As soon as the match started, both opposing teams, without coordinating, instantly began concocting some absurd nonsense: Super10 immediately spent all of their starting gold on summoning the weakest and most useless additional minions, sent them to attack the bottom lane, and followed suit. All six players.
In total, they made three serious mistakes:
Firstly, starting gold should be spent on upgrading existing defenses or, alternatively, on purchasing additional fortifications to defend important objectives. Spending gold on acquiring a pack (consisting of 5 units) of the lowest-ranked minions is utterly useless because they attack too slowly — so slow that a standard minion can attack three times while the low-ranked one is winding up. Moreover, they die from two hits, meaning they have the lowest amount of HP among all entities on the map.
And if Super10 really wanted to try to triumph over the opponents right from the start of the match, it means they should have spent all their gold on purchasing an additional second-rank minion. It, albeit slightly, is more durable and stronger than the basic ones that spawn regularly every forty seconds.
Secondly, instead of adequately spreading across the lanes at the beginning of the match, as the game implies – with two players on the top and bottom lanes, one in the middle, and one heading to the jungle – they collectively decided to impulsively take a single side.
And this is once again the most foolish decision, typical of only green newcomers who are not familiar with the genre at all!
The thing is, the experience gained for killing enemy minions is fixed and evenly distributed among all players within a certain radius. In other words, the more players are nearby, the less experience each of them receives, significantly slowing down leveling.
Moreover, to effectively deal damage to fortifications, players need to enhance their basic characteristics, meaning reaching at least the MINIMUM tenth level. The most crucial item in the game - explosives, which are used to destroy the Tower, will also become available in the in-game store only after at least one player from the team reaches the infamous tenth level.
So, let's say, Super10 miraculously destroys all the fortifications around the Tower, then breaks down the doors and infiltrates inside, but they have only reached the fifth level. Or the sixth. And that's it, they won't be able to explode the Tower and progress further. Meanwhile, defending their objective, MoNoS with higher levels will come precisely at that moment and shred the enemies to pieces.
And thirdly, perhaps the most crucial point: for reasons known only to the developers, the bottom lane is considered the most defended. It is precisely on this lane that second-level fortifications are initially placed. Moreover, the more enemy units there are on the lane, the more armor both the fortifications and the Tower receive.
In other words, even at the tenth level, gathering the whole team, it will be very, well, very, very challenging to destroy the fortifications and reach the first Tower. And there are three such Towers on each lane.
At first, Arthur didn't catch the catch and sincerely rejoiced, naively thinking that at this rate, MoNoS would easily outplay these fools. But alas.
Observing the actions of his beloved team, he crudely cursed. The guy seemed to start suspecting that something was amiss, something... strange, but for a while, he brushed off these suspicions, sincerely hoping that MoNoS resorted to implementing a special, never-before-seen innovative tactic that the dull Arthur simply couldn't comprehend due to his lack of wit. However, in the end, all optimism evaporated, and he was replaced by the horrifying realization of one simple truth: it wasn't Arthur who was dull here, but precisely MoNoS. The guys managed to swiftly set a world record, making four radical mistakes in one go:
Firstly, they also spent all their starting gold, but not on purchasing fortifications and minions, but on... a Leprechaun!
The thing is: the Leprechaun (looking like a figurine of a typical garden gnome) is yet another senseless element inexplicably present in this game. Well, at least at high ranks, it becomes senseless.
Each team, by paying any amount at the store, can simultaneously buy up to three such Leprechauns, which are, in essence, a kind of piggy bank. The Leprechauns will contain exactly as much gold as the players spent on the purchase: it could be as little as one coin or even ten thousand.
And here are a few important details: you can place the Leprechaun anywhere on the map; its icon, along with the amount of gold stored in this piggy bank, will be displayed on the mini-map for both teams; and the player who breaks the Leprechaun will get all the gold.
In other words, it's a trap.
Low-rank players often can't think rationally, so as soon as they notice the icon appearing on the mini-map, they immediately abandon their lanes and rush towards it to destroy the piggy bank and get extra money. Their opponents usually take advantage of this, either concentrating all their efforts on a rapid push in a particular lane, or in the jungle, grabbing all the buffs without fear of encountering enemies, or... setting up an ambush near the Leprechaun and easily dispatching the hapless misers without much effort.
But here's the catch: at high ranks, the Leprechaun DOESN'T WORK! It simply has no use because truly skilled players completely ignore the Leprechaun, preferring not to take the risk.
So, MoNoS even more senselessly spent all their gold!
The second mistake - they didn't even try to adapt to the opponents' maneuver.
Super10 is currently actively trying to break a concrete wall with their foreheads, meaning they will physically be unable to advance for a very, very long time.
This is almost a fatal mistake! While the brains of Super10 are dribbling down that very concrete wall, MoNoS should be taking action: the sixth player grabs all the buffs in the jungle, and others simultaneously assault the middle and top lanes, gaining bits of experience and gold, and gradually, albeit slowly, destroying the barricades near the Towers.
However, for some reason, MoNoS collectively withdrew from all lanes.
Why? Well, presumably to commit a third mistake: they tried to capture the Grand Tower. And this, by the way, is the most senseless element among all the senseless elements.
And here emerges the next conundrum: the Grand Tower is, of course, the ultimate weapon, capable of destroying even the most durable player characters in just 2-3, sometimes 4 hits. And this is considering that the cannon in the Tower fires almost as fast as a machine gun.
But the thing is, capturing it is extremely difficult and time-consuming. First, you need to defeat all the mobs near the Tower, and then, meditatively eliminate other mobs within the Tower itself on each of its five floors.
The mobs here are considered elite - resilient and extremely damaging. Nevertheless, since the effectiveness of characters depends solely on the player's skills, purely hypothetically, capturing the Grand Tower is possible even at the lower levels. However, it would be very long and challenging, and the team would initially need to assemble a suitable group consisting of two tanks, two healers, a long-range damage dealer, and a bruiser. The latter must be specialized in self-healing after dealing blows to enemies.
However, this is not mandatory; such an approach just significantly increases the chances of a successful Tower capture. And, of course, it simply facilitates the assault and reduces the required time.
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But - the Grand Tower is located in a special area of the map, beyond the upper lane. So not only do you have to run to it for a whole four minutes, but also the cannon's range covers only a small territory around the Tower itself.
In other words, if you don't lure enemies to the Grand Tower, there won't be any benefit from it. But here's the catch: neither of the teams has absolutely any reason to make their way here.
And the last, fourth mistake: in an attempt to capture the Tower, MoNoS perished. All six of them. And the respawn time is a whole minute.
And all this chaos happened within the first five minutes of the match. Initially, Arthur didn't understand any catch. More precisely, he refused to believe in one.
At first, Arthur, observing the actions of both teams, almost choked with a fit of righteous anger and genuine surprise. Then the guy, figuratively speaking, tore out his hair and yelled profanities, outraged by the stupidity of what was happening: and indeed, what the heck?
Arthur has been playing Last Hit for three years now, two of which he has held a top rating on his region's server. Yes, he's a very strong player, but still, NOT A PROFESSIONAL, as he cannot participate in official tournaments and championships until he reaches the age of majority. So, Arthur is just an ordinary regular player. But he has never made as many and such serious mistakes as MoNoS and Super10.
The game Last Hit has become synonymous with the word "foolishness." So, this very "foolishness" in the game is not just acceptable but also ubiquitous. Always, in any match, on any stream, from well-known high-rank players to more or less green beginners. Many players genuinely don't care about winning, so they approach matches with indifference; mainly, players try to entertain themselves and their audience. For them, the main thing is to have fun, using all the tools the game provides.
But when it comes to tournaments, and real money is at stake, everyone becomes deadly serious. Matches quickly transform and become intense, turning the game into a full-fledged esports discipline where even the smallest mistake can lead to a loss of money.
Soon, the stage of anger was replaced by acceptance and resignation: he understood everything. Arthur comprehended it all. Finally, it dawned on Arthur: MoNoS and Super10 are not just trying to entertain the audience; they are doing this in a contractual match.
Apparently, the Super10 management had prearranged to buy the victory from MoNoS, so... that's it. It's over. Arthur no longer saw the point in watching the game, so he just sat in his chair and, figuratively speaking, spat at the ceiling.
Meanwhile, the match had been going on for thirty minutes. Super10 was already at the enemy's base, destroying the remaining barriers and approaching the central stronghold, while MoNoS pretended to be unsuccessfully defending.
And although this was only the first victory for Super10 out of the three needed, the overall outcome was already clear.
The mobile phone lying next to the keyboard vibrated persistently, but Arthur stubbornly ignored it. Similarly, he ignored Discord – a call window popped up in the middle of the screen, clearly indicating that Maxim, his cousin, was trying to reach him.
Maxim had a not-so-new but very expensive NerveGear with a powerful processor and built-in data storage. This allowed him to install additional applications specifically designed for use with the NerveGear. Consequently, Maxim often plunged into the depths of Virtual Reality to watch live broadcasts of games tailored for VR.
So Maxim probably already finished watching the stream entirely and now wanted to discuss the matches, but Arthur had no desire to talk to anyone. Besides, what was there to talk about?
Right now, only the first match on Twitch is coming to an end.
Here's the thing: Arthur, in the old-fashioned way, was watching the stream using his computer. Essentially, he was watching a recording of the broadcast. The guy slowly shifted his gaze to his old, you could even say, customized NerveGear (in the past, Maxim soldered the board and installed a slightly more powerful processor), which stood alone in the corner of the table.
Unfortunately, this model was not autonomous and only worked as an addition to the computer. Therefore, it couldn't have any additional software installed on it to watch streams in the VR space.
Although, of course, you can connect the NerveGear to the computer and install the necessary program on it, but then, for some reason, you'll have to subscribe for a fee. Why these programs for autonomous NerveGears are free, and for PCs they are paid, Arthur sincerely couldn't understand, no matter how hard he tried.
But the fact remains - watching VR broadcasts through the NerveGear is much more convenient due to the peculiarities of Virtual Reality functioning.
Essentially, the common NerveGear or the incredibly expensive and bulky virtual capsule read the brain's neural impulses and convert them into a program code. Then, through some algorithms (Arthur didn't delve much into this), they decode the signals, resulting in a response to the player's desires/actions while they lie in an «unconscious» state.
And the user receives all the information in a similar way; that is, the NerveGear recognizes the brain's signal and, converting it into a digital signal, sends it to the brain. Here's where it gets interesting: this digital signal is transmitted/received very quickly. Since the human mind interacts with the NerveGear or virtual capsule on a subconscious level, it automatically adjusts to the devices' speed, distorting the perception of time. In the virtual space, «time» flows three times faster, but the person PERCEIVES this time as they would in reality, in their accustomed timeframe.
While one minute passes in reality, three minutes elapse in the VR space. So, 10 real-time minutes translate to 30 VR minutes. Consequently, 30 minutes in VR equate to an hour and a half in reality.
This is precisely why Max, who watched the Last Hit championship (originally a VR game) through the NerveGear, could finish watching the championship up to the finals in thirty real-time minutes. Meanwhile, Arthur settled for only the conclusion of the first match because streams from VR to regular devices automatically slow down threefold for the comfort of ordinary people.
Arthur sighed and closed his eyes.
MoNoS was the team he genuinely admired; Arthur truly wanted to connect his future with the esports world that these guys constantly talked about. However, alas, reality proved to be cruel. Apparently, there's no point in following their path, especially since they ultimately decided to sell their own souls.
And what now?
Not that Arthur was afraid to be in the limelight... though, well, that's also part of the reason he doesn't want to start streaming. But the main issue is that he perfectly understands he's not charismatic at all; on the contrary, he's an extremely ordinary guy with nothing interesting or appealing about him.
So, the hope of becoming a «traditional esports player» is out of the question.
Meanwhile, he's already sixteen. After the summer break, the final year of school will begin, meaning it's time to seriously figure out what he wants to be in the future. To decide on a profession with which he'll have to connect his life.
The phone continued to vibrate. Discord kept ringing. And Arthur found himself drowning in trivia. Well, and simply kept on drowning.
***
The guy sort of dozed off in the chair. Well, not really dozed off but simply relaxed, stared at the ceiling, and deliberately thought about nothing until he was abruptly pulled out of his reverie by a sudden doorbell.
Arthur reluctantly got up, glanced at the monitor — the third match had just finished, and the commentators were discussing Super10's «idiotic» victory. Arthur snorted disapprovingly and headed to the corridor.
Still not quite aware, he didn't bother to check the peephole and simply swung the door open, revealing his cousin.
Shoving Arthur aside unceremoniously, he promptly barged into the hallway.
“Why the hell are you ignoring me?!” Max hissed aggressively.
"What? Ignoring you? What do you mean?” Arthur hadn't come up with anything better, so he just pretended to be clueless.
“I called you!”
“Oh, really?” Arthur feigned surprise. “Well, um... my phone was on silent, so I probably didn't notice..."
His brother, usually hunched over, suddenly stood tall. He tightly pressed his lips together, squinted a bit, staring at Arthur. He angrily locked eyes with his brother without blinking.
Arthur nervously swallowed.
Meanwhile, Max, still glaring at Arthur, pulled out his mobile phone from his pocket (turning it in a way that Arthur could clearly see the screen) and began tapping icons with his free hand until he found Arthur's number in the contacts.
ALL THIS TIME, he kept his gaze fixed on his cousin. Overall, his actions looked amusing. Well, and a bit scary, of course…
Suddenly, a loud buzzing noise emerged directly from Arthur's room; he did put his mobile on silent, but it vibrated quite powerfully. And it was especially noticeable due to the wooden table.
"Darn it, that idiot neighbor with his darn drill again!" Arthur exclaimed loudly, crossed his arms, and angrily stared at the ceiling. "Drilling something all day long, it's annoying!"
"YOU LIVE ON THE TOP FLOOR, IDIOT, NOBODY ABOVE YOU!" Max snapped angrily through gritted teeth.
"Oh... yeah," Arthur muttered. Right, he and his parents moved a year ago. Totally forgot about that.