 "Photo: Adrienne Sparks")
 "Photo: Adrienne Sparks")
 "Photo: Adrienne Sparks")
I’ve been playing video games competitively for as long as I can remember. I love the thrill of competition, so it’s lucky for me that the competitive gaming scene is big in Austin.
I heard wind of a two vs. two Street Fighter 4 tournament at Arcade UFO (Austin’s only coin operated Japanese arcade), and decided to go. I invited my friend Alec Garcia, a fellow gamer from Houston, to be my partner.
Standing outside Arcade UFO, it looked like nothing more than a shanty building in the middle of an ordinary neighborhood. The bright blue walls give the venue a cave-like vibe. Upon entering, I realized that the modest building is merely a shell for the awesome arcade inside. Rows upon rows of games line the walls, filling the room with glowing lights and loud music. Some might find this overwhelming, but for a gamer, it’s home.
A total of 66 gamers came from across the state to match wits and mash buttons. Once we registered, Alec and I found ourselves surrounded by fellow fighting game enthusiasts, huddled over arcade cabinets trying to observe and get in a little more practice against potential competitors.
The smell of competition, a heady mixture of stale air, sweat, and concentration was in the air. The drowning sound of video games and the clicking of jumping hands on arcade buttons echoed across the room as the gamers battled against their opponents. Strangely, the din helped sooth my pre-tournament jitters.
Listings were announced one by one for the first matches. The tournament was double-elimination, which means if competitors lose their first game, they still have a chance to come back and win (with a little extra effort).
I heard our team name over the speaker, and fear welled up within me as I made my way through the crowd. It was at this moment that I realized why I love the gaming community so much.
As I walked toward the stage, everyone around me made way, clapping and cheering in excitement. This wasn’t just a competition for these people.It was a show: they were spectators, and I was the next actor.
After shaking hands with our first opponents, Alec and I decided that I would go first. Our competitors were diverse: a husky gentleman and a diminutive Asian kid. While the two of them might have been verbal and physical candy for bullies as children, in this community they are the alpha males, and I respected them as such. Appearance is nothing in this sport. It’s your combos and kicks, not your “coolness,” that matters here.
I blew into my hands and rubbed them over the buttons as I sat down at the arcade cabinet, a good luck ritual I perform before every match.
The game was best two out of three, and before I knew it we were in our last match. A single error would mean elimination for me.
We sat on opposite sides of the screen trying to provoke each other into attacking. I struggled valiantly, but he was a skilled fighter and finished me off with a special move.
My partner went in to see if he could fare better against my opponent. If our opponent lost, his partner would go in and face Alec. Whoever won that would move on, while the defeated would descend into the loser’s bracket.
Alec made a faulty move and was punished accordingly. Even though we were not the victors, we were praised by the surrounding viewers with words of encouragement like “good match” and “well fought.”
There is more to tournaments than just being good, there is the pressure of being observed, trying to make fewer mistakes than anyone else, and balancing offensive and defensive tactics against master competitors.
We congratulated the other team and slunk away to wait for our next match in the loser’s bracket.
Time passed, and soon we were called to the stage again for our second match, pitting us against another defeated team. We took our seats and were ready to begin.
I played first once more though I was scared to do so. My opponent was using El Fuerte, a character I had very little practice against. Alec gave me a few quick tips like “back jump fierce” and “focus attack all day”, which probably mean nothing to many readers, but for me they were words of wisdom, leading me to a two to zero defeat over my unknown adversary.
My defeated opponent stepped back while his partner sat down, choosing Sagat, the character who is the complete counter to my beloved E. Honda, the fighter I play with.
Even with that working against me, I still won a round before he emerged victorious. I stood up, allowing Alec to come in and finish what I had started.
Alec started strong, brimming with confidence in the first round, but then the second round ended just as soon as it started as Alec’s character Ken crumbled in defeat.
Once again, it was down to sudden death. Both fighters were evenly matched, and only the winner would move on.
I could see beads of sweat on our enemy’s brow. The stress and pressure were killing him.
Alec never let up for a second and with a kick of his leg, he defeated our opponent.
Cheers and applause surrounded us as we advanced in the tournament, while our opponents were knocked out entirely. Sorry dudes!
Unfortunately, our luck didn’t last long. Our final match went as poorly as our first, and we were knocked out of the tournament and back into training.
Though we didn’t win, I didn’t leave with a grudge or any bitter regrets. I left with confidence, knowing that I was never completely beaten into the ground.
I held my own, even though I’d had very little practice with the new character I was using.
I know that the next time I compete, I will do better. That is the thrill of competitive gaming: The dozens of spectators who watch you play, the skill and thought used to ascend in the ladder, and striving to be the best in this growing scene.
For more information on game tournaments in the Austin area, or for more information on the fighting game scene in general, go to shoryuken.com.
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