Heroes of the Dorm can be generally described as a tournament where college students compete for tuition, but that only scratches the surface. This year, I had the unique opportunity to participate in casting Heroes of the Dorm, while also being present for its conclusion as a member of the audience. Having seen both perspectives and after peeling back the layers and taking a closer look, it becomes clear to me that Heroes of the Dorm is a case study on passion, community, competition, and the future of gaming.

Conceptually, this tournament is different than many others by way of its prizing. The stakes are inherently high in things like the Heroes Global Championship with prize pools that offer players an opportunity to pursue their thirst for competition as a true vocation, but offering college tuition speaks to a different incentive.

Seeking a higher education is an investment in yourself. In my time participating in Heroes of the Dorm, I got a chance to meet aspiring doctors, lawyers, mechanical engineers, psychologists, and everything in between. These are driven young men and women who are working towards a foundation that could structure their professional lives, and this tournament offers them the opportunity to pair that passion for an education with an interest in gaming. In that, Heroes of the Dorm takes on something of an almost developmental role. Easing the burden of receiving an education through gaming is a profound and innovative undertaking, and fosters the growth of the human spirit.

It wasn’t until I began interviewing players prior to games did I truly come to appreciate the human element to this tournament and the role gaming can have in connecting people. Every team featured a set of protagonists that were all easy to root for. I think of DeAnza College, whose captain thinks the world of players like Fan and Michael Udall. He ventured from China in pursuit of his own American dream, looking to those players as a guide on how that dream can become a reality.

I think of Cal Poly Pomona, whose roster has not changed in all three years of this tournament. They formed the Pomona Ponies a week before the first tournament, and have remained friends ever since. Their interest in Heroes has formed a lifelong bond, where they plan on continuing to be friends and hanging out long after they’ve completed their education. During a time in someone’s life where memories and experience can solidify and shape someone’s character, it is profound to me to think that some of the strongest bonds are formed rushing down cores and timing heroics off of a perfectly timed Mosh Pit.

Teams like University of Kentucky come to mind. Two sets of brothers who battled their way to the Heroic Four and fast became one of the easiest teams to watch out for and be excited to see in the tournament. Serving as the quintessential Cinderella story, this team defied all odds to make it to Vegas. What most impressed me was their confidence and humility. Seeing Quonzar’s interview, where he spoke with absolute faith in his team’s ability to show up and perform without any sense of intimidation was truly inspiring for me. Watching them stay true to themselves and going at tournament favorites served as a reminder of what it means to be courageous. Few teams played with as much heart and sincerity as this team, and I hope we get to see them again.

These were not just teams or name tags moving around on a screen for me anymore over time. These were people with ambitions, wants, and dreams. I shared in their successes and felt empathy for their setbacks. Their emotional rollercoasters became our own throughout the course of the tournament, and I feel that’s something that Heroes of the Dorm does in a way unlike any other competition. Friends, family, and people just a part of the community in general came from all over to be there in Vegas and I think the efforts of the teams were a big reason why.

Heroes of the Storm, as a game, is designed around teamwork and cooperation. Playing in a coordinated setting with the same set of teammates will inherently develop social skills and an ability to connect with others in a way some players may not experience otherwise. I remember speaking with Kotank of Arizona State University, and he told me that he wanted to play his best for his teammates. This selfless statement really spoke volumes to me about this game’s ability to create friendships and bonds. These teams battle exams, studying, and all the rigors of college life but still find time to game together. What better way to get over a bad day is there than to sit down with a group of friends and play a game as a cohesive unit? Heroes of the Storm, and this annual tournament provided that for these teams and that’s a prize that’s hard to quantify.

The students participating in the tournament are not the only reason why Heroes of the Dorm is an amazing example of passion and community. I had an opportunity to speak with a range of people from Blizzard over the course of the tournament and each time came away thoroughly impressed and in awe of their love for this game and its community.

Whether someone is thinking of the best way to streamline the UI or if they are designing the next hero that will shake up the meta and defy MOBA conventions, each person I spoke to expressed absolute enthusiasm for this game. I quickly learned that this game is not a job for them. It’s a calling. I feel we are truly lucky to have this collection of individuals create something as complex, fun, challenging, and dynamic as Heroes of the Storm. It was truly an honor to see the game through their eyes in the times I was able to converse with them.

After the confetti settled, I thought back on my experience and smiled. I had the privilege in taking part in one of the most heartwarming journeys anyone could possibly go on. While its destination was an incredible culmination, the road to get there will be something I always remember.

I truly feel, with all my heart, that Heroes of the Dorm adds context to what it means to be a student, a competitor, and a person. Communities rallied behind these teams, and so did the audience. Passion was shown on the battlegrounds from the players, behind the camera from the production team, through the hard work of the tireless admins, and on the drawing board of the game’s developers. This tournament is a shining example of what collegiate esports can be, and for that I am both thankful and excited for its future.

Until next time, I’ll see you in the Nexus.

I think, from now on, when I fly I will ask for the window seat.

Today has been something of an emotionally charged day. I was set to go to the National Championship for Heroes of the Dorm. That, in and of itself, was something of a surprising turn of events. When I was originally slated to take part in this year’s competition, I was to cast to the round of 16 and then head back home. So it’s something of a prideful point for Blizzard to think enough of my efforts to want to bring me to Vegas, to see this whole thing through.

People in the community were excited that I was going. Some people even said they were making the trip to Vegas specifically to meet me. How crazy is that? To say I feel honored would be a profound understatement.

Due to weather issues in Atlanta, my flights to Las Vegas were canceled. My heart sank, standing there in the check-in line at the airport and being told that the next available flight was Sunday night. That there was nothing that could be done. I wasn’t going to Las Vegas. I wasn’t going to the finals.

It felt like a cosmic joke of sorts. I, someone who struggles with feeling like they belong anywhere, am excited to see people in a community that’s embraced me and am ready to power through the notion of social exhaustion to enjoy being in people’s company only to learn that it wasn’t to be.

It felt ironic, as far as karma goes. Yesterday when I bought Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild and traded in my Wii U and 3DS there was a kid behind me that asked the person working at the store if there was still a copy of Mortal Kombat vs. DC Universe. He said he had gone there before, but it was $20 and was too expensive. He even knew what drawer the disc was in.

When the person working at the store asked what I wanted to do with the leftover money from my trade, I told him I wanted to buy that game for that kid. Mario, the kid’s name I learned after, looked at my like I had six heads. It didn’t seem like he was used to people doing things like that for him, or at all. I had a mind to ask how he was doing in school, and to give something of an after school special speech about how hard work brings a lot of good fortune, and it feels good to pass that on to others. That maybe he could buy some kid a game someday. But I didn’t. He asked to shake my hand, so I did. And I left.

I still don’t know exactly why I bought that game for that kid, but it certainly wasn’t to reap any sort of karma for myself. And yet it did sting a little to feel that in the grand scheme of things I was ultimately stepping out of that check-in lane and into a cab back home.

I took responsibility, trying to reason and search on where I went wrong. Choosing that flight, not asking for a non-stop. Not being more diligent about making sure the flight was good to go. Not checking the weather to see this coming. What could I have done differently? I felt like I was being let down and like I had failed at the same time.

I reached out to different people at Blizzard, and what felt to me like a massive undertaking went underway. They sought to get me another flight to Vegas. I had the distinct privilege of being a part of the production at the Heroes of the Dorm finals. I told them it didn’t look like I was going to be able to make it, unfortunately. And even they were making efforts to try to get me out to Vegas. They asked for updates. Asked if there was anything they could do to help. Offered true empathy.

People in the community expressed their hope that I’d be able to go.

And it was for me.

Me.

I don’t know. Maybe people just felt like they were doing their job, and maybe people were just saying they hoped I made it to be nice. But sitting on this plane now makes me feel skeptical of that. Today, I felt like people went through a lot of effort on my behalf. That’s not something that ever really happens for me. I try to be as independent as possible, in large part because I hate feeling like anyone’s going out of their way for me. Insecurity and issues of self worth bubbling up some my subconscious and into action.

I needed help today. And support. I got both in ways I didn’t think were possible.

While I wish it didn’t come at the cost of people going out of their way for me, I feel karma has given me a far greater reward in this experience than simply just waking up and getting on a flight. People care, and I wouldn’t be on my way to Vegas feeling so welcomed and connected if they didn’t.

As I waited for my first flight, I got the notion to walk up to the counter and ask for a window seat. I always want the window seat. Seeing the world so small is akin to going to the beach and looking out at the ocean. Seeing so many buildings and dots of cars and lights turn on as the sun the plane chases goes I am simultaneously reminded of the importance and insignificance of my life. Its preciousness and its frivolity. Somewhere in the middle, it’s up to me to make the most of my life. It’s not something to take for granted.

I normally would not ask for the window seat. Like all the times where I want something and cave in to insecurity, choosing not to pursue, I felt this would be another instance where I had a middle seat and looked over at the window, feeling sorry that I didn’t at least try.

But if so many people were so willing to go out of their way on my behalf, people I greatly respect, aren’t I enough of a person that deserves to at least ask for something I wanted? So I set my jaw, stepped forward, got the agent’s attention, and asked if they had any window seats available.

“You’re in luck,” she said.

She has no idea how lucky I am, or how lucky I feel.

I think, from now on, when I fly I will ask for the window seat.