Support roles are not “team play.” They are punishment.
They are the digital equivalent of being chained to the village idiot and forced to keep him alive while he headbutts a live electrical box out of curiosity.
Developers built these roles like an experiment in psychological torture. They want to see how far a competent player will bend before they break.
The fantasy of support is that of a noble guardian who keeps the squad alive.
The reality is you are a walking vending machine. You throw ammo at the guy who sprays his magazine like a lawn sprinkler and misses every shot.
You revive the human potato who died because they thought sprinting across an open lane into two tanks was “momentum.”
You patch them up, they get up, and they immediately die again in the same exact way because their two remaining brain cells are on cooldown.
The game rewards this. Not with respect. Not with meaningful power.
You get +25. A sticker. A treat. A pat on the head.
Meanwhile, the killfeed is busy telling the enemy that someone on your team is actually a threat.
But it is never you. Because you are kneeling over a corpse again, praying they do not respawn and waste your time twice.
Support players like to pretend they are the backbone of the squad. No. They are the band-aid. They are the duct tape. They are the roll of toilet paper you keep around because someone is always making a mess.
They are not respected. They are tolerated.
And the worst part is that the game is engineered to trap you there. Ammo scarcity. Gadget cooldowns. Revive exclusivity. It is all by design.
If a competent player wants to push, wants to split a flank, wants to actually win, the game says no. Stay in the corner and pick up garbage. Be the nanny. Be the mule. Be the living dispenser for the teammates who will never understand why they lose gunfights.
People talk about “support mains” like they’re saints. Spare me.
They are addicts. They chase that tiny dopamine hit from carrying dead weight and whispering to themselves that it was “impact.”
They absorb harm and stupidity from teammates like a sponge. They think martyrdom is a strategy.
I do not log in to babysit. I do not queue up to resuscitate the terminally brainless. I do not play, so someone else can have another chance to repeat their mistake while I’m stuck in their shadow.
I want to break lines. I want to dismantle map control. I want to impose consequences.
Support roles are the enemy of consequence. They shield incompetence from natural selection. They take the sharp edge of the game and cover it in bubble wrap for the people too fragile to learn.
That is why I hate them.
Not because they are weak. Because they keep weak players alive who should have already been removed from the equation.
If you want to know why I will always despise support, here’s why.
I do not play games to enable mediocrity.
I play to crush it.
About Lordraz0r:
Lordraz0r is the kind of gamer who treats every co-op session like it’s a Navy SEAL operation and every raid like it’s a job interview for the position of “God.”
He says he doesn’t care about cosmetics, yet spends more time transmogrifying than sleeping.
His strategies are 300 IQ, but only after 6 failed wipes, 4 rage pings, and a five-paragraph Discord essay blaming everyone but himself.
He’s the only person who can solo a boss, win an argument, lose a friend, and crash the economy, all in one session.
And somehow, he still thinks he’s the underdog.
