The birth of HiggenZ

The birth of HiggenZ.


[FACT] I am the best Propkiller the world has ever seen.
[FACT] Nobody can demonstrate otherwise - nobody ever has.
[FACT] In all the years I've Propkilled, I've never seen a Propkiller that's as much of an unstoppable man-god as I am.

There are only two goals in life.
Goal #1 is to spend enough time Propkilling to equate to an entire year.
Goal #2 is to be the minge who brings DarkRP to its knees, kicks its head to the floor and crushes it with a fridge.

One day, back when I was a wee lad of around fifteen, I joined a roleplay server by the name of Ban Hammer.
I'd played there once before and was fascinated by the hobo bases I saw, and this time I felt like making one myself.

I spent two long hours creating what was to this day, the most intricate, revolutionary and masterful hobo fortress ever devised.
Roleplayers were flocking from all across the map, standing frozen in wonder, gasping in awe at the majesty of my hobo fortress.
The cheers of the roleplayers were deafening. Their applause... Thunderous. Chants of "HIGGENZ! HIGGENZ!" echoed throughout the server.
This hobo fortress spread peace and happiness to the furthest reaches of the map, completely eliminating theft, RDA, demotions and RDM.
It was Ban Hammer's golden age.

I was decorating the front of the fortress with carefully distributed cardboard boxes, cans, bottles, and bugbait all over the place.
I took a few steps backwards into the street to admire my work, and was immediately engulfed by the large crowd of my adoring fans.
As I battled my way to the front of the crowd to get a clear view, an admin who was noclipping past saw my fortress and stopped.
To everyone's shock and horror, RIGHT IN FRONT OF US, we watched him commit a truly senseless, heartless and most heinous act.
An act fuelled by equal parts jealousy, hatred of anyone enjoying themselves, being eleven, and having gone mad with power.

He pulled out his tool gun...
Set it to remove...
And he right clicked...

The last two joyous hours, the hopes and dreams of those who saw it happen, the very heart and soul of the server... My hobo fortress.
Gone... Forever... Vanquished in the tear-filled blink of an eye.
Without even pausing to hear me calmly and politely ask "WHATTHEFUCKCUNT", he left my mic radius and fled the scene of his crime.

With a broken heart, I unleashed the fury of caps lock in OOC to make my feelings known, but it only drew big gales of roleplayer laughter.
I demanded he tell me why my hobo fortress deserved deletion, but the only responses were either mockery, more laughter, or along the lines of UMAD?
I soon gave up on finding answers for the senseless murder of my fort. I accepted my loss and spawned a stove, it was time to begin the healing process.

With my stove of vengeance in my physgun's firm grasp, I started repeatedly belting a roleplayer around spawn.
Ignoring his cries, I quickly learned I could smack him into the air by scrolling the stove into his legs and flicking him upwards.
After playing a minute or so of roleplayer-golf, while smacking him down a street I let go of the stove by accident.

As the roleplayer flew through the air, the stove of vengeance tumbled down the street after him with a crazed look in its eye and a thirst for blood.
The moment the roleplayer landed, it smashed into him like the middle finger of God and sent his corpse flying at the wall behind him.
Airborne once more, the roleplayer's corpse flew until it slammed into wall and was immediately splattered by the stove.
The ground shook violently, I didn't know it at the time, but it was the Gods of Propkill showing their satisfaction with my offering.
Having realised that instead of smacking them around, I could kill people outright by throwing the prop, my stove rampage had begun.
Exactly one kill in, the rampage was cut short by a week long ban with the reason (propkiller)

It was in this exact moment, I became one with the universe and achieved enlightenment.
I could see all that ever was, or ever could be. I gazed upon reality in its infinite complexity, I saw all its beauty, and all its horror.
Through it, I saw him.

The ultimate Propkiller.

He flew through the air at speeds I never imagined. Effortlessly dodging everything thrown at him.
His impeccable accuracy with a fridge was truly something to behold, able to land the most impossible shots with blinding speed.
Again and again, all who were brave or foolish enough to stand against him were struck down. They were no match for his expertise, how could they be?
The more I watched, the more it became clear to me that it was my destiny to become the Propkiller I saw before me.
I had to become THE GЯUMP.