Yo, shoutouts to anyone that remembers me all these years ago LOL.
It's been awhile, or rather sup to those that have heard of me for the first time. I hope BP.TF has been flourishing well and that the newer generations have been outclassing the old guards like me. I just felt like posting random things that I have been reminiscing about.
I'm not sure if the demographics really changed much in this website, but I remember back when I around, fairly good amount of people were in their high school years or below 18. I and probably many others that were top contributors had so much free times in our hands that we would spend absurd amounts of time on arguing over prices of a few pixels. Idk if I reflected my maturity during my years of activity, but I definitely was still in high school at my prime. I remember wanting to be a mod so badly, but I couldn't for awhile because I wasn't old enough. In fact even when I retired, I actually still wasn't old enough to be a mod. Now I am, but damn there were some things...that I quite don't know what to express.
First off, maturity. I was told that I was pretty mature for how I expressed things, but upon further evaluation, I definitely had holes. While I addressed many things in a professional and a matter-of-fact way, I definitely got provoked easily. If I felt like I got attacked or got emotional, then I wouldn't hesitate venting or saying some things that I regret. Restraint is definitely a skill that potentially gets easier as you age, and that has definitely applied to me. I cringe at some things I said as a result of certain things, but at the end of the day I do appreciate all the warnings cleverpun has given me as a learning lesson. Is cleverpun still around? Clever was such a good mod in retrospect heh.
Another thing was that overall, I was a quantity over quality guy in making suggestions. Ok sure, I actually put some effort for my quantity unlike some people (d0 and Pyroman comes to mind, are those guys still around and pop some names? Or am I old?), but at the end of day, they were just quantity suggestions that quite frankly didn't require much extensive effort. Sure I was the first suggestor to achieve black belt status when they decided to implement that, but at the end of the day looking back at my achievements, all those hundreds of hollow suggestions are next to meaningless to me. While I did hold the #1 Top Contributors part for a little while, it's not really that great of a feeling when majority of those votes came from blind votes and superfluous suggestions. The suggestions that really do mean a lot to me though are the ones where I put in hours into crafting and thought into. The ones that come immediately to mind was when I suggested to change the Loose Cannon to a scrap price range when I was merely an orange belt, which was an incredibly ballsy and an unheard proposal to do when it was universally accepted that all weapons are only worth .05. https://backpack.tf/suggestion/52153a974bd7b8171200000b
Suggestions like these resonate with me the most. I went against the conventional wisdom and trends because I wanted to do what I felt was right. It encouraged me to think outside the box and make sure my argument wasn't bullshit or else people would rip me apart. And when my extremely hard work got accepted, I really felt like I accomplished something. Suggestions I did like these, doing key suggestions when shit was really vitriolic and dealing with hate (damn keys are worth 27 ref+? Are they gonna be 50 ref when I come back a year later?), and doing suggestions on all unusual variants of the Fez are my proudest accomplishments. They made me learn things and actually contributed to the site the most even though the contribution points or whatever don't really properly reflect that. I don't remember my suggestion trains like when the latest halloween items were dropping in value or when they required little thought, but suggestions that required hard work and critical thinking are something I recommend every prospective suggestor to do more often. To me at least, they're the most fulfilling.
I guess the biggest thing I would like to highlight though is towards the end of my prime years. I'll just say it out there right here in the open since I honestly have little issues expressing this: I was dealing with pretty bad depression at the time. I will not go into details as to how it occurred, but if you just looked at how I phrased things towards the end of 2014 and some of my blogs, it's pretty obvious that I was just really sad and tired. With things that were going on IRL that transpired through my contributions, I complained and was pessimistic more often than not. I attributed part of my depression to little enjoyment towards suggesting so I announced my retirement. That clearly didn't actually help, and if anything it made my depression worse as the years went on. I went on to have suicidal thoughts and being afraid of my future. I was extremely vulnerable and self-deprecating. I was pathetic, which I thought of myself all the time before. Soon though, I ended up getting some help, and I was doing things that slowly but surely got me out of depression. I started addressing the root of my problems. I started meditating to get me to think clearly. I started to eat better and exercise once in awhile. I started smiling more. After a year of getting out of my hole, I was pretty much out of the woods, and I'm so grateful to be out of that state of mind. To all of you currently struggling, try to find someone that will support you. Try to find motivation in one thing that you find dear to you and cling onto it as your reason to keep going. If you don't have that one motivation, make something your one motivation. Set goals. Meditate to have a clearer state of mind. Address the root of your problem and resolve it. Things WILL get better if you address it in due time as it did for me. Perhaps y'all should go outside for a little while and get some Vitamin D, since I know you probably spend a little too much time on the computer than we should. Depression isn't a simple topic and everyone has their own problems, so I'll leave it as that, but I will say to those that are struggling: why not start now to get better?
Welp, I guess that's the most I have in my mind right now. If you're wondering why I don't return to the main site or really hang around here that often, it's because my interest has long past TF2, suggesting, and trading. The fire in me is long, long gone, and TF2 is incredibly stale to me. I tried coming back when my depression has significantly subsided, but my heart really wasn't in it. Nah, most of my current interests are stuff I'm doing in college and Melee, so coming back here in my prime days is pretty much out of the question. It's a bit sad that I'll never be able to come back to my peak, but the memories of my experience is still there, and I'll probably check back here every once in awhile to see what's new and old. Feel free to comment and asking me whatever and I might come back in an appropriate timely matter to answer, but yeah that's what's up to me.
Heres a suggestion on the GE hazmat (outdated for 2 years)
https://backpack.tf/profiles/76561198057378740#!/compare/1514764800/1514851200 https://backpack.tf/profiles/76561198105912034#!/compare/1514678400/1514851200 https://i.imgur.com/eVOtGzG.png ~ Apparently paid 100 keys pure (seen) + 80-100 in cosmetics/other shit (apparently not all are shown, but looks closer to 80) + the lap (sugg at 168)
~ 358 (taking 90 as sweets)
358 is lower then flies and all. nvm flies is 4 years outdated lmao
I mean it took 20 mins or so to make this small thing (which is obviously unfinished) but yeah, i've made it a lot easier for anyone else to edit it.
Image of it incase it changes:
Its a fine suggestion, its just i have a sale at 17 and 18 but theres a buyer at 18 randomly...
Solds: https://backpack.tf/profiles/76561198079416605#!/compare/1509062400/1509148800 ~ most likely sold on the SCM for the 40.05$ sale which would make it 17 keys, but its hard to tell so we wont use this one (buyer at 18 too)
Sold #2: https://marketplace.tf/items/30907;5;u58/Cloud 9 Battle Boonie ~ sold for 35$ ~ / 1.95 (going key price on backpack) = 18 keys...
Scorching Flames Condor Cap ~ 302.5 (right now)
https://backpack.tf/profiles/76561198302114051#!/compare/1510617600/1510704000 ~ probably around 250
https://backpack.tf/profiles/76561198233331152#!/compare/1510617600/1510704000 ~ sold for a duped burning belt ~ 200ish?
https://backpack.tf/profiles/76561198233331152#!/compare/1510185600/1510272000 ~ selling it for 200 now so yeah
Needs at least a 50 key drop imo
Made a guide listing some of the pubg trading sites that's out there, it's not the best guide out there but it's start and hopefully it can help you abit with your trading, also I hope I'll be able to make more pubg trading guides in the future (when the economy has evolved and I learned more about pubg trading)
You can find the guide here:
New guide on the blog, a simple guide about buying cheap keys and how you can make some profit with em. Mostly aimed towards new traders but I'm sure more experience hustlers can find something useful from this.
You can find it over here on the blog http://tradeplz.com/key-trading-guide/
You drink soda? You probably do. I don't, but that's not convenient to the case.
The soft cold liquid that just flows down your throat popping all the way trough your esophagus and gracefully merges itself into your stomach acid, refreshing you and providing energy! Soda just seems like the perfect substitute to boring old water now, is it not? Well, it is being marketed as so for a reason.
No branding became as powerful as soda brandings, the flashy colours of their tin cans are so appealing to the eye, and their taste is made to make you happy, and keep you that way for as long as you live, yes, happiness can be bought CHEAP. And they like you that way! after all, while you're enjoying your nice can of artificial tastes you just stop thinking about how the world makes you grumpy, it's the little moments of "alright" that the mass keeps craving by pushing the soda industry further, raining money on them for their little bottles of gas, water and sugar.
Sugar, or worse, ADDED sugar, key component to the little drop of endorphin release on all those cans of justice, bringing to your pallate the sweet, sweet taste of being PUPPETEERED, to feel exactly how they want you to feel, along with that little kick that nasty processed sugar gives you when it hits your bloodstream, giving you energy, satisfaction and refreshment. Simple, convenient and troughly engineered in every aspect.
How the marketing for those little buggers go? Advertisements displaying the youth, happy families on holidays, SPORTS! (Allow me to say, no high performance athlete even touches soda.) and Santa Claus, portraying it like "It's just something you can't live without!", but hey,all publicity goes like that, so it's alright, it's up for the individual to see what's going on after all.
Cool drinks for cool kids, who wash away the troubles of the day trough high doses of refined sugar and added chemicals, well, it's the convenient way of living, you wouldn't want to overdose your mind on your problems, they are selling happiness trough little snack packs anyway, It's just confortable being controlled.
Remember folks, they control you by doing whatever's in their reach to make you an F3: FAT, FULL AND FRAIL
Stay woke and reconsider your game fuel.
I am Carrots, creator of The Conspiracy Corner, a little project I plan on updating from time to time that has the objective to spread TRUTH and make you, kind traders of scrapack.tf WOKE against the major and troublesome realities of the world(s) that surround you and I.
Not really, this is pretty much a project I started to have somewhere to share the content I have written trough the weeks, most of it poking fun (with a little hint of actual facting) at the extremism that orbits how the globe is being politcally lead, and it has the objective to entertain you folk, so down all the content that will be posted here with a smile on your face and a little drain hole in your mind.
Why am I doing this?
That being said, let's get ready to awaken with Mr. Jones. (Quite loud, I warn you.)
Star-date 53 HeHe LoL: The bronies have invaded our safe haven; nowhere is safe now, moral is low, statuses are looking grim. The time is upon we chosen few to embark on a great journey to a new place where we can shitpost and be MORE than passive aggressive. I am welcome to most ideas but staying is not looking like a good one.
putin: aka putina, rat, cunt, empire oof yugoslavia is a scammer. he has scammed many people and these people have come to me and told me that he had been scammed.
I have to admit I was pretty stupid, I Thought something good about him, and thought he was being legit, he said he would pay me back. he gave me 7 cosmetics on the spot, and said that there were more to come, promising a key and the snack attack. this was about right item over pay right? exactly.
he said he couldn't trade for 2 months because he removed authenticator, then he promised me an unusual then a headtaker, I declined both because i had waited long enough to get my items and then he ended up removing me and blocking me.
I reported him but still,dosn't matter. hes a dick aswell, he made up this whole bullshit about him not being able to do it because he had a rough childhood, dickhead. if you want to find him he commented before he blocked me.
here is my steam:
here is his (go report him):
thanks for reading. if you want more info, add me!
So I have found a few regular unique weapons lately that have some good levels on them (100, 69, 42, etc.) and I was wondering, how much would a level number change the price of a regular unique weapon?
Lacquered wood and cold steel were the only things he could feel over the din of his sorrow. A harsh gust echoed across his mindscape, his gut rising and falling with every melancholy breath. The skylights refracted the darkness of the stormy night sky, twisting it, coiling it around his heart. A ragged breath escaped his trembling lips, a drop of sweat rolled through his stubble and onto the carpet. Then, a gunshot shook the room with a resounding crack. Then there was silence. And a shrill scream. A familiar woman came crashing through the doorway moments later, and knelt beside him on blood splattered carpet. "What did you do? What did you do? Oh god please no." "You'll be okay, just give me a minute," she sputtered, feebly stroking through her late husband's hair. "I'll fix it, just hold on please," she pleaded, as tears clouded her vision. She spent the next few minutes sobbing into his chest, her face and hair becoming bloodied. Hysterical crying and the scent of copper permeated the room, and before long sirens were distracting her from the darkness. She stood, sniveling, and lethargically walked to the front door. The knock came right as she touched the doorknob, and it revealed a pair of uniformed officers. The first of the two, the elder and higher in rank, opened his mouth to say something but was taken immediately back by her appearance in the doorway. Light pooling from the kitchen framed her sullen, bloody silhouette. "Can you tell me what happened here?" His voice was gruff and apathetic. His partner, by contrast a pretty woman in her early thirties, nudged him aside gently and introduced herself. "My name is Kelly, we're here to help. We have a few questions as well..." she trailed off as the shadow in the doorway gestured inside and turned around. She didn't look back as she led them to the carpeted sunroom where her husband lay cooling in a small puddle of blood. Her naturally tan face made a pale contrast to the pale moonlit room. Kelly steered her by the shoulder to the corner, and blocked her view of the corpse with her body. Soothingly she asked "Is there anyone I can call for you?" A subtle lateral shake of the head was her response. "Can you tell me your name?" "Eliza... his name was Douglas," she choked out, before a new series of sobs silenced her. Behind them, the veteran officer made a call on his radio. "Requesting coroner, do not send EMS. Looks like a suicide." He droned on a bit longer, but no further attention was paid to him. Eliza made her best effort to collect herself. She was surprised but secretly thankful that her daughter had not awoken from the commotion. She had always slept like a rock, much to Eliza's precious chagrin and current relief. "Kelly, I need to go tell my daughter." Kelly's face sank. To witness the death of anyone was hard enough on the psyche, both on her and those of the family. To see a child involved, that was heartbreaking. Perhaps in time, Kelly would gain the battle hardened callousness that her partner exuded on a daily basis, but she hadn't yet suffered through enough of this hell to lose her compassion. "I can come with you if you need-" "No thank you," she mumbled, "cops scare her." With that, she gently brushed past the woman and made her way down the hallway. She couldn't get her mind off of the loss of her husband, but she was grateful for the two solid oak doors and thick walls separating the rooms of this suburban house. She paused at the door, fighting back a new wave of tears. She wanted to present an aura of strength to her daughter. She would attempt to tell her the usual lies that parents tell their children about death, but knew her daughter to be old enough to see past the euphemisms. She turned the handle.
The room was darker than night. Eliza pulled out her phone to use as a makeshift flashlight to avoid waking her precious child into what would be a night she remembered forever. Monique was snoring loudly with a pillow over her head as she entered the room, and Eliza couldn't help but smile at her beauty. She looked angelic with her short blonde hair covering up part of her face. A forced smile was etched onto Monique's face from the way her head lay on the pillow. Eliza knelt on the dark hardwood floor beside the bed and rested an arm on the nightstand and the other on her daughter's exposed cheek. In moments, her life would be never be the same again. Could she bring herself to break this news? Yes. Better her than a cop. She began stroking her cheek gently while saying her name, to no avail. She knew it would take more than that to rouse her daughter, she was just being a coward. "Monique, it's time to get up," she said loudly, pulling the pillow off her head and shaking a shoulder. This method proved more effective than the last, and two miniature oceans fluttered open. "Mommy? W-what is all over your face?" Eliza let her jaw run slack in horror as she realized she was partially covered in blood. She tried to say something but words escaped her. Perhaps she would need help after all. "I'll be right back, just stay there sweetheart." She stepped away quickly, hiding her face. The bathroom was only a few feet from the doorway of the small bedroom. She stepped inside and locked the door with shaking hands. Her eyes stung from the harsh incandescent light of the ceiling fixture. When she was able to open them again, the person staring back at her from the mirror was not the person she knew. This person - stranger - was bloody and forlorn. She couldn't make sense of reality, and for a moment she questioned her existence and that this night was even happening. "Come on Liz, hold it together. For her, not for you. For her." She worked desperately to regain enough sense to tell her child the truth.
It only took a few minutes for her to clear the blood off her face, but they did not go uninterrupted. "Mommy? What happened? Why are there people in the house?" Monique asked, pounding lightly on the door. "I'll be out in a second and I'll explain..." She offered, drying her hands, with a hand towel. She inhaled deeply and exited the bathroom. Monique was waiting at the door, with a curious look on her face. "There are people in there," she said, pointing toward the scene. Eliza whispered a silent thank you that her daughter hadn't gone to investigate, and led her to her bedroom where they sat down together on the edge of her bed. "Monique, daddy has gone to a better place." She lied, the words feeling like venom as they poured out of her mouth. "We won't see him anymore, but he will always be with us in our hearts." Trying to embellish the truth had made little difference, Monique understood the implication and reacted with shock. "Is he really gone? Daddy could never die, he's too strong for that." Her face contorted in fear. "Is that why those people are here? Did they hurt him?" "No, they are here to help." Eliza embraced her in a firm hug. "Everything will be okay, I promise." The two of them sat there for some time.
A knock on the open doorway roused them from their thoughts. "I found this paper on the desk in there, it is addressed to you." She accepted the paper without a word. Monique tried to read over her shoulder but Eliza hid it from her. She could never know how this truly happened until she was older.
Dear Liz If you are reading this, I've done a terrible thing to you and Monique. I'm sorry, truly I am. I've been struggling for a long time and I can no longer find a reason to live. You have been the most wonderful wife that a man could ever have, and Monique is the child any father would have wanted. I love you both very much, please forgive me for what I've done. There is money in the safe for Monique to go to college, and I left everything in your name. Take care of her for me, I'll be looking out for you from above, if above exists. I love you very much.
By the time she had finished reading the letter for the fifth time, it was mottled by tears. The ink ran in little rivers that obscured the page. It fell to the floor.
Lacquered wood and cold steel were the only things he could feel over the din of his sorrow. A harsh gust echoed across his mindscape, his gut rising and falling with every melancholy breath. The skylights refracted the darkness of the stormy night sky, twisting it, coiling it around his heart. A ragged breath escaped his trembling lips, a drop of sweat rolled through his stubble and onto the carpet. He pulled the revolver away from his head. He fingered the cylinder release, and it popped open. Six unspent shells clattered to the floor. A cold shudder ran up his spine. He glanced off toward the nightstand as he stood, and at the sheaf of paper lying on it. He took the paper outside, and lit it on fire. The flames licked it delicately, the clean lettering nothing more than ash in the wind. He dropped it as the flames reached his hand, and it burned completely before it hit the ground.
Birth from fire, he thought. Like a Phoenix.