Leaving the Valley - Thoughts about leaving competitive gaming
this post is insanely cringe. please don’t read too much into it. actually, please don’t read it at all.
Part 1 - Why?
This past weekend, my team failed to qualify for the bracket stage of an osu! (rhythm game) tournament. The second time in a row that I failed to qualify and underperformed when the time came. There were no excuses left other than lack of skill (“skill issue”). This was the last straw for me. Frustrated, I slammed my desk and uninstalled osu!... before reinstalling it an hour later again, motivated to get better.
Just kidding. The failing to qualify part was true, but my reaction wasn’t. Well, partly - yes, I uninstalled osu!, but no, I didn’t reinstall it, and I have no intention of doing so. When I hit the uninstall button this time, I noticed an empty void of emotion, essentially no motivation to commit to what would’ve previously been the last step in the cycle: reinstalling and returning to pursuing improvement and the notion of “being the best.” I just wanted to be done. The whole experience has still prompted me to reflect on how my mentality has shifted when it comes to approaching gaming, especially competitive gaming.
Just one or two years ago, this reaction might have been realistic; actually, I’m fairly certain those exact events might have occurred a few times, but recently games have lost their spice, their sparkle. I’ve lost that feeling of wanting to log on; instead, I force myself to because I’m above average, maybe even “great” at the games and feel obligated to not waste all the time I have invested in them. I’m sure maybe some of you have felt the same with other activities, but for me it's been the most pronounced recently with gaming.
Something that’s motivated me even more to confront this loss of passion is actually my younger brother, who is currently an avid game enthusiast. He’s even set up a mini game development group with his friends at school, which I think is awesome and it’s great that they’re able to turn a passion into a dream, and hopefully eventually into reality. I can’t help but see my younger self mirrored in him. It pains me when he comes to me, excited to talk to me about some gaming related topics, but I actually have to fake interest in what he is telling me, when in the past I’d be genuinely interested to talk to him. It hurts in my soul - I can’t match his excitement for his passion, and I feel like a bad brother sometimes.
Thus, I’ve thought quite a bit over the past few days about how such a shift - from someone who adored gaming deep down to someone who’s disillusioned with his motives, grasping at what remains of a fiery passion, and is probably moving on from those Saturday nights spent on a competitive game with friends - could have occurred, and so suddenly too. It can’t be that the games are boring, because like I mentioned with my brother, the younger generation seems to still be having a blast enjoying and competing in games like I once did. So, I thought it had to be something wrong with me, and this troubled me because I didn't know which of my other passions was next. Am I suddenly going to lose motivation to swim? To hang out with my family?
I've boiled on this for a few days, and I think I've finally wrestled enough to arrive at the following three reasons for why this occurred, for which thankfully none of was a problem with me, and I thought it would be meaningful to share and elaborate a little.
1. Burnout
First, I do have to admit that most likely burnout had something to do with my loss of motivation. COVID shutdowns contributing to online school, Zoom calls, etc. have only led to even more burnout from screens. I do think the contribution is minimal, however, as even though I have just spent the past semester in person, I still feel the same.
2. Their Migration
Second is that my friends that I’d play games with are all migrating to playing other games that I’m not particularly enthralled by. A couple years ago, we’d all hop on the same game together and have a blast, but it seems that as the gaming market continues to become increasingly saturated with quality games of various genres, it has inadvertently shattered that unity in my friend group that existed before. Now, when I want to chill and hang out on a game with some others, I’d be lucky to find 2 others that also want to play the same game. Thus, I’m left with either a choice to join others on a game that I don’t enjoy playing and don’t have a desire to become good at, or I play alone on a game that I do enjoy, but in turn not actually have a good time because I’ve never really been a singleplayer game enjoyer. It’s become a lose-lose situation.
3. My Migration
The last and what I believe is the most crucial reason is that I’ve also found other activities to love, especially other activities where I can still scratch my innate itch to compete. For example, I recently dove into the deep end of competitive programming, and it’s been a while since I’ve had that much fun competing, exploring, and learning new ideas. The satisfaction of solving a problem that I’ve been working on for hours matches that old satisfaction of beating a level I was stuck on in Angry Birds on my mom’s iPad or finally breaking a skill cap in osu! that I’ve struggled on for months. The joy that comes with learning a new algorithm matches that when I found new methods to position myself in a teamfight to maximize my damage per second and key elimination probability in Paladins.
Now that I actually think about my stream-of-consciousness-word-vomit above, it’s really all a central core motif - growing up . Actually, I’d like to use (ironically) a game called Stardew Valley as an analogy. Stardew is a farming simulator where one role plays a farmer who starts from (literally) the ground up, beginning with only a small bunch of parsnips and a couple hundred coins, having very recently inherited a farm. But, as the years fly by, the farm flourishes and expands to have animals, varieties of crops, etc., all of which one must maintain and manage. As the years have indeed flown by in my life and as an adult, I have significantly more responsibilities, passions, and expectations placed on me now - other crops and animals that I need to tend to. I am no longer living on a farm where I can mess around with my dog and plant only strawberry crops every season anymore - I’m living on a farm where other people rely on and expect me to produce various crops, a farm where time and resources are of the essence. Not only me, but the people I call friends too - we’re all growing up, whether we like it or not.
By taking this hard look at myself in the mirror, I am now sincerely comforted that I don’t need to blame myself for lacking motivation to be the best version of myself or lacking the drive and passion to keep playing games. I feel if I’ve sufficiently convinced myself that it isn’t a fault in my character, but rather a consequence of a series of natural yet kind of unfortunate events. I still do have that fire within me - I am just kindling it under other pursuits like competitive programming now. That only makes me even more happy, as this was the main hope of what starting a blog and forcing myself to reflect would do.
Part 2 - Thank You
As I shift away from (competitive) gaming into pursuing other bolder interests more full-heartedly, I felt it would also be nostalgic and meaningful to reflect on what I’ve gained from these years and experiences. Namely, the deeper concepts, not surface level bullsh*t like “it improved my hand eye coordination.” Because, unlike what my mom believes, I do think I’ve gained a lot and competitive gaming has molded portions of who I am today.
1. The Homies
First and foremost: friends. The people I’ve bonded over games with are the people that I would call my closest friends currently. Although, like aforementioned, we’ve sort of parted ways when it comes to interests, because we’ve spent so much time interacting online, it never feels that they’re far from me, because they are just one DM or message away. If you guys are reading this, you know who you are. You’re the best.
2. "Crucial Conversations"
Related to (1), but different: I’ve also learned to interact with so many different people. Because of the anonymity nature of playing games under a gamer tag, people are free to act true to themselves on the internet, and I learned so much from these genuine interactions. A bit of history: I used to play a game called Paladins semi-professionally, eventually resorting to coaching teams when I couldn’t get or commit the time to a starting role on the team. In doing so, I learned how to interact with so many different types of people, including not only how to compliment them and motivate them but also how to criticize them. I learned how I could be “100% honest with them, but still 100% respectful” (quote from Crucial Conversations, which will be the topic of another upcoming blog post :D) while providing tips to the team and helping them improve.
3. Iron Wall
A smaller one, but I’ve developed a hard head to insults. The anonymity of online communities also results in large amounts of toxicity (which is a common criticism of gaming communities), but I’ve experienced so much that I’ve numbed and hardened myself against it, and also learned to recognize the difference between a toxic comment and a constructive one. This and my sleep schedule were large contributors to an ironwall mental health state throughout my teenage years.
4. The Flame
Finally, I learned what it meant to have a passion. Even further, I saw what it was like to surround myself with people who also had the same passion. Through competitive gaming combined with swimming, I learned what it meant to truly love an activity, to love it so much that I wanted to dedicate all my time into improving and becoming the best player, swimmer, coder, mathematician, musician, engineer - the best person I could be. There were times where all I wanted to think about was games. Yes, I was probably addicted and it wasn’t healthy, but it’s given me perspective on what it means when you say “I’m passionate about ___” - it’s an addiction. As I take a step back from competitive gaming, I’m left hungry, searching for something to fill that void. Almost like a withdrawal, but maybe a good thing this time, since I might’ve found a couple new passions already.
For all of that and more, even though I may be bittersweetly plowing (pun intended) forward into new fields, new crops, new animals, new ventures - I’m truly thankful. I really am - and I hope my brother will eventually be too. - Alan