Ultima Online Takes Shape

Although he had finished the Ultima Online announcement, Yoo Jae-won did not return immediately to his home in San Francisco. His remaining business schedule was still packed. That did not mean he left ID Software right ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠away either. He stayed to share a late lunch with the company's key executives who had been waiting for his presentation, and they talked at length. The conversation began with the recent political issue of abusing, but it inevitably turned to games. There was plenty to discuss on that front. Yoo Jae-won had many stories he had not been able to include in his prepared remarks, and the founding members of ID Software, including John Carmack and John Romero, had plenty they wanted to say and ask him. The discussion could easily have drifted into idle chatter, yet it proved far more productive than expected. In particular, the two proposals he received toward the end exceeded even his expectations.

“A professional tournament?”

“Yes. If you approve, I was thinking of offering the Ferrari I drive as a prize. That would be all right, wouldn’t it?”

John Carmack made a surprising suggestion: a Quake pro tournament. He proposed holding North American qualifiers three months after Quake’s release, then staging a professional event with the thirty-two selected players and thirty-two teams in both individual and team formats. When Yoo Jae-won had announced New Egg 2, they had run a small tournament using Doom 2. A young player using the nickname Fatality had caused an upset and taken first place. Since then, Fatality had consistently ranked near the top in Doom 2 and dominated local PC-bang ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and small-scale tournaments. The memory had clearly left a strong impression on John Carmack, and it had grown into the idea of hosting a large-scale professional event.

“Of course!” Yoo Jae-won welcomed the idea wholeheartedly. Whether a pro league would take root in the FPS genre remained uncertain. The genre was fun to play but difficult for spectators to become emotionally invested in. FPS titles in particular featured players with monstrous physical skill, and watching from a first-person perspective could be dizzying as the viewpoint swung wildly. The tournament at the New Egg event had drawn crowds because it was novel, and Doom 2’s heavier visual style had helped, but Quake was different. Still, the idea was groundbreaking and marked the first step toward creating the new field of e-sports, so it was well worth attempting.

Incidentally, the reason John Carmack sought Yoo Jae-won’s permission to offer the Ferrari as a prize was because Yoo Jae-won had given it to him in the first place. After Wolfenstein, the gift had been a BMW; once Doom 2 became a worldwide sensation, it had been upgraded to a Ferrari. The F40 was the legendary model released to commemorate Ferrari’s fortieth anniversary and the final work of founder Enzo Ferrari. While most cars depreciated sharply with age, the F40’s value only soared over time. Combined with the fact that it had been a gift from Yoo Jae-won, its worth would become almost impossible to measure if held and later sold. Nevertheless, both Yoo Jae-won and John Carmack belonged to the type who loved games more than cars. For the sake of the tournament’s success, they were willing to put up not only the gifted Ferrari but also a hundred thousand dollars in prize money.

“Excuse me, I just had a good idea as well.”

Adrian, who had been listening to Yoo Jae-won and John Carmack, spoke up. Although Adrian was also a founding member of ID Software, he was not the sort who enjoyed being in the spotlight like John Carmack or John Romero, so he had received relatively little industry attention. Yet his creature designs were first-rate, and he was an idea tank who regularly produced unique concepts. Most importantly, his accommodating personality made him indispensable to ID Software.

“What if we released a special collector’s edition package alongside the regular one?”

“Oh! That’s an excellent idea.”

Yoo Jae-won brightened at Adrian’s suggestion. While providing feedback on Return to Castle Wolfenstein earlier that day, he had offered numerous ideas regarding music, sound effects, event scenes, and video enhancements. Even so, something had felt missing, and that missing piece was precisely the collector’s edition. It was a package aimed at collectors, distinguished by a volume far beyond the standard edition. Unlike the basic package that contained only the game CD and manual, the collector’s edition would include a concept art book, an OST CD, maps, replica items, and finely crafted figures—items designed to captivate dedicated fans. Though larger and more expensive, such packages sold out instantly when aimed at an established enthusiast base. ID Group had never released a collector’s package before; there had simply been no time to consider it. Now, however, ID Software had cultivated a passionate fanbase, and with the distribution network acquired from Microsoft, a collector’s edition was certain to succeed. Yoo Jae-won decided to release collector’s editions for both Return to Wolfenstein and Quake, bringing his business trip to ID Software to a satisfying close.

“Next is Origin Systems.”

Kim Dae-seok informed Yoo Jae-won of the next schedule as he boarded the car amid the ID Software employees’ send-off. Origin Systems was a game developer recently acquired by ID Entertainment. Because it was also located in Texas, it was a natural next stop. The precise location was Austin, the state capital, roughly two hundred kilometers south of Dallas.

“Then let’s head there right away.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll take you to the airport.”

The prepared transportation was a private jet. Given the distance, the total travel time by car or plane was similar. The plane was far faster in flight, but the time spent at the airport made the overall duration comparable. Still, flying was far more comfortable than sitting in a small car for hours. The short distance and good weather meant they arrived in Austin in no time. There, Yoo Jae-won met another living legend, Richard Garriott.

“Chairman Yoo Jae-won, welcome!”

The young Richard Garriott greeted Yoo Jae-won enthusiastically at the entrance of Origin Systems. Though they were meeting for the first time, he looked as delighted as if they had been friends for ten years. That was only natural; Yoo Jae-won was the benefactor who had saved Origin Systems from near dissolution. Even a complete stranger would have been welcome.

Origin Systems had enjoyed its golden age in the eighties with the Ultima series and in the nineties with the Wing Commander series, but successive failures of Ultima 8 and Wing Commander 3, both backed by massive investments, had left the company in peril. With no buyers in sight and recovery seeming impossible, Yoo Jae-won had appeared like a white knight. That was not all. After being incorporated into ID Entertainment, the company had received not only funding but systematic support, making it far more stable. Reliable salaries were paid, and the development environment had improved dramatically. Every employee received a New Egg 2 system, and cloud computers could be used as rendering machines when needed, further enhancing the workspace. With all non-development concerns eliminated, Richard Garriott was leading new projects with renewed vigor. This particular project was something he had only ever imagined, now being realized with large-scale capital and cutting-edge technology, so he was enjoying the work more than ever. When he heard Yoo Jae-won was visiting, it was only natural that he rushed out to greet him.

“Richard, it’s good to see you.”

Yoo Jae-won’s expression was equally pleased as he shook Richard’s hand. Seeing a living legend in person was always entertaining. Still, there was a slight disconnect between the image in his memory and the man before him. In Yoo Jae-won’s recollection, Richard had been a slender man with white hair and a prominent forehead. The man standing before him now had thick blond hair that was still full. The beard remained unchanged, though it was neatly trimmed rather than unkempt, suggesting daily care. His attire was the most stylish among any developer Yoo Jae-won had met so far. He wore a washed denim jacket with a chrome necklace, projecting a refined image. He was clearly a different style of man from Yoo Jae-won, who favored the most conventional business suits. Yet the intense memory of the “space freeloader” label made it difficult to reconcile the current Richard with that image.

Ultima was a distinctly Western-style RPG, so Yoo Jae-won had never played it. He had first heard Richard Garriott’s name in the early 2000s when he was scouted by NG Soft. Kim Taek-jun, who had resigned to create his own game, had founded NG Soft. Richard had gained notoriety there because the debut MMORPG he was developing after being scouted had failed spectacularly without living up to its name. Worse, even though the project collapsed, Richard had exercised the stock options he received upon signing the contract and earned over ten billion won, which he then used to go on a space trip, drawing heavy criticism. The nickname “space freeloader” had emerged at that time. People said he had become an astronaut instead of making games. The controversy had spread beyond Korea to communities in the United ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠States and other countries. Even Yoo Jae-won, who had little interest in Ultima, had encountered Richard Garriott’s name and image then. Later, however, another fact came to light. After joining NG Soft, Richard Garriott had thrown himself into game development with genuine enthusiasm, only to face constant interference from NG Soft itself. The clash stemmed from differing philosophies: NG Soft prioritized profitability, while Richard Garriott prioritized originality and gameplay. The tension had escalated to the point where he was ostracized and ignored. Moreover, Richard’s interest in space travel was natural; his father had been a NASA astronaut. Growing up watching an astronaut father, it was only to be expected that he would develop an interest in space. Yoo Jae-won hoped that now, with Origin Systems and Richard Garriott under ID Entertainment, things would proceed differently from before.

Richard introduced Yoo Jae-won to Origin Systems’ core developers who were standing nearby: Paul Isaac, Aaron Martin, Mike McShaffry, Warren Spector, and others. One after another, people who had left significant marks on gaming history appeared.

“Would you like a tour of the company? Thanks to you, the development environment has changed dramatically.”

At Richard’s suggestion, Yoo Jae-won waved both hands in refusal.

“No need for that. What I want to see most is right here. I tend to lose patience quickly when it comes to games.”

“Haha, I see. We were also very curious about your reaction. Shall we go, then?”

At Yoo Jae-won’s request, Richard Garriott led the way with a confident expression. Yoo Jae-won followed closely behind, his expectations high. Richard guided him to his own office. The office differed from those of other developers. Display cases lined two walls: one held awards Origin Systems had won along with character figures from their games, while the other was packed with books on game development. Many volumes looked well-worn and frequently handled rather than merely decorative, and there were also plenty of new-looking books that had recently been added to the shelves. Among them, titles such as Mastering Glide X3 and Android Operating System Programming Guide caught the eye. Though new, they showed clear signs of heavy use. Richard Garriott had already reached a considerable level in programming as well. Now serving as creative director responsible for all aspects of game development, he no longer needed to code directly. Yet the fact that he continued studying diligently confirmed he was an extraordinary individual.

“Please, have a seat here.”

Richard offered his own chair to Yoo Jae-won without hesitation. Whether the desk had been tidied in anticipation of the visit or whether Richard was naturally neat, the workspace was immaculate. In addition, the metal accessories on the desk had been tastefully arranged to complement the New Egg 2, making the setup visually pleasing. The computer powered on, and the Android OS desktop welcomed Yoo Jae-won. The desktop itself reflected Richard Garriott’s preferences: only essential icons were visible, with everything else hidden.

“Version 3.0. Beta 4, at that?”

Yoo Jae-won identified the Android OS version from the desktop alone.

“How did you know?”

There was no “beta” label on the desktop, so Richard looked surprised. Yoo Jae-won was not communicating directly with the computer, however.

“Look at the ‘My Computer’ icon. There’s a 4 inside the monitor graphic. That indicates beta 4. If you hold Shift and click the 4, the version appears immediately.”

Yoo Jae-won demonstrated. A small message box popped up displaying the Android version and registered user name. Richard, who had been studying the Android OS for game optimization, nodded in understanding. He had been studying the operating system more deeply than Yoo Jae-won had expected. The reason was simple: the most critical factor behind the catastrophic failures of Wing Commander 3 and Ultima 8 had been optimization issues. The games had been so demanding that even high-end computers struggled to run them. While such titles were now easily handled by HPCs, at the time Pentium-class machines were only beginning to spread and 486 processors were still the standard. Gamers who had purchased the games expecting great things based on Richard’s reputation had been stunned by the outrageous hardware requirements. There was no one more foolish than someone who failed to learn from mistakes, and Richard was not that type. That was why he was diligently analyzing the Android OS and generating optimization ideas, yet he had not even known the basic version check method, which had surprised him slightly.

“You can run this.”

Having confirmed it was a playful Easter egg, Richard selected one of the few icons on the desktop. The icon was a Gothic-style letter U with the short title “UO” beneath it. Yoo Jae-won double-clicked without hesitation. The hard drive made a rough grinding sound as it read, and after a few seconds the simple desktop turned black. Soon, majestic music played and the Origin Systems logo appeared. Once the company logo faded, a beautiful classical melody accompanied the title logo: Ultima Online.

“Whoa.”

Using the ID “InfinityDreamer,” Yoo Jae-won let out several exclamations of surprise during the first thirty minutes of play. The primary reason he had boldly acquired Origin Systems was Richard Garriott’s masterpiece, Ultima Online. Yet this game had originally been scheduled for a 1997 release. At the time of the acquisition, there had been no concept of developing an online RPG at all. Therefore, Yoo Jae-won had personally proposed that Richard create a large-scale online game. That had been around last autumn. Even if development had begun in earnest after the proposal, less than half a year had passed. Nevertheless, the features actually implemented in Ultima Online surpassed what Yoo Jae-won had imagined.

The game started strong. From the moment he entered the world of Ultima Online called a shard, the results exceeded expectations. Avatar creation was the first highlight. There were countless ways to customize an avatar with various outfits, weapons, and armor. Normally players entered with only basic equipment, but because this was a developer build, every piece of equipment and clothing available in the game could be equipped from the start. The graphics were crude 2D, yet the visual difference was immediately apparent whenever an item was equipped. Once in the game world, the quality was likewise impressive. Basic melee combat, ranged attacks with bows, and magic attacks were all well implemented. Not only open hunting grounds but also dungeons featuring stronger monsters were properly realized. The impact feedback and sound still needed work, but considering the game was still in active development, the overall level was remarkably high.

“We reused resources from Ultima 8.”

Richard’s explanation carried a hint of embarrassment. When he had first heard Yoo Jae-won describe a large-scale online RPG, he had immediately recognized the potential. The world of Ultima, created at Richard Garriott’s fingertips, had moved countless gamers through multiple successful sequels. There were already many players familiar with the Ultima universe. If all of them could connect to a single system and play simultaneously according to their own rules, enjoyment was virtually guaranteed. Richard Garriott had quickly understood that his role was to create a world players already knew and to build a network system that allowed them to assume diverse roles. Thanks to that realization, the work had proven easier than expected. ID Technology had provided the server and client technology for multi-user networking, and stable cloud servers were available. Moreover, even though Ultima 8 had failed, the development process had left behind a wealth of resources. Combining those assets allowed rapid production with excellent quality. The only drawback was that the game was being made in 2D at a time when 3D titles dominated the market. Still, the graphics were familiar to Ultima fans, so the reaction was not negative. In fact, it was far better than merely not negative. On the Nextcom gamer boards and the Ultima section of 2CH.com, news that Origin Systems was developing a next-generation online game had spread, and anticipation was enormous. Satisfying gamers’ expectations was difficult, but the current state suggested it was entirely possible. Even Yoo Jae-won, who had experienced twenty-first-century online games, found himself nodding in approval despite the game being only in early development, not even at alpha stage.

The simultaneous connection feature, the most critical aspect of online games, was also quite solid. Even with around thirty players gathered on screen, the frame rate did not drop below twenty. Although the initial smooth feel diminished somewhat, gameplay remained unaffected. Kim Taek-jun might create an outstanding online game, but it was unlikely to surpass Ultima Online in either completeness or perspective.

That day, Yoo Jae-won played Ultima Online late into the night. Richard and the other development staff all logged in as well, trying everything the game had to offer. Ultima Online’s greatest weakness was the absence of a main scenario; conversely, its greatest strength was its infinite freedom. Through that freedom they played every conceivable game that could be shared among people following the same rules—mafia games, tag, beggar-and-prince scenarios, and more. The highlight was the GM raid. Richard served as GM while Yoo Jae-won led the raid party. The result was Yoo Jae-won’s defeat. Even as GM, there was no invincibility in Ultima Online, but the character possessed powerful automatic health regeneration and overpowered attack skills. The regeneration was a passive ability that activated automatically. Therefore, it was impossible for ordinary players to defeat a GM through normal means. Instead, they had pushed the GM to the limit using bug-exploiting tactics that arose from network system constraints. When the passive regeneration skill activated, the command was sent to the server and health recovered, but in situations where network bandwidth was heavily loaded, lag occurred and regeneration did not happen instantly. Yoo Jae-won had waited for the right timing, then, together with the damage dealers, poured an enormous amount of damage into the opening. Richard Garriott’s GM character’s health bar had dropped to the bottom. A little more damage would have brought it to zero, but at the last moment the lag cleared and Richard seized victory.

Despite the 2D graphics and minimal special effects, the players alone had created immensely enjoyable gameplay. Afterward, Yoo Jae-won provided feedback that would serve as valuable nourishment for the Origin Systems staff, along with generous cash gifts, before moving on to his next schedule.

The following day, Yoo Jae-won’s private jet turned westward. The destination was Silicon & Synapse in Irvine, California. It was the developer behind Warcraft, the beta version he had received that had impressed him the most. While not requiring the same level of detailed feedback as ID Software or Origin Systems, he still needed to visit in person to assess Silicon & Synapse’s development environment and discuss several matters with the management. Before boarding the plane, Yoo Jae-won loaded his Shell Book with a large amount of work. Handling tasks offline after first organizing everything had become a familiar routine for him. Executives waiting for approvals had also grown accustomed to the method; some even submitted their most important reports precisely when they knew Yoo Jae-won would be flying. Ellen, head of ID Group’s legal team, and Levin Willis, head of the information team, were among them.

“Hmm? We won.”

The report from Ellen concerned the first-instance ruling in a class-action lawsuit filed against ID Group. The sudden victory had puzzled him at first, but reading the details brought the memory back. Numerous game developers had sued Nextcomcast, claiming its broadband internet service facilitated and tolerated illegal file sharing. The lead plaintiff in the class action was Electronic Arts, and the damages sought had been astronomical. Yoo Jae-won had considered the lawsuit absurd and had delegated everything to Ellen, paying it no further attention. Common sense had prevailed after all. Although the ruling was not yet final, it was unlikely to be overturned even if it reached the Supreme Court.

“What’s this?”

The report from Levin, the information team leader, differed from previous ones. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠information team’s usual role was to gather information Yoo Jae-won requested. This time, however, they had proactively obtained and sent information about a competitor.