'Hearthstone' At The Bahamas: Streamers Party Just Like The Rest Of Us

When you watch Twitch streams and YouTube videos all day, it gets hard to distinguish content creators from real people. You idolize these internet personalities, who spend every moment talking directly to thousands of fans, even though it feels like they are talking directly to you. Doublelift, Imaqtpie, Dyrus and Ice Poseidon all seem larger than life to the adoring virtual crowds who sit in front of their computers, tablets or phones, enamored by whatever these guys do on their own screens.

To a generation of children who grew up watching television, where the celebrities were dictated by a group of old CEOs sitting in a board room trying to manufacture the next Britney Spears or boy band, it feels refreshing how newer forms of media allow us get to pick our own idols. They are people like us, who just really like to play video games and record themselves doing so.

That said, when the internet hive mind takes over, it gets hard to remember that the guys on screen are just regular folks. Twitch chat is prone to spamming threats and slurs when their favorite streamer does something that the horde doesn’t approve of. Streamers have gotten their homes raided by SWAT teams, had stalkers find them in real life or just quit going online altogether to avoid harassment.

The streamers I enjoy watching the most play Hearthstone, a card game created by Blizzard based on their incredibly popular Warcraft franchise. Unlike the complicated mechanics of League of Legends or Overwatch, Hearthstone only requires a finger or hand to throw cards down You don’t need millisecond reflexes, just an analytical mind and a knowledge of cards. Streamers like Disguised Toast, Trump and Kripp have built up massive followings moving Azure Drakes and Reno Jacksons around a board, with tens of thousands of fans watching them every night.

As a reporter, one of the earliest things you have to learn is to not “fan boy” when interacting with someone whose work you really enjoy. I’m still very bad at that and find myself obsessing over real-life interactions with the personalities I watch at night, before I go to bed. I giggled when I got to ask League Of Legends player Froggen about Anivia, gushed praise when I talked to Rebecca Sugar about her show Steven Universe and found it hard to make words when I was at the same table as Stephen Merchant.

I’m as big as a Hearthstone fan boy as you can get, so when Blizzard offered me the chance to fly to the Bahamas and check out the Hearthstone Championship Tour's Winter Championship, I jumped at the chance, ignoring the redundancy of the name. Nothing goes together better than a beautiful beach, sunny pools and a busload of introverted streamers who barely see daylight after streaming for eight hours a day.

I arrived at the Meliá resort on the island of Nassau in the Bahamas, ready to indulge in an all-inclusive resort stay. Blizzard also invited a bunch of Hearthstone personalities who weren’t in the actual tournament to just hang out and enjoy a trip where they can kiss dolphins on the nose. As a fan of these people for years, it was a bit surreal to be thrown in the same building as them. I’d go to get lunch, and there would be Disguised Toast and Hafu dining at the table beside me, eating terrible resort sushi just like everyone else. There was no webcam watching and no Twitch chat spamming memes, just two people enjoying a vacation.

After the tournament ended, Blizzard threw a party for everyone who made the HCT such a success. I usually hate these esports parties, because I’m always traveling by myself and never have anyone to talk to. After last year’s Blizzcon pre-party, where I sat next to a photo of Kripp eating cold sliders by myself, I vowed to never go to one of these shindigs again. I somehow talked myself into attending, feeling the need to see what a party full of streamers was actually like.

I’m so glad I did because that night was insane. Bright lights were set up next to a waterfall; it looked like something out of a romantic comedy. The booze was flowing and the DJ was playing Drake, so everyone was having a good time.

A dance circle opened up where pro players GreenSheep, Fr0zen and Blizzard’s translator showed off some grade-A drunk dance moves. Pavel, winner of the Hearthstone World Championship at Blizzcon last year, jumped around the pit, flailing his arms like someone at EDC, not a tournament for a gnome’s card game. A few local Bahamians started raging; there was no barrier between any of us. It didn’t matter if you had a fanatical fan following or were just a dude with a day job, everyone was included.

All I could think was “damn, Twitch chat would go nuts over this.”

As the night waged on, the party ended but the drinking did not. At the bar, I did a shot with Forsen and chatted with Disguised Toast. These weren’t people confined to my computer anymore, they were chill guys who just wanted to have a good time. The Hearthstone community felt so welcoming to this stranger, someone who has just only been watching and covering the scene and never interacting with it outside of chat.

I’m not sure how, since I had been drinking a ton of Bahama Mamas throughout the day, I ended up in a hot tub with 15 streamers, Hearthstone pros and Blizzard employees. Brian Kibler wanted to play “Werewolf,” a game that I was way too drunk to understand, so I headed back to the hotel. It felt like a summer camp, where the teachers had gone to bed and one kid managed to sneak some tequila back into the cool kids’ rooms.

I did manage to get a picture, but it was dark and I didn’t want to use flash and disturb the highly male populated ecosystem.

One of the reporters I was hanging around with said: “who knew Hearthstone could be so lit?” and I couldn’t agree more.