I Used to Have an Online Nemesis and Now I Miss Him

I used to have an online nemesis. Not some mean commentor, not a trash talker on Discord - a full-on digital enemy I never met in real life.

And the weirdest part? I miss him.

Back in the Unreal Tournament and Quake 3 Arena days, online multiplayer looked very different. There was no matchmaking, no easy "jump in with friends" button. If you wanted to play online, you pulled up a server list - dozens of options, each running different maps. Choosing one was almost an art form. You'd weigh the ping, the map rotation, the number of players, and most importantly, your memories of that server.

Because every server had its own personality. Some were campy nightmares, some were sweaty S-tier arenas, some were full of trolls. Eventually, like everyone, I found my "home" server. I played there all the time. I got to know the regulars by name and by style. There was no voice chat back then, but you could tell who favored which weapon, who rushed rockets, who camped sniper towers.

And not to brag too much, but I was good. Like, really good. I almost always finished top three, and most of the time, I won. This was my turf.

Until Zen1th showed up.

Enter the Nemesis

Zen1th was a monster. The first few games he edged me out, and I told myself it was a fluke. But soon it became clear: he was better. Way better. Too good, in fact. He was #1 every match, every night, no matter what.

And he knew it.

Since there was no voice chat, being smug meant being creative. He teabagged fallen players. He drew graffiti with bullet decals. Sometimes he’d waste the first two minutes of a match jumping off the map just to prove he could still win. I hated him. With a passion.

I decided I’d be the one to take him down. I trained against harder bots, memorized maps, perfected timing. I sharpened my skills just to topple him. And yet, I never did. I became the eternal #2. He was always there, smugly perched at the top of the leaderboard.

What I Really Lost

This is where I’m supposed to tell you I eventually won. But that’s not what this story is about. It's not about what I won - But what we lost as a community! No, actually I just never beat Zen1th. Not once. But the funny thing is, I don’t really remember the frustration anymore. Because what sticks with me is how fun multiplayer was back then - because of the limitations.

That's what I miss - That sense of community, of logging into “our” server and recognizing the names, the playstyles, the rivalries. It wasn’t just faceless matches with random strangers. It was something shared, something that built up over time.

Now? You log in, queue up, and get dumped into a game with whoever the algorithm serves you. You might have fun, but the second the match ends, everyone vanishes. Unless you’re at the pro level, there’s no recognition, no rivalry, no “oh no, that guy is here.”

I don’t miss losing to Zen1th. Which I did - A lot! But I miss what he represented. He made me push harder, he made the game feel personal, and he turned a digital battleground into a community.

Epilogue

I’ll never know what happened to him. Maybe he moved on to another game. Maybe he grew up and left it all behind. Maybe he’s still out there somewhere, tea-bagging some poor soul.

All I know is, part of me wishes I could log into that old server, see his name pop up, and feel that mix of dread and excitement one more time.

So here’s to you, Zen1th. My eternal nemesis. My reminder that sometimes what we miss isn’t winning - it’s the rivalries that made losing worth it.