Ah, Dota 2. A game so beautifully complex, so infinitely deep, and so soul-crushingly punishing that it might as well be classified as psychological warfare. You don’t play Dota 2 — you survive it. Every match is a rollercoaster ride where you start with hope and end up questioning all your life choices.

Let me walk you through the typical Dota 2 experience:

The Draft Phase
This is where the game first flexes its ability to crush you emotionally. You pick your favorite hero, thinking, "Yes, this is going to be the game where I finally climb MMR." Meanwhile, your teammates are busy experimenting with cutting-edge trolling strategies like picking Techies last and saying, "Don't worry, I got this." Spoiler: They don’t got this.

The Laning Phase
Ah yes, laning phase — where the game teaches you that no matter how good you think you are, the other team somehow has a smurf or a 10,000-hour player on their side. You’ll try to last hit, only to be immediately harassed and denied by a Tryhard Viper main who probably graduated from the Dark Souls school of psychological torment. You’ll call for help, but your support is busy stacking creeps — in the enemy jungle.

The Mid-Game False Hope
You somehow secure a few kills. Your team gets a lead. Roshan is yours. Suddenly, the dream is alive. This is it, you think. This is the comeback story! You feel like an esports god. Then your carry decides to farm for five more minutes while the enemy team pushes down mid and takes two sets of barracks.

The Late-Game Despair
You're 60 minutes in. Everyone has six slots. One mistake means GG. Your support mis-clicks and uses Force Staff to push your carry into the enemy fountain. Your team's buybacks are gone. Your Ancient is exposed. The other team types "ez" in all chat. Your soul leaves your body.

Post-Game Reflection
You sit in stunned silence, questioning everything. You hate this game. You hate your teammates. You hate yourself. And yet... you queue again.

Dota 2 teaches you many valuable life lessons:

No matter how bad things get, you can still throw harder.

Trusting people is a mistake.

Never give up (because the enemy might actually throw harder than you).

Pain builds character.

So why do we keep coming back? Why do we willingly subject ourselves to this emotional guillotine? Because, deep down, we know that when you finally pull off that impossible comeback — that 80-minute base defense, that last-second Roshan steal — the high is so euphoric it makes all the suffering worthwhile.

Dota 2 doesn't make you stronger. It makes you realize how weak you already were — and somehow convinces you to improve anyway.

10/10. Would hate my life again.