The case against a StarCraft 2 governing body
Every time a new scandal breaks there's always someone, usually hiding at the fringes of the discussion, who cautiously invokes the need for a governing body.
Not long ago Millenium's Stephano found himself at the center of controversy, accused of disrespect in the first degree. After earning a spot in the finals of the first ONOG Invitational, he requested that the remaining games be rescheduled, citing fatigue. ONOG administrators tried to work out an alternative solution, but when no mutually agreeable option could be found, Stephano forfeited the matches and logged off. In a perfect world, with adequate funding, objectivity, and enthusiasm, we might have a proper team working to prevent this sort of thing. Unfortunately, ours is not that world. In this world, a player's career is only as secure as his latest tournament win, and handshake agreements don't mean much. We don't have an organization to regulate the StarCraft 2 scene—and we're better off that way.
If you squint, you might see why a governing body would be pragmatic. When you consider similar scandals of the recent past, the need seems palpable. Consider the NaNiwa probe rush incident, Complexity's contract troubles with NaNiwa and Stephano, or any of TSL's player-poaching incidents.
NaNiwa's probe rush against NesTea in Blizzard Cup 2011
Each of these issues was resolved without the guidance of a governing body to the satisfaction of all parties involved. It doesn't take an independent committee to identify what went wrong during the ONOG finals, for example. Stephano should have played out the remaining games and ONOG should have disqualified him when he showed up fourty-five minutes late for his semi-final match against vileIllusion. Even Deric Ortiz, ONOG's President, came to Stephano's defense, saying,
I appreciate [the support from the community], but I think people need to be easier on Stephano – a player should have a right to forfeit and I think this is a case of mistakes on both sides compounding the problem. Also, while I appreciate the support, people should realize that ONOG deserves to share the blame too. Our tournament rules should have been more comprehensive and we should have been stricter when enforcing said rules.
The problem with a potential governing body is that it's hard to describe exactly what needs to be governed, much less who would do so.
The problem with a potential governing body is that it's hard to describe exactly what needs to be governed, much less who would do so. StarCraft 2 is made up of many different players and organizations, all of whom have separate interests to protect. In the probe incident, we would want to protect NaNiwa from unfairly losing a Code S spot he'd rightfully earned. In any of TSL's player-poaching scandals, we would want to protect hardworking Korean teams from coercion by western contract negotiations. In Stephano's latest incident, we would want to protect the small-budget and volunteer-based ONOG from the whims of players who are, shall we say, less concerned with the success of grassroots tournament organizations.
Collective organizations and governing bodies are nothing new to e-sports, but their successes, if any, have been largely symbolic. StarCraft 2 had SC2Con briefly until it disbanded last September citing, in essence, irreconcilable differences. An older and more well-known example would be G7, an organization of Counter Strike teams who, like SC2Con, lacked the power to enforce their own rulings. When Fnatic gaming, in 2010, and SK gaming, in 2011, were accused of attempting to poach players from each other, G7 was asked to help settle the conflicts. In the first instance, G7 internally ruled against Fnatic, who nevertheless chose to ignore G7's decision. In the second instance, no ruling was ever agreed upon, but by that time G7's influence had already deteriorated. As SK manager Alexander Muller remarked to ESFI in early 2011, "I think what I've said is quite clear. The way Fnatic worked the GuX case does not leave much room within a construct like the G7 to have both teams inside."
What we need to remember, though, is that until we have the resources to operate otherwise, this is the system we've got, and most of the time it works.
As spectators, we might be tempted to look at situations like these and conclude that there is no hope for a centralized governing body, that all men are inherently evil, and that everyone in e-sports is only in it for the money. At the very least, it's easy to wonder why we can't all just get along. What we need to remember, though, is that until we have the resources to operate otherwise, this is the system we've got, and most of the time it works. It's not often that we step back and appreciate how much conflict has been resolved without the help of a governing body. Scandals don't erupt when players, teams, and tournament organizers take the necessary precautions and communicate professionally. Fnatic received a lot of flak for the way they handled their acquisition of aLive—until it was revealed that Fnatic had not actually signed aLive, that aLive had left TSL a month earlier, and that TSL's coach had discovered the negotiations before they could be brought to his attention.
We must also take into consideration the kind of staff that a governing body would require. A governing body can't just punish anyone—it would have to find members first, i.e. pro-gamers. But who qualifies as a pro-gamer? What about tournament organizations or teams? If I start a clan with two of my friends, do I deserve representation? What if we throw a tournament for everyone in our neighborhood? Once again, it would be harder for new players to make names for themselves because it's the job of any governing body to protect its members' interests—even from those who might join it one day.
Though perhaps a bit extreme, KeSPA's example may provide some guidance. Their formula is efficient and no-nonsense. Have you won a Courage tournament? If not, you’re not a pro-gamer. Those who do qualify enjoy such responsibilities as participation in the most prestigious KeSPA-approved tournaments and mandatory twelve-hour practice days sponsored by teams with enough capital to make those hours seem worthwhile. KeSPA’s system is one that can be very rewarding for the lucky few who succeed, but those who don't might find it hard to justify their commitment . As players like IdrA have often noted, it’s excessive. A lot of current StarCraft 2 pro-gamers balance their career with their school work. How many current pros would be unable to meet requirements like KeSPA's? What about regulations only half as stringent?
Ultimately we must decide whether we want an organization with as much power as KeSPA has over its domain. Right now we have a system in which everyone fends for themselves. For the most part, players, teams and tournament organization understand that they rely on each other and can cooperate without much need for legal maneuvering. What we lack in control we make up for in diversity. The ideal system might then be a democratic one in which the interests of all parties involved, including the community at large, are considered—but many people don’t realize that most organizations already do this. How fast did MLG turn things around after Dallas? When was the last time Sundance or Carmac didn’t leap at the chance to resolve an issue with their respective tournaments? Savvy organizations have already learned the power of the community—and the dangers of ignoring it. Perhaps it's time the community did some learning too.
If we want an organization to govern StarCraft 2, we must choose to create one with meaningful power, rather than one whose judgments are ignored without consequence. There’s no point in granting power if we intend to ignore it at the first sign of disagreement, no point in creating regulations we won't respect. If, in the end, we must choose between a system of over-regulation and a system of under-regulation, we should choose the one that best rewards the community that relies on it. I think the choice is obvious.
John King
