Why I went ballistic and griefed my teammates to death in that Versus match
First of all, if I am referring to you when I say "my teammates," then I would like to apologize in advance for ruining your game. If you are willing to listen, I shall explain the process that led me to this highly destructive decision.
For starters, I am horrendous at Left 4 Dead. I can't aim with a mouse, I keep shooting survivors by accident and even the bots can fend off zombies better than I can. It's not too noticeable when I'm playing Campaign mode. But then I decide to join a Versus game.
Nine times out of ten, I'm on the team that loses, and loses badly. As a zombie, I barely do 30 points of damage and all the survivors reach the safe house without even using a medkit. When I'm the survivor, I get annihilated within seconds. It's not fun. It's masochism.
Now, I know the right thing to do is shrug off the defeat with "It's just a game" and congratulate the winning party on their victory. Unfortunately, where I should be seeing the mad skills of the winners, I only see my own crushing weaknesses. And that makes me very upset.
This is the part where you scoff at me and declare "This person is such a wimp, whining because he lost." I don't blame you in the slightest for thinking that, especially since you don't know what my life is like on my side of the connection.
See, I'm a high school dropout with a nonexistent social life, nocturnal sleeping habits and a pathetic physique. Everyone in a position to look after me is too busy to help me get back on track. My entire life revolves around my laptop and the Wi-Fi connection that keeps it in touch with the outside world. I spend all day using my laptop because I have nothing else to do with my life.
When I lose a game of Versus, it's a reminder of my failure at the pastime I love. It's a reminder of my incompetence, my powerlessness, a reminder of just how badly I have failed in my life. It literally brings me to the verge of tears. And when I've got nothing left to lose... I grief.
I single-handedly wrestle control of the game away from the supposed winners. By killing my teammates myself, I rob my opponents of the chance to win with honor. Griefing gives me the victory I could never legitimately achieve. It's the only conceivable way in which I could win against such alarming odds.
Yet, when I disconnect from the game upon seeing the votekick flash onto the screen, my anxiety still hasn't left me. I haven't made myself feel better, I made everyone around me feel worse. I still know that I suck at Left 4 Dead 2, because I didn't win through skill. I won through cowardice, through hatred and malice.
But will I stop griefing after that? I should, and I want to, but I know I won't. My emotions will overrule my logic, and I will continue to take out my frustration on innocent players who just wanted to have fun and make friends. Yet... this assumption doesn't take into account my making this thread.
Perhaps now that I've voiced my thoughts, I will remember what I've written here. Perhaps I will remind myself that what I'm playing is little more than a game, a single scratch on a mountain that will disappear into the mists of time. Perhaps I will remember that my opponents won victory through clever strategy and skills honed through countless hours of practice, and congratulate them rather than bully them. Perhaps when my Jockey's lifeless body falls to the ground, I will accept that I was bested by a player better than me.
Perhaps I might learn from the mistakes of my past, and be a better sport in the future.