In 2010, some drunk esports god went into the progamer creation tool and decided to roll a new character. In a succession of barely thought out choices, he went with the absurd hybrid class of “technician-brawler,” and maxed out stats for Aggression, Creativity, and Guts. He glanced at the Finesse stat, decided it was unimportant, and concluded character creation. He named it “GuMiho.”

GuMiho quickly became the single most entertaining player in StarCraft II. For most other players, ‘strategic growth’ in StarCraft II meant playing with more safety and stability. For GuMiho, it meant the sowing of chaos and disorder.

One way GuMiho achieved this was by turning the entire map into a battlefield, simultaneously striking at as many locations as possible. When GuMiho initiated this chaos doctrine, a single, large force was never to be used, when three smaller forces could be deployed instead. Enemy offensives not to be dealt with by consolidating troops on defense, but instead by weakening the defenses and sending out detachments to counter-attack. By design, GuMiho turned games into confusing, rollicking brawls.

It’s hard to tell exactly why GuMiho ever opted to play this way, given that he didn’t even have a good skill-set for it. By progamer standards, GuMiho was hardly elite at multi-tasking and micro. He was unable to keep up with his own attacks—if three forces were attacking at once, two of them were bound to get massacred due to a silly lapse in attention. Yet, efficiency never seemed to concern GuMiho. It was almost as if he venerated chaos out of sheer principle, and victory was just a side effect.

The other important way GuMiho created chaos was by becoming a mad-scientist type player, coming up with strategies his opponents could never predict. Finesse was the area he lacked most in, and trying to out-execute an opponent with well-known, standard strategies could only result in disaster. Attacking at unexpected timings, attacking with unexpected combinations of units, attacking at unusual locations—these became the keys in formulating strategies.

Sometimes, GuMiho would emerge from the lab with a brilliant and incisive build, a perfect counter to the hottest build in the metagame. At other times, he would unveil a build that was weird, seemingly, simply for the sake of being weird. GuMiho was equally happy with both—anything was a fine starting point, as long as it eliminated the possibility of playing a normal game.

Not surprisingly, the victories came, and they came a plenty. Too many players had become fixated on concepts like ‘standard’ and ‘optimization’, to the point where it became all too easy to destabilize their foundations and bring them crashing down.

Yet, even as GuMiho was celebrated for his thrilling victories and occasional triumphs, he became a player defined by his limitations. An early reality-check came in 2012’s Code S Season 1, where GuMiho’s semi-final run came to a devastating end. After leading the series 2-0, he allowed DongRaeGu to come back in a 3-2 reverse sweep.

DRG’s mechanics were exceptional in every way, from macro, to micro, to multi-tasking. He had exceptional defensive instincts and paid meticulous attention to scouting. He was built to take an opponent’s best punch, laugh it off, and level him with a brutal macro-haymaker. Yet, he was also completely capable of gutting an opponent with a surgically precise all-in of his own. Quite simply, he was a player in another class.

Against such a player, chaos and disorder might be imposed for a game or two. But it was not enough to topple them. DRG represented everything GuMiho could never be. For years, he represented everything GuMiho could never overcome.



GuMiho’s success in Legacy of the Void has been a compromise. Before, he was unique, in part, due to an unusual style that relied on a frenzy of multi-pronged attacks. In LotV, that style has been legislated into StarCraft II as a semi-mandatory part of the game. When mechanically superior progamers adapted that style, it turned out they were superior to GuMiho. When a peculiar mood strikes an INnoVation or a TY, they’ll take a break from bludgeoning their opponents with frontal attacks to play a beautiful game of multi-tasking and harassment. It’s a great demonstration of how GuMiho deserves to play.

And still, GuMiho has refused to have his identity stripped away, and doubled down on what makes him special. His games are as unpredictable and chaotic as ever, thanks to the strategies and build orders flowing from his ever-creative mind. Tank drops, mechanical compositions, and proxy-everythings have kept the spirit of chaos alive. Somehow, someway, this version of GuMiho has proved to be the strongest. After seven long years of fighting against orthodoxy, GuMiho finally has a chance to win a championship on his own terms.

The opponent couldn’t be more apt. soO is another DRG, another paragon of conventional excellence. In fact, few other players represent the triumph of sheer mechanics better than soO. He’s the sum of S-Tier, mechanically proficient monsters; the better version of every DRG, PartinG, or Rain that ever ended a GuMiho tournament run.

GuMiho was never like them, and can never be like them. But by winning the GSL, he’ll prove he never had to be.

Again.

Out of all the storylines to impress themselves on the StarCraft 2 scene over the years, there’s hardly a more complex and tragic one than that of soO. This will be soO’s sixth GSL finals appearance. The last five times he’s failed to win the trophy. His failure to win the title is now the stuff of legends, rivaling the reputation of Brood War’s YellOw, bordering on the mythical.

No other progamer has been able to reach six GSL finals during their career, which means soO is breaking new ground on Saturday the 24th of June. With StarCraft 2’s long-term future a bit uncertain in Korea, it’s very possible that his new record will remain forever. If there ever was any doubt about soO’s tenacity and passion for the game, they should be laid to rest. The amount of skill and talent involved should be lauded. With his decisive 4-0 semifinal win over Classic, he has taken another step towards ridding himself of the Kong mockery.

If soO's story shows us anything at all, it is that results matter, and that maybe they’re the only thing that truly matters in this game.

Again.

To get back up after you’re knocked down, that takes determination. But to be thrown to ground and pull yourself back up repeatedly, unfazed by the odds, unfazed by how the deck is stacked against you, that takes guts. If there’s one thing soO has proven over the years without a shadow of a doubt, it is that he has guts. You can knock him down, you can push him to the very edge, but he possesses the determination all athletes absolutely need. His drive is to press ever onward, through even the darkest of moments. He has convinced himself that there is still light at the end of the tunnel, somewhere, that through sheer force of will it is yet possible to reach, no matter how long it may take.

We value tenacity in our favorite competitors. Seeing them ride once more unto the breach isn’t always expected, but it’s applauded every single time. We all of course wait with bated breath whether this will finally be soO’s breakthrough.

And yet we’re treading eerily familiar ground. .

Again.

This time around, the soO will bring his formal training to bear against GuMiho, known for embracing the chaos wherever it’s spread. soO will be relying on his mechanical superiority, while GuMiho will be looking to disruption as his way to victory. A cursory glance at the finals would pit soO as the clear favorite. A true S-Class player against a Terran who’s seen a resurgence this year, but who simply cannot claim to be anything but the underdog, albeit a good one. It’s a story we’ve seen a thousand times over the years. And still, it’s precisely because soO is involved that that narrative breaks down.

Again.

Because what is there left to write about soO’s story? Tragedy and success are sometimes two sides of the same coin. Six GSL finals without a title, and he’ll be forever known as the eternal Kong of the scene. Six GSL finals and a single title, and he’ll be forever known as The Redeemer.

The silver medals are such a defining trait of his career that it’s difficult to see beyond them. They override almost all other ideas we may have of soO. It’s like a self-fulfilling prophecy. Every single time soO is brought up, we focus naturally on his failures, while praising his accomplishments in other areas at the same time. It’s as if soO’s essence was distilled into two stories, one of failure and of one of his skill and consistency, while the rest of him has vanished. He is a godlike Zerg, one of the best we will ever see. Every time he has reached the finals of Code S and lost, he has garnered yet more praise for his incredible abilities, and his failures have simultaneously become harder and harder to overlook.

Again.

In Greek mythology, Sisyphus was sentenced by the gods to rolling an immensely heavy boulder up a hill, only for the boulder to come rolling back down every time he had reached the top. This continued for all eternity. At this point, the comparison with soO has become painfully obvious.

It’s as if he was stuck in a loop, destined to repeat the same day over and over again. He’s the Colter Stevens, Rita Vrataski, Phil Connors of the competitive scene. He faces different opponents in every loop, always coming within inches of relief, but ultimately crumbling. Does he need to discover the cracks in the system like Stevens? Does he need to become a better person like Phil? Does he simply need to hone his skills to become the ultimate weapon like Rita Vrataski?

Is there even a way to return to his normal life? Will he be stuck in the loop forever, narrowly missing out on the GSL title every single time he reaches the finals? Will we likewise be stuck in the same loop, always narrowing soO down to just two facets, simultaneously praising his achievements and bemoaning the strange lack of them. Any final could be his last chance to set the record straight in his favor and smash his own image.

Again.

It’s entirely up to soO to break whatever curse has befallen him. Whether he wakes up on Sunday in the old timeline, or faces a new day is, as it always has been, down to only one question - can soO finally win?