The Pacific Calls
With each passing year, IDDC—the event where ID Group unveiled its latest products—grew larger in scale. What had once been a modest showcase for finished computers and new operating systems had evolved into something far grander as the conglomerate expanded. Last year, Android smartphones and machine-learning algorithms had taken center stage. This year, without question, the star was Xbox 2.
The eyes of gamers worldwide converged on San Francisco. Amid soaring expectations, Xbox 2 launched at a price of $499. Compared to its predecessor’s $299, the jump of two hundred dollars drew some complaints about cost. Yet experts agreed the price was justified—the console’s performance exceeded even what Chairman Yoo Jae-won had publicly endorsed.
Long lines formed not only at the event venue but also at ID flagship stores and electronics retailers. Customers waited eagerly for their chance to purchase the new console.
“Number five!”
“Here!”
“Two more to go!”
Gilbert felt a surge of excitement as he watched the two people ahead of him. He was standing in line at an ID flagship store to buy an Xbox 2. The wait stirred old memories, and Yoo Jae-won’s face rose vividly in his mind.
Meeting Yoo Jae-won as a classmate had been the turning point that reshaped Gilbert’s life. Watching the extraordinary young man at Stanford had filled him with admiration. Over time, Gilbert shed his narrow nerd persona and became someone who cared about more than just his own interests. After graduation, he had set his sights on joining ID Group—and he had succeeded.
His career there had been nothing short of stellar. Contrary to his parents’ worries about his lack of social skills, Gilbert had risen to lead major projects at ID Technology. Yet one thing remained unchanged: his love of games. Even after joining the company, he rarely took time off except when forced to use his vacation days. He preferred the company of like-minded colleagues at work over staying home alone. Even when a major project like AI Eyes ended and mandatory leave was granted, he had never found much enjoyment in it.
This time, however, Gilbert had requested a full week off—an unprecedented move. The reason sat waiting for him: Xbox 2.
A true gaming enthusiast, Gilbert already owned every major console, from the original Xbox and PlayStation 2 to the Nintendo 64. Naturally, his anticipation for the next-generation machine had been at its peak. The first thing he did after securing his vacation was join the line.
He could have used his connection to Yoo Jae-won to obtain an Xbox 2 ahead of everyone else. But Gilbert refused. As a hardcore gamer among hardcore gamers, lining up at the flagship store near his home was part of the ritual—an essential way to welcome the console properly. It was a ceremony he performed only for the Xbox series.
Surprisingly, he was not the only one willing to go to such lengths. He wasn’t even first in line. Though he had made it into the top ten, several people stood ahead of him. A quiet sense of camaraderie passed between them, yet they pretended not to notice one another.
Fortunately, production volumes were sufficient. The flagship store had set up a dedicated display area, with stacks of Xbox 2 units forming literal walls beside it.
“Number eight!”
“Yes, yes!”
At the call, Gilbert raised his hand. The staff member handed him a printed receipt. “Here’s your special-order receipt.” Gilbert passed it over, and the employee scanned the QR code with a smartphone using AI Eyes.
“Special order confirmed.”
Instead of taking one of the standard units from the white wall of boxes, the employee retrieved a much larger package from the back. It was the Collector’s Edition Gilbert had ordered. The console featured a black lacquered body adorned with mother-of-pearl inlays forming the ID logo and the Xbox 2 emblem. Beyond the striking exterior, it included two controllers, a 480-gigabyte hard drive—six times the capacity of the standard model—and three bundled games: The Pacific, Halo 2, and FIFA 2004. It also came with 200 N-Pay points usable on Steam. The price reflected the extras: $1,800, nearly four times the base model’s cost.
Despite the steep price, the Collector’s Edition had sold out rapidly. Here at the flagship store, it appeared to be the first unit leaving the premises. All eyes turned toward Gilbert as he carried the distinctive black-and-gold box, so different from the white-and-fluorescent-green packaging of the standard edition.
Enjoying the attention, Gilbert exited the store and carefully placed the Collector’s Edition on the passenger seat of his Porsche 911 Turbo, even buckling the seatbelt. The car itself had been a bonus from the wildly successful AI Eyes launch. Someone as absorbed in computers and games as Gilbert would never have bought such a vehicle with his own money.
Though he had owned the Porsche for over eight months, he had never given anyone a ride. He had, however, frequently used the passenger seat to transport electronics. Returning to the driver’s seat, Gilbert headed home. Having waited so long to receive his Xbox 2, his true vacation was only now beginning.
“It really is a work of art.”
Gilbert gazed in admiration at the glossy black console. The physical unit surpassed even the stunning impression it had made during its reveal at IDDC 2003. Back then he had fallen for it at first sight; now, freed from its packaging, it looked like a genuine piece of art—something that would not look out of place beside a television in any living room.
Given Gilbert’s computer-obsessed nature, one might have expected his home to be crammed with electronics. Yet the opposite was true. His residence was a historic brick mansion in Old Palo Alto, one of Silicon Valley’s most prestigious neighborhoods. The two-story home, built in the late nineteenth century, accounted for more than half of his net worth. Its interior had been preserved in period style, so Gilbert had been able to move in with little more than his personal belongings. While he had updated several rooms after taking residence, the living room remained largely unchanged—save for the addition of a Bordeaux HDTV, whose wine-glass-inspired design complemented the classic surroundings perfectly.
The new Xbox 2 now claimed its own place in that same living room.
In truth, the old Gilbert would never have purchased such a house. But after a casual ID Talk conversation with Yoo Jae-won about promising Silicon Valley real estate, he had bought it as an investment. His parents had been so delighted that he ended up living there instead of renting it out. The remaining half of his wealth sat in funds managed by ID Investment. Yoo Jae-won’s advice had proven accurate; as Silicon Valley led global IT trends, property values continued to climb. Interestingly, the returns from ID Investment’s funds had outpaced even the soaring real-estate market. Gilbert had contributed faithfully every month since joining the company, and his most recent statement showed a 502 percent gain—five times his principal—largely thanks to the surge in oil prices amid the Iraq conflict. He had no immediate need for the money, yet simply viewing the number brought him quiet satisfaction.
“Oh, right—games! I need to play!”
Tearing himself away from the console’s elegant form, Gilbert returned to the task at hand and finished the setup. He connected the Xbox 2 to the Bordeaux HDTV, powered it on, logged in with his unified ID email account, and linked it to Steam. Everything was ready.
“Now, which one first?”
His eyes sparkling with anticipation, Gilbert scanned the game cases. FIFA 2004 was immediately dismissed—he had little interest in sports. Between Halo 2 and The Pacific, he made his choice without hesitation.
“The Pacific. You’re the one.”
Halo 2, the proper sequel to the game that had propelled the original Xbox to success, was also highly anticipated. But The Pacific was something more. It had generated enormous buzz even before release, and recent sales bans in Germany and Japan had only fueled the flames. The game not only featured controversial scenes but also touched on Japan’s taboos, heightening Gilbert’s curiosity beyond what Halo 2 could offer.
Moreover, The Pacific was already installed on the hard drive, included as a bundled title. Gilbert moved the controller and pressed the icon on the vibrant Xbox 2 home screen. The game launched instantly.
The beautiful aurora-like background faded to black, replaced by a large ID Group logo. ID Software’s logo followed, and the screen gradually brightened.
“Whoa!”
Gilbert’s exclamation came at that moment. When the ID Software logo disappeared, he found himself looking at a deep blue ocean and cotton-candy clouds drifting across the sky.
“Is this real-time rendering?”
Most games opened with cinematic cutscenes. The Pacific had been no exception—its hour-long cinematic sequence, crafted by ID Entertainment’s renowned CG team, had been a major talking point. Yet what appeared now was neither a cinematic nor a title screen, but a real-time rendered sequence.
The camera moved, revealing a new island: Hawaii. The island was rendered so beautifully that one could easily imagine it as paradise. Gentle camera work panned across the landscape.
“Wow.”
Gilbert could not stop marveling. The cloud rendering alone set The Pacific apart from every previous game. Volumetric clouds—actual depth and presence. The water effects were equally stunning; the waves moved with breathtaking naturalism.
Then the idyllic scene shattered under the roar of engines. Tearing through the clouds came a Zero fighter, its wings bearing the unmistakable red rising-sun insignia. At first there was only one. Moments later, dozens more emerged, their numbers steadily growing. It was a surprise attack with no declaration of war.
“Tora, tora, tora!”
The lead aircraft transmitted the coded message signaling mission success. Having achieved uncontested airspace over Pearl Harbor, the Zeros unleashed bombs and torpedoes upon the anchored U.S. Pacific Fleet. Soon, civilian areas were also struck. Sirens—the sound of an air-raid warning—screamed across what had moments ago been paradise.
Suddenly the viewpoint shifted. The camera focused on a bomb falling from one of the Zeros, tracking it as it plummeted toward a naval barracks. The pilot’s skill was extraordinary; the bomb struck the building dead-on and detonated. The shockwave collapsed the concrete structure, sending debris flying in all directions. Sailors attempting to escape were realistically buried beneath the rubble.
“Hey! Get out of there!”
Someone shouted the name Miller, and the screen went dark. The sound of debris being cleared followed, and light returned. Through blood-red vision, soldiers were shown frantically clearing rubble with their bare hands. It was first-person.
“If you’re alive, move!”
Gilbert, who had been staring transfixed at the Bordeaux TV for several minutes since the white clouds first appeared, jolted at the command.
“Move! Move, damn it!”
Obeying the order, Gilbert nudged the analog stick. On screen, the first-person character groaned and pushed aside the rubble, rising to his feet.
“Huh? This is in-game?”
Until that moment, Gilbert had assumed he was still watching a real-time cutscene. The realization that the game had begun without any loading screen left him stunned. Yet the true gameplay was only just starting.
An interface familiar to any FPS player appeared. Gilbert immediately took control of the character and dove into the experience. Thus began the missions of The Pacific—missions that would captivate Gilbert and millions of gamers worldwide with a level of shock and terror beyond anything they had imagined.