“Before the beginning of great brilliance, there must be chaos. Before a brilliant person begins something great, they must look foolish in the crowd.”

- Quote From The I Ching

So with the minor matter of meeting Blockhead out the way I start to wander the venue and see who is here worth talking to. This time there aren’t any booths or any areas for the “pro” teams to be cordoned off. They’re in with the rabble like the rest of us and that has already been the cause of another fight that doesn’t seem to have made it around as of yet… I’m not even sure whether to believe it as true but people are swearing blind they just saw Sam “RattlesnK” Gawn drop some pisshead with a single right hand. Good to know the lad can make headshots in real life as well, but I wonder if the CGS staff will make a big deal about that? They went on a big questioning spree just when poor little Adam “Ady” Brown had those dick in hand photos circulating, so maybe this violence could spark some internal investigation. Or maybe not. And fuck it, already I’ve heard of five LAN brawls so maybe it was a necessary reaction to the steady under-current of violence.

The security have been very busy already and eventually this is only going to lead to an increased police presence at I-series, which no one wants ultimately. If people don’t start chilling out expect sniffer dogs bursting through tents, tearing apart teenage faces because they mistook it for some pizza and other such horror stories to become a regular feature of I-series. All because for a few kids an online dick-measuring contest isn’t enough, they want to do it up close and personal.

It only seems fair that after discussing their situation at length in the first of my diary entries I dedicate some time to London Mint and can spot them straight away. Tom “url” Chenery has his PC desktop set as a picture of him on a mini trike with a massive knife coming out of his back with “London Mint” emblazoned across the handle. Humour seems to be good at the moment so I settle in to talk to them for a bit. Tom seems determined and confident he’ll play well this event, yet the consensus does seem to be that this will be his last event representing the team, certainly out by the next draft. I ask Henry, sporting his brand new “for television” haircut, as to why the choices but he just smiles and sort of half shrugs. Richard “ritch” Gibbs is happy to elaborate on why he likes “Mx” so much, as I think there are better players out there. “He’s a really smart player” he tells me “and pressure doesn’t and won’t get to him… If you were to put him on that stage” he continues pointing to the section of the venue where Salvo will be playing in & winning the final “he wouldn’t let nerves get to him.” I ask him about other options, including London Mint’s very own taxi players and he simply says “right now, for this team, if we had to bring someone in there’d be no better option than James” and it’s that simple. Tom sort of looks up smiling as if to say “I’m still here” but fuck it man, this move looks set in stone. Expect official confirmation soon enough I’d say.

While I’m over here I ask the boys what they’re gonna do to beat Salvo this time around. “We’re confident we could beat Salvo” one chimes in “they haven’t practiced for this event and are probably feeling a little complacent. It’s Reason who we have to beat.” And maybe they’re right. They are in the CGS brotherhood and probably know more about what the Salvo guys get up top on an evening than I do. But I’ve heard this “Salvo don’t practice for events” thing time and time again and I can never believe it. I think it’s just something they put out there before an event to get the opposition to try and under-estimate them. I know enough about Michael “ODEE” O’Dell to know that he wouldn’t tolerate not practicing when there’s money and reputation on the line. And besides, imagine if it were true… Imagine if they could just not play online, turn up at LAN and beat everyone with ease. What would that say about the scene and the game at large? I don’t want to embrace that notion.

Sat not far from Mint arte the team they want to beat, Reason Gaming in luminous green hoodies, which is odd. I mean, if they lose one another in the crowd surely eagle eye WT himself will just spot them. As usual I have a brief chat with the management just to see how they’re feeling about the event. I ask what they’re gonna do to improve on second spot and Dallow just sort of laughs and says he’s sick of the sight of Salvo but have no “special plans” for them. I’d love Reason to do it just for a change to come about and because, as I’ve said numerous times, I think they are the shining beacon of what an organisation should be like. I don’t see it happening though and I think the players sort of have that look about them too – you know the one that says “second place is good enough for us anyway” and considering what people used to say about them and their online qualities it probably is an achievement to be proud of.

Across from them is TLR with another kid who has had to bear that taunts of being called “online” – poor little dumbazo. Except he’s not looking so little any more… It was only a few months ago I saw him at Omega Sektor and he was a slight, shy gamer in a foreign lad. Now he’s either got a life-jacket on under his shirt or he’s banging some serious Spanish Bull Steroids into him. Of course this team is now TLR and I think it’s a good pick up even though TLR teams with James “Pez” Perrott in them generally tend to be a short term disaster. We’ve already talked about the opening gulf of class in the scene and these are one of the few teams I would expect to challenge the CGS dominance of the UK. I ask Chef what he was thinking picking up Pez again; I do this while Pez is in ear shot just to see how he’’ react. His big, beautiful, animal head barely moves. “These are a good team these lot” Chef answers “and I know I can work with Pez even though at one point I said to myself “never again” it’s always easier the next time around. Plus I get to work with this guy here” he says pointing at the newly stocky Spaniard. “He’s one of the best players I have ever seen” which increasingly seems to be the consensus about the guy.

The price of an interview with Ben “ben0” Balcombe, despite the fact we’re old friends, is the re-telling of this pointless and un-funny anecdote. When Ondskan put their team together for SummerSlam I was actually laughing at Ben for giving the onliner a chance to come to the UK. He pulled out the old “I’m Mr. LAN UK and I know about the game than you” line that he likes to drop on people as often as he can “He’s definitely legit” and it turns out – this once and one time only – I was wrong. Not only was I wrong though, it was the cry-baby troll himself who I was wrong to. It’s galling to have to admit it, but I’m nothing if not humble.

So now I can take in my first games of the event. No point in watching any of the top teams. They’re simply 16 – 0’ing their way through and all are of the mindset the real games come tomorrow. I decide to sidle up to Imperium as I used to play and work with a couple of their lads – Rob “Notorious” Miller and I were old team-mates and we once had a vodka drinking competition that saw him do a sexy striptease for the women in the burger van, and Adam “Ripmax” Cope who I did some shoutcasts with on Tigit Radio… He is an under-rated talent at shoutcasting at least, but I’d wager e couldn’t hit a cows arse with a banjo when it comes to aiming. He’s too stocky to move his arms properly, like Arnie in the first Conan movie being unable to hold a broadsword in two hands – as they take on exult.

I’m quite a vocal lad when I watch games… I can’t help it. So I’m shouting and bawling watching Imperium get beat comfortably as they seem unable to talk to each other. There’s some good moments though. Jonathan “mason” Mason provides a few, including a ridiculous four man with a double one-deag at the end within a split second of each other and Ripmax makes a 1v4 in a clutch so good it’s actually hilarious that he’s done it. But these moments barely seem to lift a side who have that “let’s get knocked out the groups and have a drink early doors” mentality. In the end exult triumph and the Imperium guys just shuffle off silently to the bar. I’d expect this team to fold any time soon.

But for now it’s back to work. Goodeh wants Pete and me to do a “diary” battle and insists on some head to head photograph. Fuck man, why does it have to be profile? It’s just going to be battle of the double chins and my head is fucking massive compared to Pete’s… In the end we settle for one that doesn’t look like Pete is trying to kiss me and only marginally has the yellow eyes of the drunk on display on my side and we’re away. That was the assignment brief and my diary is all but done for day one surely… People already moaning it’s too long, or not wanting to believe my tales of students or chickens. Well fuck it, they won’t care too much about an evening’s drinking.

Somehow I end up dressed in a Ghillie suit and I’m sat having a conversation with some of the guys from wTm about cheating and VAC bans… Yet somehow, under the expert guidance of Macky, who seems to have a vested interest in changing the subject, we end up talking about Pete wiping his ass with some bread because he ran out of toilet paper. “The worst thing about it” he said “was that they weren’t even crusts so they had no back-bone to them… Just ended up with an ass full of shitty crumbs.” And fuck me, I must be drunk because this conversation makes me hungry all of a sudden.

“The deed is everything. The glory is naught.”

- Johann Wolfgang Van Goethe

While on the quest to find food I come across some kid knocking over people’s PCs who I decide to take back to his tent. It may well be like the blind leading the blind, but security are keen to throw him out anyway… The kid is so drunk he fell for the old “what year were you born” trick proudly declaring “1992” as his answer, not realising the only prize for answering correctly is being kicked out the venue. Outside is cold and I spend fourty minutes with this drunk kid looking for his tent. When he finds it he climbs in and I go with him… It’d be a safe bet he’s going to pass out vomiting and I should probably make sure he’s in the recovery position. But instead of falling asleep he starts yammering on about his home life, telling me anecdotes about people I’ve never met. He starts most of them with “do you remember when” and I have to explain I didn’t remember because I’ve only just met him. I decide to bail, there’s some whiskey with my name on it in Pete’s car and a good nights sleep wouldn’t go amiss. As I get up to leave a zip opens in the tent and inside, like something out of my worst prison-themed nightmares, is a massive naked skinhead:

There’s a moment of silence where we’re all looking at each other, trying to find a glimmer of recognition in the twilight as our eyes adjust. There is none forthcoming so I try to forge some kind of temporary bond with this naked man:

“Do you know this kid? He says this is his tent”

“FUCK OFF”

And with that I have to haul the kid out and ask him if he even has his tent. We search again for some time until he finds another one he has a good feeling about and the people inside this time recognise him and are not naked brutes the size of cave trolls. But before we can get him tucked in for the night the security pull up in a van and shine some high beam spotlight on me. “What are you doing?” they’re shouting, and it takes me a while to twig that they’re speaking to me and not the drunken kid. “What are you doing with that boy?” they ask me… Which seems an odd question and not one they should really be asking. I explain that I was simply taking him back to his tent as he was pissed and was effectively thrown out by security. They seem to be implying that I’m trying to take advance of some drunken boy… I’m not too keen on their line of questioning so as a large naked skinhead once said “FUCK OFF” and I head back to the venue with their ridiculous line of questioning ringing in my ears.

Of course, it doesn’t stop there… I’m being accosted and questioned by the security upon my return too… Why did I give the kid booze, did I spike him, just what was I doing trying to force him into my tent… The questions are being lead by some short, Scouse skinhead who looks like the kid who got picked last at football all his life. Now he seems to be in charge of a security guard detail and also seems dead set on trying to punish me for some obscure Victorian crime, the “corruption of minors” or some such nonsense. Not even a flash of the press pass seems to calm him down and I tell him he’s out of order and all of a sudden I’m looking at having my time at the event cut short. Luckily one of the Multiplay staff comes over and tells him he won’t be throwing me out and he’s made to apologise, but as I walk off he whispers in my ear “see you again Mr. Press man” in a manner more befitting the type of person he was just accusing me of being.

It is a first for me at a LAN to have any problem with security. It is also the first for me and probably anybody else to be accused of being a sex predator at an i-series. I know people wanted an increased security presence but isn’t this taking it a bit too far. I’m later told that I should not have got involved, that I should not have helped the kid back to his tent, but why should we be actively discouraged from helping one another out at an event like this. Surely it’s security’s position to do something when they first encounter him drunk… Being a good Samaritan gets you thrown out, yet the people knocking lumps out of each other are still in the venue. I certainly hope this isn’t the shape of things to come, but already the security are looking at me like they want five minutes alone and I can’t be arsed having to be shot full of gorilla tranquillisers and taken to some sort of primitive gulag just fro defending myself from a kicking. No, it is indeed time for bed as they say.

Pete’s already ahead of me in that respect and I bundle into his car and spend the next eight hours fighting for both sleep and warmth. Pete keeps telling me that if I don’t stop snoring he’ll tell the security he just caught me with another boy trying to force him into the boot of this car, but the only thing that matters right now is survival.