Live at the Overmind

One of the most empowering moments I had while playing games came from a fairly unlikely source.  It was during a “Rescue the Princess” match of Fat Princess and I had managed to enter the enemy keep, cut down several other players, grab my poorly fed princess and leap off the ramparts onto the battlefield before my opponents could regroup.  What made it so rewarding was that I had really beaten the odds.  The only assistance I had from allies came after I liberated our leader. 

That feeling of satisfaction was cut short by the cruel hand of a vengeful server host, who just so happened to be on the other team.  As I led my fair maiden through the gate of our castle, I was removed from play.  I could only imagine what happened next in that battle.  The brave warrior charges through waves of enemy soldiers, grabs the damsel in distress, and guides her through a warzone, making sure she is kept safe.  When they return to the castle, still pursued by her kidnappers, the warrior collapses in her arms.  He’s gone.  It must have broken her heart.

It certainly broke mine, because after that match I never touched the game.  Fat Princess had been a real step outside my “gaming comfort zone” and an unfortunate one.  While I loved playing Fruit Ninja or Street Fighter with friends, at their house on their couch, I was not a person who liked competitive online gaming.  Even worse were those days I’d visit friends and they’d open up a laptop to watch professional Starcraft matches.  Now, this is too much! I thought.  Why would anyone waste their time watching strangers play games?

Maybe the answer can be found in Korea, where professional gaming has its own television station.  I remember hearing numerous times that Starcraft was the Korean National Pastime. Dwelling on the strangeness of it all, I decided to go to a live game of Starcraft.  More specifically, I went to the OGN Stadium at the iPark Mall in Seoul. 

Not really sure what to expect, I found a fairly dark room filled with plastic chairs for the audience and a stage with a table dividing two pod shaped desks for competitors.  Three announcers were at that table running through the highlights of a previous bout with boundless energy.  There were several cameras in the room.  One of these was on a crane and would sway above the stands, occasionally locking onto viewers of interest.

I awkwardly took a seat in the back.  A round of Starcraft II started, but I was more interested in the audience than the game.  For one, there were far larger numbers of women than I would have ever expected.  Gaggles of teenage girls sat around or lined the back walls.  There were even a few middle aged women scattered about the crowd.  One of these was clearly the mother of a player on stage, as the camera kept lingering on her.  When the Zerg gained the upper hand, she visibly swelled with pride.

Then the players came to a stalemate.  Each of them had amassed sizeable forces and their generals spent much time micromanaging a dance between their armies.  They would come close then jerk away just as the first shots rang out.  It kept up like this until one player took a misstep and the screen became swamped with Zerg and Protoss units.  I was surprised by how easily the Protoss wiped Zerg troops from the field.  Then it ended.  One fight, one dance, and the match was over.

Not knowing exactly what I had witnessed, I went over to the first native English speaker I saw.  He happened to be DoA, a professional American commentator for a South Korean broadcaster.  He explained how the previous game had been won.  That is, when one player’s forces are devastated and they can’t build up troops in time to recover, they honorably surrender.  That solved the mystery of the ballet.  The players dance around the field, constantly testing the opposition, watching the opposition, but not wanting to risk a major defeat.

I asked him why Starcraft was so popular in South Korea and he credited that mainly to PC bongs.  PC bongs are a place where people can go to use computers for a ridiculously low price.  Playing Starcraft is free at virtually any PC bong and has been for a while, which helped dramatically increase the game’s popularity.  While Starcraft II has a slowly growing fan base, neither of those games is actually that revered in Korea right now.  The honor of “Korean National Pastime” could probably be awarded to League of Legends for the time being.

We live in funny times, and great times for gaming communities.  There are multiple branches of game development that are growing these days.  Games are being established as a significant art form where ideas and emotions can be expressed.  At the same time, they are being established as competitive sports with corporate backing and known players.  Also, major publishers find they are losing ground to small teams of independent developers, as in the case of Korea’s newly found love for League of Legends over Starcraft.

While I might not understand why people enjoy online, competitive gaming or why people enjoy following competitive gaming as entertainment, I certainly respect its right to exist.  I will continue to shake my head and wonder as stadiums become increasingly packed with fans for these sports, but at least they help show the numerous ways games can be experienced and allow us to experience the world.  That said, I still won’t be playing Fat Princess any time soon.








Aaron Mingus is author of  Museum of bad ideas and an all around ok person. (that last bit depends on who you speak to.)