It takes a special talent to be able to convert media concepts from one successful medium to another.
I bring this up mostly because I’ve been following a Dota 2 team called Arkosh Gaming, who have found this weird niche of a fanbase based on a few key things.
Despite being a “Tier 1” esport, Dota 2 has traditionally lacked certain things that other games’ communities have:
Players are less active on social media
Players are less active on streams
Success and legacy depends on results in the year-long season, culminating with The International each August (except this year)
The last point is the reason for the first two: with TI representing such a big prize pool, players’ motivations are largely centered around winning it. As a result, organizations who pick up Dota 2 teams also have a lot riding on TI, as other ways of building revenue, such as streaming and social media exposure for sponsors, aren’t as successful.
This creates a problem in the lower tiers of competitions, or in regions where teams innately aren’t as successful; how do you, as a tier 2 or tier 1.5 team, differentiate yourself and start from scratch?
This year, since The International was cancelled, one ramshackle way of getting exposure vanished along with it: esports brands who wanted to possibly compete at TI usually would pick up one of many independent stacks of players for sponsorship. With another possible year until the next TI, and a Dota Pro Circuit (DPC) online league season looming, it’s all the more important to secure something viable.
These stacks would usually bomb out terribly, and the teams that contracted them would maybe stick around the scene for a month or two afterward. Normally, though, these rosters would kind of drift until they died.
Dota is near and dear to my heart because I owe a lot of my success in my career to it. I’ve attended a couple events in person and as social media staff, and there’s a usual consistent factor: Jake “SirActionSlacks” Kanner is probably the largest (and deceptively intelligent) personalities there.
Slacks has a reputation in the Dota community as a content creator, interviewer, and someone that brings a lot of levity and passion to the broadcasts he takes part in. He also possesses a couple talents, both ones that he’ll cop to and ones he won’t:
He has the ability to deflect any “cringe” in a segement or content piece onto himself, making players (who are notoriously skittish around content) more comfortable.
He doesn’t give people an option to not participate, which leads to more successful pieces.
He outwardly plays a buffoon for laughs, but is incredibly intelligent in how he intuits what people want to see, and how to make connections between players and audience happen.
He is able to take successful media/content options from non-esports entities and apply them to Dota.
All of these come together with Arkosh Gaming, the team he launched late in October 2020.
With The International not happening and COVID-19 still affecting events worldwide, Dota 2 (and North American teams in particular) has struggled from both a lack of sponsors for teams, and competition to take part in. While online leagues and tournaments are still taking place, many groups (or “stacks”) of players still lack the formalized team relationship.
While these non-sponsored teams can still compete, they lack the infrastructure that sponsorship would bring; no media, no content, no coverage, no social presence, and no value proposition beyond their results. Without bigger tournaments to prove that value, they’re stuck in a cycle: they can’t get bigger without a team, and they can’t get a team because they’re not big enough for one.
This starts a weird cycle of player shuffles and team breakups that aren’t the point of this piece, but are still notable. If teams can’t stick together, they can’t grow to a level where they can challenge bigger teams. If they aren’t finding success and need to support themselves, they bounce around to the most hopeful place they can hitch a wagon to.
This leads back to Arkosh.
Whether on purpose or not, Slacks has ported over a concept from The Masked Singer, a reality TV competition show that originated in South Korea (with “King of Mask Singer”). A bunch of countries produce their variations of the show, with the US version hitting five seasons (so far) and airing on Fox.
The concept (at least for the US show) is that a field of singers are introduced, but not by their real names; they have elaborate costumes that identify them as an alias (like “Monster” “Lion” or “Pineapple”). They take part in a multi-stage competition, and when they’re eliminated, they’re forced to unmask.
The interest from this is not only the typical “singing competition” entertainment: there’s also the intrigue of being able to guess who each of the singers are, forming your own theories, and then being vindicated whether you’re right or wrong. If you’re a fan of a masked singer, you’re actually hooked in longer because a good performer will (in theory) last longer in the competition.
The added interest is that the competitors are “people you’d know”, but not so much that they’re immediately recognizable. The first US season had daytime talk show host Ricki Lake finish 7th out of a field of 12; stoner comedian Tommy Chong finished second-from-last, ahead of an NFL player.
This quasi-lack of notoriety is important, because for many of the participants, they’re either washed up (and have something to prove), up-and-coming, or aren’t people you’d consider singers in the first place. Someone you liked could be completely out of left field, and you may find yourself attached to someone afterwards for how they did in the competition.
Again, whether intentional or not, this creation of pseudo-characters and the attachment of a narrative to their journey is something that Slacks has made at Arkosh. Hilariously, the questions that most people had in him announcing the team was “is this actually a real team?” and “who is even on it?”
Slacks assured us that yes, this was real, and yes, there would be actual players. When he did release his first “Meet the Team” video, it’s clearly… not business as usual.
Canus Vulpas is a werewolf, and a player on the team. He isn’t the person behind the keyboard. Instead, a high-level Dota 2 player is playing in-game as Canus Vulpas, along with the rest of the team. Slacks probably doesn’t want you to think about that.
Instead, he wants you to jump onto what’s essentially a Rock Opera concept album in esports team form. He wants you to be absorbed into the meta-narrative of a bunch of anonymous (and costumed) people playing Dota, and he wants you to get so attached you’re willing to suspend your disbelief and think it’s magical.
It’s one part “The Stig” from Top Gear, one part Pro Wrestling, and one part… something else. Probably insanity. But that’s Slacks.
The cool thing is that by doing this, he’s artificially creating the value that teams would look for without the actual players themselves needing to do anything.
The players aren’t in the suits or behind the masks. This means they don’t have to be forced to become actors.
Online tournaments during COVID means they don’t have to drag these costumes into an IRL environment.
People will pay attention to the gimmick out of morbid curiosity, or because they want to try to deduce who each “real life player” is representing on Arkosh.
Slacks can make statements on behalf of the players and team because well, they’re not real.
In a pinch, players who come and go can be replaced under the mask, without disrupting the team’s narrative.
All these things mean that fans have something to attach themselves to, and it gives them valuable entertainment that a team wouldn’t normally build themselves. Hell, it might even get them sponsored, or generate appreciation for their play once they are inevitably unmasked, moving on to other opportunities and stability.
Because this is ultimately a gimmick, it also kind of excuses lack of results and the chaotic nature of the team themselves; fans are more interested in being fans of the team “from day one.”
Apparently the players on Arkosh are high-level pubstars in the NA scene, and the narrative that Slacks is building spoon-feeds and enhances the underdog identity (no pun intended to Canus Vulpas). There’s just this little “something more” that gives people a reason to follow their adventure.
Fans want reasons to think something niche is special, and “being part of the Arkosh cult” is good for a laugh, or just to feel part of something unique. I brought up two weeks ago the importance of building a narrative of “your journey” when you might not be up to the top-level standard in order to emotional engagement and attachment; people are generally willing to put up with team losses or “not being up to a big team level” if they feel like they’re taking part in something special.
This kind of “if the players won’t do it, so I’m going to do it for them” is an incredible effort, and I commend Slacks for putting forth the time and passion. As more brands and companies look towards artificial influencers, V-Tubers and other areas of manufacturing connection, this might be one of the less creepier ones.
Somehow.
If it can help save North American Dota, I’m all for it.
Housekeeping and Updates
I wrote something new about Mobile Suit Gundam 0079, an anime series from the 1970s. I’ve been meaning to watch a few more “classic” series and see where they take me, and altogether it’s been an exercise in mindfulness.
Tony Hsieh of Zappos fame passed away last week, and I found this profile by Forbes to be a good look into the struggles he had as a human, despite being a successful business figure. Tony’s later years seem like it was a tornado of trying to connect happiness with himself and other people, and ultimately it likely had a part in his death. RIP.
Thanks again to all the patrons on Patreon who help this come out every week. If you’re interested in supporting me, that’s the best way to do it.