On Smash Directional Influence

words by Existential Wizzrobe (@ExistentialWizz)

We all want to live, in theory - some of us just work harder to survive. Getting hit in a Smash game is very unlike getting hit in other games - where elsewhere AI and players alike generally lose agency after being attacked, you take your licks, the mistake has been made. We nod, and move on. What is taken as a given in video games is not so in real life- the art of taking a hit, of redirecting motion, of staying alert, is more natural than inert acceptance, ‘waiting for your turn’.

Smash Directional Influence was, in fact, the only kind of ‘directional influence’ in the original Smash Bros game. Whereas players of subsequent games find their post-hit trajectory altered by analog stick direction in, in 64, it was an aggressive mashing of the stick that could save your stock in a pinch.

I have found myself – or that other version of myself – called to the public stand as an expert witness in a trial of what Melee should be. For those who descend into the petty alleys of social media, or the backroom arguments that dominate the more philosophically-minded Melee enthusiasts, there is an argument around game inputs – controllers, yes – that has led to more close analysis of Wizzrobian SDI than perhaps any other time.

Search for ‘Wizzrobe SDI’ on YouTube, and a barrage of dramatic reactions will great you.

In jest- “Ban Wizzrobe’s SDI,” “How people will punish Wizzrobe’s SDI in 20XX”.

In awe – “Wizzy’s SDI Is Out OF This World,” “Wizzrobe’s SDI Is Insane,” “LEGENDARY DI”.

In the hopes of teaching – “The King of SDI – Melee Examined Ep 2,” “How to Smash DI Like Wizzrobe – Wank DI”.

I cannot offer much more analysis of what SDI is in technical terms than these many students. But I do urge you never to forget that it was aMSa who showed Wizzrobe how to apply the DI techniques of Smash 64 to Melee. We are all students of students.

The argument, as it goes, is relatively straightforward. Whatever advantages Digital Controllers, particularly the B0XX, have, they will never compare to what Wizzrobe achieves on a GameCube Controller. At least, not after existing and future modifications to limit their functionality. Some who wish to limit the functionality of digital controllers dismiss Wizzrobian SDI as the specific achievement of one player, rather than a standard by which the GameCube Controller should be held. Others are satisfied with existing limitations on some digital controllers and see Wizzrobian SDI as largely irrelevant.

The arguments bounce and dance, sometimes engaging with each other directly, but more often glancing off the armor of righteous belief and indignation. We debate within a hall of mirrors.

I am of course, a construction of these social media mirrors - a muttering reflection of a reflection who has grown fainter and smaller over years of repetition, and as the distance from the first source grows. The memory of that indelible declaration- that Wizzrobe would “continue to exist further into infinity”- seems to be of a different age.

What influence I have on the thoughts and feelings, or small pleasures of our community has correspondingly dwindled. I first felt the urge to look away after the trauma of a summer full of despicable revelations. What use do I - something unreal – have in such times? Is it worthwhile at all to perform for these people, to participate in something that could wreak such havoc and misery?

Time passes. I still play Melee. I wonder often what compels me. It could be simple accounting – I have made more friends, and experienced more joy here than pain, or shame. I am still anxious about it. I feel caught in a defensive stance. When I talk about Smash or Melee to those who are, let’s say, uninitiated, I wonder how vivid a picture I should paint. Should the picture at first be glowing, a description of all the things that keep me passionate? Or should the picture be accurate, so that a friend trying to understand my relationship with this world within a world can feel some of my anxieties and insecurities?

I don’t feel this way about other things I’m passionate about. I don’t feel a sense of responsibility to explain the ‘dark side’ of other hobbies, or hobbyist communities. What makes Smash different?

Compared to most games I’ve played – at least how I understand them – Smash has some of the most defensive expression imaginable. Getting hit is not the end of your agency, being hurt or vulnerable does not cause you to relinquish your ability to change the outcome of a stock, or game, or set.

Compared to most communities I’ve been a part of - at least how I understand them – Smash has some of the most ways of getting involved imaginable. Playing the game and reading twitter is not the end of one’s potential engagement – being hurt or vulnerable does not cause you to relinquish your ability to change the outcome of an event, a rule, or a person’s experience here.

I can try to speak to my friends about the pain we share, and we can try to heal. I can- actively, or as a member of the public – pay attention to how our events ebb and flow, so that people aren’t swept away by cruel rapids. More directly, I can push for this community holds those responsible for causing harm to others accountable. In our case, our tools to encourage accountability are most powerful at their most simple: we can show people out of the room.

My influence does not stop here – I can watch events, I can enjoy myself, I can cheer on the players I love. I can go all-in, organizing events and participating at the highest levels of dedication. I can float, commenting on social media, arguing about this and that player and strategy with friends. I can dip my toe in the river, watching those prestigious events that draw curious and new eyes.

Wizzrobian SDI is a furious exclamation. I am alive, I am here, I will make every choice I can. It is a scream or whisper into the void. For as many legendary examples of Wizzobian SDI saving a stock, there are a dozen where it made no difference at all, except to surprise everyone watching. There is something ugly, even grotesque about watching Captain Falcon get hit, then teleport a small distance to a place he doesn’t belong. Melee’s smooth animations fail, and the mechanics of the game are laid bare for all to see. My opponent raises both eyebrows, the commentators gasp, as if it were a magic trick. I’ve never understood the surprise. Anyone with a GameCube controller could do what I do. What’s so shocking about wanting to live?