Road to BlizzCon #10 - Zest - Global Finals 2016 Text by TL.net ESPORTS Graphics by shiroiusagi Photo Credit: Shayla

Ebb and Flow by Olli



Eighty-five minutes. 2014 had been an unusual year in StarCraft II history. A game that is often defined by versatility, with champions emerging and disappearing again within the span of weeks, had undergone a drastic change. No longer had there been any doubt about who the best player in the world was. It was Zest, the man who had taken the world by storm and equalled Mvp’s record of three Korean titles in a single year. Surpassed, some might argue, as the competition was stronger and opportunities scarcer. That had been his year. He had conquered two GSL tournaments, followed by a KeSPA Cup championship and a second place at IEM Toronto; reached the quarterfinals of every tournament he had entered. It was destined to become the single most dominant year of any player in StarCraft II’s history, and it was all undone in eighty-five minutes. Zest’s luminous reign was spoiled by Life in the opening round of the Global Finals.



Zest swallowed up the first GSL of the year like a piece of cake. Questions. How did this happen? Was KT’s management to blame for flying their players to the event only a day in advance? How could Zest fail to deliver at the biggest event of the year, following his brilliant showings all year? The idea that someone so proficient could fall apart so easily was so absurd that, instead of pointing the finger of blame at the man himself, fans looked for possible explanations in factors surrounding the loss. Life, who had not featured very prominently in 2014, went on to win the tournament—certainly a mitigating turn of fate. Zest’s defeat was soon declared inconclusive. Surely he would remedy the stain in his CV at the next possible opportunity.



He did not. What followed instead was silence. The moment of shock after a bubble bursts, leaving nothing but memory of its existence. Zest dropped out of both individual leagues in Korea while simultaneously faltering in Proleague. The storm was over, the throne was empty. Others took the stage and looked to leave him in the past. The aura of invincibility that surrounded Zest only weeks prior was now dispelled. And it was to stay that way for a few months. Middling performances in Proleague and individual leagues led the world to believe that he had only been a cyclone, a passing occurrence that, by chance, lasted longer than most. Life re-emerged where he had washed it away; from the ruins he left behind they rebuilt.



When in form, Zest knows everything at all times. But that was not how his story concluded. StarCraft II was not finished, Legacy of the Void still loomed. Its release brought much needed incentive to Zest’s career, and his ambitions re-emerged. “For human beings, the desires never end.” he once said, and that philosophy never did either. And so it all began again. Zest swallowed up the first GSL of the year like a piece of cake. The entire field of Korea’s best took a total of three maps off him. His Proleague record during that time mirrored his dominance, as he consistently topped the win-rankings. Zest was so far ahead of every other Protoss that his GSL victory was almost a formality. And indeed he swept aside all competition with ease. It appeared as if we had all been wrong, and that the anomaly had not been his peak in 2014, but the subsequent slump. It appeared that Zest was a titan only temporarily halted by a dip in form.

Eighty-five minutes. 2014 had been an unusual year in StarCraft II history. A game that is often defined by versatility, with champions emerging and disappearing again within the span of weeks, had undergone a drastic change. No longer had there been any doubt about who the best player in the world was. It was Zest, the man who had taken the world by storm and equalled Mvp’s record of three Korean titles in a single year. Surpassed, some might argue, as the competition was stronger and opportunities scarcer. That had been his year. He had conquered two GSL tournaments, followed by a KeSPA Cup championship and a second place at IEM Toronto; reached the quarterfinals of every tournament he had entered. It was destined to become the single most dominant year of any player in StarCraft II’s history, and it was all undone in eighty-five minutes. Zest’s luminous reign was spoiled by Life in the opening round of the Global Finals.Questions. How did this happen? Was KT’s management to blame for flying their players to the event only a day in advance? How could Zest fail to deliver at the biggest event of the year, following his brilliant showings all year? The idea that someone so proficient could fall apart so easily was so absurd that, instead of pointing the finger of blame at the man himself, fans looked for possible explanations in factors surrounding the loss. Life, who had not featured very prominently in 2014, went on to win the tournament—certainly a mitigating turn of fate. Zest’s defeat was soon declared inconclusive. Surely he would remedy the stain in his CV at the next possible opportunity.He did not. What followed instead was silence. The moment of shock after a bubble bursts, leaving nothing but memory of its existence. Zest dropped out of both individual leagues in Korea while simultaneously faltering in Proleague. The storm was over, the throne was empty. Others took the stage and looked to leave him in the past. The aura of invincibility that surrounded Zest only weeks prior was now dispelled. And it was to stay that way for a few months. Middling performances in Proleague and individual leagues led the world to believe that he had only been a cyclone, a passing occurrence that, by chance, lasted longer than most. Life re-emerged where he had washed it away; from the ruins he left behind they rebuilt.But that was not how his story concluded. StarCraft II was not finished, Legacy of the Void still loomed. Its release brought much needed incentive to Zest’s career, and his ambitions re-emerged. “For human beings, the desires never end.” he once said, and that philosophy never did either. And so it all began again. Zest swallowed up the first GSL of the year like a piece of cake. The entire field of Korea’s best took a total of three maps off him. His Proleague record during that time mirrored his dominance, as he consistently topped the win-rankings. Zest was so far ahead of every other Protoss that his GSL victory was almost a formality. And indeed he swept aside all competition with ease. It appeared as if we had all been wrong, and that the anomaly had not been his peak in 2014, but the subsequent slump. It appeared that Zest was a titan only temporarily halted by a dip in form.





Winrate

74.58% vs. Terran

54.76%% vs. Protoss

48.57% vs. Zerg Rank

Korea Standings

4 WCS Points

6250



And once again we were wrong. Zest once again slowed down and showed weakness. Important matches went against him, and soon he was knocked out of Code S by a retired man. We had once again misunderstood his enigma. At that time, one detail caught my eye—a statement made by TY shortly before he fell victim to Zest in the GSL Finals: “Zest’s results depend a lot on his condition. If his form is not good, he becomes another player". TY, who had been living together with Zest for a long period of time, had understood the mystery first. The riddle of a man who came to win everything, then fell into mediocrity. Outside factors appear to have a significant impact on Zest’s StarCraft career; so much so that he would become someone else; someone who was not winning everything.



That pattern becomes even more apparent through the style of play Zest adheres to. When in form, Zest covers up all potential weakness. He knows everything at all times. No hole is left to be exploited, no weakness is left unexploited. This becomes most obvious in his Protoss vs Terran matchup. Zest's early game is perfectly shored up. No damage will be dealt to him. And suddenly Terran finds themselves on two bases against a Protoss on four, right at their doorstep with a gigantic army, flooding what little defense he had allowed them. That is Zest at his peak.



We have seen long periods of time, however, when this does not apply. When mistakes lay to waste his game-plan which, albeit usually very intelligent, does not function properly without rigorously refined execution. He relinquishes control and becomes overly concerned with plugging every possible chink in his armor; ironing out every potential flaw, until he is ultimately caught out somewhere between the motions. A lack of execution that leads to disarray in the plan. No longer powerful, no longer deadly. That is Zest at his worst.



It appears we have finally solved the enigma. Zest is not a mediocre player with enormous occasional peaks. Neither is he an almighty, omniscient being with occasional slumps. He is both; as much the middle-ground of Korean leagues as he is the one dominating them. The deciding factor appears to be circumstance over longer spans of time. When out of form, Zest is vulnerable to the most disappointing defeats, such as both his first round exits at previous BlizzCons. When at his best, Zest wins the most prestigious tournaments in the world, as his three GSL titles are a testament to. Zest is the ebb and the flow of StarCraft II. He is still water at his worst; the highest tide at his best.



Zest could fail at BlizzCon and be walked all over in the opening round yet again. That is what his most recent form suggests will happen. But that is not who he is—not entirely. All he requires is the necessary form and he will crash into BlizzCon like a tidal wave. Not a soul will be safe if he does.











