Disclaimer: This is a guest article. Any views or opinions expressed within this article are those of the author and do not represent the views or opinions of Melee It On Me, or any of its members or affiliates.

There’s no question about it: Smash is changing. Four years ago, the community was very closely-knit; it survived on Smashboards, nurtured by a handful of dedicated organizers and community leaders who did whatever they could to keep tournaments going. I was not a part of that community. I spent most of 2010 arguing with my best friend over how cheap Falco’s d-throw chaingrab was on Fox in Brawl. How there was nothing cool about being grabbed and pummeled by the Ice Climbers with no chance of escape. I was, in the purest sense of the term, a scrub. The worst kind of competitive player, someone who plays one-on-ones, but only accepts the legitimacy of a win based on their own made-up criteria.

Meanwhile, the two best Melee players in the world were starting a rivalry that would ignite the Melee scene with a furious fire. Two players, using characters no one thought were viable, facing off in Grand Finals at Genesis and then again two years later. Four years after Genesis II, their stories have expanded immensely. Both Mango and Armada have sponsors. They both wield dual mains, they both have rivalries not only with each other, but with a handful of other players hungry to upset them. They are making a living through Smash, a claim very few people can make.

Our scene has reflected their growth. Numbers have risen, from just under 700 at Evo 2013 to almost twice that at this year’s Evo. Samox brought exposure to the birth of the tournament scene through his nine-part documentary series, and thanks to a wave of community support, is hard at work preparing a feature length film on Mango, Armada, and the rise of the five gods of the game. Where hundred-man tournaments were rare five years ago, there was a string of sixteen straight weeks in 2014 that had at least one. Under the hard work of MattDotZeb, HectoHertz, and other amazing TOs, colleges and universities from across the nation are competing in the Melee Games. And a fan-made modification of Brawl has become so important to the scene that we are reminded of its presence on a constant basis.

It is the last part that hints at what’s truly going on with our community. Project M is showing us that our community has changed even from what it was a couple of years ago. Even since the documentary was released, many of the pictures it painted have been morphed, our scene is now a seemingly unstoppable and unrecognizable creature compared to the grassroots family of the post-Brawl era. We have had to face serious controversy, with the near cancellation of this year’s Apex being just one example of the countless obstacles we’ve had to overcome throughout the competitive Smash tenure.

We have also attracted the attention of organizations with money and power, and more often than not, our community has not handled their incorporation with much grace or dignity. While community leaders have addressed each individual situation with relative maturity and a level-head, there is a lack of discussion from relevant parties about the big question: What does being e-sports actually mean?

Photo courtesy of Melee It On Me

 

Family

The Second School Melee players, those who rose to prominence after Ken’s fall, during the post-Brawl era, always talk about how the Smash community is a big family. For them, it certainly is; when they went to Genesis, it was the largest tournament of its kind and everyone knew who everyone was. There were rivalries and arguments on the internet springing up constantly, and some feuds were very well known (see: Mango & Hungrybox).

For all the drama in the community, however, they were still family because nothing could come between them. It’s not like livelihoods or careers were on the line at Pound or ROM, it was just the people who loved Melee for what it was and wanted to play it. There was nothing at stake except for pride; no desire to try and be something they weren’t–it was pure and distilled Melee at its most basic level.

Much of that spirit still remains, but the nature of our family has changed. When I went to Apex, it’s not like anyone was unfriendly to me. I cracked wise with Tafo, made several stupid bets against MattDotZeb, and fanboyed hard when Hungrybox asked if he could play me in a hotel room because he said I had “a good Falco.” But there wasn’t a sense of family between Hungrybox and I when we played. It wasn’t about playing my brother who I’ve grown up with, trash talking and having a good time. Like a hundred other players at Apex, I was “a good Falco.” Sure, he would recognize me, but I was just practice for him. There was a divide between us; everyone at a venue wants to play the well-known players. They aren’t just players anymore–they’re celebrities–and even though they’re all down-to-earth, and no one has a big head about it, it’s tough to start a lasting friendship with someone while a pack of people are clamoring behind you to get a chance to play them. Even though our family members haven’t changed and are still as wonderful as ever, our family has.

It’s like going home for Thanksgiving 15 years apart; when I was younger my whole family filled the dining room table with 14 people. Now it’s an affair with everyone’s children, significant others, and so forth, to the point where sitting down at the same table is impossible. Now our Thanksgiving dinner is buffet-style, and instead of 14 people sitting down together, it’s 28 people sitting in groups of 5 or 6 scattered all over the house. Our family is all still there and together, but what we gain by having more family to enjoy, we lose by not being able to enjoy it together.

That’s how our scene has transformed: a bigger family, but a more distant one. And it has created issues, most notably in how we deal with each other. An argument on the internet is no longer about a rivalry between two people; now lines are drawn in the sand as hundreds of people take sides. It is here that the child of our scene comes into the picture.

Photo courtesy of Clash Tournaments

Project M and Nintendo

The community split when Brawl was released. Old School players stopped playing, and the members of the Smash community took sides then as they’re doing now. Eventually, as they grew older and learned more, they started bridging the gap between Brawl and Melee by creating a mod that aimed to make the former more like the latter. It would take the things we liked about Brawl (more characters, better textures, etc.) and make them as fluid and competitive as Melee. It was a success in basements and living rooms for some time, but might have just ended up like Brawl Minus or a half dozen other mods: fun, but not worth investing the time necessary to master it. But, whether through good timing or fortune, PM became a dominant force in the early part of 2014. When PM 3.0 was released, it was shortly after the documentary. Aided by the exposure it gained in the documentary itself, not to mention the constant praise and publicity by Dylan Sprouse, PM reached a fever pitch at Apex 2014, when two gods of the game demonstrated what high-level PM play could look like. It was fun, it was unique, it was easy to install, and it expanded the community in a way Melee itself couldn’t.

This, ironically, proved to be a major problem later on.

As our community continued to expand, there was a constant presence in the background. Nintendo had taken notice of the competitive community. Where for years they had been reluctant to work with us, their blunder at Evo 2013 showed them there was a passionate fan base. More importantly, when Nintendo shut down the stream at Evo, a campaign on Reddit (and other sites) brought a huge amount of exposure and bad PR to the company from sources outside the competitive community), and it became crystal clear that they had to acknowledge us in some way from now on.

Their involvement coincided with the release of their new Smash title, likely accelerated through the development process in an attempt to ride the wave of support Melee had been receiving. They saw the smash community as free PR for them, but only if they supported us. However, it has become clear that the support we want from them and the support they want to give us are not the same.

Nintendo’s invitational is probably the best example of the dissonance between desires: Nintendo’s tournament was run with their ideal ruleset. Smash was designed to be a four-person free for all game: chaotic, fun, exciting…and juvenile. If a person wanted to win in a free-for-all match, the best strategy was to run away and steal kills. The more a player entered the fray, the more likely they were to take damage and lose lives, and so while it is the best format for friends who do not take the game seriously, it is not the best format for determined, thoughtful competition.

Their balance to this, and an attempt to reach out to the competitive community, was to make Grand Finals a one-on-one battle, with no items. It was supposed to be competitive, skill-based, and exactly what the competitive community should have loved. And then Nintendo found out something those of us in the competitive community already know:

We want to win.

Photo courtesy of Venturebeat

 

For some people, the method doesn’t matter, it’s just the W that counts. So when Zero used a strategy that took advantage of the tools at his disposal to time out Hungrybox in Grand Finals, it showed the competitive community two things: one, that the philosophy of design in Smash 4 encourages defensive play in a way neither Melee nor PM does, and by extension, we learned that Nintendo doesn’t understand why we love those games so much.

Nintendo, on the other hand, took the wrong message away. Even though the competitive community was dissatisfied with Smash 4 from early on, the invitational was a big spectacle and Nintendo saw huge benefits from it. They determined that they wanted more to do with the competitive community, and began sponsoring events. Not only did they want to expand Smash 4 into a competitive format, they also sought to bring exposure to all of their Smash games. Which is where PM comes back into play.

The legality behind PM is ambiguous. In Japan, it is illegal to make modifications to software and distribute it without the consent of all parties involved. Since Brawl has intellectual property from Sega, Nintendo, Konami, Camelot, and scores of other companies, it is simply not feasible for a grassroots community to pay for, or at least bargain for, the consent from so many different developers. However, American copyright law makes no such restriction against the modification of the software. It only maintains that no money can be made from its distribution. Since the PM development team is mainly American, and they do not charge anything to download PM from their website, no one who plays PM is doing so illegally. However, this also means that Nintendo cannot have a stake in Project M or its future. Because PM is a Japanese company, and Brawl is filled with Japanese IP, if Nintendo decided to openly support and encourage Project M, they would be liable for lawsuits from all of the other stakeholders in Japan. On the flip-side, because trying to stop PM outright would be disastrous and futile, Nintendo has chosen to remain silent on the issue. More than choosing to stay silent, they have mandated silence on PM from anyone who they are affiliated with, for fear that making mention of PM could trigger a wave of expensive copyright lawsuits.

This has had far-reaching consequences in our scene. Nintendo was an Apex sponsor this year, and as a result, the largest tournament of our time could not host, or even mention, our (at the time) second-most popular game. Nintendo is likely behind Super Smash Con, which as a result will also not have PM available. VGBootCamp, our most notable stream service, whose status as such was aided in large part through their promotion of PM, has now ceased any affiliation with it. It has, understandably, left PM players in the dirt, scorned and upset at what feels like a personal attack by a company who has no regard for our scene.

Photo courtesy of Clash Tournaments

 

Selling Out

We arrive now at the big issue our community faces: Is it worth it to have bigger tournaments, more prize money, sponsors, streams, and all the perks of a booming community if we must give up the thing that we built together as a community…that seemingly kept us together? In the post-Brawl era, players joined together out of love and support for the game. Now our community’s baby is being shunned from all angles; those who previously supported PM have since been silenced. The question is on many people’s minds: are we selling out our child for the money we need?

There are good arguments to be had for both sides. PM has been a part of the community this entire time, but as we’ve seen more and more PM-exclusive players, it has developed into a community of its own. By shunning it and running events where PM is not welcome, we are cutting off a limb of our community. This goes against what we are supposed to be about: family. There is real animosity from PM-exclusive players, because it feels like no one wants them to be part of the family anymore. They feel as though all the statements from the documentary and leaders about our community being a welcoming family are fraudulent and hypocritical, and it’s all because we’re deliberately shunning a portion of our community to please Nintendo. They feel as if we’ve turned our back on what we believed in, in exchange for money and support. In the simplest terms, they feel as if we’ve sold out.

But there is a flip side: Comedian Patton Oswalt has a bit on his latest CD about what selling out meant for him. He had thought, growing up, that a person reaches a crossroad where on one hand, they have their integrity, and on the other hand, they have success and fame. He then told a story about working a show at a casino, where he was offered more money than he’d ever been offered, and was treated like royalty. He played a show to a room of 400 screaming drunks, was encouraged to go only half the time he was slotted for, told no jokes and just let the crowd scream and yell at him, got a standing ovation, and was offered to work the casino again at any point he wanted. The highlight is that he told no jokes. He was a comedian, that was his job, his craft, his artistic integrity, and he didn’t have to tell a single joke to get paid more money than he’d ever made before.

Our community has not sold out by turning its back on PM. If VGBootCamp had taken money from Nintendo to stream nothing but Nintendo advertisements and make no mention of Smash whatsoever, that would be selling out. That’s the casino show: turning your back on everything you’ve loved in order to be successful. Our TOs and community leaders have not turned their backs on Smash. Melee and Smash 4 are more successful than ever before, and are still growing. Evo this year will be massive; Melee may very well have the highest number of attendees of any game there when all is said and done. Super Smash Con is the biggest thing to ever happen for the series. Think of Smash 64, who previously had to rely on Apex for its big tournament draw every year. SS Con is likely to pull in even larger numbers for that game. Right now, around ten people are making their living through Smash. That number is likely to increase dramatically as tournaments become more commonplace, quality commentators, organizers, and streamers become more in demand, and the level of top players expands.

Yes, we have lost PM in that process. PM will never again share the main stage with Melee at our biggest tournaments, and the loss isn’t insignificant. PM-exclusive players feel this hurt deeply. There will be no massive prize pools for them, Smash’s biggest streams won’t show their content, and they will forever be relegated to a small side section of the venue. For Melee players, this is an acceptable loss–it’s collateral damage. For them, it is not like cutting off a limb, it’s more like removing a branch from a tree to allow it to grow to new heights. However, to assume that Melee players simply don’t care about the PM scene would be ill-informed and misguided. Melee has gone through struggles for almost 14 years now; Melee players can relate with the trials and tribulations of the grassroots scenes, of not being wanted, and of being downright dismissed by Nintendo. However, with the loss of PM comes the growth of Melee. Melee is entering a new era, and the Melee-exclusive players are excited for the possibilities that lie ahead of us now that their game has legitimacy.

Photo courtesy of Wynton “Prog” Smith

Thanksgiving

So what does that mean for our family? PM has torn a rift between us, where one side feels angry and hurt, and the other side doesn’t seem to care–but that doesn’t mean they don’t care. This is no different from returning home for Thanksgiving and finding yourself in the midst of a sibling feud, and the key to overcoming it is to remember what brings your family back together.

PM players, you are always a part of our community, and never let anyone tell you otherwise. People will continue to play PM, there will continue to be people who master it, and in time PM may even see exclusive tournaments of its own.

Who knows how long it will be before the Genesis of PM comes around to spark a rivalry between two PM-exclusive players? How long will it take before another VGBC comes around that is dedicated to PM? Melee and VGBC have both existed longer than PM has, so it makes sense that those two would be united. But families never outgrow themselves. I will never return home for Thanksgiving to be told there’s no room in the house for me because of a fight with my sister. We always have room for PM players in our community, and we will always support you in what you decide to do. PM is still family for the competitive Smash community.

But it is time to grow up. I was very fortunate that my family supports me in everything I do. They helped me through college, paid my rent and expenses when I needed it, and never gave up on me. But at some point I had to live on my own. I had to take responsibility for my own future, and for PM players that time is now. It sucks that it had to be this way, but Melee is growing up and becoming successful. It is unfair for PM players to resent Melee or its figureheads for their success. It is unfair to call them sellouts for making sacrifices to support the thing they love. The Smash community is still family, but as our family has grown, we’ve had to change what that means. We can’t all eat at the dinner table anymore, but just because we eat in smaller groups around the house doesn’t mean we love each other any less, and it doesn’t mean the Melee scene won’t do all it can to help the PM scene get back on it’s feet.

Written by Josh (roboticphish) Kassel, formerly of the MN Smash scene and currently a rising player in the MD/VA scene. He can be contacted at kassel.josh@gmail.com, or at @roboticphish, for information regarding this and future articles.