Why does a game become “just a game?”

It's true that I've seen people raging over video games for extremely stupid reasons. I've been in parties where as much has happened. I have also been that person who, while getting volcanically irritated in the privacy of my own home (pro tip: like physical sports, yelling at teammates to their faces because you're frustrated with them/the situation doesn't make anything any better), have asked myself why I allow myself to get so frustrated over a video game. A video game, in the scheme of things, really doesn't matter. Or does it?

For weeks now, I've found myself logging more and more hours into “Overwatch,” a first person shooter-style game where you pick diverse heroes with diverse skill sets and are pitted against an opposing team in order to accomplish objectives. It's very fun, very addicting, one of my favorite games, but also very rage-inducing. There are two main ways to play “Overwatch:” Quick Play and Competitive. Quick Play is playing through objectives with little-to-no pressure and it allows you to practice with new heroes without mucking things up too badly. Competitive, however, is where players go to literally compete with other teams, and with it comes not only a boost of experience points that lead to loot boxes that contain skins for heroes, voice lines, player icons, and more, but also a ranking system (from Bronze to Diamond, Master, and Grandmaster) and “competitive points,” which can be used to buy golden weapons for your hero of choice.

I'm stuck in what I call “Silver Hell.” I haven't been playing Overwatch for very long in the grand scheme of things, and I'm still sub-par at video games anyway, but as a silver rank, it feels like there's only a 30-40 percent chance of your team winning at any given time. Now, using objective statistics, not every team (randomized with others in your relative rank unless you have five other friends in close rank) can have an above-average win or loss percentage. However, by the time you've lost the fifth game in a row, and you're watching your rank steadily go down, it starts to feel like that's not the case. And it's extremely frustrating.

After losing games, we start pointing fingers at useless teammates, or perhaps (less likely) at ourselves and are embarrassed by our performance. I personally like to blame the situation itself -- more often than not, you'll be placed in your randomized team, and all six of you are out of sync with each other and really, that's nobody's fault. Frustrating, yes, but a team with a good rhythm is a team that's damn near unstoppable, but it's a stroke of insanely good luck to get a team of strangers with a good rhythm. But, sometimes we find ourselves becoming toxic players and some of us are presented, in some way, with the old cliche “it's just a game,” and somehow that means that it doesn't matter.

In describing “Overwatch” just now, I've come to see exactly how close multiplayer video games are to sports. There are competitions and tournaments for games like “Overwatch” -- in fact, “League of Legends” has an enormous professional tournament every year that takes place in bustling cities like Berlin, San Francisco, and Taipei. It's honestly not that different from March Madness or the weeks leading up to the Super Bowl. Like sports, there's an insane amount of competition, even among us non-professionals who don't have an enormous stake in our performance. These video games are a team effort -- there are professional teams, and there are groups of friends who gather together to play, just like there are groups of friends who gather to play basketball against one another.

And, yes, sports players I'm sure get a healthy dose of rage every now and again and are told that it’s just a game -- which is true. Basketball, American football, rest of the world football/soccer, and baseball, among others, ARE just games. And, unless you're playing professionally, there will always be comments about irritation being useless because it's “just a game.” But, not to get too sappy, it's more than just a game. Video games and sports are hobbies, and with practicing a hobby comes the passion for it. I have a passion for writing and for watercolor painting, and while I'm still learning to paint with watercolors and will always believe my writing has immense room for improvement, not for the sake of humility/compliment fishing but for the sake of understanding I could always be better, I still have the passion to pursue things I love and improve with them. Passion and love for a hobby leads to immense frustration when failure is recurring, especially in a competitive setting, and it can become hard to see failure as a “learning moment” without intense mental exercise.

I'm not excusing people who violently rage out at their teammates on a frequent basis -- seriously, you all know who you are, and you need to knock it off. It's annoying and it makes people not want to work with you, which harms the whole team. This goes for video games and sports. Be a leader -- this shit is a team effort, and you’re a part of that team. But, this frustration stems from a real and legitimate source, and that is passion for something you love. So, while it's not okay to be an asshole to your teammates, it is okay to feel irritated, frustrated, and, dare I say, rage-y, over “just a game.” If gaming is something you're passionate about, then milk that passion for all it's worth. Use your frustration to practice and get better, and use it to learn from your own mistakes. At the end of the day, it's still a team effort, and it's up to you what you do with your fiery passion in a team setting, and if you use your passion to build yourself and your teammates up instead of tearing them down, then the game becomes what it's truly meant to be -- pure, unadulterated fun.