By William Baker III

I don’t watch all that many movies, have a Netflix account or even TikTok. While that’s partially due to the 98 YouTube tabs organized by video length that I will never close, it’s mainly due to the fact that my preferred form of media is video games. I hope to be an indie (independent) game developer one day, and part of the reason why is TETR.IO, a “modern yet familiar online stacker.” Basically, it’s Tetris, if it was a multiplayer battling game. You clear lines on your board, which push the opponent’s board up with “garbage lines”. Whoever tops out (can’t fit any more pieces on their board) loses.

TETR.IO is a very popular and still-growing game, because of two main reasons: it’s free, available on browser and for all operating systems, and, it has an amazing community. There are many YouTubers, Twitch streamers and fans making content about the game itself, but a HUGE part of what makes TETR.IO so special is the Esports aspect.

The first tournament I ever played in was called Underdogs Cup. It was an online event hosted by a pro player and streamer. I’m nowhere near the pro level myself, which was what made the concept so amazing: it was a tournament that had a rank cap instead of a rank floor. It was exclusively for people who wouldn’t traditionally get to play in tournaments. I still placed terribly, but the accessibility and entertainment Underdogs Cup brought created a whole new wave of people looking to help make events like that possible, myself included. After, I asked the tournament organizer how I could apply to join the staff team — which is how I found out that it was essentially just a friend group. They had no staff selection process of any kind, so I made them an application and filled it out.

Initially, I was a standard staff member, helping with managing roles and answering questions during tournament day. Eventually, I branched out to things like writing skit scripts for funny animated trailers to announce the next rank cap, looking through the bracket during the tournament to choose which matches to show on the livestream. I found a particularly enjoyable niche, though, in commentary. Esports has casters, just like physical sports. They offer play-by-play, talk about the history and importance of a matchup. Throwing in some puns for good measure proved to be one of my favorite jobs on a team.

Somewhat similar to moviemaking, all kinds of skills are needed to put a tournament and broadcast together: artists for the backdrops, organizers to set up brackets, casters to add to the stream experience. Each person who joins the team helps move all of us another step towards the end goal of making professional events. But creating an Esport is as insanely difficult as it sounds. Wildest of all? Practically everyone is a volunteer. Grassroots or not, though, I wouldn’t give up helping in the TETR.IO community for the world.

In January, I flew out to Toronto for a very special tournament: called Snow Is Infinite. It was hosted in-person in the city’s Church & Wellesley neighborhood at the Invictus Game Station, a 6,000 square foot venue with 66 PCs. There were even beanbags in the back. Unfortunately, the event had only booked out the back half of the venue, so the front tables and mahjong rooms were off-limits. Hosted by the organization Puzzle Kingdom, it was a multi-game tournament that featured puzzle, rhythm and fighting games alike. Ranging from Touhou Spell Bubble to Smash Bros. friendlies to TETR.IO, it was an opportunity for the community’s many niches to shine through. It came alongside a very special event: The Stacky Awards (a parody of the Oscars/Grammys for the block-stacking game community).

I registered the TETR.IO bracket before attending. (I’m a reasonably competent player and that was the main game I knew.) When I got up on Saturday to have breakfast with friends, the event had already been running for a day (which I unfortunately missed due to school). The group consisted of some Twitch streamers that all knew each other… and me (I also knew them). Two of them were partners, and lived together pretty close to New York (though not close enough that I get to see them often). One of the others was actually a Canadian native, and we all talked very often online. Being face-to-face was a fun change. During breakfast, an oh-so-nutritional McDonald’s McMuffin, I was convinced on a whim by three of my friends to partner with one of them to go against the others in PPT Doubles. PPT stands for Puyo Puyo Tetris, as it is a mix of the two puzzle games. Puyo Puyo is a match-4 style game with gravity, where you want to pop more Puyos (small bubble creatures) in a row for more damage. In the doubles bracket, one player from each team would play Tetris, and the other, Puyo. For as incompetent as I was at Tetris in a tuning-limited game like PPT (one where how fast the pieces can move has set limits), I was the better half of my duo. My partner had never played Puyo before. Ever. We had no real chance of winning; we were just in it for fun. But we set a goal to meet each other in bracket, and played some friendlies to warm up (which ended in a 2-2 tie in the set count).

During the TETR.IO bracket, I started out very excited. Seventy attendees meant that there were more players than PC setups, so I was spending just as much time meeting with and talking to friends as I was actually playing my tournament matches. Eventually, I got steamrolled into the loser’s bracket by a streamer I knew, and a few games later I was expected to be knocked out again. My opponent was significantly higher rated than me, and by this point my mood had been dampened somewhat. Most of my friends had been knocked out of the tournament already and had left to go get food.

Anxious to get it over with, I was playing mostly on autopilot until one of the tournament organizers came over to stand behind me. Looking at the scoreboard, I realized I was in the lead. By a lot! I commented on it to him, and he wished me good luck closing it out. I focused in, and got all the way to match point! But when I did, I started to feel the tournament nerves kicking in. I got shakier, started misplacing pieces, and eventually my opponent made the comeback. Still, it was some of the best I’d ever played, but just not quite good enough. After saying GGs, I sheepishly walked back over to the tournament organizer. He handed me a custom T-shirt with the logo and player art from a prior tournament on it, saying that he was planning to give me it if I won. But I was happy to have it as a consolation prize nonetheless. It was a cool gesture, one I won’t forget.

Later, the PPT bracket was, well, not quite as exciting. My partner and I struggled through our round one, and then got obliterated in both of our next sets. We didn’t even come close to meeting our friends in bracket, as they faced much the same fate. The set count remains tied to this day, and we plan to settle it at the next Snow is Infinite, in 2025. After that, I was mostly talking with people, going out to eat and helping to commentate the tournament when they were looking for volunteers to give the current commentators a break. An impromptu session left me a little unprepared, but it ended up being a blast. It was a wild experience to be able to see players physically react to moments, and an in-person crowd will beat out Twitch chat any day. One day later, and it was time for the final event.

There was something special about The Stackys, the Awards event I was so looking forward to. I was able to put faces to the many funny usernames I was so used to talking to, and got to really understand the people behind the projects. I even managed to snag the Commentator of the Year award, which was excellent as I just started only two years ago (I did not prepare a speech, but I’d like to think I nailed my one liner and walk-off).

Sitting there in the stands with friends I thought I might never get to meet was an unforgettable experience, and it was a blending of my virtual and real lives that was more seamless than I could ever have hoped. Starting two hours late after audio setup troubles and problems with the venue contract, my segments were as follows: a roast of the main organizer of the tournament, which was a parody of a skit from last years’ Stacky Awards, a roast of the community. Then, I received my award.

I didn’t expect to win, but the support I got from my friends when I did was incredibly heartwarming. I’m glad that people think I’ve given as much to the community as it’s given to me. Third, an announcement of the roster for a game show I’m hosting this year alongside three others: Tetris Survivor 2. It’s exactly what it sounds like: the TV show Survivor, but all online and all about Tetris. Players complete challenges, vote each other for elimination in tribals, and generally lose their minds. As for my last segment… well you’ll have to watch the VOD over at Puzzle Kingdom’s Twitch if you want to see that one. But it was a great closer for sitting around at an AirB&B with friends.

At the end of the day and on the plane back with my mom, it still felt surreal to have gone to this event because, in my mind, I was a miracle that this event even exists. The fact that this community has done such incredible things has helped me realize how much being part of TETR.IO has taught me about myself. I enjoy being a leader, and I’m always looking to make someone laugh. I never miss an opportunity to connect with the players. To me they’re what makes this all possible, not just the staff. There’s no better feeling than joining a Discord server and seeing that many of my friends are already there, because it’s evidence for how tight-knit this community really is. We may just be building blocks, but we’re building connections, too. There’s “snow” way I’ll miss the next one!

William Baker is a Circle Intern who attends Hunter College High School in Upper Manhattan.

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