There’s no arguing that SF4 has revitalized the fighting game tournament scene in a big way. It’s great seeing long-standing series such as ECC and MWC revitalized after struggling over the past few years. And it’s funny seeing first-time organizers hosting inaugural events, only to get rocked for underestimating the draw of SF4. You could tell your friends you’re holding a mini-tourney at your house and there’d be 128 people waiting in your driveway when you got home.
However, the prevalence of online play has made it common for people to play competitively for an entire year without ever considering attending a single tournament. A lot of newcomers don’t realize how different the tournament mindset can be. Even ignoring the online lag factor, playing against faceless challengers from the comfort of your own home is nothing like playing against someone face-to-face with everyone watching. There’s no end to the stories of players beating opponents handily in casual play half an hour before a tournament only to get eliminated by that same guy a couple of hours later.
Tournament play is fundamentally different from casual play. This doesn’t mean that beating someone in casual play means nothing and beating someone in tournament play means everything. Certainly if you beat Rob Ingrim (CaliSean) five times in a row in casual play, that’s something to feel proud about. But it does not mean you will beat him in a tournament. Rob happens to be a much better tournament player than he is a casual player. He adopts a different, more effective style when playing in a tournament, and he knows how to take advantage of your tournament pressures and fears that aren’t there when you’re playing casually and nothing is at stake.
Make no mistake, there will be pressure. The guy you’re about to play drove all the way from his house to the tournament, put down his entry fee, and waited (im)patiently for his turn to play. He has no intention of losing his matches and going home knowing that he wasted three hours and ten bucks to play four games. He’s bringing his A-game and he’s done hiding all his dirty tricks. There’s no time to warm up. You have to be ready when the first round starts. Your friends will be cheering for you. Your rivals will be watching your every move, trying to find weaknesses in your game in case they face you later on. It’s an entirely different experience from casuals.
There are some things outside of a tournament that emulate tournament play, the most notable example of which is playing for money. Putting something valuable at stake ensures that both players will be playing seriously. Since neither player can later deny that they were trying their hardest, this mimics the pressures of tournament play. Beating someone for money gives the victor more to brag about than simply winning in casual play.
Still, it’s not quite the same. Both players try their best, but money matches are over in under an hour. It’s nowhere near the endurance test of a tournament. You can make jokes about video games being serious business or whatever, but five hours of stress on your mind and butterflies in your stomach will wear anyone down. Overcoming that murky mess is a skill that takes time to develop and it’s not likely to happen at home.
Furthermore, money matches tend to involve more rounds – usually first to five or ten wins. Losing any one match is a lot less severe in this format. Therefore there’s more room to experiment and take risks for the sake of discovering gaps in your opponent’s knowledge or skills. On the other hand, everyone plays extremely defensively in tournaments, which can come as a shock the first time around. Again, it goes back to the mindset being different, and learning how to take advantage of uncharacteristic mistakes while conquering your own hesitation.
So if you beat a very good player in casual play, take pride in it as a measure of your progress and continue working on your game. But also remember that if you talk shit about someone for having beaten them in casual play, you will be challenged to back it up in a tournament or to put money on it. That’s the way our scene has worked since the beginning.
I always flop in tournaments, I start worrying to me and do things I normally wouldn’t so. Players I consistently beat have a good chance taking me out when we meet during a tournament.
Happened to me recently at SVB, London.
worrying too much***
wouldn’t do***
so basically people don’t have to worry about playing their best in casual play?
It depends on the player how serious they take the casual games. They are after all, ‘casual’ games.
I definitely try to play my best but I also use casuals to mess around and experiment.
No, it’s totally up to you whether you try your best. Unfortunately you can’t do much to guarantee that your opponent is trying their best too. The benefit of tournaments is that you know everyone is playing for keeps and that you don’t have to worry about how your opponents feel.
If you treat every casual gathering like a tournament, it’s gonna get too serious and people are going to stop enjoying it. Then your group is gonna get smaller, which hurts because suddenly you don’t have a dedicated Fei Long player anymore.
Plus some people play way different in casuals than they do in tournaments. I use casuals to experiment with new ideas. When it comes to tournament time, i’m gonna play it safe. How do you discourage people from trying uncertain tactics in casuals? And why would you even want to?
The bottom line is, it’s different.
Good stuff. Thanks for posting this!
It makes me feel certain types of stress management training would be useful for people dedicated to tournament play. Money matches while naked in a graveyard a midnight, with friends doing annoying, aggressive or funny things to distract you, or something along those lines.
Back in 2000/2001 a local group of friends and I tried to get tournaments going in our quadrant of Northeast Jersey / Rockland County under our Team Saikyo moniker. None of us had ever played in serious tournaments (anime cons didn’t count back then) back then. The pressure of playing against the regional champs like Wong and Sanford were suddenly dreadful, and none of us knew really how to deal with the sudden pressure.
I know I’ll never be true tournament caliber. I can’t, and won’t, play to win. More important, I don’t have the time and inclination to truly get the timing and zoning necessary to hold my own. I got my ass handed to me at NEC-X during casual and CvS2 and SFIV. But I love the competition, and that’s all that matters.
Sometimes it’s hard to see whether you’re getting better, because your competition is usually getting better as well. If you keep at it though, eventually seeing those big names won’t be a big deal anymore so you can concentrate on the matches. Of course they’re gonna win most of the time if they’re practicing more than you are, but that doesn’t mean you can’t outplay them on any given day.
You gotta remember that if you’re playing against the best players in the world, that means you can take out 95% of the rest of the community. Don’t let your record against Wong/Sanford discourage you or keep you from improving every day. The important thing is, every tournament experience should teach you a lesson that you can take into the next. Eventually those add up to expertise.