An inside look at Clutch Gaming Headquarters in the mid-season /s

Clutch Gaming headquarters satire April Fools' Day

In the heart of Texas was a land dominated by good sports teams. Names like J.J. Watt, James Harden, and Justin Verlander were not just household, but commonly brought up in everyday unrelated conversation. It seemed that sports were so ingrained in the heart and soul of the city that the topic was unavoidable, and victory had become commonplace after the years of success. In a subwing of Toyota Stadium was the esports division, Clutch Gaming… which was much less praised.

Sebastian Park, the Vice-President of Esports for the Rockets and face of Clutch Gaming, stood looking out the window. He had a lot on his mind. The team they had built to take CG to the World Championship was not succeeding. They had finished in ninth place… again.

A sudden light knock on his door interrupted the silence. A worried-looking McScrag poked his head in. “Everyone’s ready, Seb.”

A few minutes later, Seb walked into the room where the nine Clutch Gaming players and coaches sat. Apart from Piglet, who looked bored, and Huni, who was smiling as always, the room was sullen and downtrodden.

Seb leaned up against a wall in the center of all the players. “So, what do you think went wrong this split, guys? Before anyone says it, do not mention **NAME REDACTED**.”

The players looked around at each other, Seb, and their coaches. Damonte looked annoyed before standing up. “If no one else is going to start, I will.”

Seb raised an eyebrow, “Go for it, Tanner. It is your time to talk.”

Damonte looked around, “Where do I start? Our communication and such was nonexistent. We all want to play a different style of gameplay, our drafts were experimental at best most of the time, we played far too aggressive early only to suffer net losses, everyone wants resources, there is next to no top-jungle synergy, we have no central voice to make calls, and half the time Vulcan and I don’t get looked at as equals by Piglet. Honestly no clue what has been going on with the Academy team, but you guys placed tenth and one player….”

Seb raised his hand, “Okay, let’s not go there, Tanner. Thank you for your input.” Damonte sat back down, with Vulcan silently mouthing, “Thank you,” at him. “Anyone else?”

Piglet yawned. “우리에게 한국어가 아닌 두 명의 선수가 있다는 것은 도움이되지 않습니다.”

Sebastian turned to the team translator, “Did you get that?” A quick nod as a response was good enough for Seb. “Alright then. If no one has anything else to input, players are free to go.

The players filed out, with Piglet and Damonte exchanging glances that could be described as hostile as an understatement. Once they were gone, Seb put his hand to his brow and shook his head.

“What are we going to do? We tried two different versions of a team that should have been solid. Where did we go wrong?”

McScrag perked up, “Maybe we should consult the tools of the masters?”

Seb snapped in agreement, “That is a great idea, Brendan!” Everyone pulled out their arm braces, large beards, and put gum in their mouths. These were the tools of the great Watt, Harden, and Verlander. Surely they would inspire greatness. The staff began their meditation, trying to absorb the ingenuity and success these icons could endow upon them. This could go on for hours…

Emphasis on the word could — the room was silent with contemplation for the next 10 minutes. Eventually, Sebastian sighed. “Well, we’ve got nothing.” He ripped off the beard, spit out the gum, and threw off the arm brace. “Okay, so, everyone good with trading for Kumo and Meteos, starting Cody over Piglet, and telling Huni that if he keeps up the underperforming he is benched?” The room filled with unenthusiastic agreement.

“Well, guess I need to make some phone calls.”


*Note: This is obviously a work of parody, and is not meant in any way as an insult to the parties or players mentioned within.


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