Three Lane Highway is Chris' sometimes earnest, sometimes silly column about Dota 2. It runs every Thursday on PC Gamer.

Are you interested in language? I think you should be, but then again I would say that. I peddle language for a living. Don't freak out, but I'm doing it right now. My rent is paid by the notion that some sets of words are of greater value than others. That's kind of a terrifying thought, really, but it's no more terrifying than the alternative: that in the future we will communicate about videogames by honking and pressing 'Like' buttons in a branded metaverse that we access by consenting to give over fifty percent of our brainpower so that Big Data can cloud-compute a solution to free will using our frontal cortexes.

I digress. I'm going to use this week's Three Lane Highway to talk about words. If that's not of interest to you, that's cool. I'd appreciate it if you'd still honk and push the 'Like' button, though.

There was a story that used to knock around the PC Gamer UK office about the provenance of the term 'first person shooter'. Before it came along, 'Doom clone' was the preferred term. This was the language of players, defined and propagated by enthusiast magazines. 'FPS' was the invention of game publishers who didn't want their game to be thought of as a copy. Imitation might be fundamental to the creative process, but nobody wants to own up to their influences at the point of sale.

'FPS' eventually broke through the defenses of buzzword-adverse magazine editors to become the standard phrase, but that's because it was a basically accurate description of the genre. It only became problematic when it emerged that we didn't really have a word for first person games that weren't shooters. That took a while, though: for a long time, 'FPS' served its purpose perfectly ably. Buzzwords are fine if they mean something.

This story is useful because it has a lot of parallels in the formation of the term 'MOBA'. Prior to 'MOBA', games that followed after the Defence of the Ancients/Aeon of Strife formula were 'Dotalikes'. This posed a problem for Riot and anybody else attempting to build a game in the same genre. Changing the terminology became a marketing necessity for them just as it had for Doom clone publishers in the late 90s. I hate to think about how much time this process must have taken when the result was a phrase as flatulent, ugly on the page, and vague as 'MOBA'.

This is not a League of Legends vs. Dota 2 argument. They are both great games, and Riot had the right to come up with a new term. That's not the nature of my problem with 'MOBA'. My problem with 'MOBA' stems from its lifelessness and lack of precision. Also, the fact that I can't hear it without thinking about this entirely terrifying kids' TV series from a couple of years ago.

Put it this way: Planetside 2 is a multiplayer online battle arena. World of Warcraft is a multiplayer online battle arena. Dark Souls is a multiplayer online battle arena. If you take the component parts of 'MOBA' at face value they could refer to more or less anything, and therefore they refer to more or less nothing. Discomfort about using somebody else's marketing term is one reason not to say 'MOBA'; the other is this fundamental lack of meaning.

But wait! You might say, if you were a rhetorical device. Isn't meaning more about usage and context than some notion of inherent correctness? If everybody agrees on what 'MOBA' means, does it matter that it doesn't stand up to scrutiny?

I think it does. Words attract meaning through use, yes, but they also shape the patterns of thought that surround their use. Imaginative language encourages imaginative thought and vice versa. I'd argue that the popularity of the term 'MOBA' contributes directly to the notion that these games can or should be stamped out conveyor-belt style. 'MMORPG' encountered the same problem: it was a simplistic descriptor that became incontrovertibly associated with a simplistic creative process. The term was not exciting, creative, or especially accurate: it had become one of Orwell's ready made phrases, a bad usage that "anaesthetises a portion of one's brain."

Finding a phrase to replace 'MOBA' is an opportunity to zoom in on the things that are exciting about this genre. It's an opportunity to frame games like League and Dota by what they achieve, not just what they are. The phrase 'action RTS' is dry and doesn't paint a clear picture of what you actually do in the game. 'Hero brawler', which is what Blizzard are going with for Heroes of the Storm, actually fares a little bit better: it points out a specific and universal game element (heroes) and attaches it to a situation (a brawl) that has a bit of colour. The best we could come up with at PC Gamer UK was 'lane-pushing game', but I'm not sure that's terribly exciting either.

This is why I ended up referring to Dota 2 as an isometric wizard-'em-up in PC Gamer's review last year. It was a joke, sort of: a way of abdicating responsibility for calling the genre anything. Then afterwards I realised that I liked the phrase that at the very least it reflected something of the feeling I got from playing the game. It is absurd, but the things you do in Dota are absurd too.

These games aren't remarkable because they are multiplayer online arenas, or because they combine action and strategy: they are remarkable because the situations they create are utterly arcane in a way that encourages deep investment. They're remarkable because they create communities of people who are uniquely able to discern incredible stories from the interaction of complex, unintuitive game mechanics. This is as true of Dota 2 as it is of League of Legends, SMITE, or Heroes of the Storm. These are eldritch, uncanny forms of entertainment. They are wizard as all hell. They include wizards; they have a wizardish quality about them; they encourage wizard-like behaviour in their players. Wizards.

You could pick another, safer word, but I don't think you should. These aren't 'safe' games they're laden with risk and nonsense and we should celebrate that in the way we talk about them. Put it this way: when some publisher rocks up and announces that they're making this or that beloved franchise into a MOBA, everybody rolls their eyes. It's easy to make a boring MOBA. I am arguing that it is very difficult to make a boring wizard-'em-up.

I don't expect history or the industry to go with me on this one. But you, the reader, have a choice. You can choose to live in a world where 'wizard' is a verb. I understand some of the reasons why you might not want to do that. I imagine they are perfectly fine reasons. I just sure as hell don't agree with them.

Some people are really good at manipulating wizards. As the makers of a game that features wizards (also: bears, succubi, venomous man-reptiles), every year Valve invite some of these people to a multi-million dollar wizard-off. That tournament is Dota 2's The International, and is one of the year's largest e-sports events. Valve have confirmed that this year's tournament will run from July 18 - 21, with tickets going on sale later this week. In addition, the event takes place in a new venue: Seattle's KeyArena.

"This year there will be 11 teams invited directly as well as four Regional Qualifiers taking place May 12th through the 25th," write Valve, explaining the tournament structure. "The winner of each Qualifier will receive an invitation, with the four runner-ups competing in Seattle for the final spot."

Tickets for attendance go on sale this Friday, and range from a general pass for $99, to a VIP package including "Meet & Greets" and after party access at $499. You can head to the Dota 2 blog for a full list of available packages and ticket opening times. Alternatively, for the rest of us, the tournament will be broadcast for free through Twitch and the in-game client.

The KeyArena is a larger venue than that of the tournament's previous home, Benaroya Hall. It's also being held a few weeks earlier in the year a fact that's already impacted upon the e-sports calendar. A few weeks ago, MLG announced that they'd be dropping Dota 2 from Anaheim this summer. One of the reasons they stated was the proximity of competing events.

Three Lane Highway is Chris' sometimes earnest, sometimes silly column about Dota 2.

Dota 2 is a complicated game. Everybody knows that. It's so complicated that nobody understands it completely, and that's why we surround ourselves with experts who are able to pierce through Dota's thick fog of mechanical noise to deliver sound commentary and guidance. Today, I am your guide. Tens of minutes have been invested in bringing you the following Dota secrets: cold scientific facts that they don't want you to know.

FACT #1: Wards exist in a state of quantum uncertainty.

You will note that Dota 2 does not keep track of the amount of gold each player has spent on support items wards, smoke, courier upgrades and so on. This is not an error. It is impossible for the game to record this information because support items do not exist in the way that you or I readily understand.

Like Schr dinger's cat, wards only exist when they are observed by the rest of the team. Until this happens they are both bought and unbought, placed and unplaced. As a support player you may believe that you have bought and placed wards, but this is not the case until your carry, offlaner or mid agrees that you have done so.

This scenario is complicated by several factors. Every skillshot your team misses reduces the number of wards that you have effectively bought. Every time your carry is killed, your wards cease to exist: you never placed them, they had no warning, and everything everything! is your fault.

If an allied Mirana misses enough point blank Sacred Arrows, for example, then it is actually possible to reduce the number of observed wards on the map below zero. Not only did you not ward in the way that this particular player would like, you have not warded in the entire game. In fact you have warded so little that perhaps you are reducing the number of wards in other people's games right now.

"GG support no brain" Mirana might say, as another Sacred Arrow sails past an immobilised enemy three feet away. "Report rubick."

Just as the world seemed complete and unchangeable to the peanut-brained tyrannosaur, Mirana's belief in your failure will be unshakable long past the point where the game is lost. You could protest, but science is on her side: you might think you bought wards, but if you had bought wards, I wouldn't suck so much, now, would I.

FACT #2: Every time you use the 'report' function for anything other than its stated purpose, a child's ice cream melts onto a life support machine which, short-circuiting, electrocutes a puppy.

This one sounds like a bit of a stretch at first so I'm going to walk you through it. Let's say that you're in a game and it's going badly. In particular, one of your teammates a stranger is having a rough time. Let's say they randomed Broodmother, demanded mid, and have fed ten kills to Death Prophet in less than twelve minutes. They are pushing right up against their respawn timer. It is actually quite difficult, mathematically, to fail as hard as they are failing.

You don't know them, and you don't know their circumstances. They could be ill, or tired, or simply having a bad day. What you do know is that they suck; that they are, to wit, a noob. You probably suck as well, of course, but the matter at hand concerns Broodmother.

"Lol gg reprot brood" you tap into global chat, like a dickhead.

You open the scoreboard, click Broodmother, and select report. You glance at the options available to you and note that in actual fact having a bad game isn't grounds for official complaint. You ignore this and choose 'Communication Abuse'. You opt to leave a message for Valve: "ban feeder nub pls."

You are setting a remarkable process into motion. First, an automated system will analyse your report and the match from which it originates to discern whether or not it is valid. Having determined that you are being a dickhead, the report is passed on to the AI that controls Valve's network of 'Overwatch' satellites. These orbital platforms normally facilitate the day-to-day running of the company predicting global trends, locating talented modders, tracking dissidents, and so on but a false report triggers several dormant subroutines.

The Overwatch network will then begin searching the globe for a very specific scenario. It will look for an infant with an ice cream, a deathbed, and a small dog. The search can take days, weeks, months, but Overwatch is patient. Having located its mark it will then deploy an array of sun-directing mirrors and lenses. A faint beam of warm sunlight is directed earthwards, at the sprinkled summit of a child's much-anticipated treat.

Melting! Falling! Zap, beep, woof! Silence.

Grief.

And all of this is your fault; all of this happened because you couldn't keep your shit together. Good job, player.

You might be wondering why Valve would install this functionality in this first place. You might argue that they have better things to do. To which I say: hey, man. They're an open company. If somebody wants to wheel their wheelie-desk over to Overwatch Control and install themselves some child-traumatising spacerays, then who are you to stop them? Stop being such a middle-manager. Jesus.

FACT #3: Regular Dagon usage drains ambient fun from the universe.

Fun is a zero sum game. They won't teach you that in school, but it's true. If you're having fun, somebody else isn't. Fun is, much like Hungry Hungry Hippos or capitalism, about stealing everybody else's marbles and hiding them where the 99% will never find them.

There are a couple of ways this applies to Dota 2. Carrying is the most obvious. Players who auto-lock mid for themselves have something of the Goldman Sachs intern about them, too; I can imagine them using the word 'rainmaker' without irony. But that's not what I want to talk about today. I want to talk about Dagon. A Dagon is more than a magic wand that incinerates people. A Dagon is a declaration. A Dagon says "this game is about me. This game is a fun-funnel, and the fun-funnel is in my mouth, and I am going to have all of the fun, and there will be none for you, peasant."

FACT #3.5: The sound effect for Dagon is actually a sample of Donald Trump's toup being blown off.

Here's the setup. You're half an hour into a game and your team is doing well. You're Io or
Necrophos or somebody and you're sitting on a pile of assist gold. You think to yourself: what do we need? You could pick up a Pipe of Insight, or a Veil, but it's kind of late for that. Your mouse cursor hovers over the Necronomicon. This would be a solid choice. When you're listening to your better angels you are a team player, and that extra pushing power, that bonus damage, that truesight: yes, you think. We could make use of a Necronomicon.

We. We we we. Why never 'me'? Why never 'I'? This is when you decide to take matters into your own hands. It's at this point that you make a stand for you. You queue up a Dagon and step confidently into the goddamn winner's bracket.

You'll feel great. You'll punish an Armlet-toggling Slardar with your hair-trigger 'fuck you' button and yell something like "beep boop buh-zap, motherfucker!" I know I have. What you can't know at this moment is that the life you have chosen will catch up with you. This feeling of power can't last. All the fun you're having is actively and exponentially draining creation's supply of goodness and joy. Every innocent Keeper of the Light that you pop is a sacrifice on the altar of your hungering id.

You blaze through the midgame like a streak of light the colour of hot blood. You are a ruiner; you create ruins. You sound like the crack of God's belt. You're the goddamn Laser King. But this story does not have a happy ending. You start stealing farm to make that next 1250G recipe. You do shameful things in the jungle. You bottom out alone in the Rosh pit, cursing whoever decided that you couldn't double-tap the hotkey to turn your Dagon on yourself.

You are responsible for accelerating the Fun-Death of the Universe. I'm no mathematician, but if there was a formula for calculating the impact of a Dagon on a Dota 2 match I'm pretty sure it'd look something like this:



Where n is fun, x is the level of your Dagon, and y is Keeper of the Light's pathetic old man tears.

FACT #4: Everything you believe in is a falsehood. Order, pattern, number, sense and hope are lies you tell yourself to give meaning to a meaningless existence. You are a speck, a mote of nothingness, clinging desperately to the notion that you have a purpose. There is no purpose. Reality itself hates you, and you are doomed.

This is more or less the principle behind solo ranked matchmaking.