The Research Alliance
Even if it was a full-page newspaper ad for Android 95, a television commercial was not something that could be prepared overnight. Unlike print ads, which were finished once the photos and copy were ready, television required video footage. Moreover, any video broadcast on television had to pass review, so it was impossible to simply throw an ad on air at a moment’s notice. In short, this commercial had been carefully planned and prepared in advance.
“The ad turned out well.”
The Warcraft commercial had been assembled by editing the game’s opening sequence, key highlights, and in-game footage. Yoo Jae-won had personally selected the voice actor, aiming for the most polished impression possible. The video mixed CG footage with actual gameplay screens, carefully managing player expectations. From his own memories, he knew how many people had been disappointed after seeing ads that showed only cinematic trailers with no gameplay, only to find the in-game visuals completely different. He refused to mislead viewers even if it meant the ad’s impact was slightly reduced. After all, they would discover the truth soon enough.
More importantly, the advertisement carried a clear message: Warcraft would receive an official Korean release. All game development studios under Yoo Jae-won’s ownership had been placed under ID Entertainment, and distribution would be handled through Android’s own network. He had originally considered using existing distributors due to inventory management concerns, but Electronic Arts and Activision had filed copyright lawsuits first, forcing him into independent distribution. In the past, those companies had sometimes released titles officially in Korea and sometimes not, depending on circumstances. Now that ID Entertainment was going its own way, every game it released would be localized in Korean and launched officially. Warcraft, whose release was imminent, would be the first, followed by Quake, Return to Castle Wolfenstein, and others.
“They criticize games so harshly, yet they happily accept the advertising money.”
The broadcasting stations’ attitude toward game commercials was amusing. They had forgotten how fiercely they denounced games in their news segments and eagerly accepted the ad requests. Yoo Jae-won was tempted to point out the contradiction between news and advertising, but the newsroom and the advertising sales department were separate entities with different interests. He decided to make use of that separation. If game commercials flooded the airwaves right before and after news segments that attacked games without proper verification, the effect of those reports would inevitably diminish.
Furthermore, the advertising campaign would not end with Warcraft alone. ID Entertainment planned to saturate the airwaves with commercials timed to each new release. Media outlets that were extremely sensitive to their advertisers’ opinions would at least tread carefully while the ads were running. Still, simply running commercials would not completely stop the tendency to blame games whenever trouble arose. New titles did not launch every month, and using advertising to suppress negative coverage was not an ideal solution anyway.
What Yoo Jae-won truly wanted was to eliminate the problem at its root, and he had already prepared a plan. Tomorrow’s schedule would put that plan into action. Remarkably, the idea had not come from him alone; it had been developed together with the company’s executives.
The next day, a sizable event was held at Seoul National University with Yoo Jae-won in attendance.
— Seoul National University College of Medicine and ID Entertainment Research Collaboration Signing Ceremony.
The long banner hanging in the center of the venue summarized the occasion in a single line. Though the title sounded grand, the event was essentially a research grant presentation. More precisely, the funding was not for the entire medical school but was limited to the Department of Psychiatry.
“Next, we will hear a commemorative address from Chairman Yoo Jae-won.”
At the host’s introduction, Yoo Jae-won stepped onto the central podium. Faculty and students from the Department of Psychiatry applauded, while photographers scattered among the audience flashed their cameras repeatedly. The barrage of flashes was blinding, yet he did not so much as blink. He knew that any sign of discomfort could later be used against him, so he blocked the possibility at the source. After smiling for a few seconds and scanning the photographers, he adjusted the microphone and moved straight to the point.
“The main reason I returned to Korea this time was the news that games were being blamed for a horrific parricidal crime. However, after arriving and looking into the matter, I was deeply disappointed to learn that the claim was not the result of any proper investigation. It was reported solely because a game was found on the perpetrator’s computer.”
Although some of the journalists present had written articles claiming games were the problem, none of them flinched at his words. After all, obtaining a correction or apology from the press for inaccurate reporting had always been extremely difficult. Moreover, this particular story had been driven not by newspaper reporters but by the more arrogant broadcast news departments, so their stance was unlikely to change easily.
“It was also shocking to discover that Korea has conducted none of the studies on the correlation between games and criminal tendencies or on game addiction prevention that have long been underway in advanced countries such as the United States and Europe.”
Yoo Jae-won had seen countless articles labeling games as a social evil even in the 21st century, so he was not genuinely shocked. Still, he was willing to exaggerate for the sake of the event.
“Through this research collaboration with Seoul National University College of Medicine, which possesses the greatest authority and research capability in Korea, I hope that proper studies on games and methods for treating game addiction will finally begin. I also hope the relationship between game addiction and criminality—the central issue in the recent reports—will be clarified, and that public opinion will no longer ignore the real causes of problems while simply attacking the easy target of games.”
He stated his intentions plainly. Anything less direct would have produced equally vague articles, so he made the purpose of the agreement with Seoul National University explicit.
“The game industry has enormous growth potential. It is an ideal business for a country like ours, which lacks natural resources but possesses abundant human capital. I am not merely expressing a wish—I am proving it myself. It seems many people have forgotten that ID Group began with the game Keyboard Warrior. That is rather regrettable.”
Once again, he reminded everyone that his success story was rooted in games.
“I can say with certainty that before the 21st century arrives, the global game market will surpass the film market, and games will become Korea’s largest cultural export. I hope we will stop cutting down this pillar that could elevate our economy and culture before it even has a chance to grow, based on groundless assumptions.”
After Yoo Jae-won finished his brief remarks, the head of the Department of Psychiatry at Seoul National University Hospital took the stage. He expressed regret over the weak support for psychiatry in Korean society and the tendency to avoid discussing mental health issues. He added that the recent parricide case could serve as an opportunity to properly study mental health problems and that he hoped meaningful research would prevent such tragedies from recurring.
Once both speeches concluded, Yoo Jae-won and the department head exchanged the signed agreement. Its contents were straightforward: psychiatry professors would conduct research on the correlation between games and criminal tendencies, and ID Group would sponsor the work. For this purpose, Yoo Jae-won had contributed a research fund of ten billion won. The agreement also stipulated that the scale of funding could be increased or reduced depending on the results.
The signing, with both the Seoul National University and ID Group logos prominently displayed on the hardcover document, was captured in another round of photographs. The images would feature prominently on the nine o’clock news, so Yoo Jae-won maintained a carefully controlled expression.
On the way back after the event.
“I’m not sure this will work,” Choi Kang-wook said cautiously once Yoo Jae-won was seated.
The first person to suggest sponsoring research at Seoul National University, the leading institution in Korean psychiatry, had been Im Eun-kyung, the head of the audit team. The number of people whose misconduct or corruption had been exposed and eliminated by her already exceeded twenty. Her reputation as the Grim Reaper was well earned, and she was famous for offering precise analyses of any given issue.
“It will work,” Yoo Jae-won replied with certainty.
According to Im Eun-kyung’s analysis, most articles that blamed games ended by citing academic authority. Since Korea had conducted almost no proper research on the negative effects of games, reporters had nothing local to reference. Searching foreign papers was hindered by language barriers and time constraints. Therefore, the usual method was to make a quick phone call to a Korean psychiatrist. Yoo Jae-won had found the explanation convincing; the same pattern had persisted even in 21st-century game-related articles. The two main groups pushing for game regulations had been the Ministry of Gender Equality and Family and certain psychiatrists. Im Eun-kyung’s idea was to bring those experts under ID Group’s influence. If psychiatrists’ casual remarks shaped public opinion, placing them within the group’s sphere of influence would allow automatic management of the narrative. Yoo Jae-won had agreed strongly with her proposal—so strongly that he had added an extra zero to the research fund she had originally suggested. That amount would have funded a major joint semiconductor research project. Yet preventing obstacles to the future growth of the game industry made the investment worthwhile.
“Will we also guide the direction of their research papers?”
“No, that won’t be necessary.”
Yoo Jae-won shook his head at Choi Kang-wook’s question. He had no intention of dictating conclusions in advance. The professors were not vending machines that produced desired papers at the push of a button. He simply wanted them to refrain from tailoring their answers to prevailing public opinion and to conduct proper research on games. If expert consensus stated that games were not the problem, it would become far more difficult to portray them as the root of all evil.
A few days later, mid-July arrived.
“Ugh, it’s hot.”
The moment Yoo Jae-won stepped out of the broadcasting station, the complaint escaped his lips. The studio, with its powerful air conditioning, had been stuffy from poor ventilation but not hot. Today, the station had apparently turned the cooling up higher than usual because of his visit, making the contrast outside even more noticeable. The humid, sweltering air hit him at once, and sweat began to trickle down his back.
“I’ll bring the car around. The air conditioning has been running, so it should be comfortable.”
Kim Dae-seok, who had been waiting in the lobby, spoke, and Yoo Jae-won nodded before heading toward the vehicle. He had just finished recording the late-night debate program. The episode would not air this week, however. In true Dynamic Korea fashion, the biggest controversy of the week involved protests by pro-North activists who had been barred from the condolence delegation, pushing the broadcast back another week. Still, completing the recording left him with no regrets. What pleased him most was that this sticky heat would soon be over. Having grown accustomed to the pleasant climate of San Francisco, even the early stages of Korea’s summer were difficult to endure.
With most of his schedule in Korea completed, departure was only days away. Moreover, having said everything he wanted to say on the debate program left him feeling lighter despite the heat.
The recording had contained an interesting moment. The psychiatrist who appeared as the opposing panelist had behaved differently than expected. In the past, he would likely have said games might be related to crime. Whether due to the influence of the research fund or not, this time he had taken a step back, stating that proper research was needed. As a result, no one in the debate claimed there was no correlation between games and crime. Instead, the majority agreed with Yoo Jae-won’s position: no hasty conclusions should be drawn until solid research results were available. The producer had probably invited the psychiatrist expecting conflict, but with the expert siding with Yoo Jae-won, the debate had become rather dull. Even Yoo Jae-won found the lack of tension disappointing. Heated exchanges were necessary to capture public attention, yet that element had been missing. Still, he had expressed everything he wanted to say, so the purpose of his visit to Korea had been sufficiently achieved.
After walking a short distance, the parked car came into view. Yoo Jae-won climbed inside at once.
“Ah, that’s better.”
As Kim Dae-seok had promised, the air-conditioned interior instantly revived him.
“What’s left on the schedule?”
“Today’s schedule ends here. Tomorrow there is an opening event at the TG Mobile Gangnam flagship store.”
Yoo Jae-won was already familiar with the event. It was a ceremony to celebrate the opening of TG Mobile’s Gangnam flagship store, offering congratulations and gifts to the first official subscriber. TG Mobile already had numerous subscribers—hundreds of devices had been issued under the tester program alone. Still, this would be the first time ordinary citizens paid for and officially joined the service, so commemorating the occasion made sense. The prepared gift was the New Egg 2, which had been on the market for some time but remained popular. Although it was not the Pro version, a full set still cost well over three million won, so the recipient would surely be pleased.
“Also, while you were recording, President Kevin Johnson of Android called.”
“Kevin Johnson?”
At the mention of the name, Yoo Jae-won immediately checked his watch. The current time was 3:22 p.m. With a seventeen-hour time difference from Seattle, it was 10:22 p.m. there. A call at such a late hour was unusual.
“Then let’s contact him right now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Following Yoo Jae-won’s instruction, Kim Dae-seok immediately began dialing Kevin Johnson’s number on the Tiffany phone.