Where was Diretide? The ghost of Dota’s Halloween past still haunts us

Every October, the ritual repeats — the hopium, the memes, the “maybe next week” posts. And every year that it doesn’t arrive, the silence from Valve feels just a little louder. Fans kept their copium flasks topped up, waiting for a patch, an ARG-style tease, even a cryptic tweet. Instead, nothing. No event, no tease, just a haunted calm.

It’s been three years since the last Diretide — the candy-collecting chaos that once turned Dota’s Halloween into something special. The mode was more than just a mini-game; it was a celebration, a reminder that Dota could still be weird, joyful, and fun. Now, as we queued into another ranked match instead of chasing candy, it’s hard not to feel like something was missing.

To understand why, you have to remember what Diretide was.

A brief history of Diretide: When the candy rained

Diretide first arrived in 2012, bringing chaos, laughter, and the collective trauma of being chased by Roshan. It became an instant cult favorite — a lighthearted break from Dota’s usual intensity. Players farmed candy, traded cosmetics, and got eaten alive, all in the name of Halloween spirit.

For the uninitiated, Diretide was Dota 2’s Halloween event — a chaotic, candy-collecting brawl where teams farmed and stole candy before facing an enraged Roshan in the final phase. Players had to feed him candy to calm him down, turning every match into a mix of trick-or-treat mayhem and pure panic.

༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ Give DIRETIDE

Back in 2013, the community’s outcry over the lack of a Halloween event became legendary. The hashtag #GiveDiretide spread like wildfire, flooding Twitter, Steam reviews, Reddit, and even the subreddit of Swedish carmaker Volvo.

Later, Gabe Newell admitted in a Washington Post interview that they had mishandled the communication, and in 2014, they announced ahead of time it wasn't happening.

We on the Dota 2 team have a number of updates in the works right now that we’re really excited about, some for the rest of this year, and a big update for early next year. But we’re pretty sure we won’t be able to make enough progress on the larger update if we put it down to work on Diretide – so we’ve decided that we’re not going to ship a Diretide event this year. We know that last year we weren’t clear enough in our communication about this, so this year we wanted to be up front about it early. Next year will bring monumental changes to Dota 2, and we’re confident that when you’ve seen what we’ve been working on, you’ll agree it was worth it.

It took some time but Valve eventually responded, and Diretide returned — proving that player passion could, at least once, resurrect the dead. Valve revived it sporadically over the years — 2013 (after the infamous #GiveDiretide campaign), 2020, and 2022 — but each return felt rarer, like spotting a ghost in your match history. The nostalgia hit hard every time, reminding fans how playful Dota can be when it wants to.

Now, over a decade later, fans still reference that era half-jokingly, half-hopefully. Posts pop up every October: screenshots of pumpkins, “Copium Tide,” or just that one word — Diretide? — like a summoning ritual. But this time, the ghost doesn’t answer.

Why Diretide still matters

Dota has become increasingly competitive, polished, and monetized, which is great for esports but less so for its sense of playfulness. Diretide wasn’t balance changes or hero tweaks. It was Dota’s soul — messy, communal, fun.

It isn't just about candy. It’s about community. It’s about remembering that beneath the salt, the toxicity, and the MMR grind, there’s joy in shared chaos. It was a rare moment when casual players, pros, and content creators all logged in for the same reason. To have fun.

Valve has released plenty of limited-time events over the years — Frostivus, Wraith-Night, New Bloom, Quartero's Curios, even the occasional Aghanim’s Labyrinth run. They all had their moments: a bit of seasonal charm, a few cosmetics, a leaderboard or two. But none of them embedded themselves into Dota’s DNA quite like Diretide.

Frostivus was cozy. New Bloom was festive. Wraith-Night was grindy. Diretide, though was chaotic magic. It didn’t just decorate the map; it infected the community.

Without events like these, something intangible goes missing. The memes feel quieter, the community less connected.

Final thoughts: Maybe next year (copium)

Maybe next year, we’ll get it back. Maybe Diretide will rise again, bringing Roshan’s candy-fueled vengeance to our screens. Until then, we’ll keep queuing, keep coping, and keep asking the question that haunts every October:

Where’s Diretide?