The Thrill of Victory
Everyone agrees that one of the most appealing aspects of League of Champions is the sheer variety of ways every single game unfolds. After all, even when the meta stays mostly the same, the players’ decisions and reactions can twist the outcome in completely unexpected directions.
Back in the old days there was a meta where both top and bottom lanes deliberately abandoned their natural roles, pushing towers on both sides until the early game was over. Or the long, soul-crushing meta where everyone just cleared lanes forever while the objective battles dragged on endlessly. Then there was the infamous “if you let the ranged damage dealer get any kind of setup, the game is already over.” No matter how often the pattern repeated, people still refused to quit League of Champions. It couldn’t have been simple repetition.
Even if the conquest of beating the opponent, or the satisfaction of improving your score from yesterday, wasn’t enough to keep you going, the simple fact was that the game itself was fun. That was why Champions of the Storm eventually collapsed; the people who had stuck with it for years knew the truth better than anyone.
Still, whenever that fun started tilting in a direction that didn’t feel good to me, the mood always turned sour. “If it was just a skill gap and I lost, I wouldn’t be this upset. But watching my own teammates lose their minds and turn on each other drains the energy right out of me.”
After I finished the first Horn game with genuine enjoyment, I dropped the next two straight because of internal team drama. Even though the viewers kept the chat lively and entertaining, the atmosphere stayed heavy.
Of course it’s hard to quit when the outcome literally decides who wins. While you’re ahead you can afford to tolerate mistakes. But the moment you’re behind and the chance of victory looks slim, everyone starts clinging to every tiny advantage, desperately searching for the next game instead of fighting through the current one. Overwhelming competitiveness mutates into something sharper, and the blade turns toward the teammates who are supposed to be on your side.
I used to feel exactly that way when I was grinding Challenger ranks. How could I be clicking and using abilities nonstop for the sake of winning, yet still waste time typing useless chat? …Except that I was doing the exact same thing right now, pointing fingers at everyone else. If the chat-ban punishment hadn’t been in place, I probably would have been shouting the same nonsense. Maybe it was actually fortunate that I couldn’t vent. At least I didn’t have to feel ashamed.
At the same time I was quietly defending them in my head. “Hmm, I’ve been climbing since Silver, right? The higher you go, the more people seem to develop this ego. It’s important to own your mistakes and accept feedback, but the longer you do it the easier it is to break. Badmouthing is just another way to protect your own mental health.”
“Yeah, that’s right. But the person who keeps playing one more game while badmouthing everyone is probably less likely to have a mental breakdown than someone who already feels guilty. Every extra game means one more round of trial and error, which makes improvement easier. These days the meme about the ‘headbutt dinosaur’ is basically describing this whole thing.”
I’ve been talking more than usual today. After all, I’ve been carrying a lot of League of Champions weight for the past month. It definitely wasn’t good for my mental health, even if it wasn’t the same as the toxic gaming environment. Right now, thanks to the viewers, I’m stress-free. At least they don’t strangle me when I lose. I’d even call it good when they laugh, chat, and occasionally comfort me.
Exactly. The fastest way to get better is to review your own play and accept feedback. You can’t change the variables other players create, but you can figure out what you should have done differently and how to adapt next time. That’s real growth. But there aren’t many players with that kind of mental fortitude. Those who don’t badmouth and just have a softer heart usually quit the moment their own mind starts to crack.
I poured out my complaints to the viewers and got so much empathy that the things I felt toward today’s teammates just flew away. But the feedback I gave and received inside my own head never disappeared. Tanks are undeniably strong in team games. They can keep allied damage dealers and mages pumping out consistent DPS, lock down the enemy carries, break up enemy formations, or at least harass the assassins trying to dive your backline. But in the end the real stars who carry the game are the damage dealers who survive until the very last second and push the towers. Tanks can still be flashy with crowd control and damage, of course. Breaking free of the role constraints is extremely difficult. Trying to do something outside your tier is basically unplayable. Right now I was being held by the throat and ankle, and if they kept dragging the game down until their team wiped, it would have been a loss. This wasn’t supposed to be a game where every single match changed wildly. It was just a team-pick game.
I played League of Champions because I wanted to do things I could never do in real life, not because I was trying to flip a coin and get lucky. I had already felt the helplessness enough while getting beaten by my father.
That was why in the next game I chose Eitrox’s portrait without hesitation.
Even though Ireil immediately showed up, I didn’t care. Even if I ended up being blamed as the cause of the loss, I was still going to play the game I wanted to play. Everyone wants to be the protagonist. If I kept climbing through pure team luck, at least someone would finally acknowledge it. Was this the need for validation, or was it just lingering resentment from the last defeat I couldn’t win? Or maybe I just genuinely wanted to have fun. I didn’t know anymore, and I didn’t feel like thinking that hard about it.
At least the viewers were happy seeing me, the warlord, swinging a demonic weapon.
As the viewers said, Eitrox was a warrior who swung a huge weapon, but to maximize damage and trigger passive effects you had to land the sword at the perfect angle. That required more attention to range and positioning than the all-in damage dealers who just rushed in and won. On the other hand, Ireil was the kind of champion that loved forcing enemies to dive you and eating them alive. As the viewers had warned, Ireil had the superior matchup. Still, it was better to break your shield and swing anyway than to just stand there and crumble.
Since I was going to lose anyway, I told myself the game would be unfair no matter what. I didn’t have to feel guilty.
[Team] TwoheadWolf: Ireil, you good with Eitrox?
[Team] TwoheadWolf: You taking mid?
[Team] Noel: You good on top?
[Team] TwoheadWolf: Just Dolka-Malf, lol
Our mid laner generously offered the role swap. I accepted immediately.