Welcome to the signup thread for BOTR, a FRHD tourney like never before! Through the games, you will play many mini games. Trackmaking and ghosting will be here, but also luck, social, and skill mini games! (Such as snake) As the tourney goes on, you will score points, either for your team, or for yourself. They can be currency, but are mainly for you to not get eliminated after every round. There will also be a discord server for the lobby. This is NOT opened up yet, but will be once THE TOURNEY STARTS ON THE 12TH. Lastly, you can sign up by saying in this forum, “I am joining BOTR”. Add the word “pizza” somewhere in it to prove you have read all of this important info.
In addition, there are NOT many set rules for the tourney yet. The competition and mini games change every round!
I am not joining BOTR. Alright, buckle up, because trying to explain why pizza is so stupidly good is like trying to explain oxygen—it’s just fundamental to a happy existence. First of all, the sheer versatility is mind-blowing: it’s a blank canvas that can be whatever you need it to be. Are you a broke college student? A $5 cheese slice is a religious experience at 2 a.m. Throwing a fancy party? Throw some arugula, prosciutto, and a balsamic drizzle on there and suddenly you’re a gourmet chef. It’s the ultimate mood food—it’s there for your sad nights, your celebrations, your “I can’t even deal with cooking” nights, and your “I need to soak up this alcohol immediately” emergencies. The textures alone are a symphony of perfection: that crackly-yet-chewy crust that’s got just enough char, that layer of sauce that can be tangy or sweet or spicy, the molten lava flow of cheese that pulls into those glorious, Instagram-worthy strings (but you destroy it before anyone can take a picture because you have no self-control), and then the toppings that add their own crunch, savoriness, or juicy bursts. It’s a food you can eat with your hands, for crying out loud—no pretentious cutlery, just pure, primal enjoyment. It’s communal, the whole “gathering around a pie” thing breaks down barriers, and yet it’s also deeply personal (we will, of course, fight to the death over pineapple, and that’s okay). It’s warm, cheesy, carb-y comfort that somehow feels like a hug from the inside. It’s globally adored, from the classic Neapolitan to the deep-dish brick, from the New York fold to the weird regional quirks everywhere. It’s the food that never lets you down, because even “bad” pizza is still pretty darn good. It’s a perfect mathematical equation of dough, sauce, cheese, and heat that humanity somehow nailed, and we should never, ever take it for granted. Basically, pizza isn’t just food; it’s a lifestyle, a therapist, an artist, and a best friend, all baked at 500 degrees for approximately 12 minutes. End of story.
I am not joining BOTR Alright, buckle up, because trying to explain why pizza is actually bad is like trying to explain why glitter should be illegal—it seems harmless until it ruins everything. First of all, let’s talk about the so-called “versatility,” which is really just pizza refusing to have an identity. Is it fast food? Fancy food? A sad, greasy regret at 2 a.m.? Nobody knows. It pretends to be there for every situation, but all it really does is show up uninvited and overstay its welcome. A $5 slice doesn’t feel like a “religious experience”; it feels like molten cardboard coated in oil that sits in your stomach like a brick. And when it tries to be fancy—oh boy—throwing arugula and prosciutto on bread doesn’t make you a gourmet chef, it just makes the pizza confused and slightly offended. Then there’s the texture situation, which people praise like it’s art, but let’s be honest: it’s chaos. The crust is either too hard and destroys your jaw or too floppy and collapses like it gave up on life. The sauce somehow manages to be both bland and aggressively acidic at the same time, and the cheese—oh, the cheese—is a grease sponge designed solely to burn the roof of your mouth while dripping molten lava onto your shirt. Those “Instagram-worthy cheese pulls”? That’s just dairy refusing to let go, and you always end up chewing for way too long like a cow having an existential crisis. Eating it with your hands isn’t “primal joy,” it’s messy, greasy inconvenience. Your fingers are oily, the napkins disintegrate on contact, and somehow there’s always a stain you don’t notice until it’s too late. And don’t even get me started on the “communal” aspect—everyone hovering around a box, arguing over slices, silently judging topping choices, and pretending pineapple debates are fun instead of exhausting. Pizza doesn’t bring people together; it exposes their worst opinions. It’s also the king of false comfort. People say it’s a hug from the inside, but that hug quickly turns into regret, bloating, and the sudden realization that you should not have eaten three slices just because they were there. Globally adored? Sure—but so is fast food in general, and that’s not exactly a glowing endorsement. And the claim that “even bad pizza is still good” is a lie we tell ourselves to cope. Bad pizza is sad, soggy, and disappointing, and it absolutely lets you down when you need it most. Basically, pizza isn’t a lifestyle or a best friend—it’s a flaky, greasy frenemy that promises happiness and delivers mild satisfaction followed by regret. It’s not a perfect equation; it’s a sloppy compromise that humanity keeps defending out of habit. Pizza isn’t sacred. It’s overrated bread with commitment issues, baked too hot, eaten too fast, and forgiven way too easily. End of story.
I am not joining BOTR Alright, buckle up, because trying to explain pizza properly means admitting it’s both incredible and kind of a mess—and somehow that’s part of the charm. Pizza is stupidly good in a way that feels baked into human happiness, like we collectively agreed this was as close to perfect as we were getting. The versatility alone is ridiculous: it can be a $5 slice that saves your soul at 2 a.m., or a dressed-up, arugula-covered situation pretending to be sophisticated. And sure, sometimes it doesn’t know whether it’s fast food or fancy food, but honestly? That identity crisis is why it shows up everywhere. Pizza doesn’t need to choose. It just needs to exist. When pizza hits, it hits. That crackly-but-chewy crust, the sauce doing just enough without taking over, the molten cheese pulling into those dramatic strings you swear you’ll admire before immediately burning your mouth because you have zero patience. Yes, sometimes the crust is too hard or too floppy, and yes, sometimes the cheese turns into a grease sponge that betrays you—but when the balance is right, none of that matters. Your brain forgives everything instantly. It’s hand food, which is either pure joy or a greasy disaster depending on the day. Napkins fail, fingers shine, and there’s always a stain you discover later, but that’s the price of eating something that doesn’t require manners or utensils. Pizza isn’t elegant—it’s approachable. It’s there when you’re tired, drunk, broke, celebrating, or emotionally unavailable for real cooking. And the communal thing? It’s real, even if it’s chaotic. Gathering around a box feels comforting in theory, even when it turns into silent judgment over toppings and passive-aggressive slice choices. Pineapple debates are exhausting, but they also prove how much people care. Pizza doesn’t just bring people together—it exposes them, and somehow we keep ordering it anyway. Is it perfect comfort? Not exactly. That warm, cheesy hug sometimes turns into regret, bloating, and the realization that three slices was optimistic. Pizza gives joy first and consequences later, and we forgive it every time because the joy is immediate and reliable. And while people love to say even bad pizza is good, that’s… generous. Bad pizza is sad. But even then, you usually eat it, which says a lot. Pizza isn’t sacred, and it’s not trash. It’s a glorious, greasy compromise—brilliant when it works, disappointing when it doesn’t, and endlessly defended because at its best, it feels unbeatable. It’s not a perfect equation, but it’s close enough that we keep coming back, knowing full well what could go wrong. And honestly? That’s kind of beautiful. End of Story.
Bro (skull emoji) why are people just meme-ing my tourney with long descriptions about pizza? I just want people to read the intro
i wish i had more info to join but theres literally no description so im not joining. anyway there here is something more interesting Pizza facts reveal its ancient flatbread origins, its modern evolution in Naples, and its massive popularity, with Americans eating billions annually, favoring pepperoni, and making Super Bowl Sunday its biggest sales day, while records exist for the world's largest (131 ft wide) and most expensive ($12,000+) pizzas, plus its delivery to space! Origins & History Ancient Roots: Pizza's ancestors were ancient flatbreads topped with oil and spices by Greeks and Egyptians. Modern Pizza: Evolved in Naples, Italy, adding tomatoes in the late 18th century, with the first pizzeria opening in 1738. First Pizzeria in US: Gennaro Lombardi opened the first U.S. pizzeria in New York City in 1895. Popularity & Consumption American Love Affair: 93% of Americans eat pizza monthly; they consume about 100 acres of pizza daily (350 slices/second). Most Popular: Pepperoni is the #1 topping in the U.S. (36% of pizzas). Top Sales Day: Super Bowl Sunday is the biggest day for pizza sales. Breakfast Pizza: 36% of Americans enjoy pizza for breakfast. Records & Extremes Largest Pizza: A 131-foot diameter pizza was made in Rome in 2012, weighing over 50,000 lbs. Most Expensive: The $12,000 Louis XIII pizza in Italy features luxury toppings like lobster and caviar. Space Pizza: A pizza was delivered to the International Space Station in 2001.
im joining! sounds fun. pizza glazing? what about FRHD glazing? Get ready, because trying to explain why Free Rider HD is so awesome is like trying to explain why I keep crashing—it’s just how my life works now. First off, the options are crazy: you can do whatever you want. Am I a total noob who can’t even jump? Feeling like I actually have a brain? I try to draw a single straight line in the editor, fail immediately, and suddenly I’m a gourmet architect of garbage. It’s the ultimate mood game—it’s there for my "I’ve died 400 times on this one hill" nights, my "I accidentally finished a track" celebrations, and my "I need to soak up this boredom immediately" emergencies. The physics are a symphony of perfection: my stickman has the bone density of a wet noodle, and the way he face-plants into a pixelated line is just glorious. I usually destroy my bike before I even see a star because I have no self-control and I don’t know where the brakes are. MADE WITH AI
