It was me, my friend, and other friend who was too low of light to damage anything. It was year one, and the setting was Crota. Hours had passed waiting for enough heavy to spawn so the timing wouldn't be thrown off on Crota. We decide one more try. One more tear filled try. This time is going better. Good damage on Crota, near perfect run. My friend sword bearing runs up the rock, calls out to fire. Then, he rotates out of sync. Out of sync, our clock or Crota's internal one, I'll never know but I'll remember the tears forever after. I hesitate to fire, calling out he rotated. My friend yells in a frenzy to fire, we're running out of time. I shoot two glorious unnerfed Gjallarhorn rockets and bring that bastard to his knees. My friend jumps up, having to run up the right side walk way, gets only enough hits to trigger enrage but not Death. He has so low health, Oryx finally raises an eyebrow in worry that these fatigued Guardians will finally do it. After all, only a light attack from the sword would've finished him. My friend falls off the right side to avoid Crota's dark blade but only just. He jumps straight back up as a Titan with Max agility and height since hard mode had no chalice to bring Light to damaged Guardians. I fire off my last two rockets from the weapon of fallen Guardians, and my helpfulness is gone like the smoke of the ballistics. Crota drops to his knee, awaiting the axe to fall whispering in Hive tongue, "My ancestors are smiling upon me Imperial. Can yours say the same?" My friend is slicing as fast as possible, the Oversoul gaining strength above us. Slice, swing, sla-. Crota stands up, and cuts my friend down, with a smile on his ethereal being. For a second, silence in the party. Then, utter rage and spittle flies as curses soar from the tongue of this man pushed too far. Yelling, cursing, banging, then, a click and silence. My friend who was too low of a light level was over at my house that night. So as we look at each other from across the couch as our tears blind us, and our laughter silences us, we realize the source of our merriment was gone. Then, I say with shaky breath, "What if he finally raged so hard his heart exploded?" We -blam!-ing lost it again. Five minutes pass and it's no longer looking like a joke, just the best and most hilarious death of all time. Then, rustling in our ears, and a deep sigh. Then, this. [spoiler]I threw my controller and I couldn't find it. I'm getting off.[/spoiler] Crota had and still has his bugs and glitches, but I will never, ever, forget this day that Crota brought me to my knees not from rage, or virtual execution, but tears. Tears of joy. Thank you for reading.