Turns out I’m bad at the fight-games. The problem is a combination of my upbringing, time currently available to me, and slowish reflexes. As I mentioned in my profile, I was not allowed video game systems as a kid. As an 8-year-old, I snapped at my mom for going straight for the power button on an NES when it was time to leave the baby-sitter’s. I’ll admit, I could’ve handled it better. There would always be other chances to play, and save files weren’t a common thing, so five more minutes wouldn’t have kept my progress from evaporating in the end.

What always stung about the scenario is that I was eight, a mere child. Kids get upset over little things. They don’t have a sense of the bigger world. They don’t have much experience, and they certainly don’t have tact. I didn’t throw things, thrash around, or cry. I didn’t attack anybody or threaten violence. I’m pretty sure I didn’t even swear. I just yelled at my mom who, with a single button push, had erased all the progress of an afternoon. “These things are making you violent.” The resulting ban did not lift until I could drive a car.

I was, however, allowed to play other people’s games. I’m sure this annoyed numerous friends who had time enough with their games to grow bored with them. Oh, how I wanted to play. But not fighting games. Those were never fun. Going head-to-head against a friend with the resources to practice was my least favorite gaming experience. It never went well for me. How could it have?

Similarly, I couldn’t practice at the arcade, as the only decent one in the medium-small city I grew up in was in a pizza joint miles from home. Even if I could get a ride, I couldn’t afford to feed the machine quarters. If I got a little arcade money at a birthday party, I would usually only have about two dollars. Eight chances to learn Street Fighter 2 versus eight credits on the four-player Ninja Turtles arcade game. Always bet on the TMNT. As I think about it now, I realize that I might’ve gotten more play time out of Street Fighter. TMNT and all the other side-scroller beat ’em ups of the era were major quarter eaters. But they didn’t make you feel inferior, which I guess makes all the difference.

Then fighting games disappeared for a while. They were still coming out for each new console, but they weren’t booming like they had been. I didn’t really get into one until I got Marvel vs. Capcom 2 while in college. I was still noobing it up, but I was learning it and I could beat its Arcade Mode after some practice. Still, resources were tight, and I couldn’t afford to try any others. I didn’t have anyone to play with either. I think those slower years and misguided attempts at integrating 3D took their toll on the consumer base. To this day, I have a lot of gamer friends, but none of them care about fighting games.

Once I graduated, full-time work made lengthy play-sessions unlikely. It wasn’t something I cared much about until I learned about custom fightstick building. Suddenly, I was seeing all of these gorgeous pieces of craftsmanship and realized I could make them too. I got excited. It seemed an entire genre I had been ignoring opened up to me. Maybe this was it. Maybe I had been so terrible at these games because I didn’t have the right tools. My thumbs must’ve failed me, but my wrists and fingers would surely be victorious. It was a nice lie, but a lie just the same.

Fighting games had matured beyond being mindless button mashers. You have to know your characters, how they move, and how their opponents will move. Do you know what a bread-and-butter combo is? It is a standard combo unique to each character that provides good damage without being too difficult to perform. And I don’t know any of them. They’re often long and somewhat complicated, and you must know them well. You also have to enter the commands rather quickly, and I have never been accused of being fast. When I’m feeling adventurous and try a fighting game, I often do poorly or just okay. I won’t even go online; I know better. The computer pounds me into the pavement around opponent #4 or #5, and it gets discouraging. The drive to learn and improve is constantly at odds with frustration and powerlessness.

And so, nothing really changes. I dry off my sweaty palms and put the game and my fightstick back on the shelf. The cycle continues. It may be that I’m just too flighty. If you’re always switching games or even which character you play, you can’t really get better. You can’t memorize combo chains that way. I heard a sobering bit of advice the other day. With fighting games, you might never get good. They aren’t for everyone. Each one requires learning unique systems, limiting which characters you can play, and lots of practice. And if you aren’t willing or able to put in that work, you’ll always struggle. And if you don’t love them, you’ll never get past that barrier. For some reason, I like fighting games, but I doubt I like them enough.