Jason “Papapaint” Durso writes about the state of the community today.
Visions of our Past
Over the past year or so, articles about some of the core aspects of smash have regularly begun with an appeal to its historical presence, how this or that player was only (x) years old, how we’ve lifted the community out of the dark ages through sheer willpower and determination, and so on and so on. These sorts of grand openings are pretty standard rhetorical moves, intended to sediment some routine experience into a bed of nostalgia for the golden ages of smash, when four-stocks flowed like water and even the very best of players had time to warmly discuss the subtleties of their favorite game with relative unknowns. Part of the trouble with rhetoric, though, is that it has the potential to draw straight lines from something in our past (determination to continue playing the game) to something in the present (EVO/MLG cinderella story, documentary, high stream numbers, etc). This wouldn’t be much of an issue, except it does seem as though something is left behind as a result.
I am, of course, just as guilty of this editing process as any other–perhaps even more so. My job is, in a sense, to trim away chunks of the past so that what remains is the essence of what makes smash exciting to see. The clips I compile heavily feature players at their best, or jumping around in excitement after some incredible sequence of events. I don’t include the hours of painstakingly dull friendlies that take place between matches, or the bored faces of spectators watching a monotonously slow puff ditto, or the snoozing players desperately catching up on sleep from the night before. In other words, I generally try to cut out the stuff that no one really wanted to see in the first place.
I should not, therefore, be so surprised when people base their opinions on what they think other people want to see.
Delaying the Inevitable
A couple of weeks ago, Wife’s article stirred up quite a bit of discussion on the topic of teams. Though his post had many salient points, it was only a few days before other players were through with their responses. However, there was one line in the article that deserved far more attention than it received: “if spectators are the key to our future, perhaps that future doesn’t feature doubles.” That line has a curiously convincing element to it, something that plays off of an unspoken, nigh-existential anxiety in the smash community… “What if everyone suddenly loses interest?”
Smash is one of the few games to ever experience a true revival. And, although we are all quite excited to see Liquid Ken/KDJ going up against Curse Chillin/Hbox sometime soon, we do all seem to understand that Melee’s mortality is as real as that of its community’s. Those of us old enough to recall some of the early gaming failures know all too well what it’s like to see consoles become worthless trash instead of treasured collectables. We know that smash will, one day, burn out, its competitors too engaged in family life or other responsibilities to spend their weekends in tiny, cramped comic book shops, competing for gift cards or store credit, and no hype trailers, no sponsorships, no plucky little tournament series will be enough to bring it back.
Mindfulness
Such worries are unavoidable consequences of communal self-reflection. I don’t go in for melodrama much these days, but, if I did, I’d tell you that any representation of melee’s life includes the blueprints for its inevitable dissolution. I’m not trying to frighten anyone with melee-community doomsday scaremongering, but rather the opposite. I want to stop being riddled with anxiety about what will happen when GimR tells me he’s shutting things down, and wishes me luck in all my future endeavors. I want to stop seeing tournaments being run on the basis of what will draw in the most viewers at which times. I want to stop seeing the community forfeit experiences, like the act of getting up at sixgoddamnthirty in the morning to drive for six hours and get steamrolled in some tourney somewhere while eating subs with floppy lettuce and stale bread in a sweaty malodorous room and enjoying every last little second of it, in favor of trying to put together something that looks like an enjoyable experience for the viewers at home.
It’s critical to remember that our success right now is largely due to our perceived profitability. This is not so sinister as it may seem, and we should of course be investing our time into doing whatever we can to extend the life of this game as long as possible–sponsors help. But we also need to be aware of the fact that all this glitz and flash surrounding the smash community is temporary, and that tournaments will likely still be going on long after Prog has commentated VGBC’s final livestream. While it may be tempting to make changes to our system for the benefit of the spectators, we need to do so cautiously, lest we realize that what we thought were inedible pieces of gristle turned out to be the bits we liked best of all.
Ooh. Very well-written.
Dear Jason,
I maintain that spectators, through financial incentive, provide a path toward a higher pedigree of SSBM.
Measuring greater heights of metagame against the integrity of the community, however, makes for interesting debate. One that I look forward to having with you for years to come.
Most sincerely,
Chris
Excellent article, Jason. I’m jealous of the older days of tournaments, and would like to experience it someday, but the direction ssbm is headed looks like I may not get that feeling as easily these days.
It won’t be too long before there are players who wish they’d been around to experience the current era of smash. Don’t worry about recreating the past; you’re creating tomorrow’s past right now.
Doesn’t that view kind of read contrary to your article?
“Don’t change who you are to make the game last longer or be better. Buuuuut, don’t worry about recreating the past.”
The community is changing. I think it’s important to draw a dichotomy between nostalgic feelings about how the community used to be and how the community should potentially evolve.
So when it comes to nostalgia, when it comes to discussing teams, when it comes to PC,when it comes to anything that changes the community, you have to try to look at it without nostalgia. And I’m not trying to fire shots, but it seems like that’s what your article is founded on.
Sure, it’s all wrapped up in this kind of grab-you-by-the-shoulders-and-scream “The game is going to die eventually. What game do you want to pay before that happens?”
But the answer to that, in my opinion at least, is really the answer you’ve already given.
“Don’t worry about recreating the past; you’re creating tomorrow’s past right now.”
Gladstone, it won’t let me reply to your comment, so I hope you see this one.
First of all, thank you for reading the post, and for your question. I appreciate the chance to explain things a bit more, and with a little less rhetoric.
On the topic of nostalgia, I really don’t see it as being particularly useful, particularly in the case of someone who is nostalgic for a time they did not experience themselves. It’d be hard to make the case that nostalgia is not part and parcel of why this game is beloved by so many people, though. Nonetheless, I wanted to make a more cogent point about our experience of playing versus what is being seen.
I am suggesting that what makes smash worth watching and what makes smash worth playing are not always the same things. I’m certainly not heralding a return to the past–my goodness. You should have seen smashboards in 2005, when having parents drive their kids to and fro tournaments was the norm, and people would Not Be Friends Anymore over arguments about whether Batman Could Beat Goku. Let’s never return to those days.
In the situations where what makes for good entertainment is incongruous with the spirit of the players, there will be a great deal of pressure from viewers (and potentially sponsors or media outlets) to change things in favor of the spectator element. I think that we will–and should–often choose in favor of the spectators, but also be ready and willing to defend those things that we see as integral to the core of our experience in the present moment.
I don’t want to instill a fear of death or some such nonsense. I just want to point out that one day, we won’t have people watching, even if we still have people playing.
The enduring qualities of Smash will keep it alive. That is, the freedom, expressiveness, and clash of wills that make it such a spectacle.Only apathy and irresponsibility on this generation of Smashers will bring about its dissolution. By apathy, I am referring to the the distinct period after MLG and before EVO 2013. This period holds very little by way of remarkable progress for Smash as an entity, as a sport. The community is under the delusion that their practices have directly yielded this burgeoning age, yet really they have been selfish and apathetic with regards to Smash as something more than a game. That selfishness is a display of irresponsibility, as they claim accolades belonging by and large external to the community. I don’t want the 200,000 of EVO, Smash deserves the millions of League of Legends, the millions of basketball and soccer. If this is not your goal, then stand aside.