EPTFallen Starleague
On February 21st, 2011, in a dimly lit bunker somewhere in greater Seoul, the three most famous professional Starcraft 2 players in the world put on an extremely awkward show. There was Jinro, the Swedish terran who had just made the Ro4 of the GSL. There was IdrA, the petulant heir to the foreign Starcraft throne. And there was the owner of the apartment, Artosis, a doomed competitor, who played host and emcee. Tens of thousands tuned in to watch. Jinro won a $1500 prize by a 4-2 score. He seemed extremely uneasy with his victory as IdrA stewed at his computer, meters away in a cramped apartment.
Jinro. IdrA. Artosis. The biggest names of Starcraft playing in a dark, cramped, living room—somewhere—under the hackneyed billing "Clash of the Titans". And the misshapen, spectacularly ill-advised, progeny of this delusion of grandeur was the North American Starcraft League.
An inauspicious start to put it mildly.
The early seasons of the NASL were characterized by the kind of tragicomedy perfected by Mr. Bean movies. In an earnest desire to get things right, the NASL seemed doomed to foul them up instead. The league pioneered a number of clever ideas, yet thought none of them through properly. The idea of players competing to market themselves with audition videos was way overdue, but the results were slipshod. The NASL's concept of a regular live online league with offline playoffs is the model now used by WCS, but the NASL version suffered from a lumbering 10-man round robin format, players who didn't show up, and an audience unwilling to look past cross-server lag. Season two introduced a dual booth with the players facing each other, yet with none of the production value that Red Bull would later employ. There's the entrance walk surrounded by fans... ...who simply weren't there. Fancy black suits on a black backdrop. Lindsey Sporrer—the list goes on and on.
The NASL's first season for all of its investment and star power was completely derailed by another newcomer in IPL, who offered a tournament of second rate NA ladder heroes but first rate production. It had entered a crowded and ruthless field. Midway through 2011, the world of SC2 tournaments began to drastically elevate their presentation. NASL was woefully outmatched. The second season LAN finals were held in a convention center that appeared completely empty, a week after Dreamhack at staged their final in a hockey stadium. The event was won by the Korean Terran PuMa, who had mastered a universally hated all-in and possessed none of the charm that would allow players like PartinG to get away with similar things in the future.
It's telling that two of the NASL's most enduring contributions to the SC2 scene are memes associated with failure. The hatred of "announcements of announcements" persists to the present day. And at the slightest bit of sound trouble, the spectre of "NASL Soundguy" is invoked. Both memes are actually so pervasive, they have entered the lexicon of other esports, as the diaspora of SC2's early fans have found homes with different games. That is how we remember the NASL most of all.
At the initial announcement, it was said that three seasons of the NASL were already budgeted for, but after season two, many publicly doubted that the NASL would even bother soldiering on.
Yet it turned out that the NASL was less a Mr. Bean character, and instead a bit more like Mr. Magoo (you are forgiven for missing the references). Nevermind all the fuck-ups and self-inflicted wounds and embarrassments. Nevermind the derision and the memes and the misfortune. The NASL walked through the swamp and somehow came out in a clean suit and a pressed pair of slacks.
The turning point was season three. I was there. I drove nine hours from New York City to Toronto for my first ever American esports event. The venue wasn't really in Toronto, but the concrete suburb of Mississauga, with airplanes roaring overhead. The building was basically a warehouse. Three of the eight players didn't even show up until an hour before the matches started. But all was forgotten.
This was the tournament where Stephano put on his greatest ever performance, absolutely savaging a line-up of world class protoss players. This was the tournament where Scarlett—tacked onto the afterthought WCS Canada event—became a true star. The production issues vanished. The event ended with Stephano being blasted by champagne and the entire crew dancing to M83 on the stage. It felt like a spontaneous expression of joy; victory of both the player and the organization.
Actually, it wasn't spontaneous at all, and that made all the difference. NASL had hired a professional to produce the show. He ran a tight ship throughout the broadcast. Before the finals, he came backstage and told the casters, personalities, and Stephano something like; "for the winning ceremony, everyone is going to go out there and dance with the music and we're going to close on that". It played superbly.
The ability of the SC2 community to forgive and forget is tremendous. The NASL profited completely from this. After a single successful event, its position in the constellation of SC2 tournaments was secure. A fourth season was announced. The IPL folded. MLG retreated from the game. Even after a fifth season failed to follow on the heels of the fourth and WCS was awarded to a competitor, the NASL found additional work as the best freelance studio in the world. This was another brilliant innovation. It's hard to think of another esports organization that so clearly and consistently foresaw the future of the game, even if they often struggled to capitalize on it.
Yesterday, the NASL announced that after over three years, they will be leaving StarCraft 2. It seems like the end may have come rapidly, with NASL dropping their WCS responsibilities and ESL having to scramble to cover it. We will probably learn in the future what stresses caused what was once the most resilient organization in SC2 to fold. And we must all hope that the NASL's prescience doesn't extend to this, that it doesn't foretell further contraction of the SC2 scene. Perhaps, like several recent player 'retirements', NASL might show up again one day, briefcase in hand, coat draped over arm as if nothing were amiss.
It's doubtful the league made much money. It's much more likely that after three years they still lost a significant amount. But there can be no disputing that the SC2 scene has gained immeasurably from NASL's presence. Witnessing its departure, which once seemed inevitable, now comes as a shock.
The NASL began with Jinro against IdrA. Both have retired from the game. The world into which the NASL was born has always seemed like another era. Even more so now.
