This is a rather lengthy response to
FatEddie's blog on (not) saying gratz after a TD. Please only rate if you actually bothered to read it. =P
tl;dr:
Vacuous statements are norms. Not issuing them is a violation of the norm, marking you as a rogue or an outsider. Therefore issuing the statements is not actually vacuous.
wall of text:
The argument was roughly that
You should say gratz when someone scores a TD
v.s.
Saying all that stuff is meaningless, so you shouldn't.
As a psychologist (well, a cognitive neuroscientist working in psychology) I suppose I do have some insight into this process.
Norms are sometimes/usually separate from actual communication. Saying GL & HF, gz, gg, etc. is not communicating about fun, about luck, about the touchdown or about the game. What you are really saying is
'I see you. I am one of us, like you. We have some form of social contract'.
This means the content of your words is vastly different from the content of your message, but that does not diminish the content of your message.
(I usually do deviate from this norm slightly myself, by saying 'hi. have fun!' This is because A: it's more important that we have fun, and B: Wishing for the opponent to be lucky seems hypocritical. Ideally we have a game where we're equally lucky and I manage to just squeeze out a win by a very small difference in skill/insight. I'm pretty sure this deviation is small enough to still conform to the norm.)
So while following these norms seems like a vacuous form of politeness, you are in a social environment where the presence of these statements is the norm. Humans are pack apes with a LOT of attention to group cohesion and an innate distaste for rogues and outsiders. Intentionally or not, the impoliteness of the absence of the norm statements become a communicative act in and of itself. It marks you as either a rogue who violates the norms we both (should) share, or as an outsider who does not share our norms at all.
To make a comparison with real life: when someone asks me 'How are you?' I tend to tell them something along the lines of 'Pretty good. I just resubmitted my modeling paper and the kids play really nicely together'. I'll then ask how the other person is doing, if I want to know; or not if I don't, or if I don't have time for a lengthy answer (or if I simply forget). This way of communicating is not uncommon among Dutch people, though to be fair a 'fine, and you?' or such is still more common (and will usually prompt a 'yeah, fine too' response). Simply asking the question is an invitation to tell, and it initiates information exchange. If I'm NOT fine, I tend to tell this as well, if I feel like it.
However, whenever Americans say 'howareya' I tend to actually parse this as three words, and answer it as if it were the same question described above. My answer then usually turns into a mumble halfway, as I catch myself and realize it was just one word, and it didn't end in a question mark. You can usually clearly tell that the other person is surprised/annoyed that the answer wasn't 'heyhowareya'. If I do manage to catch myself in time to simply answer 'heyowareya', that (which is technically a question) is never actually answered, simply because it is not. (it's kind of like answering 'ca va?' with 'ca va', though my knowledge of French language and culture isn't sufficient to assess any subtleties there.
The point is that breaking the norm, even a seemingly vacuous noncommunicative one, is in itself a disruptive communicative act, that jolts people out of their patterns of expectancy (for better or worse).
That doesn't mean you shouldn't choose to deviate from the norm per se. However, if you choose to do so, you should be aware what you are doing: of the effect it has on the other person and the interaction you have with them. If you do so, you choose to mark yourself as a rogue/outsider. As a result, most people will treat you less politely, more aggressively, less altruistic, less trusting, etc. etc.
In an online game such behavior is neither logical or optimal, but given our evolutionary background and our emotional makeup, it is perfectly understandable.
*edit:
on luck
since it was a wall of text already anyway, I add this here rather than as a new blog, or a reply.
I think luck makes blood bowl interesting, because it means you need to deal with probabilities with variable variabilities. This is very complex, but in an intuitive way, which is a lot of fun for me.
However, I think the best games are the ones where making the right decision within that complex space (ie coaching skill) makes the difference. I enjoy games less where the coach who played worse wins because of luck (regardless of whether it's me or the opponent): i.e. I enjoy games that are decided by a turn 0 Blitz!, turn 1 score, and a turn 1 Blitz! and a turn 2 score a lot less, even when they're my blitzes.
A recent example of a great game from competitive play:
I played in a 3-game tabletop tourney (Amersfoort Amok:
[url=http://member.thenaf.net/index.php?module=NAF&type=tournamentinfo&uid=17382&id=1847)
In the first game, my rats managed a wizard steal against chaos dwarves. Rather than score on turn 5(6?), I decided to stall for one a turn. My blodge gutter could sit 1 square from the endzone with the ball, and the opponent hobo could only get a TZ on him with 2 GFIs. What I missed was that he could make a dodge somewhere, set up a double chainpush, so that hobo could get a 2die instead of just marking my gutter. He pow'ed, managed a turn 8 score, and second half didn't see any TDs. As such, that one decision made the difference between a 1-0 win and a 1-0 loss. Not only that, but over the whole day I played 2/0/1, while the CD coach WON the tournament with a 2/1/0 record. Ignoring the swiss pairing for a moment (which is fair enough since he got to play against halflings for his last game), the entire tournament was decided by me missing that a double chainpush was possible, and him seeing it.
THAT is the best possible way for to win and the best way to lose imo, not the luck stuff (though it can be fun in a random kind of way too sometimes, but preferably not when it matters).