Apathy
Smash Apprentice
Story time, *****es!
Chances are you've been playing this game for a long time. What are your fondest memories and experiences?
I'll start:
The Legend of Lovage
There is a major dead period in Melee in 2008 and 2009.
We managed to have tournaments on a regular basis, but the problem was talent: the initial generation of players were retiring.
The greatest player to ever pick up the controller, SephirothKen, retired. DieSuperFly and HugS transitioned to Brawl, along with the legendary Palmdale crew. Deep SoCal disbanded.
The unexpected power vacuum wreaked havoc on the community's leadership, a gap that, to this day, has remained unfulfilled.
Mango and Lucky were the only survivors.
So it goes.
The new up-and-coming players? Tofu, Atlus, Neighborhood P, Connor.
The latent talents of 805 loomed, but for time being were in incubation. For what seemed like ages (it was probably six months) it seemed like the only other people I played were Tofu and Atlus. We would beat everyone else fairly easily. Then Tofu would usually beat me, and if I beat him, Atlus would beat me. If I beat Atlus, Tofu would beat me.
--
There was a tournament at Cal Poly, hosted by a hungover David "Kira" Kim.
(Dave is now editor of GQ. R.I.P.)
Kira, a strong player who could expect to place well, had high hopes, but, being hungover, got *****. Soon after he was upset in bracket, he moped around, telling anyone who would listen that he lost to [insert random]. I snickered.
Ten minutes later, Dave was doing the snickering.
I was upset, and eliminated from the tournament, by the tall oddity known by Lovage.
I thought nothing of it.
As time went on, the area code of 805 became ubiquitous. They proudly put their stamp on the scene as the likes of Plan 9 (who, in fact, was an O.G. with the likes of me and Dave), The Great Leon, Replicate, Embracethe12, Riptide, TipZ, and Lovage himself, terrorized the boards with charm.
The area became such a hotspot for good times that I took the 90-minute trek to the heartland of 805: Moorpark. I was to house with Rapelicate -- I called him Rapelicate -- and take part in some serious training.
I had come not just to chill with 805 but to sodomize, to participate in a seek-and-destroy mission. Joe was my only buddy in the area; everyone else I did not know and looked down upon.
Joe mentioned that Lovage would come over tomorrow. I inquired as to Lovage's skill level, but relaxed when Joe stated Lovage was certainly no better than himself.
I paid him no mind; who was this Lovage he spoke of?
(I had actually forgot this was the same player who beat me in my home town; Oscar would remind me of it in a few years.)
After beating Joe for hours, I was satisfied. As Joe and I became familiar with each other, I stopped trying my damndest to win. I even began to approach! He was a sharp talent, eager to learn, and, contrary to my patient, methodical camping (my favorite player? Mew2King. My favorite tactic? Ledge camp), did not play queer.
In the midst of a break, as Joe and I grubbed on some of his mother's home-cooking, a new challenger approached.
As Lovage and I began our first set, tension coursed. It's the feeling that occurs whenever I play someone new. It is a feeling of complete focus, of total annihilation.
It can be summed up in three words: play to win.
Whilst Joe and I shared an intense competitive spirit, Lovage and I seemed to be complete opposites. He was technical, aggressive and flashy. The most technical thing I could do was camp on the ledge with Shino stalls. He was relaxed; I was ruthless. He annoyed me to death by requesting that pause be turned off. I prefer to "rage quit" after each match, but that interfered with Lovage's end-of-stock routine.
Yet, quirks be damned, Lovage consistently one-upped me throughout those friendlies! I was agape!. I unwittingly experienced history repeat itself.
Towards the end of our time together I conceded. I still couldn't understand how he was beating me, but the proof is in the pudding. I respected, and was even in awe, of him as a player.
Little did I know that would become a trend. As Lovage and I were two of SoCal's top 10 players, we competed in tournament on a regular basis. Nary did I come out on top.
Aside: Otto, a.k.a. Silent Wolf, came down to Oxnard that weekend. It's curious what perspective offers, as Mango was telling anyone who would listen how awful and overrated Silent Wolf was. Few in SoCal believed Otto would live up to the hype. I myself was a major hater; I'm sure there are still YouTube comments of Vyse0wnz, hanging in posterity, spewing vitriol towards Silent Wolf's Fox.
Suffice to say that Otto proved everyone wrong. Amusingly enough Joseph Marquez and Otto quickly became butt buddies.
Otto was/is Oscar's idol.
The student becomes the teacher.
Chances are you've been playing this game for a long time. What are your fondest memories and experiences?
I'll start:
The Legend of Lovage
There is a major dead period in Melee in 2008 and 2009.
We managed to have tournaments on a regular basis, but the problem was talent: the initial generation of players were retiring.
The greatest player to ever pick up the controller, SephirothKen, retired. DieSuperFly and HugS transitioned to Brawl, along with the legendary Palmdale crew. Deep SoCal disbanded.
The unexpected power vacuum wreaked havoc on the community's leadership, a gap that, to this day, has remained unfulfilled.
Mango and Lucky were the only survivors.
So it goes.
The new up-and-coming players? Tofu, Atlus, Neighborhood P, Connor.
The latent talents of 805 loomed, but for time being were in incubation. For what seemed like ages (it was probably six months) it seemed like the only other people I played were Tofu and Atlus. We would beat everyone else fairly easily. Then Tofu would usually beat me, and if I beat him, Atlus would beat me. If I beat Atlus, Tofu would beat me.
--
There was a tournament at Cal Poly, hosted by a hungover David "Kira" Kim.
(Dave is now editor of GQ. R.I.P.)
Kira, a strong player who could expect to place well, had high hopes, but, being hungover, got *****. Soon after he was upset in bracket, he moped around, telling anyone who would listen that he lost to [insert random]. I snickered.
Ten minutes later, Dave was doing the snickering.
I was upset, and eliminated from the tournament, by the tall oddity known by Lovage.
I thought nothing of it.
As time went on, the area code of 805 became ubiquitous. They proudly put their stamp on the scene as the likes of Plan 9 (who, in fact, was an O.G. with the likes of me and Dave), The Great Leon, Replicate, Embracethe12, Riptide, TipZ, and Lovage himself, terrorized the boards with charm.
The area became such a hotspot for good times that I took the 90-minute trek to the heartland of 805: Moorpark. I was to house with Rapelicate -- I called him Rapelicate -- and take part in some serious training.
I had come not just to chill with 805 but to sodomize, to participate in a seek-and-destroy mission. Joe was my only buddy in the area; everyone else I did not know and looked down upon.
Joe mentioned that Lovage would come over tomorrow. I inquired as to Lovage's skill level, but relaxed when Joe stated Lovage was certainly no better than himself.
I paid him no mind; who was this Lovage he spoke of?
(I had actually forgot this was the same player who beat me in my home town; Oscar would remind me of it in a few years.)
After beating Joe for hours, I was satisfied. As Joe and I became familiar with each other, I stopped trying my damndest to win. I even began to approach! He was a sharp talent, eager to learn, and, contrary to my patient, methodical camping (my favorite player? Mew2King. My favorite tactic? Ledge camp), did not play queer.
In the midst of a break, as Joe and I grubbed on some of his mother's home-cooking, a new challenger approached.
As Lovage and I began our first set, tension coursed. It's the feeling that occurs whenever I play someone new. It is a feeling of complete focus, of total annihilation.
It can be summed up in three words: play to win.
Whilst Joe and I shared an intense competitive spirit, Lovage and I seemed to be complete opposites. He was technical, aggressive and flashy. The most technical thing I could do was camp on the ledge with Shino stalls. He was relaxed; I was ruthless. He annoyed me to death by requesting that pause be turned off. I prefer to "rage quit" after each match, but that interfered with Lovage's end-of-stock routine.
Yet, quirks be damned, Lovage consistently one-upped me throughout those friendlies! I was agape!. I unwittingly experienced history repeat itself.
Towards the end of our time together I conceded. I still couldn't understand how he was beating me, but the proof is in the pudding. I respected, and was even in awe, of him as a player.
Little did I know that would become a trend. As Lovage and I were two of SoCal's top 10 players, we competed in tournament on a regular basis. Nary did I come out on top.
Aside: Otto, a.k.a. Silent Wolf, came down to Oxnard that weekend. It's curious what perspective offers, as Mango was telling anyone who would listen how awful and overrated Silent Wolf was. Few in SoCal believed Otto would live up to the hype. I myself was a major hater; I'm sure there are still YouTube comments of Vyse0wnz, hanging in posterity, spewing vitriol towards Silent Wolf's Fox.
Suffice to say that Otto proved everyone wrong. Amusingly enough Joseph Marquez and Otto quickly became butt buddies.
Otto was/is Oscar's idol.
The student becomes the teacher.
