I’ve never claimed to be some god at dota, as I recognize my weaknesses and have never tried to really address them. Let us address them now:
- Being a ward ho. Yeah, fuck that shit. Buy wards, be broke, be good support while your team refuses to leave lanes and gank, your wards get countered, you get raped all game, and so forth. I hate playing support for the most part and will pick an agi hero even if we have 3 others on the team from people randoming or instapicking Antimage/Ursa/Meepo.
- Tendency to fight instead of farm/farm/farm. I know that WINNING IS FUCKING EVERYTHING, but so many heroes can get early kills without sitting in a lane surrounded by an impenetrable ring of wards. QUIT PLAYING THIS GAME LIKE YOU’RE IN THE GRAND FINALS OF THE INTERNATIONAL; YOU AREN’T.
- Compassion towards teammates that don’t deserve it. I guess this probably comes from being a bleeding heart suckass.
Despite all these things, I’m probably what would be considered an average dota player, which means that I make tons of mistakes, blame them on someone else, and above all else, look for an excuse for any and every wrong decision that I make from the picking screen to the throne dying.
With all that said, I think I played the game of my life last night. I will never be able to replicate my performance and I’m sure that the first game I play tonight I’ll be sent screaming, cursing, and crying right into the trash heap. But that’s fine; life is about balance.
Names are hidden to protect the innocent. You can see here what I had to work with. The early game was rough, but I managed to keep my resolve and steal every kill I could with Spirit Lance. I knew I was in trouble when I saw CM going really big nuking creep waves every time it was off cooldown, so naturally I turned inward and focused all my hate and rage accumulated over the years towards Bloodseekers that go mid and feed Lich, to an Ursa that gets 6 Roshan kills during the course of the game, and to a Huskar that builds the recommended items and has no fucking idea of what is going on.
Around 45 minutes in, two lanes of barracks are down. The malaise has set in and I knew that despite my good farm, the game is over. Ursa had just completed another Rosh kill and they’re coming top lane to end it. Someone on my team says, “URSA DR GGGG”. The other team is talking shit, my team is arguing with each other, and I give a perfunctory GG as I lay back and accept the rape.
“FUCK THAT”, I say. An Eye is bought and Bounty Hunter falls to me easily. The push is still coming. CM, Huskar, and Bloodseeker form a line and end up killing Lich while I come in from behind. Ursa rapes a couple of them while I get some illusions off of the Ancients.
“Just hold off another 30 seconds you motherfuckerzzzz i’m otw”
Ursa gambles and brings the fight to me as he sees the rape train coming; he gambled wrong. Divine Rapier is mine. Push, push, push, push, push fast, push hard, push like you’re giving birth to a 25 pound baby with two heads. Push like your fucking life depends on this moment; that the crux of your future lies in whether or not you get this shit.
We push; they’re rezzing. We get their rax. I feel invincible.
Three of them are up, I can get away. OH FUCK HERE THEY COME. I can’t get away. Lich goes down. Rexxar stuns me, BH is beating on me, I have to leave NOW.
I die. Ursa swoops in for the Divine Rapier. We’re fucked.
I buy back, they’re coming with a vengeance.
“nice try guys”
“good try but we 2 stronk”
“LOL get raped PL”
“GGGGGG ursa with DR again u noob”
I start to despair because at this point, Rosh is back up. The only thing that can pull this is out is a perfect teamfight executed by a team of average to terrible players against a fully farmed Ursa Warrior with Aegis and Rapier.
We stand at the top rax like it was Thermopylae. I bid my queen, my wife, MY LOVE farewell. Another hour long game lost, and another day to sulk as I question why it is I play this game.
“OK you fucks this is it either win this fight or you’ve wasted a hour of your life sucking on a man’s cock”
Teamfight: we lose Bloodseeker, they lose Beastmaster before he can get his ult off. An army of PL illusions fuck everything up and I have Ursa surrounded. Ults flash, the sound of my teeth grinding to powder as I lean forward in my fart-soaked chair. A dead Ursa, “triple kill”, an item on the ground: DIVINE RAPIER. We have this, we can do it. We fly towards the enemy base like a cruise missile on a trajectory to blow up innocent Afghanis. Victory is at hand.
“LOLOLOL GG YOU FUCKING NOOBS”
“ROFLLLLLLL”
“WE HAD THIS SHIT ALL ALONG, GET GOOD YOU FUCKING MONKEYS”
“TY FOR THE DR”
There’s nothing like winning (or losing) a game of Dota to make you realize how shitty people are. I found myself participating in the razzing of the other team, particularly the poor Ursa who did everything he could to win the game. Yes, we won. Yes, it was one of the most exciting matches I’ve ever played. Yes, I carried hard (which rarely happens). Yes, I won us the game.
However, I also lost. I lost my sense of honor, my humility, and my compassion for five other humans that just had a degrading loss planted right in their face. I’m not 16 years old. I don’t need to be an asshat online to make up for having zits all over my face or not having a date for prom.
In the lobby after the game, as I leaned back and gloated on just how bad I raped those noobs, I realized all this. I felt bad about rubbing my opponents’ face in shit after a tough, close game. I wanted to rationalize my reprehensible behavior, that I’m above doing this.
Then I played a game of Warsong Gulch this morning before work and shit all over a bunch of faggoty Alliance players.
