Before I progress, I want to implore the veteran gamers to remember that this is my personal take on the casual vs competitive debate. When I wrote my first article, I didn't fully consider all the baggage that came with the term WAAC. While the gaming community was fairly supportive overall (even if they didn't agree), I think there was a miscommunication on my part with the purpose of the articles. My goal isn't to be divisive - I'm merely sharing my experiences on both extremes, and where that journey placed me.
Now then, I'd like to start this the same way I began my casual article and define what WAAC meant to me. These are a bit harder to pin down, because I wasn't the most mature, rational person during this part of my gaming years.
- Know all the rules and use those to help you or hurt my opponent. If I can win on a technicality, or undo something they did because they made one small, harmless error, you can believe I'll do it.
- Don't give "take backs" or "do overs" unless I'm were offered one first.
- Play to beat my opponent in any game setting, whether in a tournament or in relaxed game. Even if they're brand new, I'll take that win because they need to know what it's really like to play the game.
- Blatant cheating isn't allowed, but anything I could justify as "soft cheating" is fair game. More on this later.
- If something is overpowered, I'll use it if it gets me a win (especially if it requires less skill to use)
- If someone makes a small error in a setting where they can be disqualified or banned for it, tattle on them and tell myself I just want an honest game.
- At the end of the day, a W is a W no matter how I get it
Admit it, you would have punched me if you knew me then. It's fine, because if you had I would probably call you up today and thank you for it. Pardon the language, but I was a complete "douche" in my teen years! But at the time, it didn't matter because I was feeding my ego.
I'm really not sure how I got to this point. My first article in this series pretty well reflects who I've been for the majority of my life. I've always been that quiet, passive guy who doesn't make waves. I was raised on "play for fun, winning isn't important," and I've almost always held to that. But from the age of 17 to about 24, I would go through these inexplicable periods of "competitive douche-baggery."
My main games at the time were YuGiOh (stop laughing), World of Warcraft, and Call of Duty. To this day, Call of Duty threatens to bring "that guy" out of me, which is why I have to walk away as soon as I stop having fun with it. But at the time, fun wasn't a factor in my playing.
I'm really not sure how I got to this point. My first article in this series pretty well reflects who I've been for the majority of my life. I've always been that quiet, passive guy who doesn't make waves. I was raised on "play for fun, winning isn't important," and I've almost always held to that. But from the age of 17 to about 24, I would go through these inexplicable periods of "competitive douche-baggery."
My main games at the time were YuGiOh (stop laughing), World of Warcraft, and Call of Duty. To this day, Call of Duty threatens to bring "that guy" out of me, which is why I have to walk away as soon as I stop having fun with it. But at the time, fun wasn't a factor in my playing.
I robotically approached each game as "must win," without any real reason why. Within a short time, winning wasn't even fun anymore; it was just something I felt I had to do. So I'd spend hours on the Xbox, I'd visit the YuGiOh tournaments twice a week, and every minute of my "fun time" would be a miserable drive to beat anyone no matter what.
The worst part is that I wasn't any good at these games. In YuGiOh I could hit 2nd or 3rd place on a good day, but I'm terrible at first-person shooters. So I resorted to some things that people (rightfully) look down on.
In YuGiOh, I copied winning decks. Originality went out the window - I didn't even like the decks I played until Zombies became competitive. This is known as "net decking," where you take a winning list and just run it without any testing on your part. While not wrong in and of itself, it completely disengaged me from actually knowing the intricacies of the game, and after years of playing I had only created one original deck (which I still have in my closet somewhere).
On top that, I would do the most unsavory things to win. If I finished shuffling my deck and saw my best card on the bottom, I'd shuffle it one or two more times to get it closer to the top. If someone drew too many cards, I'd call a judge over. If they added lifepoints wrong in my favor, I'd keep quiet. I wouldn't outright do something I considered cheating, but my need to win clouded my sense of morality during the game.
In Call of Duty... I did everything you hated to see the enemy team do. I camped, I noob tubed, I boosted for kill streaks, I used map glitches... as long as I got to see that "You Killed xxxBadKidxxx" I was happy because I was "winning." For those who aren't familiar with the terms, it all boils down to fighting dirty.
Warcraft is hardly worth mentioning because I was terrible in player vs player content. Most of my time in that game was spent using my max level characters to constantly kill lower-level enemies, or using map glitches to feel all-powerful and kill people I'd otherwise have no chance against. My skill level was abysmal, but it does contribute to the overall picture of how I approached WAAC.
In the end, this all boiled down to immaturity. It's not just that I wanted to win, because that's what games are about. I had this fantasy of being a top-level player in my games, and I did whatever I could to make myself feel like that goal was coming closer. I went so far as to start planning a signal system a friend and I could use for when one of us was playing a game and the other was behind the opponent.
Sadly, this is the image many people have of WAAC players. Obviously people like that exist, but I like to think it's a "corner case" situation. But no one ever called me out on it, so I continued in blind stupidity until reality finally set in.
I was playing in a YuGiOh league that had no real prize for the winner. I was playing a kid who was barely in the double-digit years of his life, and he clearly had no idea what he was doing. The win was obviously mine in this game, and I used a card that required me to shuffle my deck. I did so, and saw a card on the top of my deck that I knew was useless to me. So I hesitated and shuffled once more so that I wouldn't have a dead draw.
That's when it hit me. I was a grown man trying to beat a kid at a game. Not through skill alone, but by any means necessary. It was embarrassing, and it was the last time I played YuGiOh for years. After years of periodic WAAC gaming that punctuated my extreme casual style, I took an objective look at what I was doing and realized how truly silly I had been. And just like my realization about playing to win, I had an epiphany that was a mirror opposite of what I hated about myself as a casual player.
If you don't play to have fun, why play at all?
(Interestingly, someone on the Privateer Press forums also said this as a response to my first post)
However, I wasn't ready to be a balanced player. I retreated back to a heavy state of "casual" play and stayed there, perhaps in penance for the monster I felt I'd become. I played games, but again I just went through the rules of the game and didn't challenge my friends. I made it a point of only playing cooperative games so that I wouldn't have to play a game based on me trying to beat someone.
I later joined my gaming group and soon discovered wargaming. It sounds silly, but I really struggled. The games aren't just 10 minute duels using cards, but 1-2 hour-long slugfests full of strategic maneuvering and a little luck. I played to win, but I found myself not playing aggressively for fear of ruining someone's fun or falling back in to my habit of "playing to win" (not that anyone in my group would believe that).
I had become scared of competing, and I wasn't sure why. I told myself I wanted to play a relaxed game where it didn't matter who won, but I knew that if I started trying to win, I'd become that stupid, WAAC player who didn't care about honor, fun, or the fact that my opponent was a person and not an obstacle to be overcome.
In my next post, I'll wrap this up by discussing the balance I think I've found, and my thoughts on the sometimes hostile debate between casual and competitive players. I've become engrossed in the book Playing to Win by David Sirlin, which was recommended to me by someone who read my previous post. It's really helped put words to what I've been thinking, and I think it will be a great resource as I write my final article in this series.
See you tomorrow!
The worst part is that I wasn't any good at these games. In YuGiOh I could hit 2nd or 3rd place on a good day, but I'm terrible at first-person shooters. So I resorted to some things that people (rightfully) look down on.
In YuGiOh, I copied winning decks. Originality went out the window - I didn't even like the decks I played until Zombies became competitive. This is known as "net decking," where you take a winning list and just run it without any testing on your part. While not wrong in and of itself, it completely disengaged me from actually knowing the intricacies of the game, and after years of playing I had only created one original deck (which I still have in my closet somewhere).
On top that, I would do the most unsavory things to win. If I finished shuffling my deck and saw my best card on the bottom, I'd shuffle it one or two more times to get it closer to the top. If someone drew too many cards, I'd call a judge over. If they added lifepoints wrong in my favor, I'd keep quiet. I wouldn't outright do something I considered cheating, but my need to win clouded my sense of morality during the game.
In Call of Duty... I did everything you hated to see the enemy team do. I camped, I noob tubed, I boosted for kill streaks, I used map glitches... as long as I got to see that "You Killed xxxBadKidxxx" I was happy because I was "winning." For those who aren't familiar with the terms, it all boils down to fighting dirty.
Warcraft is hardly worth mentioning because I was terrible in player vs player content. Most of my time in that game was spent using my max level characters to constantly kill lower-level enemies, or using map glitches to feel all-powerful and kill people I'd otherwise have no chance against. My skill level was abysmal, but it does contribute to the overall picture of how I approached WAAC.
In the end, this all boiled down to immaturity. It's not just that I wanted to win, because that's what games are about. I had this fantasy of being a top-level player in my games, and I did whatever I could to make myself feel like that goal was coming closer. I went so far as to start planning a signal system a friend and I could use for when one of us was playing a game and the other was behind the opponent.
Sadly, this is the image many people have of WAAC players. Obviously people like that exist, but I like to think it's a "corner case" situation. But no one ever called me out on it, so I continued in blind stupidity until reality finally set in.
I was playing in a YuGiOh league that had no real prize for the winner. I was playing a kid who was barely in the double-digit years of his life, and he clearly had no idea what he was doing. The win was obviously mine in this game, and I used a card that required me to shuffle my deck. I did so, and saw a card on the top of my deck that I knew was useless to me. So I hesitated and shuffled once more so that I wouldn't have a dead draw.
That's when it hit me. I was a grown man trying to beat a kid at a game. Not through skill alone, but by any means necessary. It was embarrassing, and it was the last time I played YuGiOh for years. After years of periodic WAAC gaming that punctuated my extreme casual style, I took an objective look at what I was doing and realized how truly silly I had been. And just like my realization about playing to win, I had an epiphany that was a mirror opposite of what I hated about myself as a casual player.
If you don't play to have fun, why play at all?
(Interestingly, someone on the Privateer Press forums also said this as a response to my first post)
However, I wasn't ready to be a balanced player. I retreated back to a heavy state of "casual" play and stayed there, perhaps in penance for the monster I felt I'd become. I played games, but again I just went through the rules of the game and didn't challenge my friends. I made it a point of only playing cooperative games so that I wouldn't have to play a game based on me trying to beat someone.
I later joined my gaming group and soon discovered wargaming. It sounds silly, but I really struggled. The games aren't just 10 minute duels using cards, but 1-2 hour-long slugfests full of strategic maneuvering and a little luck. I played to win, but I found myself not playing aggressively for fear of ruining someone's fun or falling back in to my habit of "playing to win" (not that anyone in my group would believe that).
I had become scared of competing, and I wasn't sure why. I told myself I wanted to play a relaxed game where it didn't matter who won, but I knew that if I started trying to win, I'd become that stupid, WAAC player who didn't care about honor, fun, or the fact that my opponent was a person and not an obstacle to be overcome.
In my next post, I'll wrap this up by discussing the balance I think I've found, and my thoughts on the sometimes hostile debate between casual and competitive players. I've become engrossed in the book Playing to Win by David Sirlin, which was recommended to me by someone who read my previous post. It's really helped put words to what I've been thinking, and I think it will be a great resource as I write my final article in this series.
See you tomorrow!
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