Okay, okay – full disclosure – this title is misleading. 

When someone says that something or somebody ruined their life, it’s usually a negative connotation. It’s usually a completely topsy-turvy, terrible time that you’d rather forget – something that set your life on a trajectory that demanded healing. 

I’m using this as bait, because Apex did ruin my life, but in a slightly different way.  

This one gets a little personal, kids. 

I am a competitive person

There is no doubt about that. It’s not something I’ve ever tried to push to the wayside. I have this innate need to always be the best at whatever I’m trying my hand at. The smallest things can turn into a competition for me – and while that can be some dangerous territory to walk on – it’s always fun. 

I took a while to get into Apex. It was way after the initial hype died down. I was still playing Overwatch for a team, captaining, coaching, managing, all that good stuff. And one day I finally sat down and decided to try to play Apex. It was very rocky at first. I hadn’t really delved into the world of battle royale, nonetheless one that required an understanding of abilities. It was complicated, and I was struggling. I set it aside for a few more weeks. 

Then I picked it up again. 

The first 1,000 hours I have on Apex are mostly solo hours. Because, listen, I don’t know what happened. Something switched, and I was determined to learn how to play this game. Of course, I absolutely sucked for a long time. But after a while, I picked who I wanted to play, learned the basics and pulled myself through some sticky mud to learn how to actually be not too bad at this game. 

I’ve always had good aim, but movement was arresting me, keeping the cuffs on for a long while before I understood how to position myself properly. Especially because I decided (long before I knew the memes) that I wanted to play Wraith, movement was essential to the eventual aggressive gameplay style I would pick up. 

And now, it’s just fun. I’m not a god of the game, but I know how to make clip-worthy plays and I’m happy with that. Plus, it satiates that need for a competitive spirit now that I’ve completely retired from playing any esports competitively. 

But how did it ruin my life?

Overwatch taught me how to be competitive in games. However, I was mostly playing it with a team, with friends, with whoever would queue really late night comp with me. I learned a lot from videos, coaches and being a leader in the space. Other people were always involved, somehow, in my growth playing Overwatch.

Apex was different. 

Firstly, I started playing it during the height of Covid. So, I had a lot of time to spare to try and teach myself. But that’s exactly it – most of the things I learned at first were things I took the time to learn, try out, fail, try again and succeed. It was just me (and quite often a very tailored playlist) finding the niche of how to be an asset to whoever I was playing with, whether or not I knew them.

It was totally and entirely something I did myself.

I must mention that this way of teaching does mean you hit roadblocks and I have learned things from streamers, videos and my friends along the way. But essentially and initially, this was the first time I could really say this is a game I took the time to be good at for me. 

It was the first time in a long time I did anything for me and that helped me start the shift in my perspective. The events that followed in my life in the year or two after I started playing I can’t give to Apex entirely, but my life does look a hell of a lot different now. I’m pretty happy with that. 

So, yeah, the comfort of Apex isn’t necessarily the game itself (although it is definitely something I play for comfort), but rather that I can probably look at it as the start of a turning point in the way I lived. 

And I honestly find it amazing that a video game could help bring me back, full circle (trust me without the context), to where I needed to be. 

Apex Legends ruined my life.