(This is part one of a three-part series of posts about weird and wonderful things on YouTube, drawn from my own extensive surfing and observation. Parts two and three will be up soon.) UPDATE: Maybe not so soon, but at some point, hopefully

You’ve all experienced it. The Internet is like a rabbit hole. During the school year, you’re busy and can resist, but the minute you get home, your boredom and weakness for information leads you to click link after link, for hours, until that embarrassing moment when someone walks in the room and you have no plausible explanation for why you’re reading about the history of NAMBLA.

Sometimes, though, the things you’ll find are so fascinating that you just have to tell a story about them. Do you think your click-orgies are interesting (and embarrassing)? You have no idea…

The Procrastination Begins

It’s the week of my MCAT exam. Instead of studying my ass off, I’m looking up Starcraft replays on YouTube, commentated by the venerable Klazart. I get curious; who is this guy with a funny English-sounding accent, who talks about a computer game like it’s tennis–although in Korea, Starcraft is probably more competitive than tennis–and spits out names and career details of professional Starcraft players like he’s reading them off a Rolodex?

Turns out Klazart is only one of an entire community of English-speaking commentators who are trying to bring the popularity of the game across the East-West divide. These guys, whose online names include Moletrap, Diggity, and VioleTAK, follow the latest Starcraft tournaments through online videos released by the Korean media companies that televise the game. Then they share their accumulated expertise by recording voiceovers on top of the replays (you can still hear the muted, rapid-fire Korean commentary in the background). To reach the masses, they post their creations on YouTube and link them to the Starcraft community via sites like SC2GG.com.

Here’s an example replay, just so you can get an idea (can’t see the video?):

You might find it funny that I refer to the competitive Starcraft audience as “the masses.” But in a way, the community created by these YouTube commentators really is starting to extend beyond just the hardcore gamers and their devoted–and, yes, geeky–fans. Frequently, the comments on these videos ask inquisitively about basic rules of the game, revealing a rather un-geeky spectator audience that must not have even played the game in its heyday in North America–at least 8 years ago. Klazart, whose YouTube account is just over a year old, is the #2 most subscribed person in Ireland (that explains his accent), with 4474 subscribers and almost 100 times that many video views. Wasif, another commentator, enjoys maybe a third as many views but receives a constant stream of Paypal donations from fans to fund his biweekly productions.

All the more astonishing, then, when you realize that Wasif is, as far as anyone can tell, nothing more than a fast-talking high schooler with a penchant for colorful language. And Klazart and co., just a few college students whose knowledge of the game and poise at the microphone belie their ordinariness in most other respects.

But the effect of their commentary is undeniable. Wasif, despite only commentating his own games–whose level of competition pales next to the professional replays–enjoys a cult following at least 2000 strong, and which includes the two roommates who introduced me to his videos. Okay, so maybe most of those 2000 are also high schoolers who, like Wasif, see nothing out of the ordinary in dropping the F-word every other sentence, or using “gay” to express their disapproval of anything and everything. On the other hand, I can’t help but think there’s a strange, understated charm there, in his earnestness and devotion to his craft.

After all, Wasif’s videos are basically instructional. He writes them to flaunt his skills, but also to teach and share his love of the game with anyone who cares to listen. There is, beyond the geeky silliness of the enterprise, an endearing, human quality: the seeking of approval and friendship from like-minded souls. It only happens in this case that those other souls are Starcraft players. This could have been me not too many years ago, myopic and bespeckled, smitten by a computer game and completely unmindful of distractions like “sports” or “socializing.” The only difference being that my geekiness was naturally accompanied by shyness. Recording games and posting the videos would have far outstripped what little initiative or performative instinct I had, as well as, apparently, my meager finger reflexes. Wasif’s APM–actions per minute, the standard measure of a gamer’s quickness at the keyboard–is upwards of 100, and most pro-gamers much higher. There is a funny cultural statement to be had in the thought that while I’m sitting here, slowly editing the typos from my writing, somewhere in a Korean stadium a slip of the finger means the difference between instant popular glory and humiliating defeat.

If listening to Wasif is endearing, then Klazart’s commentaries are nothing short of inspirational. In place of Wasif’s youthful–and at times, puerile–self-assuredness, Klazart substitutes not only a deep understanding of the game, but also a commanding knowledge of the human competitors who drive its culture. Beyond the simple facts of who is winning and how, he delves into the history of the players, their personalities and reputations, giving a glimpse into the actual people who are drawn to the game and inhabit the nation where it has become a phenomenon. Klazart has such a sense of narrative drama that everything he says teeters on the edge between intensely gripping and outrageously geeky. For him, Starcraft is not just a game, or even a mere sport, but a world where battles are waged “with all the sweat, blood, and oil” of the players’ armies. When a hot-shot rookie goes up against a widely revered veteran of the game, a victory for the younger player could only mean that “he has killed his father and satisfied his Oedipus complex.” You don’t have to be a devoted player, or even know much about the game, to be entertained and captivated by these cheekily epic proclamations.

I’m curious as to how many non-Starcraft-players would actually find the commentaries, let alone the culture around the game, at all interesting. I suspect not many, and probably way fewer than I’d like to think. Because as much as I get excited about the drama and personality revealed in these videos, a quick conversation with any of my non-gaming friends is enough to see that these “human qualities” are far from universally apparent. Just imagine:

“Hey, check out these Starcraft videos! They’re really cool!”
“Uh, aren’t you too old for that?”
“No! I’m not talking about the game, I’m talking about the universal human and cultural significance of the game!”
“Right. (walks away)”

Of course, there are those few who, never having played Starcraft before, stumble across these videos on YouTube and become inexplicably drawn in, even posting comments to find out more. Maybe they see what I see: a little bit of myself in Wasif and Klazart, a little bit of that youthful exuberance for a silly game that I’ve always been too lazy or self-conscious to really be passionate about. The demographics of computer games and other geeky pursuits have always favored intelligent, unconventionally witty personalities. The magic of the Internet is that the most witty and articulate of them all can be discovered and appreciated, even if it’s through as unexpected a medium as the YouTube Starcraft commentary.

Stay tuned for the next part, “Not Another Stupid Dance Video?!”, where I will share a viral video I found, and the incredible fairy-tale-like backstory behind it.

Further info about Starcraft and pro-gaming culture:
Documentary on Starcraft by National Geographic (Yes, National Geographic): parts one, two, three, four, five
Wikipedia entry on “Starcraft Professional Competition”
Starcraft Official Site at Blizzard Entertainment