The first time I encountered Anubis in competitive play, I lost three units in under ten seconds. That sleek, shadowy figure moved with a precision that felt almost unfair, and I'll admit—I nearly rage-quit. But after dozens of matches, replays, and strategy deep-dives, I’ve come to see Anubis not as an unbeatable menace, but as a fascinating puzzle. One that, when solved, reveals a lot about what makes a game truly balanced—or frustratingly broken. In this piece, I want to break down exactly how you can counter this deadly threat, but I also want to touch on something deeper: why certain game mechanics, like Anubis’s overwhelming offense, can sometimes clash with the kind of gaming experience many of us crave—one built on cooperation and ecosystem, not domination.

Let’s talk numbers first. Anubis’s primary ability, Soul Reap, deals 450 base damage on a six-second cooldown, and when paired with his passive, Mark of the Underworld, that number can spike to nearly 700 if your health drops below 30%. Those aren’t just stats—they’re game-enders. I’ve seen players with 80% win rates using Anubis in ranked modes, and it’s no surprise. His kit is designed to punish mistakes ruthlessly. But here’s the thing: he’s incredibly reliant on positioning and timing. If you can bait out his ultimate, Sandstorm Shroud, you’ve just stripped away his primary escape tool. I’ve found that heroes with crowd control—like stuns or silences—cut his effectiveness by almost half. In one match last week, I used a well-timed freeze ability right as he teleported in, and his burst combo fizzled. He became a sitting duck.

But countering Anubis isn’t just about in-game tactics. It’s also about mindset. I’ve been playing games for over a decade, and I’ve grown tired of the "dominate or be dominated" loop that so many competitive titles enforce. You know the one—where you’re encouraged to crush opponents, farm resources, and climb leaderboards at all costs. It’s exhausting, and if I’m honest, it often feels shallow. That’s why I was so struck by games like Flock, which someone described to me as an ecosystem rather than a battleground. In Flock, you don’t capture creatures; you befriend them. There’s no hurt, no dominion—just coexistence. And playing it made me realize how much I prefer that approach. When I face off against an Anubis, I’m not trying to assert my superiority. I’m adapting, learning, and engaging with the game’s systems in a way that feels respectful—both to the opponent and to the game itself.

So, how do you apply that philosophy to dealing with Anubis? Start by studying his patterns. Most Anubis players I’ve faced—around 65%, by my estimate—rely on the same opener: they lurk near objectives, wait for a team fight to break out, and then dive the backline. If you position your squishiest units near tanks or support heroes with area-of-effect healing, you force Anubis to rethink his approach. Items matter, too. I always build at least one magic-resist item early, like Aegis Amulet, which reduces his burst potential by 20%. It might not sound like much, but in a close match, that’s the difference between a wipeout and a comeback.

Another tactic I swear by is psychological pressure. Anubis thrives on chaos, so if your team maintains formation and communicates—even through simple pings—you disrupt his rhythm. I’ve noticed that in matches where my team stayed coordinated, Anubis’s kill participation dropped from an average of 12 takedowns to just 4 or 5. That’s a huge swing. But it requires patience, and honestly, not every player has it. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen teammates tilt after one early death to Anubis and then feed him the rest of the game. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. My advice? Take a breath, remind your team that Anubis falls off late-game if he doesn’t snowball, and focus on objective control. Steal his jungle camps, secure buffs, and watch him struggle to keep up.

At the end of the day, dealing with Anubis is as much about game knowledge as it is about reflection. I love competitive gaming, but I don’t love the toxicity that often comes with it. Games like Flock remind me that there’s another way to engage—with curiosity instead of aggression. When I counter Anubis, I’m not out for blood; I’m solving a challenge. And honestly, that shift in perspective has made me a better player. So next time you see that ominous figure on the loading screen, don’t panic. Equip the right items, coordinate with your team, and remember—every overpowered hero has a weakness. You just have to be willing to look for it.