Before Stygian Onslaught, whaling was a land of green fields, sunshines, and rainbows. It was a magical place, a place where if one C6R5'd their favorite character, their favorite was guaranteed to seem OP in the end game. It didn't matter. Mavuika without Citlali, Skirk without Coffee, and Flins without Ineffa, all appeared godly before the throne of the abyss.
But then cameth the Onslaught Stygian. Like the guillotines of the French Revolution, Stygian Onslaught violated the aristocrats of the whale, throwing them down from their lofty perch, and dragging them head-long into the debased misery of the meta.
No longer could a whale turn his or hers perfumed nose up at the meta. No longer were the C6 pullers able to scoff haughtily at the vulgar masses, flailing about in the squalor of having to care about team synergy. Now meta actually mattered even for the whale. It was a devastating punch of the gut: calcs, spreadsheets, BIS considerations, and perfect timing were now all de rigueur if one wanted that sweet sweet cosmetic candy.