The puzzle known as TheShy

In the decade that I’ve covered esports, I’ve been fortunate enough to interview hundreds of people from all walks of life brought together by the world of video games. Along with some of the biggest names in competitive gaming, I’ve interviewed chart-topping musicians and even NBA MVPs like Giannis Antetokounmpo about their love of games (the “Greek Freak” is particularly fond of the original Ratchet & Clank for the PlayStation 2).

But through all these journeys across the world, from Los Angeles to the packed Beijing National Stadium in China amongst 50,000 fans, there has only been one instance where a subject of my interview corrected me when I complimented them. Not once, but continually, making sure I understood my praise was misplaced.

It’s the interview that, to this day, I still sometimes think about up late at night, wondering about it all. It was an interview with Kang “TheShy” Seung-lok.

The setting was the sticky hot streets of Hanoi, Vietnam, in May of 2019, where the humidity pressed through your clothes like you’d woken up in a steam room. It was the second-largest League of Legends tournament of the year, the Mid-Season Invitational, and the world’s best team, Invictus Gaming of China, were burgeoning on a dynasty. The franchise had won the most recent world championship and had picked up a domestic title to boot. At MSI, they appeared to be on the verge of another trophy added to their collection. TheShy, famed for his supremacy at the top lane position, stood at the forefront of it all.

When TheShy played, it almost felt like he played on a different hardware system than the average person, weaving through the enemy like his character was an Olympic figure skater. He maximized performance with his mechanical play, pushing the characters’ boundaries programmed into the game like no other. Whether the spectator knew the first thing about League of Legends or not, TheShy’s play would often leave onlookers with their mouth ajar and eyes wide open.

In my first interview with TheShy, through a Korean-to-English translator, my initial thought was to uncover the mystery about his unhuman-like reactions and piano fingers on the keyboard. Yet, as I broached the subject, bringing up how his technical ability wowed millions, he stopped me. He didn’t want to be viewed as a “mechanical player” that won duels through natural instinct and skill.

TheShy, his posture straight as an arrow and a smirk on his face, believed he was above that.

“People say I’m a mechanical [player], but I feel because I already have the idea planned out, I’m more of a theory player,” he said. “I have it all crafted out in my mind, but I get that the fans see that as mechanical. But it’s more than just mechanics. It’s more thoughts.”

The way TheShy views the game of League of Legends is different than anyone else. From an outsider’s perspective, TheShy can appear to rely solely on his reflexes, daring anyone who lines up against him in the top lane to a duel to the death. He believes the opposite, however, considering that everything he does is deliberate. Instead of a bloody boxing match, it was more akin to a line of dominoes, each move offsetting the next. In the end, it culminated in the grand finale, a firework showing of TheShy leaving a trail of greyed-out screens in his conquered wake.

Even in the League of Legends Pro League, China’s premier domestic competition, known for its never-ending brawls and individual prowess, TheShy saw his way of playing differently. Although Chinese teams play in a fast-paced, free-flowing manner that welcomes bombastic maneuvers, he doesn’t share a familiarity between his business and his bloodthirsty peers.

“I think my favorite recent story of TheShy is his attendance as a commentator for the Top Esports vs. Suning Worlds semifinal series on the [South Korean] broadcast claiming he ‘doesn’t get’ LPL teams and the plays they make while being known for making ridiculous plays,” Joe “Munchables” Fenny, a lead English LPL commentator, said. “When questioned on this, he said in his plays he can see the way it can work out, but in theirs he can’t. I just think that’s perhaps the most TheShy sentiment possible.”

On that sweltering day in Hanoi, I ate up what TheShy told me like it was ice cream. At that moment in history, he was arguably the best player in the world, a reigning world champion with the eyes on another (or two) not so far off in the distance. He didn’t only want to get into the eventual League of Legends Hall of Fame but be the exhibit’s crown jewel. Minutes earlier, I watched him skewer world-class players on Akali as if they were newcomers picking up the game for the first time. He could have told me that the sky was neon green, and I probably would have written it down as fact.

The League of Legends world orbited around the sun, known as TheShy, in 2018.

Three years later, while TheShy’s belief remains intact, everything else has changed around him.