Perhaps it surprises no one that I have
decided to abandon Disgaea: PC. Though it tried to emphasize its
deeply engrossing dialogue, the lack of detail in combat, combined
with a story going nowhere (and an unnecessary amount of grinding),
has ultimately bored me. With thirty-seven hours invested, I believe
I am about two-thirds done. Yet for some, the incalculable time
which can be sunk into it, to level items, heroes, and transformed
heroes, will enthrall players.
Next week we'll be taking a look at
Braid,
a fabulous indie game from 2008. But to provide a little more time
for me to complete it, lets talk about something else.
This here is a bit of a sob story. I
have a ... friend, who has spent a fair amount time learning the game
Defense of the Ancients 2 (maybe
I've mentioned
of it before).
The impetus to try Dota overrode my internal resistance to the genre
of the MOBA (Multiplayer Online Battle Arena). Coincidentally
recommended by a student the same day I watched a pro-game featured
on the Steam client, these events exposed the faint lingering memory
of playing Dota as a custom map in Warcraft 3. Specifically, I
remembered how abysmal I was, but beyond my failure, the mechanics
remained forgotten. Intrigued I decided to try one game (Yes, I know
I was pretending this was about a friend, but that was too convoluted
to write, and no one is deceived by that ploy).
At first, the enthralling enchantment
of Dota stemmed from the novelty of something new, but after a few
dozen games, the variety, the myriad possible combination of heroes
(112 currently), builds, and items (at least a hundred, though that
includes consumables, aegis, and couriers), led to an eager
engagement, and a desire to understand the collection of mechanics.
Dota became a challenge, with so many moving parts, a variety of
elements which could never be replicated, even over a thousand
experiences. Unfortunately, while the thrill for mastery remains,
this has been diminished by the desire to climb the ladder
(metaphorical). In 2015 Valve debuted ranked matchmaking, and my
desire to improve in skill (an intangible) was superseded by the
craving for quantifiable advancement (victories(.
The specific rank I achieved, or failed
to achieve, doesn't matter. But over a period of time, I my
numerical value improved. Oddly, interestingly, curiously, it was in
four successive burst. After I hovered near my original calibration
value for an extended period, I experienced a sudden burst of
success, before plateauing. This pattern repeated itself three
times. Finally, it seemed as if had come to rest, unable to advance
further. Content with my achievement, I remained at this level tier
for nearly as long as the others combined. But then, finally, in a
quick series of victories, I advanced again. Ecstatic and
invigorated, I decided to push forward, no longer satisfied to remain
at any plateau. But without warning, without reason, shortly
thereafter, I fell, as if I had flown to close to Ember Spirit, down
three of the four tiers I had ascended. In three months I wiped away
three years worth of advancement.
Smart players tell themselves that Dota
is game which requires one to learn, and success comes from that
learning. If that is true, then something happened. And the
question is, how is it possible, to fall so far?
I've considered a few possibilities.
In December Valve updated Dota with
patch 7.00. Significantly different in terrain and heroes, I
actually wrote a post about it. It made some skills, such as lane
pulling, insignificant, while introducing hero talents. Though I'd
survived and thrived on changing patches, perhaps I've been unable to
grasp something crucial which has shifted.
It is also certainly true, that after I
dropped one tier, and continuing to falter, I've become incredibly
susceptible to tilting.
Mistakes, which I previously brush aside, affect my ability to
continue.
Another theory: the denizens of r/Dota
often debate the existence of trenches: that ranked matchmaking is
composed of a series of tiers, and it is difficult to move from one
to another. No one is quite able to describe what causes them. My
hypothesis: each trench encourages a behavior which succeeds only in
it, replaced by a different behavior in the next trench, with each
strategy only viable for the appropriate trench.
Of course, the best players, playing a
different game all together, supersede the learned behaviors of the
individual trenches. But the average player, slowly climbing the
ladder can only proceed by careful study, taking the best of each
trench and advancing to the next. Based on my experience, these
sections are roughly 300 mmr across, from edge to edge (a victory in
each game is worth +25 mmr, a loss -25. Players arbitrarily
celebrate the thousand point achievements, 1k players, 2k, etc).
A player of Dota believes they are
learning, certainly not anything of significance, but then to
discover it was an illusion, a strange chance of circumstance. And
now having vanished in a sudden burst, leaving disappointment and
dissatisfaction, where before there was at least the enjoyment of a
difficult game, the player is left questioning, what went wrong? Did
a patch change the viable skills and strategies? And if so, how does
one catalog their skills? Do pro players have a list of activities,
or a internalized, vague guide? Do they notice when a skill they've
spent years perfecting, is no longer relevant to the game? These
questions trouble me, for I have no definitive list, only a vague
guideline.
A final thought is that, sometime,
quite recently, the player base improved. (or the favorite,
unreasonable fallback: my allies always idiots).
I used to be disappointed by the
disconnect of how well you played, and the final result. It's what
comes from a 5 v 5 game, in which each player is alone. Winning when
you performed terribly (yet were carried by the team), felt almost as
demoralizing as crushing a game, but losing because one's team failed
to follow up. Recently, (and I admit this is undoubtedly not true)
I've felt as if every win has required a herculean effort, as if my
team loses every lane, except the one I'm in. Players seem less
likely to cooperate (though to be fair, that's always been a
significant issue of Dota).
So why do I consider continuing?
Its for The Play. While watching pro
games was only a minimal influence on beginning Dota, it has ensured
my continued fidelity. While I'll never be a pro, the intricate
dance of the coordinated teamfight, and the game turning, mind
blowing play, which brings a team back from the jaws of defeat, is
the magic that keeps me enthralled.
Until it doesn't.
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