Competition, in its very nature, means that you want to win. It means that you want to come out on top of those who have been given the same finite resources to work with. A strong pallet of emotion gets unloaded when one competes. Whether its professional sports, trading card games, or, in this case, video games, it can be heartbreaking to lose. On the other side of that token, winning can grant someone a riveting, if not fleeting feeling of success that can be neither fabricated nor replicated. After all, when one considers how much time and money is invested into competition, the least they can expect is a positive result. Yes, it is time invested, not time spent. As with any investment, the return should be greater than the initial deposit. Unfortunately, many do not see a return and the last thing they deposit is their towel to the rack. I want to delve into why this is and steps players can take to curb this attitude.

Because this is Smash, I will mostly be relaying my own personal experiences to each aspect of consideration. For context, I am a twenty-five year old man who regularly competes in a video-game intended for children. I'm not alone in this endeavor, so running across me or many other young professionals (as it were) among a melting pot children who look like they should be coughing up their lunch on any given weekend is a common sight. The game has brought me insurmountable amounts of wonderful people, along with the experiences they bring. How? Why would someone who should have bought his first house by now continue to compete in this silly game? Well, I can only speak for myself, but I feel as though I speak for many others as well.

Everyone Is Dealt the Same Deck of Cards

When we are kids, it doesn't take long to realize the horrible inequalities of the world. Many kids our age were more financially fortunate. This could have meant a more stable home life, perhaps a healthier plate of food for dinner, and maybe even perhaps a few more gifts under the Christmas tree. Beyond that, it could have also meant one parent may not have had to work. As far as childhood competition is concerned, the most successful children were those who had consistent parental support. This is in the form of traveling, practice, and general encouragement. Trust me, there's a reason the underdog in football films always has a broken family as his crutch. As we get older, we realize that these inequalities don't change. Gradually, we transition from cursing them under the ground (well, mostly) to accepting them and finding our own ways to work around them. However, this does not mean they disappear. Their affect on our lives just lessens as we achieve our own purpose.

What does Smash have to do with a half-baked Sociology lesson? Well, in Smash, or any competitive fighter for example, everyone is dealt the same deck of cards. There are no innate advantages one player has over the other. Everything from match-ups and counter-picks to percent-specific combos are entirely learned. If you choose to repel that information, you have only yourself to blame. Unlike the real world, nothing in this competition is systematic. This makes it an escape for people like me and many others. Sure, I'm working on my professional life. My credit is good and over the past few months I've become somewhat financially literate. Buying my first home doesn't seem like a far off pipe dream, and with each passing day I feel more freedom in what direction I choose to lead my life. However, nobody is going to to say "good job" when I actually get that far in life. Those aren't accomplishments, they are expectations. Once I have completed those expectations, there is nothing left. There is no more ladder to climb, and the rung I'm left standing on might start feeling a little creaky after a while. That's why, even for a twenty-five year old nobody like me, Smash provides a much needed competitive outlet. It may be the dirty work of instant gratification joining hands with a false sense of purpose, but damn if it isn't something I look forward to. No matter what age you are, and no matter where you're located on life's roadmap, the sense of achievement from reaching victory on truly equal ground is unparalleled.

A Sense of Camaraderie

Doing well in your own right feels wonderful, but doing well in the company of like minded people is a different emotion entirely. I mentioned earlier how competition has brought me so many new people and experiences. All of those people are now who consider my greatest friends. I would not have met a single one of them if not for the game, and I am not alone. The world over there are groups of people, often regional, who consider each other family. They travel together, compete together, and cheer each other on. One or two may possess a higher skill gap, and as such act as the face of their respective region. But even those who are considered among the top are often found among faceless fish in a large tourney's early pools cheering on one from their own region. Although they may be yelling a name or tag that is unrecognized by most the sentiment it carries is undeniable. People are social animals and thrive within their own company. Getting a "practice partner" isn't for the sole purpose of mutual improvement, but also so you each have someone to cheer on as well as someone to constructively receive any post-loss somberness. All competition brings some sort of camaraderie, and Smash is no different. There is no age gap, there is no skill gap, and there is no status barrier. It simply boils down to everyone vying in the same competition and accepting the fact that they all want to perform well.

With Camaraderie Comes Conviviality

The sense of camaraderie in competition doesn't begin and end within the bracket. Camaraderie almost always leads to friendships within the community. Within the realm of the game, it is not hard to see why people cheer on those from their region. Even at its lowest denominator it is still a representation of a greater entity on a grand scale. When you become friends with those in the community though, it goes beyond that. Friendship entails wanting the best of others in all that they do. It wasn't long after I began to play that I stopped cheering for my regional teammates, so to speak, out of obligation, and did so out of a genuine wish for them succeed. This is the greatest gift that competitive Smash has given me. Even if you and those you play with aren't "good" by the community's metric, seeing one another capture new success, no matter how small, is the greatest feeling of all. It can be in region, it can be out of region, it can even be a bracket demon who himself is not considered that great. The fact that your friend surpassed that obstacle is enough for you to give him an extra pat on the back. I would like to emphasize that these aren't "Smash" friendships. When many people think of their friends within the community, they isolate it from their other social associations. If you're truly getting the most out of the game, these will be real friends you have made along the way. As time passes on, Smash will just be the catalyst that continues to bring you together

Why Stop Competing?

To bring this all home, the original point of this piece was the attention that a few of my close friends have chosen not to compete any longer. As with anything, life circumstances can absolutely hinder the time and money one is able to put into a hobby. However, these people simply don't find joy in competing anymore. It may be lack of results, or it could be a feeling of ostracization from the community itself. Whatever the reason, I believe that if someone stops competing then perhaps they aren't yielding one of the larger benefits mentioned above. There can be many reasons for it, but it would benefit them, and perhaps many others, to know just how big of a role they have played in others' receiving that greater sense of accomplishment. To you reading this, if you do not compete I highly recommend you do so. Smash will turn from a game you love to an experience you will fondly look back on. If you have already chosen to throw in the towel, remember that nobody ever complained after a much needed break. But also remember that whatever community you are a part of is simply not the same without you.