Why eSports actually matters

Any activity emulsified into its most rudimentary form can be easily brushed aside and deemed “stupid” by the cold, hard shoulder of cynicism.

For example, UFC announcer and broadcaster Joe Rogan can describe an MMA fight as “extremely high-level problem solving, with very real and dire physical consequences”, just as the cynic can dub it as “two competitors try to hit each other until one eventually wins”.

This same cynical emulsification can happen in any field, especially one with an easily abused stigma – namely eSports.

Traditional media outlets and their coverage of eSports will almost always take up this role of a cynic.

To them, a competitive title like Counter-Strike is a game that pits five players versus five players in an online shooting arena where players try to kill each other to win.

This definition is a perfectly fine one when most traditional outlets use competitive titles as stepping stones in their coverage of eSports to then bring up the topic of internet addiction, quickly use the phrase “the biggest thing you’ve never heard of”, and then start their piece with a sweeping statement about “the big prize pools, large stage, and even bigger crowds of young, screaming fans”.

Their coverage is as formulaic as it is cold, unjust and uninteresting to those that have a pre-existing vested interest in the scene.

To them, the interest of eSports lies in numbers, relating these numbers back to conventional sports, and generating cynical rhetoric of looking at eSports as young people who just play video games for money and fame.

Dota 2’s International 2016 wasn’t about EHOME topping the group as a wildcard team, or about Digital Chaos’s insane evolution as an organisation and team to get to the grand finals; rather, it was about the size of the prizepool. The CS:GO ELEAGUE Tournament wasn’t about the long-time veterans Virtus.pro return to glory, or about the SK/Luminosity organisational drama; rather, it was about CS:GO being on TV.

A Korean League of Legends player isn’t glorified for an ungodly level of mastery within the scope of his craft; rather, passively aggressively condemned for internet addiction. The narratives and romance of eSports seemingly gets lost in translation when you cross the diaphanous barrier into mainstream audiences.

But then again, why should eSports stories even matter? These publications and their writers are merely catering to an audience that has little, to no knowledge about the not-so little subculture of competitive gaming.

They’re simply trying to draw clicks and interest by appealing to the unknown, yet gargantuan nature of eSports.

Using Terence McKenna’s thought, people like to have their bonfires of knowledge burnt brighter, so that the shadows of their own ignorance are revealed in greater depth. Or in other words, audiences enjoy reading about massive cultural and social movements that are completely alien to them despite the drastic impact and scale of the movements themselves.

It’s this same philosophy that makes pieces like the Wall Street Journal’s feature “Tramadol: The Opioid Crisis for the Rest of the World” so incessantly interesting to read. eSports represents a large, brooding, unknown, phenomenon that comes out of the belly of a better-known but equally mystifying culture of gaming to mainstream audiences.

To think, however, that this method of covering eSports is one that can be maintained with any form of consistency is a folly.

This initial, cringe-inducing, pinky-dipping, step into eSports by traditional outlets is a novelty. There are only so many times you can introduce people to the big statistical numbers of eSports for the first time (spoiler: it’s once.)

There will be a tipping point that combines the inescapable importance of eSports in maintaining a publication’s relevance with the elusive 18-35 demographic, and the total saturation of their novelty coverage, that will cause them to delve deeper and wider.

This tipping point, which for both the purposes of dramatic effect and a love for artificial-intelligence I will call ‘the eSports singularity’, will force publications to run pieces that concern themselves with the actual stories of eSports, rather than just its statistics. Because if they don’t, they guarantee the existence of an eSports section comfortable with the shade of obscurity and failure.

I do not spend my time watching, reading, listening, writing, and constantly consuming eSports content because I care about the amount of money the teams or players are playing for. Just like how an NFL fan doesn’t watch the Super Bowl because each player on the winning team receives $97,000.

Fans and analysts alike watch eSports with rosy coloured glasses and the passion of any sports pundit because they identify with the narratives of the players, teams and tournaments.

The players who we revere and put on pedestals can fail just as we can. The dynamic of teams can break apart due to personality differences just as our relationships in real-life can implode. The arch of a tournament has peaks and valleys, upsets and expected results, just as the arch of our own lives has ups and downs.

eSports, just like real sports, whether it be subconsciously or consciously, draws its power from being a broken reflection of our own life stories. The trials and tribulations of players on Summoners Rift or the football field, are attractive – in a metaphysical sense – for the same reason.

As we aren’t just watching athletes or gamers compete for prize money or a trophy, and our viewership isn’t just a drop in a bucket of numbers that can be thrown on the face of a mainstream audience; rather, we are watching a mirror of our hopes, desires, and nightmares on the screen.

eSports isn’t about demographics, market reach, and concurrent viewers. Nor is it about skins betting, match fixing, or internet addiction.

It’s a movement centred on the same principles as sports but in a 21st century environment. The real appeal of eSports is the stories of the people in eSports. This is the what matters, the eSports singularity is not yet upon us, and traditional media outlets, this is your chance to actually get a head start on laying the framework in a burgeoning field – stop screwing it up.