determined to secure this player no matter what.

"That's Yeonggun's personal feelings talking. He's a huge Serena fan."

"Still, 500 is crazy. Serena, are you okay?"

"Uwaa why. Why! Why 500! Why!"

And of course the other team leaders weren't going to sit still. They would force Yeonggun to overpay, even if it meant giving up Serena, to gain an advantage in the later rounds. Sure enough, counter-bids followed immediately.

- Pandral 550p

- Yeonggun 555p

- Pandral 600p

- Yeonggun 605p

It was a scary amount to jump into, but each manager clearly had their own limit based on how much they valued the Serena pick. Pandral's ceiling was probably around 800 points. Serena's price, which had been climbing like it would break the ceiling, finally stopped when Yeonggun bid 805 points.

"Sold!"

The casters lost their minds.

"And there it is! Yeonggun takes Serena for 805 points!!"

"A new record for the highest price in Mat-at Daehoe Combative division!!"

"But is Yeonggun's team going to be okay? This is going to make the rest of the auction brutal for them. Wouldn't it have been better to let Pandral have her for 800?!"

"It just shows how much faith Raise has in Serena. We can't end the auction without talking to the star of this auction. Let's connect ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to her interview."

500 points would already be a huge burden on a player. 800? The pressure was insane. If the player they spent everything on couldn't perform, the public opinion would be merciless. It would be a total disaster. Even if they avoided completely tanking their stream, countless players choke under the weight of all those eyes and the chat. Especially during the actual tournament when the chat ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gets extra spicy. It wouldn't be so bad if it was only constructive feedback, but plenty of people come just to stir drama or flame anyone who underperforms.

Sure enough, Serena's voice during the interview was thick with panic.

"Ah, um. That. 805 points is… a bit. Ah. Aww."

"Oh no. Serena seems to have lost language function."

"All we can do is tell her to hang in there…!"

"We can only hope Manager Yeonggun builds the rest of the roster well, right?"

"But. The points. Um. Ah. Uwaaaaah! I don't know!!"

"Ahahaha! Let's keep watching the auction! Fighting, Serena!"

"Fighting!"

I kept an eye on Serena through my second monitor after the interview. Her expression was trembling with anxiety and her voice was on the verge of tears. She clearly had no idea what to do with the pressure weighing on her.

This is bad.

She was a kind and meticulous mentor to me, but she was still a rookie who had only debuted a few months ago. Last year's MVP Taro might be enjoying this situation, but Serena looked like she was about to mentally collapse. This was really not going to be easy. The paradoxical situation where Yeonggun's genuine desire to team up with Serena would end up getting her flamed was right around the corner. It would be good if he could still build a decent team with the remaining 195 points, but the 1-tier player most likely to be avoided in the pool—Kamik—was already practically locked in. The 3-5 tiers? Those wouldn't be easy either.

And that prediction turned into certainty the very next turn, when I saw the price last year's MVP Taro went for.

"Yes, Manager Pandral has secured Taro for 655 points!"

"It's a bit expensive, but that price is understandable!"

Yeonggun had been completely crushed by Pandral's counter-bidding. Pandral, who looked like they would form the strongest team, still had 345 points left, while the other two managers still held 950 each. Desired players with only 195 points? …No matter how I looked at it, this team was going to end up with all the passed-over players.

Sometimes during an auction the final players get pushed back so far they end up automatically assigned to a team. They're the ones who aren't quite worth spending points on but would be too wasteful to let another team have. Players who simply wait for fate to decide.

"Yes, with this outcome, 3-tier Mazia naturally joins Manager Yeonggun's team."

"Wow… this doesn't look easy for Yeonggun's team, does it?"

"Yeonggun's team has been finalized with Kamik, Serena, Mazia, Bajubi, and Keugaemang."

And one of them was me.

Damn it. It really ended up like this. Even the casters were desperately trying to put a positive spin on our team's inevitable destruction.

"Wow. I don't usually jump to conclusions but… this really does look like the weakest team in the tournament."

"I agree. Serena's shoulders are going to be incredibly heavy!"

Serena's wish to be on the same team as me had come true, but this team seriously had no path to victory. Kamik, a 1-tier player who could only play duelist and died pathetically without orders. Keugaemang, a 5-tier player famous for eating up the main shotcaller role with his constant mutterings. Serena, a baby rookie only a few months into her debut, who had to control both of them. Then there was Bajubi, the low-view bottom-tier player who started every sentence with "I'm sorry," and me, stuck with the restraints of no AR and no aggressive pushes. The balance was a complete mess. The other teams, by comparison, had clean and tidy compositions.

I had planned to just ride the bus and do my one person's worth of work, but at this rate, even if promoting Parallel was secondary, I wasn't sure I'd be able to get any sense of accomplishment from winning matches.

"Alright, let's wrap up with an interview with our final addition, Mazia."

"Mazia, are you there!"

"Hello."

"Mazia, this is your first time participating in this tournament. How are you feeling right now?"

With so many thoughts crowding my head, the awareness that I was currently broadcasting on the official channel grew hazy.

"It just feels completely fucked, doesn't it?"