Welcome to the first post in a series I'm calling Practice Makes Perfects, in which I chronicle my journey from fighting game failure to scrappy upstart, fierce opponent, and beyond! Follow along as I test my mettle against players online and at my local arcade ranking battles! Be there for the exultant victories and tragic knock outs! Ready? Fight!
A few weeks ago, after years of excuses, I finally set out on a quest I've been contemplating ever since 2008, when the release of Street Fighter IV heralded the beginning of a fighting game renaissance and reinvigorated the genre's competitive scene. The goal of this quest: to turn my arcade-scrub self into a competent joystick jockey--no easy task. As a wise man named Sagat once said, "Until you see the fight as more than a wild free for all, you are no fighter." Actually, he's probably said it thousands of times, but in any case it's an apt observation of the spectrum of skill separating the glorified punching bags from the tournament champions. It can take years to develop the execution, quick reactions, and adaptability that are necessary at the highest levels of play.
Before even considering those elements, however, I had to overcome the paralysis that took hold when 'FIGHT' faded from the screen and I was presented with the seemingly infinite tree of options available to me. Lucky for me, Austin has a solid community of warriors who gather every two weeks at Arcade UFO to duke it out in a series of ranking battles ("ranbats"). It was here, I decided, that I would hone my skills and mold myself into a formidable foe. The stage of battle was set!
"I doubt you're as much of a noob as you say," he began. Sure, he was trying to be nice, but he clearly didn't understand who he was dealing with. He continued by imploring me to not let nerves disrupt my game plan, something I wasn't worried about as I didn't have much of a game plan to undermine. His last bit of advice, while simple, turned out to be the most helpful: "Play online as much as you can in the interim." Up to that point I'd spent most of my time in Training Mode trying to tighten my execution as much as possible, but that wasn't helping me get more comfortable with the practicalities of a real match, so I took James's advice.
Perfunctory online sessions with Cody, however, were not promising. I won maybe a single game, a sad number next to the twenty-plus losses I accrued, few of which were close. My frustration mounted with each game, as I couldn't seem find the right time or place on screen to press buttons and deal damage. The only improvements I noticed after a week of this torture were a slight abatement of the "choice paralysis" I mentioned earlier and a growing sense of comfort with controlling my character on the screen. I was sure these modest gains would mean little at Arcade UFO, and with visions of cackling teenage conquerors dashing through my mind on the day of the tournament, I considered backing out altogether. In that moment of weakness and doubt, though, a spirit hand, claw-like, descended to take control of the joystick in my soul, and it commanded me to get in my car and drive to the arcade.
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| Enter at your own risk: debasement and humiliation await you inside. Oh, and Dance Dance Revolution! |
Much like Theseus stepping into the Labyrinth, or Luke entering the cave on Dagobah, I hesitated at the threshold of Arcade UFO, stopping briefly at the precipice of the unknown before stepping inside and being swallowed by darkness; there was no turning back. With about half an hour to kill before the tournament was to begin, I opted to play a few warm-up games, and any illusions I'd clung to that there would be someone there as clueless as myself quickly evaporated. I sat at the SSFIV AE cabinet, little more than a spectator, as my poor Cody was roughed up variously by Ryu, Balrog, and Cammy, all piloted by arcade regulars.
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| Ryan Harvey, a.k.a. Fubarduck |
When I finally sat down to play, it was with the revelation that my ignominy would be witnessed not only by the other players in that small, dark arcade, but also by the inhabitants of an even darker place: the internet. Contrary to the event information posted on Shoryuken.com, live streaming would not be reserved for the top eight portion of the tournament--it was happening now. Luckily, I quickly forgot about this fact once the fight was underway, so I don't think it contributed to my nerves greatly. As of this publication date, the archived video of said stream is unavailable, but I will update this post if it ever surfaces.
My opponent was a Dee Jay player from Seguin, TX who calls himself Dragoon. The first best-of-three game went about as badly as it could have. I pressed buttons fruitlessly, getting counter hit for my troubles, and just generally laid down and took whatever pressure he wanted to apply. I was in defensive mode, and while Cody does have good defensive options, I wasn't utilizing them properly. For the second match, I realized that I had to alter my approach, lest I suffer the same fate, so I opted to go on the offensive. I used Cody's great poking normal moves to better effect, catching my rival with stray hits here and there, and even landing a fairly damaging combo once. In the end I still lost, which should come as no surprise, but the way it happened left me stunned.
In our final round, as my HP dwindled and I felt myself perilously close to death, autopilot kicked in and I adopted a stubborn defensive position, crouch blocking in a desperate attempt to hang on to the little life I had left. I knew that I had another ten seconds to live at most. My opponent activated Sobat Carnival, Dee Jay's Super move, which I knew would deal chip damage to my Cody, but not enough to kill me. "This is my chance!" I thought, realizing that if I waited for his Super move to end, I could respond by activating my own Ultra move to either kill him or put him very close to death. The wily Dragoon had other plans, however, and midway through Dee Jay's Sobat Carinval animation, he canceled into Dee Jay's Ultra move, Sobat Festival. I was still blocking, but that would not save me; the combined chip damage of the Super move followed by the Ultra was enough to do me in, and I blinked incredulously as the screen flashed with a yellow sunburst, and the in-game announcer shouted my defeat: "Kaaaay Ooooooh!"
Dee Jay is one of only two characters in the game, it turns out, who can cancel his Super move into his Ultra, and I had to respect Dragoon's awareness of his character's options and the situation at hand, which allowed him to lock me into a trap that had no escape; I confirmed with him later that my character never leaves block stun during this process, thus giving me no chance to interrupt it. He went on to place third overall in the tournament, which was a small consolation to my battered ego.
After my embarrassment had somewhat subsided and I was able to look back on my matches analytically, I realized I had let Dragoon pressure me at will by not challenging his jump-ins. Cody has, arguably, the best set of anti-air attacks in the game, and I didn't use them once. With so many factors to keep in mind when playing these games, I think it's important for new players like myself to compartmentalize as much as possible and focus on one or two things at a time, and I'll certainly be looking to improve my anti-air game as I prepare for the next tournament. With that in mind, I'd like to close with a warning to all the heavyweights at Arcade UFO: next time I show up, don't expect to jump in on me for free again.
A new challenger has entered the ring!
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