First, this post is coming fresh from Genesis 2, which was pretty darn awesome. I got lots of advice, played lots of people, and realized what my next step will be in Melee.
I have mainly two people to thank for this. The first player is Lovage.
During our friendlies and tournament sets, I found myself making... mostly decent decisions. The problem is that I always seemed to be a few frames too slow, while Lovage was ALSO making lots of good decisions, but without any hesitation. So he had a tendency to get the shine or the aerial out just a little bit quicker than me, and I couldn't really figure out why. Was it a Fox thing, or were my reflexes just too slow?
And of course, there was the usual specter of my little technical flubs and clumsiness hanging over our games. But we'll get to that in a moment.
The second player I have to thank is Armada. First off, watching his games was pretty much a great experience. He is extremely sharp, makes intelligent decisions, rarely makes any technical errors despite playing at high speed, and he changes up his playstyle constantly. So he's like, pretty good or something.
But the reason I bring him up is because at one point I asked him what he thinks about while he plays, and he said, "nothing." He doesn't think about his tech skill and he doesn't think about winning or losing, he just plays in a blank mental state.
Which pretty much corresponds with what most people have said forever about... everything. The best mental state for execution and decision making--according to a variety of sources, from old Chinese dudes to modern psychologists--is one of emptiness. After a long enough period of training and practice, any given task turns into instinct for you. You do not stop to think, "I am going to swing my sword," but rather, thinking and doing become the same act! Or as close to it as possible.
So the title of today's blog becomes clear. Implementation lag is the distance between making a decision to do something and doing it. With training and focus, implementation lag decreases. I believe one of my problems has been a lack of focus during practice, where I will practice a variety of things sporadically. None of them become ingrained enough into my brain, which is why I always feel like my reflexes are so slow.
Furthermore, this is--I believe--part of why I make so many technical errors! Not only am I taking too long to think about it, but the conscious thought process interferes with the action and increases the likelihood of failure.
There are times, however, where I know EXACTLY what I will do given an opponent's action and my own speed surprises me. Stuff that I rarely mess up.
So today's big point is that if you focus on practicing things enough, and you rehearse them and understand them enough, you will act automatically when the appropriate situation arises. And the odds of you screwing up are lower, because you are not consciously thinking about it, which means your body can get on with things without your brain getting in the way.
This is where I want to advocate a practice method that really needs to be used more often--by myself included--where instead of just playing 4 stock matches over and over again, you set the mode to Time but make it infinite. This allows you and your practice partner to train certain scenarios without worrying about the outcome; you can play as Falco against a Fox that wants to camp the edge, or be a Marth that wants to stop Sheik from ledge-stalling, or just get someone to platform camp you for 30 minutes while you test out various solutions.
This method allows you to focus heavily on a particularly isolated aspect of the game and improve at it more quickly than if you only get the sporadic training that is characteristic of a regular match.
I hope these thoughts prove interesting and useful to you. I intend to start training a lot harder and more focused than I have before. It's kind of funny because it's actually all advice I've given in the past, but never really followed through on for myself. But this really does feel like my next step, and I hope to surprise everybody at the next big tournament with improved focus and tech skill from my corner :)
Take care everybody.
PS I did not proofread this. Sorry for all crummy writing errors.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Critical Hits
Not all mistakes are created equal. A Peach getting hit by a soft Sheik b-air while on a platform and taking needless damage is an error. Messing up a powershielded laser against Falco is another error. They cost you a bit of percent, but they generally aren't that big of a deal.
On the other hand, missing a tech against a Pikachu on FD when you're playing as Fox is a HUGE mistake because he's going to CG you from zero to death. Letting Puff u-tilt you at 10 percent without CC'ing it is big mistake. Falco burning his double jump somewhere, then finding himself beneath the edge of the level is a massive mistake. These are the kinds of errors that will cost you an entire stock in the blink of an eye. So, to repeat: not all mistakes are equal.
Look at this from two perspectives. First, as a player, your goal in a match is to AVOID those critical mistakes. Knowing the matchup that you're playing is pivotal for this reason, because it tells you what mistakes are huge, earth shattering, game costing errors, and which ones are not. And that will generally give you information about how you should be playing your matchup! You can also learn ways to reduce certain openings and minimize damage on you; CCing, DI'ing combos so they can't land efficient finishers, and just staying in positions where your opponent can't land combo starting moves. It's an underrated defensive skill, but minimizing damage to yourself is something a lot of good players have. It's why you don't see them get hit by lots of stock ending combos; not just because they don't get hit, but because they are good at minimizing damage through intelligent decision-making.
Second, your OPPONENT will be making these mistakes as well. Knowing what they are and knowing how to capitalize efficiently can make you a nightmare to play against in those matchups, because it creates an ever-present threat that any mistake can end the stock. M2K's Marth against Fox or Falco, for instance, is one of the most shining examples of this. He practically earned a living by chain grabbing, comboing, and gimping spacies off the most inoccuous of hits. Of course, this earned him a reputation for "playing gay," but when you get right down to it, every player wishes they could be as efficient at murdering Fox and Falco as M2K was. It meant that every match against him was close, even if you were 3 stocks ahead, because you were always a few mistakes away from losing the game. So not only is it a skill to see these mistakes and capitalize, but it's also a skill to convert smaller errors and openings into bigger ones with good resets and reads.
Remember, your job--and your opponent's!--is to turn every hit into a stock when possible. Likewise, you also must avoid letting little openings snowball into bigger ones, and learn how to read when your opponent is going for big punishes so you can dodge them.
Sometimes stock-ending decisions can just come from a really solid read. They aren't necessarily mistakes, but simply positions where certain options have nasty consequences if the other guy guesses right. In this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qwKHr-5wyk#t=6m59s
I hit ARC with an f-smash, and read his up+b to the edge, and just go for an edgehog at 54 percent. It's not really an error on his part; getting the edge is an excellent idea for spacies, and up+b'ing high can give them lots of recovery options. But if you can get the read in a critical situation like that, you can take stocks without even touching the other guy. Then my next stock on him is him allowing the ICs to land a synchronized grab near the edge, then not escaping the d-throw d-air, two pretty big errors for a space animal to make in that matchup.
One of the nice things about landing these critical hits is that they have a tendency to send the other guy on tilt. It gets him thinking that you got lucky, that the matchup is stupid or lame, and that can lead to hasty thinking that lets you exploit more of these nasty mistakes. And again, the flipside is to understand that every matchup has these and it's entirely possible you may fall victim to them, and shake it off when it happens.
So, how can you get better at seeing these situations and capitalizing? Here are some general tips:
--if you have a chaingrab of some kind, you should spend some practice time trying to link your hits--even really stupid, lame, lucky ones--into grabs. Resist the urge to go for smash attacks as your finisher, and try to look for ways to extend your combos.
--if you have the option of sending someone off the edge, consider using weaker hits that will send them low, rather than a more powerful one that lets them DI upward.
--if your opponent really likes going for the edge, give them a little time to decide they're going to go there, then just take it from them.
--if your combo can either keep going or you can end it, mix it up! For isntance, a badly DI'd knee from Falcon can end the stock on a lot of characters at 40 percent, and if they're certain you plan to go for up-airs instead, you can cheese out a stock off one powerful hit.
Remember this and learn how to spot those really big mistakes in the blink of an eye, and soon you will need to go on a diet from eating too many free stocks. Good luck!
On the other hand, missing a tech against a Pikachu on FD when you're playing as Fox is a HUGE mistake because he's going to CG you from zero to death. Letting Puff u-tilt you at 10 percent without CC'ing it is big mistake. Falco burning his double jump somewhere, then finding himself beneath the edge of the level is a massive mistake. These are the kinds of errors that will cost you an entire stock in the blink of an eye. So, to repeat: not all mistakes are equal.
Look at this from two perspectives. First, as a player, your goal in a match is to AVOID those critical mistakes. Knowing the matchup that you're playing is pivotal for this reason, because it tells you what mistakes are huge, earth shattering, game costing errors, and which ones are not. And that will generally give you information about how you should be playing your matchup! You can also learn ways to reduce certain openings and minimize damage on you; CCing, DI'ing combos so they can't land efficient finishers, and just staying in positions where your opponent can't land combo starting moves. It's an underrated defensive skill, but minimizing damage to yourself is something a lot of good players have. It's why you don't see them get hit by lots of stock ending combos; not just because they don't get hit, but because they are good at minimizing damage through intelligent decision-making.
Second, your OPPONENT will be making these mistakes as well. Knowing what they are and knowing how to capitalize efficiently can make you a nightmare to play against in those matchups, because it creates an ever-present threat that any mistake can end the stock. M2K's Marth against Fox or Falco, for instance, is one of the most shining examples of this. He practically earned a living by chain grabbing, comboing, and gimping spacies off the most inoccuous of hits. Of course, this earned him a reputation for "playing gay," but when you get right down to it, every player wishes they could be as efficient at murdering Fox and Falco as M2K was. It meant that every match against him was close, even if you were 3 stocks ahead, because you were always a few mistakes away from losing the game. So not only is it a skill to see these mistakes and capitalize, but it's also a skill to convert smaller errors and openings into bigger ones with good resets and reads.
Remember, your job--and your opponent's!--is to turn every hit into a stock when possible. Likewise, you also must avoid letting little openings snowball into bigger ones, and learn how to read when your opponent is going for big punishes so you can dodge them.
Sometimes stock-ending decisions can just come from a really solid read. They aren't necessarily mistakes, but simply positions where certain options have nasty consequences if the other guy guesses right. In this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qwKHr-5wyk#t=6m59s
I hit ARC with an f-smash, and read his up+b to the edge, and just go for an edgehog at 54 percent. It's not really an error on his part; getting the edge is an excellent idea for spacies, and up+b'ing high can give them lots of recovery options. But if you can get the read in a critical situation like that, you can take stocks without even touching the other guy. Then my next stock on him is him allowing the ICs to land a synchronized grab near the edge, then not escaping the d-throw d-air, two pretty big errors for a space animal to make in that matchup.
One of the nice things about landing these critical hits is that they have a tendency to send the other guy on tilt. It gets him thinking that you got lucky, that the matchup is stupid or lame, and that can lead to hasty thinking that lets you exploit more of these nasty mistakes. And again, the flipside is to understand that every matchup has these and it's entirely possible you may fall victim to them, and shake it off when it happens.
So, how can you get better at seeing these situations and capitalizing? Here are some general tips:
--if you have a chaingrab of some kind, you should spend some practice time trying to link your hits--even really stupid, lame, lucky ones--into grabs. Resist the urge to go for smash attacks as your finisher, and try to look for ways to extend your combos.
--if you have the option of sending someone off the edge, consider using weaker hits that will send them low, rather than a more powerful one that lets them DI upward.
--if your opponent really likes going for the edge, give them a little time to decide they're going to go there, then just take it from them.
--if your combo can either keep going or you can end it, mix it up! For isntance, a badly DI'd knee from Falcon can end the stock on a lot of characters at 40 percent, and if they're certain you plan to go for up-airs instead, you can cheese out a stock off one powerful hit.
Remember this and learn how to spot those really big mistakes in the blink of an eye, and soon you will need to go on a diet from eating too many free stocks. Good luck!
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Urgh
Another practice session, more mixed feelings.
I honestly can't make heads or tails of my tech-skill difficulties. I have to be honest with myself about some of my shortcomings and things that I need to work around in order to solve this problem: I have essential tremors, which basically means that my muscles are *always* jumping and twitching even when I'm really relaxed. It's not major (unless I'm really nervous or hungry), and I don't really have a problem doing any day to day activities, but it makes fine muscle control really difficult. It certainly doesn't help when I try to play piano in front of people, or Smash in competitive environments.
I also have to accept the fact that I'm horrendously ADD and that makes it hard to focus. I'll be playing matches, even important tournament ones, and not even be thinking about them at all. I can get a bit of a boost in concentration by drinking a crap-load of caffiene in the form of soda or an energy drink, or I can take Adderall, but unfortunately stimulants directly and negatively impact my tremors.
I've sorted out a lot of my mood issues, I think. I get frustrated but I've found ways to shortcircuit both my angry and depressive spells.
The question is, where do I go from here?
Last night I played about 7 hours worth of friendlies with DoH, and as usual I was all over the place. I would go one match nailing everything, feeling really good, and feel like I really understood how to interact with the game. Then the next game I would miss my jump button, randomly double jump with my joystick a few times, wavedash straight up (which doesn't actually work in case you were wondering) or accidentally overshoot my B button while recovering and brush the c-stick instead. Usually games were somewhere in between, but it's really hard to understand how I'm supposed to play when I can't actually interact with the game.
This is something I've struggled to explain to people many times. I honestly have times, entire matches, where I just can't do *anything*. I will try to dash and jump instead, I will screw up five wavedashes in a row by airdodging horizontally, I'll miss every L-cancel, I'll try to do a basic grab combo with ICs and just whiff my c-stick completely. I will be the first to admit that I make some really DUMB decisions when I'm under pressure, but at the same time many things that appear to be bad decisions are the result of me being incapable of doing things I want with the controller.
My recorded friendlies at APEX with Armada, for instance, showcase him absolutely raping me. And that outcome was not entirely unexpected, truth be told. But when I walked away from the TV and projector frustrated and people tried to calm me down by telling me "dude, it's Peach vs ICs, and it's Armada, relax," I wanted to tell them that they probably don't know what it's like to try and full jump an aerial and roll, then want to bring up their shield and jump out of it because they're spazzing on the joystick, then get raped while a bunch of people are watching and have no idea what my hands are even doing. At that point it barely matters who my opponent even is, I just don't know what the hell is going on.
Later Armada and I played more friendlies and they were significantly closer; I never actually won, but I was actually executing combos and moving more how I wanted to, and the end result is a bit more of what I expected/hoped for--him beating me 15/15 games, but me managing to bring him down to 1 and 2 stock in most of them. Against such a smart and consistent player, who is so skilled with a character I've always struggled against, that was a huge achievement and it made me feel much better about the tournament.
The real kick in the pants though, was my set of friendlies with Chu Dat. I went through a similar experience to my very personally memorable set with Axe, where I just wasn't screwing up tech stuff, I was thinking clearly, and I was relaxed but energized. I think at that time during those IC dittos I may have played my absolute best Melee ever, period, from a mental and technical perspective.
What frustrates me about experiences like those is that, while they are truly amazing in themselves, they make all my other experiences damaging to my confidence. Why is that maybe, once in an entire year, I can just zone in and play the way I really want to? Where I'm thinking straight and having fun even in the games I'm losing, where my hands and I aren't at odds with one another, where the game just makes sense to me? And then every other time I sit down to play, it's an exercise in inconsistency and frustration?
For the longest time I've been of the opinion that if a feat or mindset can be achieved once, then it can be duplicated. Back when I was a Fox player and I wanted really badly to learn how to SHDL, and I saw videos of Thunder from Japan just busting them out left and right across the level, I was convinced that I simply could not do it. That I never would be able to. Then randomly, while messing around, I did it (just with my thumb, without using two fingers to jump and fire, just my normal configuration). I stared at the screen and started jumping up and down all excitedly, and then I just tried to do it again for an hour and couldn't even get one and got dejected again.
But then I thought, "if my hands are capable of moving quickly enough to do that ONE time, then there's no reason they aren't capable of doing it again." So I practiced and just studied my hands and fingers while I did so, trying to figure out what I did that made it work, and then I got another one. And another and another and another. And soon I could do it over and over again, bolstered by that confidence that one time could equal a million times if I wanted.
Right now, I'm in that same state. Where I will have a moment thinking that this game makes sense, that I am a good player and I can do what I need to do to win, that if I went to a major tournament right now and played like this I would shatter my pools and make top three easily, even with the unbelievably difficult competition facing me. Then the next game I'll wonder how I've ever won any money at all, even at the smallest of tournaments.
When it comes to mindset and playing well, I've mostly achieved what I've wanted to achieve, and felt like I've wanted to feel. It's happened a select few times over the course of my entire career. So the question that I have been asking myself, over and over again, is why are those feelings so elusive? And why is it, that no matter how much I seem to practice and study and think and meditate and work, the only thing remaining consistent is my overwhelming inconsistency?
I dunno. That's what's on my mind right now. I know most people read this thing for my thoughts on the game but I guess today I'm just kinda whining. My apologies.
Peace.
*
Oh, also, I think I won't be doing any more of the Vlogs. Almost nobody's watching them and I'm kind of at a stage where I feel like my opinion on most stuff really isn't going to help people. I guess in the future if I really just feel like doing one I will, but for now I'm just going to abandon the idea. It was kind of fun though.
I honestly can't make heads or tails of my tech-skill difficulties. I have to be honest with myself about some of my shortcomings and things that I need to work around in order to solve this problem: I have essential tremors, which basically means that my muscles are *always* jumping and twitching even when I'm really relaxed. It's not major (unless I'm really nervous or hungry), and I don't really have a problem doing any day to day activities, but it makes fine muscle control really difficult. It certainly doesn't help when I try to play piano in front of people, or Smash in competitive environments.
I also have to accept the fact that I'm horrendously ADD and that makes it hard to focus. I'll be playing matches, even important tournament ones, and not even be thinking about them at all. I can get a bit of a boost in concentration by drinking a crap-load of caffiene in the form of soda or an energy drink, or I can take Adderall, but unfortunately stimulants directly and negatively impact my tremors.
I've sorted out a lot of my mood issues, I think. I get frustrated but I've found ways to shortcircuit both my angry and depressive spells.
The question is, where do I go from here?
Last night I played about 7 hours worth of friendlies with DoH, and as usual I was all over the place. I would go one match nailing everything, feeling really good, and feel like I really understood how to interact with the game. Then the next game I would miss my jump button, randomly double jump with my joystick a few times, wavedash straight up (which doesn't actually work in case you were wondering) or accidentally overshoot my B button while recovering and brush the c-stick instead. Usually games were somewhere in between, but it's really hard to understand how I'm supposed to play when I can't actually interact with the game.
This is something I've struggled to explain to people many times. I honestly have times, entire matches, where I just can't do *anything*. I will try to dash and jump instead, I will screw up five wavedashes in a row by airdodging horizontally, I'll miss every L-cancel, I'll try to do a basic grab combo with ICs and just whiff my c-stick completely. I will be the first to admit that I make some really DUMB decisions when I'm under pressure, but at the same time many things that appear to be bad decisions are the result of me being incapable of doing things I want with the controller.
My recorded friendlies at APEX with Armada, for instance, showcase him absolutely raping me. And that outcome was not entirely unexpected, truth be told. But when I walked away from the TV and projector frustrated and people tried to calm me down by telling me "dude, it's Peach vs ICs, and it's Armada, relax," I wanted to tell them that they probably don't know what it's like to try and full jump an aerial and roll, then want to bring up their shield and jump out of it because they're spazzing on the joystick, then get raped while a bunch of people are watching and have no idea what my hands are even doing. At that point it barely matters who my opponent even is, I just don't know what the hell is going on.
Later Armada and I played more friendlies and they were significantly closer; I never actually won, but I was actually executing combos and moving more how I wanted to, and the end result is a bit more of what I expected/hoped for--him beating me 15/15 games, but me managing to bring him down to 1 and 2 stock in most of them. Against such a smart and consistent player, who is so skilled with a character I've always struggled against, that was a huge achievement and it made me feel much better about the tournament.
The real kick in the pants though, was my set of friendlies with Chu Dat. I went through a similar experience to my very personally memorable set with Axe, where I just wasn't screwing up tech stuff, I was thinking clearly, and I was relaxed but energized. I think at that time during those IC dittos I may have played my absolute best Melee ever, period, from a mental and technical perspective.
What frustrates me about experiences like those is that, while they are truly amazing in themselves, they make all my other experiences damaging to my confidence. Why is that maybe, once in an entire year, I can just zone in and play the way I really want to? Where I'm thinking straight and having fun even in the games I'm losing, where my hands and I aren't at odds with one another, where the game just makes sense to me? And then every other time I sit down to play, it's an exercise in inconsistency and frustration?
For the longest time I've been of the opinion that if a feat or mindset can be achieved once, then it can be duplicated. Back when I was a Fox player and I wanted really badly to learn how to SHDL, and I saw videos of Thunder from Japan just busting them out left and right across the level, I was convinced that I simply could not do it. That I never would be able to. Then randomly, while messing around, I did it (just with my thumb, without using two fingers to jump and fire, just my normal configuration). I stared at the screen and started jumping up and down all excitedly, and then I just tried to do it again for an hour and couldn't even get one and got dejected again.
But then I thought, "if my hands are capable of moving quickly enough to do that ONE time, then there's no reason they aren't capable of doing it again." So I practiced and just studied my hands and fingers while I did so, trying to figure out what I did that made it work, and then I got another one. And another and another and another. And soon I could do it over and over again, bolstered by that confidence that one time could equal a million times if I wanted.
Right now, I'm in that same state. Where I will have a moment thinking that this game makes sense, that I am a good player and I can do what I need to do to win, that if I went to a major tournament right now and played like this I would shatter my pools and make top three easily, even with the unbelievably difficult competition facing me. Then the next game I'll wonder how I've ever won any money at all, even at the smallest of tournaments.
When it comes to mindset and playing well, I've mostly achieved what I've wanted to achieve, and felt like I've wanted to feel. It's happened a select few times over the course of my entire career. So the question that I have been asking myself, over and over again, is why are those feelings so elusive? And why is it, that no matter how much I seem to practice and study and think and meditate and work, the only thing remaining consistent is my overwhelming inconsistency?
I dunno. That's what's on my mind right now. I know most people read this thing for my thoughts on the game but I guess today I'm just kinda whining. My apologies.
Peace.
*
Oh, also, I think I won't be doing any more of the Vlogs. Almost nobody's watching them and I'm kind of at a stage where I feel like my opinion on most stuff really isn't going to help people. I guess in the future if I really just feel like doing one I will, but for now I'm just going to abandon the idea. It was kind of fun though.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Mindset, preparation, and bracing.
In Part 1 of my most recent video log (view it here), I discussed getting into the right mindset.
There's something I'd like to add to it, something I've touched on before, which is an element of mental preparation that I call "bracing." Bracing as in bracing for impact, for instance. The idea here is that, when you are mentally ready and accepting of a negative experience, its effect on you is lessened if not negated entirely.
For instance, you are a relatively new player about to go to your first big tournament. You hear that 3 of the top 5 players in the world are going to be there. Wow. You also realize that, as an unseeded player, your odds of running into them early are pretty high. But you decide you're going to go anyways, because you can see what it's like playing them.
Or you go to a smashfest with some really really good players that you rarely ever beat, and you lose maybe 95% of the games you play that night. But you have a lot of respect for these players and going into that evening, you know they outclass you and that you're going to be learning from them rather than winning.
So in either case, going to your tournament or smashfest, you are mentally prepared to lose, to be eliminated quickly, to have very few victories. Prepared as you are, the losses don't feel all that bad.
Better players could learn from this. There's an element of ego involved as you improve, where you start separating and classifying players by skill based on observation and past experience, and you decide that you rank above certain people and beneath others, and you're really good at X matchup and you never lose on Y level and so on. If they lose when they expect to, even pretty good players tend not to get upset. I mean, they knew it was going to happen and they played anyhow, so it's not like there's any mystery, right? However, when somebody is convinced they will win or do well and they don't, that's when self-destructive attitudes set in and people begin to crumble.
So here's the idea: if you aren't ready to lose, you aren't ready to play. If you're only going to enter the tournament because you think you'll get first, then mentally speaking you are not prepared. You are setting yourself up to make mistakes, get sidetracked, and lose your cool at important moments. You're creating the perfect environment to lose all the games you "shouldn't."
I'm not saying you should expect to lose, or you should *want* to lose or screw up. I think that defeats the point of competition, self-improvement, and striving to be better than your opponents. But I think it drastically improves your outlook and your ability to recover from negative situations when you understand that these things are in the realm of possibility, and that you are ready to play and have a good time regardless.
So here's a question: if I told you that at the next smashfest, or the next time you play, you would lose 20 matches and win zero, would you still be willing to go?
I've come to believe that if your answer isn't "yes," then you aren't mentally prepared to play your best.
Lemme know what you think. Peace.
There's something I'd like to add to it, something I've touched on before, which is an element of mental preparation that I call "bracing." Bracing as in bracing for impact, for instance. The idea here is that, when you are mentally ready and accepting of a negative experience, its effect on you is lessened if not negated entirely.
For instance, you are a relatively new player about to go to your first big tournament. You hear that 3 of the top 5 players in the world are going to be there. Wow. You also realize that, as an unseeded player, your odds of running into them early are pretty high. But you decide you're going to go anyways, because you can see what it's like playing them.
Or you go to a smashfest with some really really good players that you rarely ever beat, and you lose maybe 95% of the games you play that night. But you have a lot of respect for these players and going into that evening, you know they outclass you and that you're going to be learning from them rather than winning.
So in either case, going to your tournament or smashfest, you are mentally prepared to lose, to be eliminated quickly, to have very few victories. Prepared as you are, the losses don't feel all that bad.
Better players could learn from this. There's an element of ego involved as you improve, where you start separating and classifying players by skill based on observation and past experience, and you decide that you rank above certain people and beneath others, and you're really good at X matchup and you never lose on Y level and so on. If they lose when they expect to, even pretty good players tend not to get upset. I mean, they knew it was going to happen and they played anyhow, so it's not like there's any mystery, right? However, when somebody is convinced they will win or do well and they don't, that's when self-destructive attitudes set in and people begin to crumble.
So here's the idea: if you aren't ready to lose, you aren't ready to play. If you're only going to enter the tournament because you think you'll get first, then mentally speaking you are not prepared. You are setting yourself up to make mistakes, get sidetracked, and lose your cool at important moments. You're creating the perfect environment to lose all the games you "shouldn't."
I'm not saying you should expect to lose, or you should *want* to lose or screw up. I think that defeats the point of competition, self-improvement, and striving to be better than your opponents. But I think it drastically improves your outlook and your ability to recover from negative situations when you understand that these things are in the realm of possibility, and that you are ready to play and have a good time regardless.
So here's a question: if I told you that at the next smashfest, or the next time you play, you would lose 20 matches and win zero, would you still be willing to go?
I've come to believe that if your answer isn't "yes," then you aren't mentally prepared to play your best.
Lemme know what you think. Peace.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Progress?
So I have a few thoughts.
My blog is partially about the game and my thoughts on it, but also my journey towards becoming the kind of player I want to be. As most of you know, I struggle with a lot of different aspects of it; even though I've reached a decently high level, I still want to get better. But in truth, my real goal is this: I've had some amazingly positive mental and emotional experiences in this game that I want to recreate. States of focus and calm that made me feel... tranquil, yet energetic. Very focused but still relaxed. Basically it's "the zone" magnified.
Playing recently, my entire goal is to coax my mind into that state as often and consistently as possible. Unfortunately, I can't seem to maintain it for more than a short period of time, and afterwards I feel incredibly drained. I know I have an "official" (and I'm sure that means something worthwhile) diagnosis of ADHD-Inattentive, which is very frustrating to deal with, but what confuses me is if I do have such a condition, why I'm still capable of entering this state at times. The first time I ever experienced it, it lasted for hours; how does that jive with what I think I already know about myself and this mental state?
Playing for a long while yesterday I managed to get into that zone for maybe a few games out of a hundred. So on the one hand, I've been reaching it more often than I had before, even though it's still very infrequent. On the other, it's such a brief experience, and parting with that feeling is so bittersweet, that it's almost more upsetting to get it and then lose it than to play all day without feeling it at all.
My blog is partially about the game and my thoughts on it, but also my journey towards becoming the kind of player I want to be. As most of you know, I struggle with a lot of different aspects of it; even though I've reached a decently high level, I still want to get better. But in truth, my real goal is this: I've had some amazingly positive mental and emotional experiences in this game that I want to recreate. States of focus and calm that made me feel... tranquil, yet energetic. Very focused but still relaxed. Basically it's "the zone" magnified.
Playing recently, my entire goal is to coax my mind into that state as often and consistently as possible. Unfortunately, I can't seem to maintain it for more than a short period of time, and afterwards I feel incredibly drained. I know I have an "official" (and I'm sure that means something worthwhile) diagnosis of ADHD-Inattentive, which is very frustrating to deal with, but what confuses me is if I do have such a condition, why I'm still capable of entering this state at times. The first time I ever experienced it, it lasted for hours; how does that jive with what I think I already know about myself and this mental state?
Playing for a long while yesterday I managed to get into that zone for maybe a few games out of a hundred. So on the one hand, I've been reaching it more often than I had before, even though it's still very infrequent. On the other, it's such a brief experience, and parting with that feeling is so bittersweet, that it's almost more upsetting to get it and then lose it than to play all day without feeling it at all.
Without a doubt I play my best while in that state of mind, so the upshot of reaching that mental state a lot will be improved play, and maybe I'll have a decent performance and my next out of state event. But it's unlikely I'll go to one in the future, and it's pretty unlikely that mindset will sync up with any major matches I get, so I wouldn't be expecting too much from me.
This isn't really about winning or losing anymore. This is more about trying to understand my own mind and what it takes to hone it. I think I might be getting closer, but I can't really know for sure.
Oh well. I should be doing my next installment of the video log soon, maybe tomorrow after work. Take care everybody.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
VLog is live!
The first VLog is now up! It has been named Eskimo Brother because I suck at names.
You can go here to enjoy it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fg-M0HA0zx0
If you want a question answered in a future vlog, ask it in the comments or in the IC Blog thread on Smashboards. Thanks for sticking with me folks!
And sorry its quality is kinda lame. The video and sound, not what I say. That part's awesome. F'realz.
You can go here to enjoy it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fg-M0HA0zx0
If you want a question answered in a future vlog, ask it in the comments or in the IC Blog thread on Smashboards. Thanks for sticking with me folks!
And sorry its quality is kinda lame. The video and sound, not what I say. That part's awesome. F'realz.
Monday, January 3, 2011
...
I just watched the movie Waiting For Bobby Fischer, and it made me think about a few things regarding winning, losing, what competitive games do to you, and what we do to them.
Let me start by saying this: the more you add to a game, the more you take away from it. Not the game itself, but the event, the playing. Say you add sponsorships, crowds, tickets, merchandise. You add titles. You add a crowd. You add hype. You add rivalries and spectators. You add ego.
Adding these--not always, but often--subtracts from focusing on the game itself. The reason most people play a game, and devote themselves to its rules and intricacies and advancement, is for a single reason; they like the game. Sometimes the initial interest turns into a passion, an obsession. These people can't quit no matter how bad they think they want to. You think you quit, you'll be minding your own business, and then somehow somebody reminds you that the game exists and you are drawn back into it. You can't resist it. The only way to leave is if the fire dies down on its own. It's a trick candle of the heart.
Because to you, thanks to whatever weird genetic/cultural combination that crafted you, the game is just beautiful. Some games are fast paced, some are slow. Some require twitch reflexes and some require snail-paced planning. Some are intuitive and some are analytical, though just about all are really a mixture of both. Different games call to different people, and most of the time we can't help ourselves. We're weak to those games.
And it's kind of stupid, even. You started off playing for fun, and then you'll go off by yourself to practice for hours and you won't have even a smidgeon of fun, just so you can be a little bit better the next time you play. And sometimes the game drives you up the damn wall for whatever reason, and you can't help it. It's a habit. An addiction to play, because something in there is just too beautiful for you to let go of it.
Most of us want to be better for no reason beyond a simple inexplicable want. At least, initially.
This is where it gets weird and a little sad to me. You have the game, and you have the players, and it's pretty awesome all in all. But the moment you add things like hype, spectators, tournaments, championships, and titles, something both amazing and terrible happens. The spectators develop a sense of entitlement. They make demands on the players. They start dictating the shoulds and shouldn'ts of the game for the people who are actually playing it. They add foreign elements of pride and ego and territory into these events that, as far as the game is concerned, don't exist.
Players begin to worry about who is watching, and by the mere act of observation, the game is changed. Players act more aggressive or defensive. They become afraid to lose, in some cases afraid to win, or even to play at all. And then people start telling the players what to do. You have to play man. You have to win. Show them what you're made of, you're the best, prove it. No, don't play like that, give us what we want to see. You have to.
Says who? Who says anybody has to do a damn thing? The passion didn't start with somebody saying "you have to be amazing at this." It came from within. That passion is what got you up there, and then somebody else just encroaches on it. Who the hell are they to tell you what the game is about, and what you have to do when you play it?
But truthfully, I can't hate on the crowd because when you love the game, both playing *and* watching, then you can enjoy it no matter what you're doing. I love watching high-level play of most competitive events just because it's kind of awesome to see craft at its finest. To share the experience with other people who feel the same, to have somebody to talk about it with, just amplifies the experience of seeing players who are good and amazing weave magic with their chosen game.
And being good, being amazing, that really was kind of the root of the game at first, wasn't it? You loved the game and you wanted to understand it, and with understanding came more skill and with more skill came a new way to appreciate an old pastime. And some people just want to watch and enjoy it and sometimes it's not any kind of act of malice or spite or bias but it simply *happens* that the game changes.
But let's say you add a title. Suddenly you aren't thinking about the game anymore. You aren't playing for the sake of the game or yourself but because somebody put something else on the line. And while some people are immune to these kinds of pressures, most aren't.
You really can't account for how these things affect everybody. Some people like winning just because it makes them feel superior. Some people just want to be flashy, or some people just want to relax and have a good time. And the best part is that the game doesn't care what your intention is, so there is room for you to play how you want and for the reason that you want. And some people only play their best with those external pressures egging them on. Sometimes the game can only advance because people, in the desire to win and be better, use those pressures to push themselves to the next level. So who even knows.
What's the point of all this? Well, I tricked you, because you read all this way only to realize there really isn't one. I like crowds and hype and spectators and tournaments and championships and big games where everybody says "this is for all the cookies," and everybody screams and it comes down to the wire and the crowd is going nuts and you end up telling the story five times to the same person who doesn't even give a shit because you can't get it out of your head, it was that amazing.
But in some ways I also kind of lament it. Because there's something utterly fantastic about playing without a purpose or a target or a title or a crowd, where we aren't inflicting needless expectations on the players of the game. Where you can just explore the gamespace and go crazy playing how you want to play, constantly chasing that element of the game that set you on fire in the first place. And the irony is that when you combine the first and the second, when the players up on the big stage forget about the crowd and play like nobody's there, is usually when everybody in the room ends up winning.
Let me start by saying this: the more you add to a game, the more you take away from it. Not the game itself, but the event, the playing. Say you add sponsorships, crowds, tickets, merchandise. You add titles. You add a crowd. You add hype. You add rivalries and spectators. You add ego.
Adding these--not always, but often--subtracts from focusing on the game itself. The reason most people play a game, and devote themselves to its rules and intricacies and advancement, is for a single reason; they like the game. Sometimes the initial interest turns into a passion, an obsession. These people can't quit no matter how bad they think they want to. You think you quit, you'll be minding your own business, and then somehow somebody reminds you that the game exists and you are drawn back into it. You can't resist it. The only way to leave is if the fire dies down on its own. It's a trick candle of the heart.
Because to you, thanks to whatever weird genetic/cultural combination that crafted you, the game is just beautiful. Some games are fast paced, some are slow. Some require twitch reflexes and some require snail-paced planning. Some are intuitive and some are analytical, though just about all are really a mixture of both. Different games call to different people, and most of the time we can't help ourselves. We're weak to those games.
And it's kind of stupid, even. You started off playing for fun, and then you'll go off by yourself to practice for hours and you won't have even a smidgeon of fun, just so you can be a little bit better the next time you play. And sometimes the game drives you up the damn wall for whatever reason, and you can't help it. It's a habit. An addiction to play, because something in there is just too beautiful for you to let go of it.
Most of us want to be better for no reason beyond a simple inexplicable want. At least, initially.
This is where it gets weird and a little sad to me. You have the game, and you have the players, and it's pretty awesome all in all. But the moment you add things like hype, spectators, tournaments, championships, and titles, something both amazing and terrible happens. The spectators develop a sense of entitlement. They make demands on the players. They start dictating the shoulds and shouldn'ts of the game for the people who are actually playing it. They add foreign elements of pride and ego and territory into these events that, as far as the game is concerned, don't exist.
Players begin to worry about who is watching, and by the mere act of observation, the game is changed. Players act more aggressive or defensive. They become afraid to lose, in some cases afraid to win, or even to play at all. And then people start telling the players what to do. You have to play man. You have to win. Show them what you're made of, you're the best, prove it. No, don't play like that, give us what we want to see. You have to.
Says who? Who says anybody has to do a damn thing? The passion didn't start with somebody saying "you have to be amazing at this." It came from within. That passion is what got you up there, and then somebody else just encroaches on it. Who the hell are they to tell you what the game is about, and what you have to do when you play it?
But truthfully, I can't hate on the crowd because when you love the game, both playing *and* watching, then you can enjoy it no matter what you're doing. I love watching high-level play of most competitive events just because it's kind of awesome to see craft at its finest. To share the experience with other people who feel the same, to have somebody to talk about it with, just amplifies the experience of seeing players who are good and amazing weave magic with their chosen game.
And being good, being amazing, that really was kind of the root of the game at first, wasn't it? You loved the game and you wanted to understand it, and with understanding came more skill and with more skill came a new way to appreciate an old pastime. And some people just want to watch and enjoy it and sometimes it's not any kind of act of malice or spite or bias but it simply *happens* that the game changes.
But let's say you add a title. Suddenly you aren't thinking about the game anymore. You aren't playing for the sake of the game or yourself but because somebody put something else on the line. And while some people are immune to these kinds of pressures, most aren't.
You really can't account for how these things affect everybody. Some people like winning just because it makes them feel superior. Some people just want to be flashy, or some people just want to relax and have a good time. And the best part is that the game doesn't care what your intention is, so there is room for you to play how you want and for the reason that you want. And some people only play their best with those external pressures egging them on. Sometimes the game can only advance because people, in the desire to win and be better, use those pressures to push themselves to the next level. So who even knows.
What's the point of all this? Well, I tricked you, because you read all this way only to realize there really isn't one. I like crowds and hype and spectators and tournaments and championships and big games where everybody says "this is for all the cookies," and everybody screams and it comes down to the wire and the crowd is going nuts and you end up telling the story five times to the same person who doesn't even give a shit because you can't get it out of your head, it was that amazing.
But in some ways I also kind of lament it. Because there's something utterly fantastic about playing without a purpose or a target or a title or a crowd, where we aren't inflicting needless expectations on the players of the game. Where you can just explore the gamespace and go crazy playing how you want to play, constantly chasing that element of the game that set you on fire in the first place. And the irony is that when you combine the first and the second, when the players up on the big stage forget about the crowd and play like nobody's there, is usually when everybody in the room ends up winning.
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