Warcraft's Launch Day
September 3, 1994. The world would forever remember the first weekend of September as the release date of Warcraft. While the day would only hold special meaning for those interested in games, the sheer number of people who would eventually enjoy Blizzard's titles would reach the hundreds of millions, making it a date of genuine significance.
Interestingly, the developers themselves had not anticipated such massive success. Instead, they were gripped by deep anxiety. "What if it flops?" President Mike Morhaime muttered as he stared at the towering stacks of Warcraft: Humans and Orcs boxes.
"Exactly. Our warehouse is already full—there's no space left for more packages," co-president Alan Adham replied, half-joking, half-serious. The two men stood inside the game section of Best Buy, a massive shopping center in Silicon Valley. The entire section had been transformed through a special contract with ID Entertainment, its walls and displays completely covered in Warcraft banners and advertisements. It looked as though Best Buy sold nothing but Warcraft.
This wasn't limited to the Silicon Valley store. The same setup had been arranged across the United States. All of it cost money. ID Entertainment had paid Best Buy for advertising space and exclusive floor dominance for a full week. Even though the contract was relatively inexpensive as a first-time arrangement, it still represented a significant investment.
The advertising spend didn't stop there. Warcraft was launching simultaneously worldwide. Every developed nation with high computer penetration—North America, Asia, Europe—would receive the game on September 3. Some countries received full voice dubs in their native languages, while smaller markets received subtitles. More money.
Finally, there were the television commercials that had been running for the past month. Fifteen- or thirty-second spots combining the opening cinematic, cutscenes, and in-game footage. The quality was exceptional—thanks to the cloud computing system that surpassed even supercomputers in rendering power—and could stand alongside any professional production. Creating those videos, then using them for both the game and advertising, had cost yet more money.
"The marketing budget feels bigger than the development cost."
"It does. We knew Chairman Yoo had deep pockets, but seeing it in action is something else."
Though the two men shook their heads at the marketing expenditure, their voices carried a note of relief. After all, they had received a contract stating that ID Entertainment would cover the entire marketing budget. Normally, marketing costs would be shared during settlement, but this time ID Entertainment had shouldered everything alone. The financial burden had lessened, yet the psychological pressure remained immense. Yoo Jae-won's massive expectations for Warcraft's success were clearly visible in the flood of advertisements and events.
Morhaime and Adham's fundamental anxiety stemmed from exactly that. Never before in Blizzard's history had they spent this much on marketing. When they had released games under the name Silicon & Synapse, advertising had been limited to game magazines. This was their first global launch backed by such enormous marketing investment. Even knowing the parent company would cover the costs, the fear that their game might not sell well loomed large.
"Ten minutes until opening," an employee informed them.
"Understood." Both men nodded and naturally turned their gazes toward the store entrance, only to feel their spirits sink. In Japan, lines would already be forming at dawn. Major game or product launches typically drew long queues. Yet outside, only a few dozen people stood waiting. Even accounting for the awkward morning hour, the number was far below expectations, and their anxiety grew.
"Blizzard's two co-presidents are currently at the Silicon Valley Best Buy," Kim Dae-seok reported.
"Really? They're going through unnecessary trouble," Yoo Jae-won replied with a nod. Since hardcore Blizzard fans hadn't yet formed in large numbers, gamers weren't lining up the way they did for major Japanese titles. Still, Yoo Jae-won wasn't particularly worried about sales. A game's true value lay in its fun, not its recognition. High-recognition sequels naturally drew crowds on launch day, but if the game itself was terrible, gamers would immediately recognize it. No amount of fan loyalty could force people to play something unenjoyable.
Conversely, even with low recognition, strong gameplay would eventually draw players in. Warcraft's quality had already been proven. It featured an attractive world, solid technical execution from Blizzard, and Yoo Jae-won's invaluable advice had elevated its completion far beyond the original. For these reasons, he was confident of success—and that confidence allowed him to place bold bets. He had allocated tens of millions of dollars to global marketing, enabling a total advertising blitz from television to magazines. It was the surest way to compensate for Warcraft's single weakness: brand recognition.
Even after a month of advertising, however, they hadn't managed to create the long lines typical of Japanese game launches. No matter how much was spent on ads, gamers' hearts weren't easily moved. Yet the recognition built through advertising would create powerful synergy once word spread that the game was genuinely fun. That process simply took time. Checking stores to count arriving gamers was therefore inefficient. There was a far more reliable and convenient method.
"It would be simple if we just opened the Battle.net monitoring program," Yoo Jae-won remarked. The most accurate way to gauge how many gamers had purchased Warcraft was to log into the Battle.net administrator panel. Internet connectivity was essential for multiplayer. After connecting, players had to link the key included in their package to their Battle.net account. All such activity was monitored in real time and displayed as clean graphs.
"The co-presidents probably couldn't bring themselves to do that," Kim Dae-seok said. Yoo Jae-won nodded. It made sense. The day their creation first saw the light of the world, staring at a computer screen would have felt strange.
"Understood. Today is fine. But the truly important thing is providing stable multiplayer service, so starting tomorrow, have at least one of them come in."
"Yes, Chairman."
Kim Dae-seok acknowledged the order. The mainstream of 21st-century gaming would be online. Simultaneous user counts would become a key marketing metric, and it would become common to proudly announce that servers had crashed on launch day due to overwhelming demand. Even when developers anticipated crowds, far more players would arrive than expected. In the early days of online gaming this might have been understandable, but later it became impossible. In extreme cases, companies would deliberately reduce per-server capacity on day one to create the illusion of a crash.
Battle.net had naturally been built using ID Cloud Service. It wasn't provided for free—ID Entertainment had charged a fair usage fee. However, Battle.net wouldn't belong solely to Blizzard. All multiplayer features for games released under ID Entertainment would eventually be integrated through Battle.net. Since the maintenance costs would be shared among the developers, the burden remained manageable.
Because Battle.net ran on ID Cloud Service, no amount of players could cause a server crash. When contracted capacity was reached, a queue would simply form. That moment presented a choice: temporarily add more servers to reduce wait times, or assume the popularity was overheated and avoid wasting money on extra servers until the excitement cooled. There was no single correct answer. Adding servers could lead to immediate losses if the bubble burst, while failing to respond to genuine growth could disappoint gamers.
Proper operation at such crossroads required experience. Considering all these factors, developers operating Battle.net from 1994 onward were truly blessed. Accumulating large-scale multiplayer expertise from this point forward would transform them into complete professionals by the 21st century.
Ding!
An alarm pulled Yoo Jae-won from his thoughts.
"Wow, already over a thousand people."
The Battle.net monitoring program on his computer had triggered the alert. Less than an hour had passed since the official launch, yet simultaneous users had already exceeded one thousand.
"There are quite a few impatient people. Over two hundred matches have already started."
Many players who logged in had immediately jumped into multiplayer. Yoo Jae-won felt a twinge of regret. He had invested considerable money and manpower into the opening cinematic and had hoped many would watch it. The same applied to single-player. The carefully crafted single-player campaign exceeded fifty hours. Each faction—Humans and Orcs—had fifteen stages, with the final stage using a shared map whose events changed depending on the player's faction. Early stages were easy, but difficulty increased steadily. Maps grew larger, and completion times rose exponentially. Units had to be used evenly, and control skill was required. There were even light puzzle elements that had prevented even Yoo Jae-won from clearing everything on the first try. No matter how quickly one played, roughly fifty hours were needed to see both factions' endings.
Completing the single-player campaign naturally improved one's understanding of the game and eased the transition into multiplayer. Skipping it to rush straight into multiplayer meant discarding more than half the content one had paid for.
"Ah, the demo version has been out for a while now."
The players already in multiplayer had likely learned the controls through the demo. Some had entered out of curiosity or by mistake.
"Then there should be some skilled players among them."
The early demo and today's official release had one major difference: the hero system. It hadn't existed in the demo and was being introduced with the full version. Heroes weren't recruited separately. Major characters from Warcraft appeared as units from the start, while regular units could become heroes after accumulating enough experience. Experience was gained through combat, and surviving multiple battles past a certain threshold would transform a unit into a hero. Hero units received unique names, altered appearances, and stat bonuses to attack power and movement speed. These bonuses carried over to subsequent stages, making heroes increasingly important in the mid-to-late campaign. In multiplayer, heroes wouldn't dominate as they did in single-player, but managing high-experience units effectively would separate top-ranked players from the rest.
Even so, the system wasn't tuned so heavily toward heroes that casual gamers would struggle to enter. Even max-level heroes could be overwhelmed and killed if surrounded.
"Should I give it a try?"
Yoo Jae-won launched Warcraft and connected to Battle.net. During development he had dominated the ladder, but the official release had completely reset both ranks and Battle.net itself. He needed to create an entirely new account.
"I already have an ID in mind."
On the registration screen, Yoo Jae-won typed ID*ONE without hesitation. It meant the number one person of ID Group. After creating the Battle.net ID, he immediately clicked the ranked match button. A message appeared stating that placement matches would be conducted first.
— This is a ranked match.
— First time connecting.
— To find competitors of similar skill, your ability must be assessed through placement matches.
In the original Warcraft, only win rates were displayed without separate ranks. At Yoo Jae-won's suggestion, a Bronze-to-Platinum ranking system had been implemented. The lowest rank was Bronze, and the highest was Platinum. One human trait was the desire to rank things. Rankings implied fierce competition. While some might dislike competition, games were different. Players would play more matches to climb ranks, which would drive engagement and success. That was why a more granular ranking system had been created.
Yoo Jae-won played five matches in succession.
— ID*ONE, your rank is Platinum.
An appropriate rank for overwhelming skill.
— Ranked matches will now begin.
After reaching the high rank, he played three more games before stopping. As expected from a game that had just launched, no players yet demonstrated proper unit control. The third match finally matched him against someone who had played the demo version. Their composition was decent and their control was reasonable, but they surrendered before Yoo Jae-won's dazzling unit management and hero utilization. The official version played very differently from the demo, leaving the opponent helpless.
"Hmm. It will probably take gamers a month to get used to Warcraft."
Clearing the single-player campaign and mastering multiplayer strategy would likely require about a month. Yet that presented a problem. In one month, Return to Castle Wolfenstein would release. Shortly after that, Quake would follow. ID Entertainment's barrage of new titles would begin, overwhelming gamers. Whether Warcraft could survive such intense internal competition, even Yoo Jae-won couldn't guarantee.