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12 ppl playerbase
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quake live got 12 ppl playing high level + 3 tdm teams + lots of loadout-casual...

reflex could finally unite arena-shooter playerbase, as devs are listening to community, unlike id software(zenimax).

and that doesn't mean that many people didn't try to give zenimax enough possible solutions to increase playerbase, but the current buisness-model is just meant to be a big failure.. and I can't see it change in the near future..

reflex could finally unite arena-shooter playerbase

Q3A CPMA playerbase

FTFY

:)

it's more like players from cpm, warsow, ut , tf2, quakelive etc.. are giving it a shot and there is definitely the chance to unite a playerbase from different games, like it was in the beginning of quake 4, but we all know how this ended due to id software's failures..

looking at the server browser - it seems the activity is already very low... and this is with the release hype bubble? things only go downhill from here imo. to secure the future, you have to attract a new generation of players as they get bored, find other priorities or change in their tastes. this is like someone making 'DOTA3' 10 years from now after everyone will have moved onto crazy VR games etc.

I just dont understand how people expect to revive a niche genre which has had on several occasions proven to have a serious problem with attracting and retaining new players. you know what they say about 'doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results' right?

regular ql lasted from 2009-2012 with a decent population.

this new ql which is supposed to be more attractive to noobs.... the population lasted for a month lol.

This is exactly what they said about Q4.

Worked out perfectly.

And no one could run q4 on wooden pc's :o
q4 had shitty hit beep and models - broken geme

I will take those 12 people over 12k shitnoobs I can't even play because they can't reach my ballz.
Also Reflex in current shit-state is better than what q5 could ever be \ :D /

Also Reflex in current shit-state is better than what q5 could ever be \ :D /

Because it... exists? :DDDD

Fucking idiot haha

ql has so many player?

REFLEX!
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you mean this game that has no spectator mode? :D

Ye, the game where players don't have weapons but spectators do :D

That was Faceit.

:S

Quake needs Quake5.
Quake5 needs $$$.
$$$ come from Zenimax.

stockholm's syndrome much huh?

This, but Zenimax needs to be replaced with something.

no, q5 will be very bad

same company

You mean like Faceit, that few people used?

No it has to be implemented well. That website was a catastrophe.

all this has to be implemented in quake - live userinterface itself. but I can't see this change happening, concerning buisness decisions of zenimax yet..

and it's not that people didn't suggest them to do things like that....(probably 1000x times)

Nope, that's just the community being lazy. It doesn't have to be integrated into Quake. If its already running, id will put it in the latest news or have a popup somewhere on the website.

I don't think it's a community being lazy thing, as if you look at this website and the effort some put in to get tournaments running, that's not the problem, I think..

but for example, take the state of the tdm community:
in the beginning of quake live(closed and open-beta), there were plenty of populated public tdm servers(eventhough you could argue most of the time was dm6 played, but was a good map for public tdm anyway, to hop in and have fun).

then zenimax got this "glorious" idea of seperating maps into standard/premium and even disabled public server votes.

this way public tdm died and with this, the possibility for newer players to get hooked to the gamemode(probably founding "fun"-tdm clans, like it was the normal way in quake1/2/3) while not being forced or probably just don't even know about pickup channels, which besides of that have an "elitist" attitude which is not really suitable for newer players to enjoy...

all this was zenimax fault aka really bad buisness decisions, rather than the community being lazy..

and I don't see a possible way, how there could be a growing tdm community with incoming fresh blood, if the only public experience of tdm for new players is this loadout crap..

edit: and the base of any healthy competitive scene(example of opposite: see hoq tdm signups) is a healthy "casual" scene(for tdm in quake live not existing and I can't see any possibilty, how there would even one "fun" clan would be founded by players used to play on loadout public tdm-servers)

proposed this to ID back in 2010 I think...

Something like this won't work unless it's integrated within quake.

The forum on QL had a "player/team searching team/player" for a whle (perhaps it still does) due to lack of other methods. Which worked somewhat averagely.
But for instance you'll never see such a post on esr (well perhaps there was at some time but it's less likely to happen here).

The real problem isn't really making a site that enables people to do the above... The problem is to get enough people on the site to make it usefull.
So first of you'd have to make the site in a way that it supports ALL games rather than just QL (because it's not feasable). But then you run up against things like Steam which already has similar things, for their own community.
And thus they won't use the site... Which means that too few people will.

So I'm not gonna make it :D

All what you wrote about was supported by the Faceit platform. Faceit wasn't only a duel cup on sundays. Problem is id software stopped supporting that site, the community didn't show that much interest on the platform really (besides ins winning money by WO) and them supporting cs:go is a way better choice for them than quake. so faceit abandoned quake live.


And even if faceit comes back or what you wrote is implemented by somebody else, the way to save quake has nothing to do with that really. What all quakes lack is a big playerbase, as in lots of noobs, and just implementing a ladder and whatnot is not the magic recipe to attract them.

As for the competitive scene, I think it is more than fine in all of them considering the games' circumstances. For instance with the numbers QL has the competitive side and community involvement should be even more dead and non existent than what it is now.

For saving quake what's needed s attracting those noobs in first place and also to keep them playing, for which there's various measures, but the opportunities already were wasted due to lack of work and huge mistakes from id software. In general terms the main problem is the last proper quake was made in 1999 and in QL's specific case we know what happened.

With that said, there's nothing that can be done at this point in the QL project that would be useful for the game's continuity. Just let it die really. As for the quake franchise, the only thing that can be done is making a quake 5 from scratch, all by id software itself and that includes single player, but it has the main issue that at best it would be finished in 2018 and that the company hasn't produced a great game since quake3.

The other thing is there's lots and lots of PC FPS games coming up soon, maybe even 20, so if QL dies it isn't a big loss really. Give it one year from this point on and "we" will have alternatives to it, and even if all those manage to fail there's still other great current FPS even though they aren't proper 'arena' ones, like cs:go. Actually might as well say that the spiritual sequels of doom, wolfenstein and quake weren't made by id software, but by one russian alone (brutal doom. Also doom4 is said to be heavily based on that), machinegames (another company that made "the new order" game) and people can fly (painkiller, maybe bulletstorm too).

cannot save... just play reflex!

fire the dev team... that's the best start

Wait there is a dev team still in place for QL? :D

more like: HIRE a dev team... that's the best start. *

This thread reminded me of an old joke:

How do you save a black guy from drowning?
You take your foot off his head.

It's actually a rather accurate analogy. ;)

Don't get it. Not sure if offended.

It's just a dumb high-school joke, no offence intended. :)

i'd known my neighbor for years, but not in any really personal sense. when we'd both leave our houses around the same time, we'd wave and smile, we'd exchange pleasantries. he kept a nice yard and his dog seemed well-fed and behaved. during my wife's pregnancy he brought gifts. after she gave birth, there were diapers at the doorstep. i can't be sure, but mark seems to have been the giver.

one summer i made the decision to remove the fence surrounding my backyard, and though none of my family or friends could find the time, even with the offer of free beer, mark was happy to help, and he doesn't even drink. we made a one day job of pulling 25 fence posts, which, if you've never done it, can be pretty rough work.

after rolling up the fencing, mark and i sat in front of my garage, my wife brought out some sweet tea and slices of some leftover pie from a family gathering a few days prior. the red light of the setting sun seemed to team with the food and drink to signal the end of the day. as i was thanking mark for all his great help, the delicate quietude of the onset of evening was violated by what sounded like like the screeching pleas of a dog-sized parrot undergoing rectal stitching without local anesthesia.

mark and i exchanged a glance, and he sort of stuttered out that he should probably get home to finish dinner, he had an early day of work tomorrow. we shook hands and i, feeling heavy from the food and work, made my way to bed and soon found sleep.

the memories of dreams are ephemeral things for me, though i'm aware that writing them down aids in recollection, and that some others retain their visions without trouble, so the most that i can say about my sleep that night is that it was untroubled, and yet, echoing through the atmospheric space of my dreamstate awareness, like a mother gently calling her son to wake for his first morning of his first day of school, a quiet screech, just as i'd heard earlier that day.

i sat up, startled, my bladder full, and rubbed my thighs, swinging my legs over the bed side to walk to the restroom to relieve myself. my wife called to me, half-asleep, to ask what i could be doing, and i replied gently that i loved her, and i'll be right back.

standing at the toilet, feet spread, head lolled back, hips thrust forward, the hypnotizing sounded of a warm stream of urine circling the bowl as i idly swayed my hips, the memory of that screech injected itself into my consciousness. to this point i had been in the relaxed state of those confident in their ability to find sleep easily after a mid-night waking, but the memory engaged some driving gear in my consciousness, and i began to immediately analyze the vague data my ears had offered me earlier that day.

there, again, the same noise, but subdued, somewhere between a moan and a wail, with the timber of a lifelong smoker after a particularly heated screaming match. i found my way to the restroom window by the pale moonlight, and lifted the glass slightly to better study the noise.

again and again, as a pregnant dog, from the direction of mark's back yard. surely the dog could not be giving birth, mark would have been aware of it, he would have remarked.

i stepped into my house shoes and ventured out our back door, intent on rendering what service i possibly could for his pet, or to at least witness events to better inform mark when he became available. mark had already left for his work at a local shipping warehouse, and i was hesitant to disturb him over the phone.

it was when i reached his fence-line that i realized his dog couldn't possibly be pregnant or giving birth, recalling the many times the dog's scrotum had been an object of hilarity shared between my sons and myself, yet the battered crying persisted, and being closer to mark's house i could definitely determine that the noise was coming from within.

i made my way to walk to the front door, curiosity having now subdued reason and caution, and my attention was caught by the noise of a broken cough escaping from the direction of mark's basement window, which had seemingly been cracked in some incident, and a few shards dropped away to create a small hole through which some sound could escape.

i crept quietly over the grass to the window, staying carefully to the side of the window away from the light so that my shadow would not be cause for alarm to anybody inside, and squatted down, leaning my right ear toward the hole. i nearly fell backward, barely catching myself by placing my hand upon the bricks of mark's wall, when the angry screech i'd heard earlier in the day while sitting with mark suddenly burst from the window.

i stayed squatted there for a moment, heart thumping a persistent reminder to breathe, and calmed myself as quietly as possible. i realize now, as i write this, that i, were i a rational or intelligent man, should have at least questioned myself before continuing on, but things are as they may be, and so i am, and so i will be, but i digress, and now is not the moment for pseudo-philosophical rambling.

i steeled my nerves for a peek into the basement, and leaned my head down to look through the window. No luck, inside was utterly black, but with my face so close to the opening I became perceptive of a rhythmic ambient noise, as if a child had wet his bike tire tube and was methodically pumping air into it, then listening to its gurgling escape in order to discover the location of the air leakage.

Heeeeeeghhh, Hughhhghdhghdhghd
Heeeeeeghhh, Hughhhghdhghdhghd
Heeeeeeghhh, Hughhhghdhghdhghd

I have spent my life fighting against the public discovery of my stupidity, but this incident, the necessity to share it both fully and honestly, has forced the, at least temporary, retirement of that aspect of my character. Looking at the basement glass I could see that it was painted from the inside, but it seemed that it would hardly be noticed if I were to remove enough pieces to allow some amount of light to penetrate that oppressive blackness, just enough to locate the source of the gurgling respiration.

I pinched the corners of a piece showing the spider webs of cracks and began to gently pry it back and forth, minutely and quietly, like that first loose baby tooth we as children discover when we sometimes push our tongues against the backs of our teeth, the tooth we pinch between our fingers and softly wiggle, testing the boundaries of our tolerance for pain and introducing ourselves to the concept of the necessity for loss and the pleasure that can be found in the pains of such loss.

My breath sucked through my teeth as an unanticipated edge bit into my fingertip, and in the rush to draw my hand away I pulled violently against the remaining glass, which because of the paint didn't shatter so much as popped loose and then flopped to thud against what sounded to be a concrete slab inside the basement.

I knelt now on my knees in the grass, grasping my injured right hand in my left, holding my breath, the hurried beats of my heart now purposefully ignored. My senses seemed to all come into focus at once, lighted surfaces became more apparent, and as the ache of my fingertip dulled, the sense of moisture under my knees enhanced.

We can see an unwanted sight, and perhaps that sight will haunt our dreams, and we will perceive of it through our days in unwanted moments, but such a vision is encased within our minds, and it never finds the opportunity to stray. We can hear the traumatic shrieks of a mother who has just witnessed the death of her child, and just as the vision we may suffer its experience through our lives, but we can cope through the day.

Nothing could have prepared me for the sensory impact of the smell that escaped the basement, like the corpse of a rotting skunk dunked in the sun-baked sewage of a city fed a steady diet of cheese and broccoli. When a smell is strong enough, when it is reminiscent enough of some foods, you can taste it, and the awfulness of the smell linked to the sustenance provided by the vague and minute similarities to culinary items was enough to confuse my senses to the point that I had no will to control my urge to vomit.

My body cast itself forward, hands slapping the grass, and my back arched. A stream I'll not describe escaped my mouth, once, twice, three times, and though my stomach was emptied it tensed, over and over.

Now, at this point, even those of you who are gracious enough to accept your own foolishness will probably begin to question my intellect, as you would immediately have made your way home and hoped silently that upon discovering the broken glass and vomit that your neighbor would assume some trash digging neighborhood stray had been nosing his way into your basement.

Not I, for at this point in the experience I had lost all inhibition, my curiosity was utterly transfixed by the horrific combination of sensory input. I could not, after having experienced so much, simply turn around and walk into my house, slide the house shoes off my feet, climb into bed and lean my head back on the pillow, then fall gratefully to sleep, any more than a bird dog can curl up in the grass and ignore a duck recently fallen from the sky.

Already on my hands and knees, my head was of a level with the basement window, and so I slowly swiveled to look inside. Indeed, the opening now allowed enough light to make out shapes and figures, and my eyes, having long ago adapted to the darkness of night were having no trouble distinguishing our human prescribed definitions of those shapes.

A bookshelf. Some storage bins. A long rectangular table, upon which sat an assortment of common tools; hammer, saw, etc.

I swept my gaze from right to left and at that moment I saw it, at the moment my range of vision caught the edge of its confines, sound again began to be recognized by my consciousness.

Heeeeeeghhh, Hughhhghdhghdhghd
Heeeeeeghhh, Hughhhghdhghdhghd
Heeeeeeghhh, Hughhhghdhghdhghd

My eyes froze, and I sat there on my hands and knees listening to that sound, allowing my mind a moment to, as my eyes adapted to the darkness, to adapt to the darkness of the implication of what I could just perceive from the utmost peripheral of my vision.

Heeeeeeghhh, Hughhhghdhghdhghd
Heeeeeeghhh, Hughhhghdhghdhghd
Heeeeeeghhh, Hughhhghdhghdhghd

And suddenly, as though recalling swimming lessons with my father, I remembered that it may be shocking to simply jump in, but once you do it it's over with, and my pupils, like two unhappy boys committing to a suicide pact, jumped into the frigid mid-February waters of a stream of confused terror.

There, inside a tiny cage, sat a hulking mass of human being, the source of the noise from within, and to my best guess the source of the smell. Flesh bulged from every opening in the cage, and I wouldn't be surprised if, like a tree somebody a hundred years ago had leaned a forgotten bicycle against, some of the tissue had fused outside the cage, as some ironic protestation in which the confined in turn confines his confinement.

As my eyes darted across its form in an attempt to flee the vision of horror I'd subjected them to, a sparkle of light directed my gaze and we, that...thing and I, shared a glance, a moment that seemed to stretch on and on. its breath the only active element in our briefly shared perception.

Heeeeeeghhh, Hughhhghdhghdhghd
Heeeeeeghhh, Hughhhghdhghdhghd
Heeeeeeghhh, Hughhhghdhghdhghd

And then it screamed, like the whistle of a train passed through a distorted guitar amplifier, and as it screamed I pushed myself up to my feet and ran so wildly that I cannot even remember how I got into the house, whether through the back door, the front door, a window, or even directly through the brick and mortar of our walls. I awoke the next morning in the bathtub, naked and shivering, and commenced to shower, and though my hands and body quite capable scrubbed away the vomit and grass and dirt from the early morning, my mind sat transfixed, captured in that momentary shared glance.

I can see, I can hear, I can think and feel and act and all else, but it is like sitting in the car and waiting for the engine to heat, waiting for the air to carry the moisture away from the windshield so that I could be on my way. Mostly now the glass is clear enough that I am capable and able to participate unnoticed by others in my life. By now Marks' basement glass has been repaired and I haven't since heard any indication of that compressed monster, so that sometimes I can almost convince myself that, unlike my description near the beginning of the story, that morning I awoke in the shower it was from such a dream as I had never and, I believe, shall never experience again.

But then I recall the scar on my fingertip.

inspired by my experiences playing quake live and the futility of pondering how to save it.

alternate ending:

I awoke the next morning, shivering cold, and laid back with my eyes closed, vivid memories of the morning adventure replaying in my mind. My stomach involuntarily tightened as a hint of that terrible smell tugged at my recollection. I tried to lift my hand to scratch at an annoying itch on the tip of my nose, but my arm was firmly tangled in the sheets. I wiggled my body to give my arm the space to be freed, but each movement increased the painfully stifling tug of my blankets. My eyes opened to assuage my amassing confusion, and I was greeted by the reflection of the morning's light against the bars of my cage, and so I screamed.

Without reading I'm going to plus this because of the sheer care and effort that went into creating it.

EDIT: After reading it I'd give it an 8 +/- brandan out of ten.

alternate ending:

I awoke the next morning, shivering cold, and laid back with my eyes closed, vivid memories of the morning adventure replaying in my mind. I reached for my mobile phone and sent a message to Mark:

"mark u r a rite mad cunt lol"

i like how this is becoming a choose your own adventure story.

Alternate everything: You know, next year, but this is personal, I won't get out of the house and the same time help a smile, a trigger signal vast Sabina Dog Park- I shoot a lot. If your wife is the song I was born I got pregnant heredity but I don't know what you're doing.

One summer, my family, my friends, now you won't find it, but mark, I'm happy, despite the fact that the wall around the Park decided to get rid of it. And Max, to help protect. 25 a day trip to the North, but it would be a tough job.

Last meeting, but the label's car, my kids, my wife, green tea and be back, at least my family and a few days later, a red light last week . No doubt, the food and the industry in the food industry for the group. At the end of the day the signal.

Buh

In loving memory of the time when I enjoyed this nonsense.

I'm bored, so I'm going to edit this for you, and you might end up looking like an okay writer. content can't be saved, though.

I'd known my neighbor Mark for years, but not in any real personal sense. when we left our houses around the same time, we'd wave and smile and exchange pleasantries. he kept a nice yard and his dog seemed well-fed and well-behaved. during my wife's pregnancy he brought gifts. after she gave birth, there were diapers at the doorstep. I can't be sure, but I'd guess it was him.

one summer I made the decision to remove the fence surrounding my back yard, and though none of my family or friends could find the time--even with the offer of free beer--Mark was happy to help. he doesn't even drink!

we made a one day job of pulling 25 fence posts, which, if you've never done it, can be pretty rough work.

after rolling up the fencing, Mark and I sat in front of my garage, and my wife brought out sweet tea and slices of leftover pie from a recent family gathering. the red light of the setting sun seemed to team with the food and drink to signal the end of the day [editor's note: what? I have no idea what to do with this.] as I was thanking Mark for all his great help, the delicate quietude of the onset of evening was violated by what sounded like the screeching pleas of a dog-sized parrot undergoing rectal stitching without local anesthesia [again, what?]. we exchanged a glance, and Mark sort of muttered that he should probably get home to finish dinner [how fat is Mark?]--he had an early day of work tomorrow. we shook hands, and feeling heavy from the food and work, I made my way to bed and soon found sleep.

alright, I can't get any further than this. it's just too tedious. I don't have much to work with. sorry bud.

You criticize formatting but then don't capitalise the first word of each sentence.

Don't make me edit your edit >:(

faceit kinda failed

sell the franchise

Just play it.

Save it?

If you love it, let it go)))

My biggest pointment about QuakeLIVE was the lack of league integration. Really collaberating with the leagues and incorperating them into the software. Highlight pro players/teams right inside the game.

oVERWATCH

how to save quake.

think about this for 1 second. what is the difference between walking in a ring and sparring, and having someone run up to you and punch you in the face?

its that in option 1 you *know* you are gonna get hurt.


steam isn't bad, but sync and his m8s haven't done shit to prevent the rape of noobs and the subsequent raging of the people whose games they fucked.

how to save quake: build time machine to 2001

Don't think it has a save game option. Its a multiplayer game. No campaign mode.