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In celebration of the 25th anniversary of Street Fighter, Capcom has announced that they intend to flood the tournament circuit with over 500,000 dollars in prize money in 2012. Understandably, people are excited. Yet, for some, this announcement should be less something over which to get hype, and more something from which to feel vindication.
Earlier this year, Sir Scoots, of Evil Geniuses fame, infamously delivered this jab at the arcade game community, wherein he proclaimed that, “You’ll probably get exactly what you want in 2012... your pros will never make a real living... but it’ll be cool, it’ll be raw...” Et cetera.
Damn. This is sorta awkward...
In December, I wrote an article talking about how the fighting game community could leverage its resources to achieve a level of success beyond that enjoyed by the mainstream professional gaming leagues. It was true then. It is becoming much more true in light of news like this. The basic message then, the basic message now, is this: ignore eSports; we don’t need them. We do this better, anyhow.
The anniversary announcement overshadows the fact that, this week, Capcom begins its most ambitious marketing campaign ever with Cross Assault, fronting production costs for a reality-show-style series that is going to award one fight player with 25,000 dollars. That’s not chump change.
Traditionally, Capcom was notorious for being tight-fisted with its support for the communities that grew around its fighting games. Now, that trend seems to have been busted wide open. I’d wager that a major reason why that’s happening has to do with the way the community has developed over the course of the last four years, enthusiastically embracing live webcasts and aggressively pursuing growth within the non-devoted.
The community can and will deliver mass exposure. It is a reliable vehicle for coverage manned by some of the most talented people in entertainment and media. The hard work of a lot of people has proven something: the community is a money-making investment. Capcom intends to invest.
For the past two years, as the arguments for and against integration into the larger banner of eSports have become more and more pressing, there has been a sticking point on which many have refused to budge: we don’t care about the money or the notoriety; we want to stream our way, write our way, and speak our way.
Let me ask you a question. If Cross Assault were produced by, say MLG, do you honestly believe you’d be seeing Rockefeller, a.k.a. Dr. SubZero, on the program? That’s the crux of the issue for a lot of people. We don’t want to sacrifice our identity, our culture, for better or worse, the bad and the good, warts and all. We want it all. The day one of our own can’t punch another of our own and break a Samba de Amigo machine in the process is a day we will fight. Pun unintended, but appreciated.
Scoots’ remarks regarding our desire to “keep it raw” underlines a critical point of division in a struggle to maintain identity, while at the same time showcasing his lack of understanding of what it is that we do and why we do it. The sometimes crass nature of our scene isn’t a selling point; it’s part of our culture, one of generations of grungy arcade cabinets in poorly-lit rooms with direct access to the streets for which the games are named. It’s a culture that gave birth to a lifestyle that we feel, we know, can be presented to the world, can be used to sell games, and can be used to generate revenue for a hobby that we all love. Fight gamers aren’t fighting integration for the sake of stubborn vulgarity. We fight because we don’t need integration, especially when it comes at the cost of stubborn vulgarity.
The Life, as I sometimes call it, is a fascinating whirlwind of travel, of food and booze, of friendships and adventures and competition all wrapped around the most trivial of things. It is entrancing and draws spectators unlike anything I’ve ever seen. To put it simply, what we have sells itself. What we have is like the corner diner with that burger that you and everyone in your neighborhood knows and loves. We may not sell as many as the McDonald’s down the road, but that’s fine with us. We create a quality product. Someday, people will recognize that.
That day has come.
The irony is, that approach pays dividends not just for us, but for gaming as a whole, including eSports. MLG is carrying two fight games in its 2012 season. Thanks to the fight game revival, that’s possible. Without the very same entities with which eSports sometimes finds itself at odds, there would be no King of Fighters or Mortal Kombat at MLG this year. In fact, those games might not exist at all.
Do I think we have embraced a broadcast mentality? Of course. We have matured, as a scene. We have matured — as broadcasters, commentators, writers, personalities. We have applied a level of polish and shine and tidied things up a bit. We have put out the welcome mat. But I’m proud to say that when I look out over the community today, I still recognize it. I still see the soul of the scene alive and well, the same as its ever been.
Scoots' remarks echo remarks made by eSports participants, fans, and organizers the leagues over. They echo remarks made by vVv members, they echo remarks made by Starcraft players and fans from Reddit, and they echo remarks made on our own forums by visiting commenters. The prevailing “conventional wisdom” was that we could not reach this point without the help of the MLGs and the IPLs of the world. Those remarks are wrong.
MadCatz, Capcom, Namco, SNK, and Atlus have all stepped up their support of the arcade community over the past few years. MadCatz has been a leader in that regard. Now, the developers are following suit. That developer support is crow, cooked for dinner and served to eSports, for two reasons. First, it proves that we can do this — our way, and the right way — with a direct relationship between community and developer, instead of between advertising demographic and soft drink manufacturer/nacho chip peddler. Second, it is a level of support that these same people have coveted for years and could not earn for themselves.
Make absolutely no mistake. These are entities that wanted, badly, to have Capcom’s line-up on their 2012 seasons, and their 2011 seasons, for that matter. They did not choose against featuring Street Fighter IV; they did not receive promises or contracts for what they believe to be adequate levels of support. If they could have had SFIV, or even Marvel, on the line-up with Capcom picking up the tab and kicking in the prize money, they would have, in a heartbeat. Your alternative is believing that, given a choice, MLG went with Mortal Kombat instead.
It would appear that Capcom has, wisely, decided against taking their money and putting it in the hands of a go-between and instead are sending it directly into the tournament field. When you have an organization at your door with financial expectations that openly admits to not being able to transport and house 32 people for the weekend for less than a hundred grand, who’s surprised at the refusal to play ball with what amounts to a glorified middle man?
That’s essentially what organizations like MLG, the IPL, and the NSL are: middle men. They are not community events organized for community members; they are business endeavors designed to generate profit around the participation of enthusiasts. When a guy like Alex Jebailey puts on a tournament, it’s to benefit the community. When a guy like Sundance puts on a tournament, it’s to satisfy a bottom line. They want developer money to finance flashy production and generate tournament fees and ad buys, padding thick pots to draw big names and, in turn, attract stream viewers. Do fight tournament organizers make money? Yes. Is that the purpose? For the tournaments that last, for the real tournaments: no. That priority is reversed in the world of professional gaming "leagues".
What part of any of that, outside of the absurd production, do we not already do on a regular basis? It’s that dedication, that product, that’s been put on the air for four years now by guys like LevelUp, IPW, and Spooky, by smaller outfits like Finest KO, 8WayRun, and Team Khaos, and by up-and-coming regional cats like Deuce. They stream in fucking Wyoming. There may not be blue and red lighting shooting out of the venue’s every orifice. There may not be a Dr. Pepper label plastered over every surface in sight. There are, however, top players and fans at home.
For those of you keeping score this year so far, let me recap. The fight game world is giving you a week long reality show with a $25,000 cash purse. It’s giving you 500,000 dollars in prizes the whole year through. It's giving you the road to Evolution, the granddaddy of them all. eSports is giving you... twenty-dollar pay-per-views and 16,000 dollars for Mortal Kombat.
I’ll tell you what, though. If any of you eSports guys care to stop by, we know our tournaments are little, as they are very, very underground (this is of utmost importance for us, along with being a suitable level of “raw”), but it’s not too late to switch sides. We're a pretty welcoming people, once you get to know us. We let Andre play on stream for money at Winter Brawl, I'm sure we'd welcome you if you could skip the Barcraft and roll through to enjoy a real show.
Or you can keep going to your big tourneys. Good on ya’.
As always, you can let Darry know what you think of this volume of the Runback via his Twitter. Also, special shout outs to S-Kill on the 2012 announcement. I see what you did there. Thanks, from all of us!

Darry
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