Competitiveness, as defined by H2O SlamDance

Once or twice, people have mentioned that I can get pretty competitive when playing Halo 3. My knee-jerk reaction is to disagree. I don’t swear, I don’t get particularly shirty when my team loses. Compared to some other folks out there, I’m a saint. Besides, I reckoned I’d be the last person in the world to actually get seriously competitive.

But wouldn’t you know it? They mightn’t be wrong. In matches, I tend to put a lot of emphasis on playing the game when I communicate. If I can’t see an opponent, I’m asking, “Where are they, folks?” If I grab a power weapon, I usually ask, “I’ve got the rockets; where can I use them?” I try my best to call out locations of opponents, although that sometimes falls over when there’s a guy right close to me and I’m suddenly focused on BR-ing him; I usually only remember to call his location out after he’s killed me, not before so that my team mates can help.

I also tend to get cranky when I don’t hear the rest of the team I’m on doing the same. I think that’s the cause of the competitive comments, especially if the people making them just wanted to use the game as a context for relaxing and hanging out with mates at the time.

That said, though, I feel as though there’s a break between my actions and how people perceive the intent behind them, mainly because of the use of the C-word. I’d like to write about that, explain my view of competition to myself and to you folks, especially you folks whom I play with and whom I may play against. I think it’s vital to get this straight right when our division is about to play its first actual competitive match – PMS|H2O Halo 3 Australia are taking on local team Troops of Doom on the AussieXbox.net Halo 3 Team Rumble ladder at eight tomorrow night, and I'm going to be on the squad.

What I’m really looking for out of competition, especially when playing Halo 3, is the feeling that I’m part of something that’s working, that’s operating smoothly and with precision. It’s the one thing that sticks with me whenever I watch footage from the MLG Pro Circuit Championship matches; not just the way those guys play but also how they’re talking to each other while they’re doing it. That sense of communication and co-ordination, of giving to your team mates and accepting what they give you while you all work your way toward a win, is what I’m looking for out of team play.

A win is always nice, but if we lose, I want to come away with the feeling that we gave our opponents a good challenge, that we weren’t passively undermining each other by not communicating. They beat us; we didn’t beat ourselves. The “Now” has to be as fun as the goal, and the most fun "nows" I've ever had playing Halo 3 have been when I've felt part of that feedback loop connecting me to my team mates.

That sense of connection is what I remember from the matches I enjoyed; where I felt as though I was a member of a team and not an individual playing generally alongside three other individuals all doing their own thing and hoping for it to stick.

In contrast, the games I came away from feeling cranky were the ones when my other team mates have mikes plugged in but don't say a word (though I'm starting to realise this could be due to NAT conflicts), or spend the game in private chat with one another, or only speak when bitching about their team-mates' performance. It's irritating, like someone's throwing sand into machinery that ought to be well-oiled, doubly so in ranked matches where your chances of playing against increasingly-better opponents (and, let's face it, your place in the "wow, he's pr0" pecking order) is at stake.

So if I seem competitive to you, it's not because I've got my heart set on winning; it's because I enjoy the work that goes into playing a good game with a team. If you don't, well, I hope you'll discover how much fun it can be sometime soon.