How Multiplayer Games Like Valorant Could Improve Matchmaking

If there’s one basic human concept I understand in this world, it’s that when you learn a new skill, you get better at it over time. So why, after sinking over 800 hours into Valorant, am I stuck in the second-worst rank in the game?
It wasn’t always this way. I peaked at Gold 1, and have been consistently ranking Silver since last act. Did I suddenly get worse? Did everybody else get better? Am I being matched with terrible teammates?
In Valorant, your rank is mainly determined by whether your team wins or loses, rather than your individual performance. So if you’re playing well but your team doesn’t win, you’re gonna lose Rank Rating (RR), and vice versa. The exact amount of RR you gain or lose after a game is determined by, in order: match outcome, how much you win/lose by, individual performance, and rank convergence. That last one has to do with a hidden stat called Matchmaking Rating (MMR), which is used to even out discrepancies between what Valorant perceives your rank should be and your actual rank. But for the most part, if you win, you get promoted, and if you lose, you’re demoted.
My immediate instinct is to accuse the matchmaking system for my embarrassing act rank. According to my stats on Tracker.gg, my damage per round, kill/death ratio, and headshot % were all significantly higher in Act 4 than in Act 3, yet I fell from the respectable Silver 3 all the way down to B3. How could this happen to me?
It’s possible that I played worse in Silver because I was matched against higher ranked players on average. But if that’s the case, why wasn’t I able to win consistently enough to get back into those Silver lobbies in Act 4?
If you ask a nerd how to get better at Valorant, they’ll tell you to learn how to in-game lead (IGL). This advice makes sense; Valorant is a team-based competitive shooter where ranking depends on your entire team’s performance. However, IGL-ing becomes tricky when you have a marginalized gender identity.
Over the past five years playing Valorant, my first and only competitive shooter, I have endured the worst sexual harassment and degradation of my entire life. In her fantastic article about quitting competitive gaming, Alyssa Mercante writes, “I think, subconsciously, I’ve spent the last 20 years trying to be good at competitive games as a way to undeniably prove that I deserve to be in this space, that I’m just as much of a ‘gamer’ as the men screaming slurs at me.” Whenever I enter a match, I wait for my teammates to talk first and suss out whether I feel safe enough to speak based on their energy. Because of this, more often than not I talk very little, or not at all.