Friday, April 30, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
The Knowledge Arms Race
When I first got into fighting games, I would look up a lot of moves and experiment with them to find tricks that I could use to catch my opponents out. My main game was Tekken, and I'd learn all the moves that mixed up low and mid attacks, all the ten strings, all the chain throws, and all the simple but powerful juggles. Then I would beat people merely through superior knowledge - finding the characters they were weak against and milking it. I'd use the low and mid attacks to chip away damage when they didn't know where to guard, and the rest of the match would consist of us each landing attacks, with very little defence, and I'd win out because I had done my homework on the powerful juggles and throws.
I find that the line between strategies and individual moves is a thin one, because small strategies become self-contained units which are used like single moves. They become "set pieces". For example, a jab followed quickly by a throw is such a common and useful mini-strategy that it soon becomes effectively a move all of its own. It's the same for a lot of longer chains of moves too. The reason I point this out is that, after all the standard moves are well understood and you can't use them to take easy wins any more, it's the mini-strategies that become the new "knowledge".
I thought I was really great, but staying ahead on the knowledge arms race in a fighting game is no good in the long term - sooner or later you find that everyone you play knows all the moves, breaking your throws, countering the low/high/mid varieties, and returning your juggles with equally powerful ones.
I've always felt that fighting games are a combination of knowing exactly what to do in what situation and being good at predicting what your opponent is going to do (yomi). Whether that prediction is in anticipating their attack and countering it, or anticipating their guard and choosing the attack which overcomes it, it's still a matter of knowing what the opponent is thinking.
With players who only know a limited set of moves, these mind games are still a large element, but right up to the top tournament level, there is always knowledge which can be learned to give the edge and avoid mind games - the easiest way to win is to find the hole in your opponent's knowledge and exploit it. However, this suddenly stops working at the high level where everyone knows so much of the game that if you want to survive you have to force guesses and learn to judge what your opponent will do.
My point is that there's this huge amount of information and experience in every fighting game, and, for 95% of players, beating people amounts to simply knowing more about the game than the opponent. But once you get to the point where everyone you're playing knows roughly the same, the skills suddenly change from raw knowledge and application, to those of mind games and style (pressure, disorientation, misdirection, etc.), and this is a completely different type of skill from simply recalling moves and strategies to counter others.
This isn't to say that knowledge and experience become worthless at the high level. I note that players such as David Sirlin compensate for their lack of psychic powers (in an environment where some players appear able to perfectly read opponents' minds) by making sure they know the game in question better than anyone else. But there's a tipping point in the development of a player which needs to be acknowledged: the one from knowledge to psychology.
As someone who always relied on learning enough moves and strategies to always have one to beat an opponent, I find that as I play a new class of opponent (the London crew, certain Uni players, even my old friends who are now more skilled) I need to learn a whole new way of playing, one which is less about the moves, and more about the thinking behind them.
I find that the line between strategies and individual moves is a thin one, because small strategies become self-contained units which are used like single moves. They become "set pieces". For example, a jab followed quickly by a throw is such a common and useful mini-strategy that it soon becomes effectively a move all of its own. It's the same for a lot of longer chains of moves too. The reason I point this out is that, after all the standard moves are well understood and you can't use them to take easy wins any more, it's the mini-strategies that become the new "knowledge".
It is common to find yourself out knowledging an opponent on a less popular title which you have played far more than they have (pictured: Art of Fighting 3)
I thought I was really great, but staying ahead on the knowledge arms race in a fighting game is no good in the long term - sooner or later you find that everyone you play knows all the moves, breaking your throws, countering the low/high/mid varieties, and returning your juggles with equally powerful ones.
I've always felt that fighting games are a combination of knowing exactly what to do in what situation and being good at predicting what your opponent is going to do (yomi). Whether that prediction is in anticipating their attack and countering it, or anticipating their guard and choosing the attack which overcomes it, it's still a matter of knowing what the opponent is thinking.
With players who only know a limited set of moves, these mind games are still a large element, but right up to the top tournament level, there is always knowledge which can be learned to give the edge and avoid mind games - the easiest way to win is to find the hole in your opponent's knowledge and exploit it. However, this suddenly stops working at the high level where everyone knows so much of the game that if you want to survive you have to force guesses and learn to judge what your opponent will do.
Tekken Tag, a game with so many characters and moves that it can be very easy to "out knowledge" an opponent
My point is that there's this huge amount of information and experience in every fighting game, and, for 95% of players, beating people amounts to simply knowing more about the game than the opponent. But once you get to the point where everyone you're playing knows roughly the same, the skills suddenly change from raw knowledge and application, to those of mind games and style (pressure, disorientation, misdirection, etc.), and this is a completely different type of skill from simply recalling moves and strategies to counter others.
This isn't to say that knowledge and experience become worthless at the high level. I note that players such as David Sirlin compensate for their lack of psychic powers (in an environment where some players appear able to perfectly read opponents' minds) by making sure they know the game in question better than anyone else. But there's a tipping point in the development of a player which needs to be acknowledged: the one from knowledge to psychology.
As someone who always relied on learning enough moves and strategies to always have one to beat an opponent, I find that as I play a new class of opponent (the London crew, certain Uni players, even my old friends who are now more skilled) I need to learn a whole new way of playing, one which is less about the moves, and more about the thinking behind them.
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