The Coupon Avalanche
Gabe Newell’s concern was perfectly reasonable. The $3 million budget allocated for Steam’s World Cup event was already an unprecedented, mammoth-scale expenditure. After all, the platform had only recently undergone a massive overhaul from ESD.com into Steam, expanding its reach, and while adding Xbox support had significantly boosted user numbers, the total still hadn’t crossed ten million. Even if every Xbox owner used Steam, surpassing that threshold would have been trivial, but only about one-third of Xbox buyers actually linked their accounts. As a result, Steam’s active accounts hovered around five million, and Gabe had estimated that roughly one in ten users—about five hundred thousand people—would redeem the World Cup coupon, budgeting six dollars per person.
Six dollars didn’t seem like much, but with so many games already on sale, the actual discount amounts were far larger. Game publishers had also thrown their weight behind the World Cup event, dramatically widening the discounts. After all, sales for a new title typically plummeted after three months and bottomed out by six. Anything after that was pure bonus revenue. Titles one or two years old could afford steep discounts because any sale was extra income. Yet as Gabe had pointed out, if the coupon applied to an entire cart rather than a single game, the math changed completely.
“People are buying in bulk, right?”
“Yes, sir! They’re snapping things up like it might disappear any second. New sign-ups are exploding too! At this rate, losses could triple or more. And every additional win by the Korea Team increases the discount by another ten percent—the losses are snowballing!”
Gabe sounded as though the building were on fire. Yoo Jae-won almost wondered if this was the same man he remembered. Of course, the Gabe in his memories was the one who had run massive discount events on Steam in his previous life, earning the nickname “Wallet Raider.”
“Hmm. That’s actually good news.”
“Pardon? Good news?”
“You said new sign-ups are exploding.”
“Well, yes, but…”
The ultimate outcome of the 9/11 cyber terrorism had been the China Lotto, but another phenomenon had gone largely unnoticed: a significant rise in legitimate software users afterward. The revelation that zombie PCs used in the attacks had been created through illegal cracks had sparked widespread alarm. People realized that running cracked software could turn their own machines into weapons, and many had switched to purchasing legitimate copies. Cracks hadn’t vanished entirely, of course, but the trend was encouraging. If Steam could imprint itself on users who wanted to buy legitimately, the games industry would be transformed. Modern packaged titles used increasingly sophisticated protection schemes that, ironically, made life harder for legitimate owners—requiring discs in the drive every time and complicated reinstall procedures. Steam, by contrast, let users simply double-click a title in their library to install and play, with automatic updates. Once someone tasted that convenience, there was no going back.
“You heard I hit the lotto this time, right?”
“Ah, yes! I saw it in the papers. Congratulations!”
The China Lotto had already become a global phenomenon. Even Gabe, who had become a contract executive after leaving full-time employment and now seemed permanently tethered to the Steam office, had heard the news. Yoo Jae-won’s own China Lotto win was equally well known. Although official rankings weren’t released, everyone understood he had placed quite high. Most people simply envied his double windfall, but sharper observers wondered whether the China Lotto had succeeded precisely because of Yoo Jae-won’s involvement. Gabe, for his part, was simply impressed.
“Let’s go big this time. Ten times the original budget, twenty times—whatever it takes.”
“Twenty times?”
“As long as we dramatically increase new registrations, I’ll be satisfied.”
Gabe’s sharp intake of breath came through the Android phone loud and clear.
“The Korea Team is going to keep winning. If they reach the final, that’s a seventy percent discount coupon. If they actually win the final, it becomes eighty percent.”
“Theoretically, yes, but…”
The frantic executive calmed slightly at the mention of a final victory. He had feared his coupon design would cause catastrophic losses, but Yoo Jae-won’s bold scale had turned the mistake into something forgivable. Besides, while the Korea Team had caused an upset in the group stage of the 2002 World Cup, the final was still a distant prospect.
“By the way, the Korea Team’s round-of-sixteen opponent is Italy, isn’t it?”
Gabe apparently followed football; he knew the next matchup. He also clearly believed it would be difficult for Korea to overcome Italy.
“Heh. We’ll see. In any case, increasing the budget twentyfold won’t be a problem, correct?”
“Of course not. Ah—should we launch a major marketing campaign?”
“Let’s wait until after the round of sixteen. Word-of-mouth marketing still seems far more effective for now.”
The phrase “I’m only telling you this” was cliché, yet it remained irresistibly tempting to those who heard it. Steam’s World Cup coupon worked the same way. This wasn’t the viral marketing that had once been controversial; it was genuine word-of-mouth born from a fortunate accident, and Steam’s user base was growing rapidly because of it. Even people who joined after hearing the rumors stood to lose nothing.
“Just make sure every new registrant falls completely in love with Steam and becomes a dedicated user.”
“Yes, sir! Chairman!”
Gabe’s reply brimmed with energy. He had a clear roadmap for Steam’s operations and Yoo Jae-won’s full backing; his confidence was soaring.
The next day, Yoo Jae-won and Tiffany boarded a plane once more, bound for Korea. The entourage that saw them off at the airport consisted of the secretaries who had managed Yoo Jae-won’s schedule in the United States—except for one conspicuously out-of-place figure.
“You don’t need to meet with the NBC executives?”
It was Ted Turner, Vice Chairman of Time Warner Nextcom.
“No. Please handle them for me, Ted.”
Yoo Jae-won addressed him as “Ted,” not “Vice Chairman.” Until yesterday, Ted Turner had been Time Warner Nextcom’s vice chairman; for the foreseeable future, he would be addressed as “sir.” Just the day before, Yoo Jae-won had appointed him president of NBC, whose acquisition had been finalized.
“Heh heh, leave it to me!”
Ted Turner clenched his fist, radiating vitality. These days he felt truly alive. Murdoch’s downfall was the greatest joy, but Time Warner Nextcom’s success was equally satisfying. Android’s soaring performance had multiplied his assets several times over while he sat still. Then there was ID Technology’s IPO. Naturally, Ted Turner had participated—through a block deal arranged directly with Yoo Jae-won rather than the public offering handled by HSBC. The offering had been limited to a select group of major capitalists and close associates. Ted Turner had purchased a full two percent stake, worth $3.2 billion at market value. Only someone with his level of liquidity could have paid that sum in cash. For him, acquiring NBC was yet another source of excitement. Negotiating with the NBC board had been enjoyable, but returning to active duty carried a special thrill. He would play the role of elite firefighter rescuing a faltering network—an assignment that couldn’t last forever. He had also been tasked with purging the incompetent executives who had driven NBC into crisis. It was a position where failure would bring heavy criticism and success would still invite complaints, yet Ted Turner didn’t care. If he could revive NBC and contribute to the group and to Yoo Jae-won, that would be enough.
“I’ll personally announce NBC’s new vision once the World Cup ends, so don’t worry about the direction.”
Since the most difficult part—setting the vision—had already been entrusted to the verified genius Yoo Jae-won, Ted Turner felt unstoppable. Even from the glimpse he had seen, the plan was clearly extraordinary. When it was revealed, every broadcaster would be stunned.
“Well then! Safe travels! I’ll be praying for the Korea Team’s success!”
“Thank you!”
With Ted Turner’s send-off, the couple boarded their private jet. It was time to return to the festival.
The Korean Peninsula was already deep in World Cup celebration. Everyone seemed to have gone mad. Alcohol and food sales had more than doubled compared to the previous year. On days the Korea Team played, beer and chicken sales skyrocketed. No one had dared imagine a perfect group-stage record. National pride in football had surged as well. Even with home advantage, the opposing teams hadn’t been weakened, nor had their reputations diminished. Thanks to Yoo Jae-won’s advance handling of any incidents that might have dampened the mood, the feverish atmosphere showed no sign of cooling.
That didn’t mean there were no problems at all.
— North side expresses strong dissatisfaction with group-stage starting lineup.
As expected, the trouble began with North Korea. After remaining quiet during the earlier NLL provocations, Pyongyang had begun voicing complaints about how the Korea Team was being managed. Not a single North Korean player had appeared in any of the three group-stage matches. To uphold the principle of a unified team, North Korean footballers should obviously have been included in the lineup. Three players—Seo Min-cheol, Han Seong-cheol, and Kim Young-soo—had been selected. They were the best North Korea could offer, yet even Yoo Jae-won, with his vast news archive, barely recognized their names. This was potentially explosive. If three unproven North Korean players joined the squad, three others would have to be dropped. Fortunately, FIFA had granted the Korea Team three extra roster spots as a privilege of co-hosting, and other nations had readily agreed, preventing a major controversy. Current manager Guus Hiddink selected players solely on merit and fielded them accordingly, so it was inevitable that unverified North Korean players would be left out. North Korea, however, refused to accept this obvious reality.
— If even a unified team produces such disagreement, what will happen with space development, where national fortunes are at stake?
— Joint North-South satellite launch vehicle development hits roadblocks!
— Warm welcome for repatriation of long-term prisoners.
North Korea intended to use the issue of North Korean player participation as leverage to push the Gwangmyeongseong Plan. As a bonus, they had welcomed the repatriation of unconverted long-term prisoners.
“Honestly, what can we do if they simply aren’t good enough?”
Reading the articles through satellite internet aboard the plane, Yoo Jae-won couldn’t help grumbling. If he felt irritated just reading the news, how must the people actually handling the situation feel? The pressure was so intense that even Jeon Jae-jun, president of the Korea Football Association, had called Yoo Jae-won first to ask what to do. A manager of Hiddink’s caliber wouldn’t listen to orders from Jeon Jae-jun anyway, but the situation had reached a point where something had to be done.
Yoo Jae-won’s answer had been simple.
“This is exactly when you need to shield him from outside pressure. Whether it’s corporate management or sports, the world ultimately judges by results, doesn’t it?”
The world of competition was ruthless. Once political considerations crept in, everything became compromised—he had seen it happen far too often. That was precisely why even Yoo Jae-won had postponed his own major events showcasing his “swag” until after July. For now, the best choice was simply to ride the World Cup wave and enjoy the Korea Team’s once-in-a-lifetime golden era.