This was a desire that was built up ever since I noticed league tables for scores and fastest times in gaming magazines. This was a desire that was reinforced through watching the Gamesmaster television show. One that was strengthened through every tale of Counterstrike five-on-five battles for thousands of euros, or a news article on someone getting a trip to America simply by beating local competition at Street Fighter II.

I badly wanted a part of this glory. Who wouldn’t want to earn cash, prizes and respect for their pastime? I knew I had a place to throw my cares away, escape from the harsh realities of school and family break-up.

The only problem was, how hard and how far was I willing to go? Should I have took the leap from a hobby to actually practise more, or should I just go back to keeping my fragile dreams from being broken and just face local competition?

The Beginning

My desires often show within my competitiveness. Every time I got to play a football match at school, I’d try to do my best to show the others that I wasn’t a geek who simply got upset at every name he got called at. Every time I was involved in a class quiz, I wanted to be the smartest of everyone else because I was treated like dirt. I felt I didn’t deserve to be put down when I celebrated emphatically when scoring a goal every time. I didn’t want to have my moment of glory taken away from me by a bunch of stuck-up people trapped in their cliques. My mistake was to pander to those who didn’t share the same passion I did.

I never fitted in. My music interests didn’t attain the respect of those the same age as me. I wanted to be good at something so I didn’t have to feel inferior and so I guess I deserved to love video games. I didn’t have to confront anyone in front of my monitor (btw, I am now feeling quite angry as I am typing this).

My first chance to have a crack at doing something I thought I would actually be good at and have the chance to win stuff came in the form of a copy of the original Unreal Tournament for the PC. I am a competition whore, but only if I can be bothered and if the prize is relevant to my own or my significant other’s needs. Ever since I won a McDonalds bag in a newspaper puzzle (I must have been eight or nine years old… and I still have the bag in my room!), I knew it was a good way to obtain a few things here and there. In a decidedly cold winter, I entered multiple phone-in competitions in PC Gamer. A short while later, I got the copy of the famed FPS and another game, which may have been Fireteam, but I wasn’t able to play that. Good thing too, because I thought Unreal Tournament rocked.



Anyway, back to my mission. I was reduced to playing UT on my own a lot of the time, since the internet connection was far from adequate, and I didn’t have a l33t PC. I continued flicking through my magazines, envious of net-cafés that ended up opening in places I couldn’t get to without spending a bomb on a train ticket. Then, a chance arrived. A small pub in Norwich, about 25 miles away from where I lived, was holding monthly sessions of (yes, you’ve guessed it) UT. LAN gaming? Yes, please! I was there in a flash, and discovered a computer shop had use of the pub, all adorned with music posters and natural, smoke-enhanced sunlight. They charged a small fee (I think), had hung up some camo-nets, put in some weird lighting, and allowed me to delve into the world of multiplayer UT.

This wasn’t the first time I had been on a LAN. A short period playing Warcraft II in an out-of-hours computer shop was my first taste, but I was so slow at RTS gaming, I would spend more time making buildings than making troops. The few times I popped into the pub were a good distraction, and preparation for a new venue that I was about to become resident to.

A New Dawn

Whilst patiently awaiting the next pub meeting, a copy of a magazine had a full-page ad that got my jaw-dropping. It was for a series of LAN centres and cafés across the UK and Ireland called the Virtual Gaming Alliance (VGA, which eventually became Interactive Gaming UK, or IGUK). And there was one called Battlenet not far from where the pub was! Even better, it was right in the city centre! I was absolutely head-over-heels in joy, and set off for my new part of my adventure.

Battlenet hadn’t started very long, and so was in its ‘embryonic’ stage; a narrow-spaced, darkened hovel, holding between 12-16 PCs, selling drinks, crisps and with limited access to internet. It had the most popular games the PC had to offer, including Counterstrike. There was also a skate park next door (now bulldozed, thankfully, to make way for a travel hotel), where we could use the toilets. Unfortunately, the toilets were an utter biohazard that leaked like crazy at certain points. I’m surprised that Health and Safety didn’t cordon the area off.



This was also the first chance I had to play Counterstrike, the most played game in the centre. However, I was shocked at how difficult it was to kill and not be killed. Aiming and firing ahead of the enemy was the easy part; killing them was virtually impossible. I would unload a full MP5 magazine with my crosshair over a terrorist, only to find my GIGN commando taken down with a few short bursts of pistol fire. On a regular basis. Talk about unfair. No, I was just rubbish, and I still had fun with the game against the other LAN players, whom I was starting to know better (hooray for social interaction!). I was a regular on their internet forum, which would sometimes get new members asking questions about Battle.Net, rather than Battlenet. I needed to get playing the game that I won ages ago, however. I needed to hope that the VGA would come good and start a league with that game, and not solely plump for centre v centre CS. And that game wasn’t Fireteam.

After a very good turnout from the city and surrounding areas, Battlenet entered a larger venue with more, faster computers. Not only that, but they managed to set up a larger broadband internet connection to cover more of those PCs. The overnighters were much better; instead of having to wade through urine like Indiana Jones had to negotiate a tunnel, we could now have access to a loo in the back of a shop next door. The extra space allowed for Magic and Pokemon card game leagues to be set up on tables nearby. Games Workshop and D&D games were going on. They even received Xboxes from the IGUK to hold promo competitions and charge plays of Dead Or Alive 3 on. This was gaming heaven.

In the meantime, I got a chance to show how much I had practise I had against proper UT talent. The broadband connection was more likely to hold a game like UT without lagging. Now all I needed was an event to play in.

Up Against The Small Boys, Down Amongst The Dead Men



My chance came in the form of the World Cyber Games. My first attempt at qualifying had been kyboshed as the qualifier had been cancelled. The venue? Nottingham. I had to roam a city for stuff to do, miles away from Battlenet and where I lived. I would feel sorry for an American travelling across several states, only to find some idiot didn’t make you aware one or two days ago that there was no way the meeting was going ahead. The second attempt wasn’t going to pass me by; the local qualifier was to be held at Battlenet. I believed my opportunity to shine had come.

My memories of the qualifier are sketchy. About seven or eight others decided they would like to try their hand. Game on. I may have gotten a bye, and there were other qualifiers going on for different games to be played. The first game I played, the opponent got a trouncing. The second game to be played, I just squeezed through by one or two frags. I was now in the final. Surely glory would be mine.

I was up against one of the pretty quiet guys in Battlenet. I wouldn’t underestimate him, but I was pretty confident. I wanted that bus to London for the UK qualifier. It became a bitter, hard fought match on DM-Fractal. We were close for about half the match, trading flack grenades for plasma fire. But he wrestled away from me, his lead increasing. I managed to cut him down to a lead of two frags, but his plasma shots were very accurate, and he pulled away again. Suddenly, the timer was counting down…10….9….8…7…6….5….4….3….2….1….

I lost. By four frags. I was inconsolable. I uttered expletives regardless of LAN centre policy, congratulated by opponent grudgingly, and left Battlenet in utter disappointment. I wouldn’t play other games; I was no good at Quake 3 or Counterstrike. My only other chance would be to head to London separately to try the wild card qualifier. I knew I was better, I said to myself.



I practised a bit, and learnt about more secrets and areas I didn’t know about on some of the maps. I booked my hotel, and headed off to London. Looking back now, I didn’t really practise a lot. A few times on the Battlenet PC, playing a bit more against AI at home. Practise is what you need in this pro-gaming world; guys would play nine to five, turning their hobby into work. I didn’t like that; I wanted the experience to remain fun. Something had to give, and maybe that experience at Battlenet was a warning…

I entered the WCG UK qualifier in London once again in a good mood. A games exhibition was going on, lots to play and do. I was happy, but this didn’t last long. I was smacked out of a map I should have done better on. But that wasn’t the worst part. I lost with a -3 frag score. I was just absolutely angry with myself. “I AM BETTER THAN THIS!” I ranted, seething. A poor Scotsman next to me had no luck either, and he came all the way down to London to be kicked out at the very first hurdle as well. They didn’t hold the qualifiers in his LAN centre, so he had no choice. I believe the Greeks had even worse luck; their government mistook illegal gambling sites for video games, and banned LAN centres from playing games, in turn stopping people from accessing WCG qualifiers.

But I didn’t give a toss about how they were feeling at the time. I was absolutely gutted, and really concerned with my own pain than theirs. I spent the rest of the time in London looking for other stuff to do. But one memory still lingers…I spotted (and maybe spoke to) a young red-haired lady at the PC monitors playing UT as well. I can only think now that the person I spotted was Atheistium. Was that you?



Unreal Tournament: The Next Generation

Time passed. I was in work, doing various things, and looking for the next chance to win big in gaming. Pro-gaming, remember, was still in its infancy, and the prizes on offer were miniscule (and they might still be). I was still attending Battlenet, trying my hand at a variety of games, still not suited to certain other competitive games like I was with UT.

Then UT2003 came out. It was better. The character designs and maps were amazing compared to the first game. You could also pull off temporary a power-up move by hitting a combination of WASD presses, as long as adrenaline (gain via kills and the power-up capsules) is 100. The missile-loading count was decreased from nine(!) to three. There was a larger choice of characters, but one of them stood out; a mutilated, top-hatted guy with a rigor-mortis grin. “Mr Crow!” he screeched before me. It was love at first sight, and I selected him throughout.



To re-enforce the need to play the game, IGUK had started a UT2003 league. Now I didn’t have to go one-on-one anymore, I would now see if I could hold my own against a server full of fraggers. Before the first trial match, I had time to play against a guy who was a well-known British pro-gamer, Sujoy Roy. Imagine my delight as I fragged his avatar to pieces. When the actual match finished, I was pretty impressed; out of between twelve to twenty players, I had actually finished in the top three. I knew I better in a free-for-all rather than a one-on-one. This was going to be interesting.

There was one player who was always several score frags ahead of the rest of us, and his name was Echelon. He was a player beyond everyone’s level of skill and was a force to be reckoned with. The few times he showed up were a masterclass of Unreal Tournament gaming, and he could have owned the lot of us every Monday night if it wasn’t for plumping with another UT2003 league (maybe with tougher competition for him to kill off). He used a female skin without ridicule; the skin was simply quicker and more agile than others, and it was used to complete advantage. Getting a frag off him on the server was a rare, but special pleasure. He would sometimes get away with a death count of 20 on our half-an-hour server.

Other players, like Spike (of Squeex), BSilenced (of TeamPlay), Bahamut_Zero (of CGZ; I think he's on D/Toid now), Zaccubus, were more regularly tangled with, and although we didn’t know others from different LAN centres intimately, we would come to recognise our names and type our greetings. Before killing each other again and again. I was a little lacking in the Instagib, but my prowess in Normal Weapons mode was great. I seldom ever left the top six players on a server.

My first (and only) win came during the claustrophobic battle one Monday on Flux 2. I had been close in winning a league game once, but the league points were taken from me at the very last moment. On this day, I was lagging behind in the standings; with such a small map space, I was struggling to stay alive in the danger zones long enough to string kills together. All of a sudden, I had an idea. With my adrenaline at 100, and capturing the flack-cannon, I went to ‘regen’ mode and started killing anyone who tried to collect the cannon. It was so common to come across somebody running across the site, and immediately racked up kills. The kills in turn boosted the adrenaline, elongating the ‘regen’ process (so long as I kept alive). I also had to deal with others who had spotted me from behind and/or escaped the trap, so it wasn’t an option to simply camp and lob flak-grenades at the weapon spawn. I had to move like crazy as I always did, circle-strafing and jumping like mad, keeping both them and myself on our toes. The final score showed I had won! I was relieved. However, the chat on the forum accused me of camping my way to victory. Once again, someone objected to my hard-earned glory, and I was not happy. Then, a few of the regulars rallied round with positive comments. This was probably the genuinely touching points of my gaming life; that people actually stuck-up for me. They had become aware of my performances, and had defended me as they felt I was due a win.



THIS is a cheat. Not me.

Blown Apart

I mentioned that was my first and only win; my workplace decided to stop allowing me to leave work early so I could play the league. However, this only happened after the season ended, and by that time, it had been gripped by a low attendance issue. This was partly due to the low amount of prizes, and the fact that one person was most likely to win, meaning that the points for server places meant very little to everyone except the winner. This was rectified now during league matches, thanks to a ‘frag-lottery’ system and a £50 weekly prize. I ended up coming second in the Normal Weapons League table for the season I left, and got little in return. I made a train journey every week, sometimes to have my frag score reduced because of a connection problem. Other times, Battlenet would not be open for a particular day, but blaming them would be harsh. I also made bad choices regarding work that stopped me from going to Battlenet for a long time, and I have still yet to drop by for a while.

I had to face that I was never able to cut the mustard. At another WCG event in London, I once again dropped out of the first qualifying phase on the Antalus map. I neglected to change to a different mouse, as my aim stuck rigid at times. I tried a quick attempt at FIFA, but only annoyed myself silly. I also had trouble getting into group games. I sucked at CS of course, the most popular multiplayer game out. When a IGUK event called the ‘All-Stars’ day was announced, where each centre would nominate a player to battle each other to win their centre points, only myself in my centre was interested.

This may sound like a negative, disillusioned rant at everything and everybody (including myself) that hampered my attempts, but there are a lot of positive things I can take away from this experience as well. This has taught to be aware I’m okay at playing games in my local LAN centre, and I will do well without having to spend money like crazy achieving things. Not only that, but I’ve got the knowledge that I like the level of personal progression I took; there was a little stats table that measured myself against others in UT2003 on a gaming website. I liked the fact that every week, just by playing a few sessions, I was able to climb into the top 400 UT2003 players in the world. Sure, it wouldn’t show people who haven’t logged their details, or collect the details of someone who would use multiple names under one moniker, but I valued it, and I felt positive and obsessed by it. Plus, I managed to win two games, along with an Xbox, complete with DVD playing items at that last WCG, which helped me feel quite chuffed. And I met Spike in person because of that Xbox win (he got second place to me, and another Xbox). Not to mention the links I’ve made with all those at Battlenet.

I will return to Battlenet, one day. Sometimes to compete for points and prizes, but always for fun. Let’s just say I’ve had a higher calling, than wasting money to travel to a beatdown. I should only have a competition when I feel like it. My next idea is to try and get into the next Guinness World Records Gamers Edition if they release it. I shouldn’t get my hopes up though.

Batthink out.