John Henry Henehan

I´ve been sitting with this for a while... trying to figure out how to talk about losing John; it´s not easy putting words to the kind of friendship that included both late-night strategy sessions, and an accidental rocket to the face.

To most of you, he was Headshot; some knew him as Malphas; to me? In the final years of our story, he became one of my best friends, my brother, my rock, my co-pilot in chaos.

We crossed so many battlefields, each more ridiculous than the last; but nothing captured our rhythm better than Helldivers.

Friendly fire? Constant.
Hellbombs falling like rain? Business as usual.
There was one mission, just the two of us, where we burned through ten reinforcements, mostly due to our own shenanigans; we made it to evac, hugged it out, ready for a clean escape...

Then Fengrong tossed a grenade like he was seasoning a steak.

Boom.
Straight to Helldiver Heaven.

That was John;
Calm, deadly accurate, and always ready to laugh, even when we were on fire.
Always in on the joke, always had your flank.

His loss? It punches a hole in my world.

But this guild, this family, we´re stronger because of him; and we´ll gather soon to honor him the best way we know how: with stories, games, and probably one or two accidental explosions.

Beyond all the loadouts and load screens, John was part of my real life; the photo you'll see is him on the far left, pointing at me during my 40th birthday, a surprise thrown by my amazing wife. He was there with three of my six kids; and not just there, but with us, gaming with me, my sons, and one of my daughters. He was a role model, the kind of citizen we all wish our kids looked up to.

John, thank you; for your Navy service, the endless games, the late-night chaos, the laughter, and the "wait, what just happened?" moments we always fixed the next day with a chuckle and a shrug.

We talked about launching a podcast, because you and I? We weren´t afraid of a hot take. You´d happily take the opposite side of Matt just to watch him squirm; you knew every button to push, got him second-guessing his own name. Then you´d laugh and go, "See? You don´t even know yourself."

It was never about being right; it was about making us sharper, keeping us honest.

We´re better because of you, man; and we´ll keep aiming to be the kind of team you'd still be proud of.

Rest easy, Headshot.
Torch is lit; just... go easy on the orbital strikes from the other side, yeah?

-Casey (Diehard), The Wild Bunch