After much reconnaissance, you’ve pinpointed a good location to drop in. You’ve had a big lunch, filled a glass of water, and got your sweatpants on. You’re ready for the long haul. Your buddies are on the other end of the mic in your party and they’re prepared to take a bullet for you. Anticipation rises in your bones as you near the drop zone.

What will I find? To your left, you hear a chest jingling nearby. Yes, this is my game. As you go check it out, you see that one of your buddies got to it a few seconds before you. Disappointed, you double back and scan the area, finding a mere revolver. Meanwhile, your squad is loaded up with rare tactical shotguns and are rocking full shields.

“We’ve got company!” one of your friends shouts. “Where?” you ask. “He’s right upstairs. Be ready.” The heart beats faster and faster, knowing you only have a revolver. No telling what the enemy’s got. “Coming in for back up!” your friend shouts.

Too late. In the blink of an eye, a shotgun blast sears into your two-dimensional head. You have been eliminated. The game is now over for you, not even a mere minute into the game and you’re already down for the count. On the other hand, all of your friends arrive a minute too late and wipe out all remaining bogeys.

Ah, this is just my luck. “Dude, I am sooo sorry. That sucks so much bro and I feel so bad for you.” your friend, the one who just avenged you, says. Should’ve shared that chest, bro. None of this would have happened if you had. It’s all your fault. There’s no way I am going to take responsibility for my death. C’mon, I’m level 10 I think I know what I am doing.