MMR Host Application

[Omega Red]

Hello. Please make me an MMR referee, I can type commands and have an impeccable record of integrity.

Thank you

[wiibimbo]

Hello. Please make me an MMR referee, I can type commands and have an impeccable record of integrity.

Thank you

Don't make me come out of retirement for this lol.

[Banks]

Hey fellow space explorers!

I just had the most absurd, ridiculously long evening in the Subspace Continuum universe, and I simply couldn't resist sharing it with all of you. So grab a cup of intergalactic coffee, sit back, and prepare for a tale that will make you question the very fabric of gaming reality.

It all started after a long and grueling day of battling interstellar creatures and saving distant galaxies. I was eagerly looking forward to unwinding with my favorite game, Subspace Continuum, hoping to find excitement, camaraderie, and some action-packed spaceship battles. Alas, what awaited me was a different kind of adventure altogether.

As I logged in and entered the beloved zone of Trenchwars, my heart sank as I saw a rather disheartening sight. The TWJD3 arena, once a bustling hub of endless battles and exhilarating encounters, was eerily empty, except for a small group of ten individuals huddled together. Curious and hopeful, I ventured closer, only to hear them all chanting in unison, "MMR, please! MMR, please!"

Baffled and mildly amused, I couldn't help but wonder: had I stumbled upon a secret spaceship cult, worshiping some elusive deity known as MMR? Or were they simply in desperate need of matchmaking rankings to satiate their competitive desires?

In fact, I am so captivated by the MMR madness that I humbly request to don the mantle of MMR referee. Yes, dear friends, I shall host the MMR battles, ensuring that each participant receives their coveted numerical fix. I shall be the gatekeeper of rankings, the arbiter of laughter, and the purveyor of cosmic chaos.

[renzi]

Hey fellow space explorers!

I just had the most absurd, ridiculously long evening in the Subspace Continuum universe, and I simply couldn't resist sharing it with all of you. So grab a cup of intergalactic coffee, sit back, and prepare for a tale that will make you question the very fabric of gaming reality.

It all started after a long and grueling day of battling interstellar creatures and saving distant galaxies. I was eagerly looking forward to unwinding with my favorite game, Subspace Continuum, hoping to find excitement, camaraderie, and some action-packed spaceship battles. Alas, what awaited me was a different kind of adventure altogether.

As I logged in and entered the beloved zone of Trenchwars, my heart sank as I saw a rather disheartening sight. The TWJD3 arena, once a bustling hub of endless battles and exhilarating encounters, was eerily empty, except for a small group of ten individuals huddled together. Curious and hopeful, I ventured closer, only to hear them all chanting in unison, "MMR, please! MMR, please!"

Baffled and mildly amused, I couldn't help but wonder: had I stumbled upon a secret spaceship cult, worshiping some elusive deity known as MMR? Or were they simply in desperate need of matchmaking rankings to satiate their competitive desires?

In fact, I am so captivated by the MMR madness that I humbly request to don the mantle of MMR referee. Yes, dear friends, I shall host the MMR battles, ensuring that each participant receives their coveted numerical fix. I shall be the gatekeeper of rankings, the arbiter of laughter, and the purveyor of cosmic chaos.

Same

[Sprackle]

Please make me MMR host so I can block Jessup from every game.

[Jessup]

Please make me MMR host so I can block Jessup from every game.

Shut up dude.. Sick of idiots like this always obsessing over me.

[Turban]

We could definitely use a few more players as hosts.