Street Fighter 5: Better Late Than Never

You are a Japanese fighting game developer, eagre to deliver a high-quality game that both casual and competitive players can enjoy for years to come. Traditionally, you’d have plenty of time to work on the game, its balance, the single-player content. With an early arcade release, you can gather feedback from highly competitive players, allowing you to work on balance patches at the same time as your animators, artists, and programmers put together story modes, cut-scenes, and other extras for a console port. The port is where you make the bulk of your profits, and where you need to engage a wider audience. It’s not a perfect system, but it’s worked well enough.

As the years go on, things change. With a newer generation of consoles, it’s possible to put out post-release patches and DLC. The West is also interested in fighting games again, but they no longer have arcades. They want online play. And your company has given you a firm release date, delays and setbacks be damned.

What are you going to do? How can you satisfy sometimes disparate, and expanding, demands from fans, all while on a tighter leash and with a shorter development cycle?

If the year is 2010 and you work for Namco, then you are Daishi Odashima, and you’re now in charge of the newly reassembled Project Soul, tasked with releasing Soulcalibur 5 in a little over a year. You make grand promises about your game’s single-player content, teasing an elaborate story mode, even announcing that you’re bringing on CyberConnect2–well known for their work on the cinematic Naruto fighting games, and the bombastic Asura’s Wrath–to help with all the animations and cut-scenes involved.

Time marches on, and the mandated release date approaches. With delays and limited resources, it’s clear that the game is not going to meet all its goals. You have to start making cuts.

As someone who enjoys playing fighting games competitively, who has been open about the development process on Twitter, and even flew to North America to meet with the tournament community, you probably decide that longevity is the goal. You cut characters and focus more on trying to balance what’s already there, and to improve online play. All at the expense of single-player.

daishi 1
Interview courtesy of

After the release, there is a huge backlash from the players. Why are there so many clone characters? Where are all the favourites from past games? Why is the story mode so short? Why doesn’t it explain anything?

While the move lists and controls have been further simplified for controllers, many competitive players feel that it’s overall a good game. Unfortunately, missing content is the rallying cry on the internet, and soon after the completing the game, and bearing the brunt of fan’s ire, you quietly leave the company.

Project Soul goes on to make a micro-transaction-based free-to-play single-player only game using the same engine, and eventually adds many of the characters missing from Soulcalibur 5. All to the continued consternation of the dwindling competitive fanbase.

A New Era

The year is now 2015, and you’re at Capcom and it’s time for Street Fighter 5. As with Soulcalibur 5, you’re tasked with releasing a competitive fighting game based around online play, for the first time without an arcade test of any sort. Whether determined before or during the development, the release date in February 2016 is little more than a year away from the game’s “leaked” announcement in December 2014. Time is tight. Not only that, but you’re working with Unreal Engine for the first time, and want cross-platform play between the next-generation PlayStation 4 console and PCs. There’s also a new service-oriented business model, new characters and systems to work out, a brand-name sponsored tournament series, and everything else that comes with a new fighting game.

While the other major Japanese fighting game in development at the time, Tekken 7, went for the arcade release and location tests they’ve been doing for decades, Street Fighter no longer has that luxury. Not with the Capcom Pro Tour running. Tekken is primarily a Japanese and Korean game, places where people can still go to arcades. The whole world plays Street Fighter, and it’s especially big in North America. (In 2015, the Capcom Pro Tour had 4 events in Japan, 11 in the United States.) Short of opening new arcades in every major US city, Capcom’s only options were a console release at the start of the year, or cancelling the entire tour while Japanese and Korean players tested the arcade version. Which would essentially be the same as cancelling one of their major advertising campaigns, and their most direct interaction with the competitive community.

As someone who is openly critical of both Capcom and service-oriented games, you might not expect me to defend Street Fighter 5. Believe me, I’m as surprised as anyone else. But when I look at the alternative, I think the Street Fighter developers have made the best lemonade possible with the ingredients on hand.


Am I biased? Of course I am. But I can’t help seeing the parallels between Soulcalibur 5‘s disastrous release, and the ill-will it created amongst fans, and what’s happening with Street Fighter 5.

If a delay isn’t an option, then cutting content is all you’re left with. Or at least it was. With the increased online integration of the new generation of consoles, there’s a third option where there wasn’t before. Release the game in pieces. A basic roster and versus mode now, and all that work-intensive single-player content later, when it’s finished.

I understand completely why Street Fighter players and fans might feel let down or even ripped off by the game’s current state. And technical issues are inexcusable, especially after all those betas. I played during a couple of them and, though I still don’t particularly care for Street Fighter and 2D footsies, the general gameplay seemed competent enough. It certainly could be worse.

The entire thing could be worse, as I think the Soulcalbiur 5 story demonstrates. I wouldn’t fault anyone for holding off until the full story mode in June. There’s every chance it’ll be terrible. But it will actually be there, in full. As a Soulcalibur fan, I would trade places with Street Fighter 5 in a heartbeat.


A New Golden Age?

Unreal Tournament 4. Reflex. Toxikk. Reborn. Wickland. Project Bluestreak And now ProjectRIK. The movement-based arena shooter is attempting a comeback. Which is great, because I grew up with those types of games, and I love them dearly. However, I also just went through the supposedly new Golden Age of fighting games, and got almost nothing out of it, so I’m a little wary.

As I know nothing about business, but everything about being an opinionated jerk on the internet, that’s the lens I look through. Write what you know, after all. Continue reading

Frame Data – What Even Is It?

There has been a lot of controversy lately about AAA game releases, the new consoles, and frame rates. Will it be 30fps or 60fps? Will players notice? Will they care? What new buzzwords can the marketing department come up with to obfuscate the issue? The entire discussion is centred around graphical showcases, and there is one genre that is curiously left out of the conversation: fighting games.

I could digress into the history of big fighting game releases and how they were once the graphical powerhouses of consoles, often because they were being ported from superior arcade hardware, but that’s not what this is supposed to be about. The point is that nobody really cares much about frame rates in fighting games, because for about as long as console fighting games have been worth playing, they have almost all run at 60fps.

It’s so universal that their 60fps frame rates have become a universal measurement within the genre. Actions in fighting games are not seconds or even fractions of seconds, but in animation frames, and since the games reliably move at 60 fps, those measurements are expressed in the form of 1 frame = 1/60th of a second. A move that is i6 (the “i’ standing for impact, meaning that is the first frame in the move where it can make contact with an opponent and do damage) takes 6 frames to come out, or 1/10th of a second. Those numbers are so small that no human can really react to them, which is one reason why frame data ends up looking a lot like math, with players trying to base decision on numbers instead of reactions to images on the screen.

But how important is frame data?¬†Where does it come from? Who uses it, and how? That’s what I’m here to explain. Continue reading

Gameplay vs Mechanics

Ever since Soulcalibur: Lost Swords was finally, and disappointingly, revealed to be nothing more than a cynical free-to-play cash grab, and large middle finger to everyone who enjoys playing Soulcalibur games competitively, I’ve been trying to spin it in my head into something positive, because God knows I’m an optimist at heart. I also have a really boring job, so I spend a lot of my time lost in thought (or listening to BBC comedies, because when I decided to be a nerd I figured there was no point in half-assing it). Over time I was able to start putting the pieces together, and was immediately reminded of a thought experiment once used to disprove the concept of qualia. The question was whether I didn’t like the games because they were different from the games I used to like, or because I no longer liked that type of game at all. And if the games had changed, what about them was making them less appealing to me?

Obviously a lot has changed about me and the way I play games over the last 10 years or so since I made the most dramatic shifts in what I played–going from mostly FPS and RPGs to now mostly just playing some DotA, fighting games, and the occasional indie release–but there were still times in between where new games excited me. I recall gushing to an old boss about Mass Effect when it was first announced, only to then play Knights of the Old Republic and lose all interest in both Star Wars and anything Bioware did after that. I didn’t even play the first Mass Effect until after Mass Effect 2 was released, and couldn’t force myself to push through to the end. There are other big franchises that I’ve felt similarly toward, like the God of War games (though I at least beat the first 2, and I own the 3rd). Meanwhile I played through Ninja Gaiden Black on 3 difficulties and was part way through my 2nd run of Ninja Gaiden 2 when my 360 started conking out on me.

It was the gameplay reveal for Bungie’s new IP, Destiny, that put the final piece into place, and I understood. Destiny was beautiful. Destiny was technically impressive. Destiny was also painfully boring.

Somewhere in there, between the floaty console FPS controls, and the generic scripted combat encounters, I found the idea I had been trying to get my hands on. It’s not exactly a complex idea–I’m talking Duplo, not Lego–but it was enough.

Most modern games are about gameplay instead of mechanics.

These terms need to be made clear. I suspect that a lot of it exists in my head, if only because I never see or hear other people discussing them in the same way. What I mean by mechanics are the basic nuts and bolts of how a game works, while the gameplay is a more general reference to how a game is designed to be played. The primary reason why I have a low tolerance for open-world or sandbox type games is that I find them to be mechanically dull, which makes them boring to play. Sure, they’re designed to have a lot of different gameplay angles, allowing players to essentially do what they want and tackle the game any way they like, but when the mechanical means of each of those approaches can’t hold my attention that’s not very appealing. I’d rather play a good Tales game than an entry in the Elder Scrolls series, because even though Tales games are linear and full of terrible anime cliches, the combat is mechanically rich, which holds my attention, while the combat in the Elder Scrolls games does nothing for me, which makes the idea of vast open-world about as appetizing as extra helpings of gruel.

I see this approach to game design as top-down, and it probably has a lot to do with technological advancements and marketing. The emphasis is on larger ideas and goals to keep a player interested, rather than more minimalist design that allows players to invest their own skill and creativity. Selling games based on mechanics is hard, because often they have to be experienced first hand before they’re understood, and unless a player is already familiar somehow it’s hard to make distinctions for them. Even back in the day there were many people who saw no difference between Unreal and Quake, though any player of either game could quickly list off dozens of mechanical distinctions that set them apart, in the same way that the only differences I know between modern Call of Duty and Battlefield games is that one offers more environmental destruction, and possibly vehicles.

Gameplay is about goals while mechanics are about means, and everywhere I look the goals are piling up while the means rarely justify the effort required. Achievements, trophies, experience points required to unlock weapons, skills, and classes, even the deadly cow clickers, they are all there to give perceived value where there isn’t necessarily intrinsic incentive to keep playing. I have seen forum and blog posts lamenting a player’s inability to get all the achievements in some game, not because the last few are too hard, but because they might take online play where the player is unable to play it online, or local multiplayer where the player has nobody to play with locally. Sometimes it goes so far that a player decides they will not buy a game that they are interested in because they don’t think they would be able to get 1000/1000, or buy and play through a game they don’t like just because they can get 1000/1000.

When I take stock of the games that have lasted for me, they are always the games that I played simply for the pleasure of playing. There were no greater goals than the ones I set for myself, and no set achievements other than improving my own skills in some way. I didn’t play through Ninja Gaiden Black on multiple difficulties so that I could see the ending again, I did it because I kept finding ways for the mechanics to interest me when I upped the game’s difficulty setting and imposed more restrictions on myself. I don’t go back to Mega Man X every few years to refresh the intricate plot in my mind, I do it because it is a game that I have complete control over and I take pleasure in that. And Knights of the Old Republic may have had a better script than Shadow over Mystara, but the combat encounters–the mechanics of the game–were like getting slapped in the face by wet newspaper, and about as fun.

The idea that modern games are increasingly designed to be compulsions rather than fun ways to spend some free time is not a new one, and at the most basic and cynical level that’s the point that I’m making: filling bars is not a mechanical skill worth investing in. But there is more to it than that. Back to the Destiny gameplay. That game has been compared to Borderlands, which is fine by me, because Borderlands is a prime example of the problem. It’s all about finding new guns, getting more loot, producing bigger numbers, filling up bars. It is graphically interesting and has a sense of humour. Unfortunately, actually running around in the environments and shooting at enemies is tedious when it isn’t boring. Granted, I played through the game alone and everyone tells me that it’s much better coop, but you can say that about any game short of Battletoads, so that’s not a real point.

When it comes down to it, I will happily play a game with an awful story¬† if I enjoy the mechanics and have fun playing it, but I can’t say the opposite is true.

(Of course, the ideal would be to have bars that took just long enough to fill that when a dedicated player finally manages that the sequel, or at least some DLC, is out and they’ve got new bars to start filling even if the gameplay, graphics, AI, or matchmaking hasn’t changed in any meaningful way. The Koreans figured this one out a long time ago, at least as far back as the original Lineage, which had a levelling system so daunting that most players couldn’t even approach what were suspected to be the caps. I knew a guy who was high enough level on the English servers that he successfully blogged about his progress. The sound of him spending hours on end attacking the same monsters, which all made the same sound when they took damage, is something that I’ll never be able to forget. His dedication was such that during the times he was forced by real life to leave the net cafes he set up shop in, he would often hire someone else to take his seat and kill monsters for him, so that he wouldn’t fall too far behind. Not surprisingly, one of his main complaints about Lineage 2 was that a level cap actually existed and was attainable.)

On the opposite end of the spectrum are genres that rely so heavily on mechanics that they become harder and harder to keep afloat. The arena shooter, once the battleground of titans like Quake and Unreal, is basically dead, and fighting games spent nearly a decade as niche titles after ruling consoles and arcades in the 90s. When I look at both of those genres I see a conspicuous lack of broader gameplay goals and bars to fill out, because they both traditionally resist that, having been previously designed for balanced competition between small groups of players. I’d say the same thing about RTS games except that Starcraft 2 manages to walk the fine line well enough, even if the more casual crowd still complains about it being filled with archaic mechanics.

These are two genres that have nothing else to offer a player other than their mechanics. Sure, fighting games have been trying to up the quotient of singleplayer content, from the Blazblue games packaging in complete visual novels, to the Mortal Kombat games doing their best have lengthy story modes, but at some point the player still has to play the game, and do most of them spend their brief time with a new character in the story mode trying to work out optimal bread and butter combos, or trying to find whichever move will allow them to quickly exploit the enemy AI so that they can get to the next cut-scene? How many of them would enjoy the games more if they didn’t have to do the fighting game parts?

Few other genres attract players who are purely interested in the mechanics. Quake spawned the Defrag community, who do nothing with the game but try to get from point A to point B as quickly as possible.

And in the most roundabout way possible, I’m back to Soulcalibur: Lost Swords. It’s probably just my own messed up way of seeing the world, but I’ll always connect those old school, mechanically-driven FPS games to fighting games in my mind. So the question then became, “Where is the fighting game equivalent of Defrag?”

Lost Swords, despite everything else, is something novel. It’s the first fighting game in a long while where the stated goal is something other than beating the snot out of other human beings. First person shooters long ago broke that arena fighter mould, and we’ve had games like Half-Life and Portal and Mirror’s Edge since, but fighting games–even the ones with all that extra singleplayer content thrown in–are still about direct competition. But maybe they don’t have to be.

Just as Defrag skills, while useful, serve little practical purpose for a competing Quake player, combo videos are often a means of artistic expression through mechanical manipulation and are of no use to the average player (most of the combos seen in non-instructional combo videos are either so physically unlikely that they’re impractical, or are tool assisted, or they’re just plain bad combos that would do less damage and cost more resources than something that takes 1/10th the effort). Both eschew traditional competition in traditionally competitive games, but allow players to still invest considerable effort into mastering mechanics, and both are respected by regular players instead of being looked upon as carebear time wasters.

(And maybe it’s just me, but I find combo videos for classic fighting games much more interesting than modern combo videos. Something about those old systems being more open to unintended abuse, while modern mechanics are increasingly either rigidly enforced or purposefully loose, which are both less appealing.)

I’m not saying Lost Swords means anything. It doesn’t. But I do think there has to be a place out there for a fighting game that isn’t about fighting. People make combo videos, they put a ton of work into them, and who is to say that if there was a game where the goal was to simply land big or goofy combos on a practice dummy nobody would play it? There has been a big surge in games without traditional gameplay lately–maybe that’s a direct response to all the rigid set-pieces and unlock grinding in modern AAA games–but it’s clear that a game like Minecraft, where the only goal for most players is to find their own goals, is attractive to a lot of people. The possibilities are out there, and I think Lost Swords is going to do one thing that will show how fighting games can be different: throw out balance without having to apologize. The players are beating on AIs, and AIs have a long history of not whining on forums or voting with their wallets, so it’s the perfect opportunity to throw out the rules and just let players push the limits of what they can get away with.

Funnily enough, Soulcalibur 4 already did something like this in its single-player mode, Tower of Souls, where players could instantly tag between 2 characters to pull off some crazy combos.

If there was a fighting game where players never fought each other at all would people play it? I think so. Would it be a success? It might not sell as many copies as a new Street Fighter or Mortal Kombat, but there is demand out there for something. I know I’d buy it.

As video games become increasingly service oriented the games themselves will also change. Giving players bars to fill is the easiest way to keep them coming back. Coupled with that is the video game industry feeling the crush of the amounts of cash being generated and increasingly succumbing to the blockbuster effect, where the pressure to make money, and not squander the amounts of money being spent, lead to new ideas being shunned while every game moves closer and closer to the lowest common denominator singularity. Just like with movies, innovation still happens, but it happens outside of, or despite, major studios and developers. That is, innovation in gameplay or mechanics; new ways of lighting polygons or squeezing more money out of customers will always interest major developers, publishers, and hardware manufacturers.

Maybe there will only be 3 new games next year that actually interest me, and I’ll enjoy 2 of them. A decade ago it might have been 10 new games, and I would have enjoyed 6 of them. What matters is that I am still enjoying games, and I have also learned some impulse control. But I know that if someone ever did try to make this game that only exists in my dreams it would be on my list, and I would even try to earn all the achievements.

Tropes vs eSports

Tropes–or at least the modern idea of them–have been getting a bad rap lately. They are written off as crutches and cliches, when really it’s only overused tropes that end being cliches. Which is what makes a cliche in the first place. A trope is simply a tool, a sort of shorthand or symbolism between authors and audiences, and like any tool, it’s how it is used that gives it meaning.

I like the idea of tropes for more than fiction, because it’s more direct than pointing vaguely at some sort of cultural osmosis, but it works the same either way. It’s relevant for eSports because we are reaching a point where there are people interested in watching games that they have less (or even no) interest in playing. Ten or fifteen years ago that was not really the case. Then people who watched the games were the same people who were playing the games, partly because there was way less streaming going on, but also because they generally had to have played the games to be interested in watching them, or even know that there were competitions to be watched.

These days games that want to have competitive communities try much harder to integrate spectators, either directly through the game’s clients, or with replays, or by advertising, sponsoring, and even running leagues and tournaments. For now that’s mostly because they still think of the audience as being the same group as their general player population, but that’s not always the case, and it certainly wont stay that way.

Ease of Access

When I first started watching competitive gaming there were few methods that were both viable and easy. The barrier for entry was quite high. To watch a Quake game I needed to download a replay, same with Warcraft 3 and DotA games later on. That meant I needed to have the games installed, and those replays were completely self-serve: the viewer had to control the camera, when they could (Quake replays were limited to the viewpoint of the player who recorded them.), and if I wanted shoutcast commentary–if that was even available–I would have to download and run that concurrently with a different program and sync it up with the action. Of course, if a new version of the game was released that would often invalidate or cause errors in older replays, so a separate install or version switcher was also a necessity. And all of that was dependant on knowing which 3rd party sites had replays and commentary to begin with, and they were also all after the fact. It was possible to watch live Quake through QTV, but that was a whole different set of problems. For a game like Warcraft 3 (and DotA), the only way to spectate live was to be in the game as a spectator.

Fighting games were even worse, with very little video unless someone dragged a camera to a tournament, and pretty much no commentary at all. Viewers were expected to know what was going on, both mechanically, and in the player’s heads, and to this day many competitive players don’t think watching fighting game videos is very instructive or helpful (past learning what combos and setups people are using)–though that’s also mostly because it can be difficult to get into the player’s heads, and the actual game should be going on there.

The one exception, of course, was Brood War, where the games were being broadcast on Korean TV. Certain enterprising individuals (RIP Jon747) would upload recordings of the Korean broadcasts, but that often meant blurry video and Korean commentary. Which was always entertaining, but not very informative to non-speakers. Even the English commentaries depended on just muting the Korean language track and speaking over it. Yes, some of my fondest competitive gaming memories, as a viewer, were a result of that, but it was all more effort than most people were willing to put into watching or broadcasting.

All that started to change with YouTube and other video sites, which made it easier to post long VODs, and then HD videos, and then streaming sites came along, and everyone started to get faster connections with better bandwidth, but even a couple of years ago the only way to get replays of smaller fighting game tournaments and gatherings was if someone showed up with a laptop or camera to record and then upload them, and that was still a task that required hours of editing, transcoding, and uploading. And still none of it was live.

Nowadays it’s as easy as tuning into a Twitch stream to watch high-definition video and commentary of any live tournament. Being a viewer has never required less effort, and it’s only going to get easier.

How to Spectate

Concurrent with the easing of requirements for being a spectator has been the general increase in people watching games, which should be obvious. But it has also changed how some games, mostly the competitive ones, are marketed, and how they’re broadcast.

Used to be that people doing commentary for a game were just as much part of the community as their viewers. They were doing niche work, and they knew it, so they spoke directly to each other. There was very little effort made to be transparent or welcoming, or even polite most of the time. They weren’t looking to attract a wider audience, only to retain the viewers that already existed. That changed drastically when streams became the go-to source for gameplay and sponsors started to become more involved. When money was on the line there was finally incentive to clean things up and start looking to attract new viewers. Flaming and swearing started to die down as there was always pressure to keep a stream friendly for all ages, and any instance of off-colour speech was spread rapidly by the so-called stream monsters. Suddenly there was a difference between what someone could or would say on a stream and what they would say live at an event, because the stream audience and the players were no longer the same.

Commentary then started to lean more toward being informative, because they weren’t speaking to the people who were part of the tournaments anymore, they were aiming for a much wider audience, and most of them were new to competitive games. They had to tell players what they were watching in order to keep them watching, because even though it was easier to find video of competitive games, viewers still needed to know what was going on if they hoped to get anything out of it.

Soon enough these YouTube VODs and streams became a secondary source of advertisement for new games. Starcraft 2’s beta was widely streamed, and before that there were VODs of test matches to show off current builds, a tradition Blizzard has kept up, and other developers have emulated.

What’s most interesting about these is the way commentary has evolved even further. Where it was originally only speaking to players who already knew what they were watching, and then changed to speak to players who wanted to know what they were watching, with each new year and each new game it becomes more about speaking to viewers who really only needed to know how what they were watching was different from what they already know. Notice in that Heroes of the Storm video how very little time is spent on explaining the game’s objectives, it’s genre, or specific mechanics, unless they needed to be differentiated from the norm. Because a level of knowledge is now expected. Because the game is built around tropes that viewers are now expected to know. They can make a 20 minute video about a game that nobody watching has played and not have to spend 18 of those minutes describing what a hero is, why there are creeps spawning and rushing down lanes, and that the game is lost when a team loses its home structure.

Each new game lays down more groundwork, establishes more tropes, and makes it easier for the next game to find an audience.

But that also means that each new game has an audience for whom owning and playing that game is less of a requirement for watching it.

How to Broadcast

I suspect this is one of the prime reasons for most developers taking a more hands-on approach to their competitive communities. As far back as Brood War it was proved that an audience of non-players was possible–and probably even required–for a game to become successful as an eSport. The problem, of course, was that the developers still want to make money. I watched Brood War games for years, and though I did own a copy of the game, I felt no desire to start playing again. And KeSPA didn’t care, because they were making their money from viewers, not players (they also didn’t care because I wasn’t watching on Korean TV, but that’s besides the point). It was basically the same situation with Starcraft 2, though it didn’t hold my attention nearly as long.

As the tropes become more well known, as the games become easier and easier for non-player to become viewers while remaining non-players, there will need to be ways of making money from them. That starts the same way sports already do it, with rating and advertisement revenue, but it should eventually extend the same way sports do, with merchandise, both physical and virtual. Valve has gotten a jump start there, by selling team pennants that players can equip to show support during tournament matches, the same way someone might show up to a football game wearing a jersey. The next step in eSports development, at least for the developers, will probably be a bigger emphasis on all sorts of out-of-game purchases and tie-ins. It makes sense for them to want to make money as directly as possible from each fan, and it should be natural enough for fans to want to support their favourite players and teams.

In a much broader perspective, this positions video games, and eSports, to eventually take a cultural foothold that can put them on the map permanently. I had to play Brood War in order to understand competitive Brood War, and I played Warcraft 3 and DotA before I watched either. I played Quake and many different fighting games for years, even competitively. At the time that was the requirement needed to be a spectator. A decade or so later I can watch Starcraft 2 without ever having played more than its singleplayer campaign, as can many others. Most spectators don’t need to be told the reason for basic fireball-uppercut spacing games in Street Fighter 4 anymore, and that will hold true for the next Street Fighter game, and every other fighting game released in that mould. A new League of Legends clone only needs to tell viewers how it’s different from League before they can be expected to understand it. As time goes by each genre’s norms become more firmly established, their tropes become more well known, and eventually we may reach a point where the rules to fighting games or a resource management RTS games will be as well known as the rules to many sports, because–just like sports–everyone will have played or watched them in the past.

There are apparently 70 million people who have registered accounts with Riot, and millions more with registered DotA 2 accounts. Even considering all the smurfs in there, that’s way more people who know some basic rules to the genre than 10 years ago, and that number is only going to grow. Each one of those is a potential viewer.