There's something tremendously rewarding about learning to play Dota. Part of this is the vast amount of information you're asked to absorb: the abilities, items, rules, situations and solutions that constitute its secret language. Then there's the application of that knowledge, the clutch choices that determine the outcome of skirmishes, sieges and ultimately the game. Victory feels like a genuine accomplishment in a way that it doesn't in the vast majority of other games, because of the sheer number of variables in play: the best matches are like passing through a storm of chance and chaos with four other people and emerging from the other side clutching a win and, if you're lucky, a couple of new hats.
Then there's losing. Defeat is a necessary part of the equation – without it, those victories mean nothing – but it stings, and for every energising loss that teaches you something there's a drag-out, mood-crushing face-stomp. Just as winning becomes more meaningful when you feel like the game is testing you personally, so defeat will sometimes feel like having all of your personal failures writ large.
Certainly, there will be people who make it their business to tell you that you suck. I sometimes feel like the hostility of the Dota community is overstated, but there's no denying that abuse occurs with regularity. A mixture of competitive pressure, language barriers and anonymity create an environment where immature people feel like it's acceptable to say terrible things to one another. This isn't unique to Dota, but it's part of the experience and it'd be completely understandable if it put you off playing the game. The point, though, is that this negativity stems from the same forces that make the game so special: passion, expertise and personal investment. I bet sailors can be right pricks to each other sometimes, too.
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