Sweat pours from my brow as I close in for the last kill of the round, I sense the eyes of dead players spectating my every movement.
I swing left, then block right to cancel throwing him off guard, I repeat this swing then cancel action about 10 times before committing to the hit.
My sword connects with his dirty Russian rags, his hands clutched at the vodka bottle he was using to fight me, I lean in close to hear his last words, as he lay there in the snow dying he types out in chat: "noob, spin 2 win not even good lol', the round ends and the chat fills with abuse.
I sit back in my chair and pluck a loose pringle from my neckbeard, muttering to myself "free weekend players" before typing bg no re.