Computer Graphics (5)
As competition among OTT platforms intensified, exclusivity became everything.
If all you offered was content people could watch anywhere, there was no reason for them to subscribe. But if you had exclusive titles, you could use them as bait to bring in more users.
And OTT platforms split revenue with production companies based on viewing time. But what if subscribers spent most of their time watching content the platform itself had produced?
That meant they could cut down on what they had to pay outside studios. So every company poured staggering sums into production costs just to secure exclusive content.
“Have you watched Netflixplay’s exclusive, After-School Survival Activity?”
“I think I have.”
“If you think you have, then what is it? Did you watch it or not?”
“……”
Technically, I hadn’t watched it this time around. I’d watched it in my first life.
It was a zombie series, and Season 1 ran for six episodes.
The premise was simple: toward the end of a high school day, a zombie outbreak suddenly began, and the club students had to fight their way out of the school to survive.
Back when the investment was made, Netflixplay hadn’t expected much from it. They’d invested in it purely to increase their Korean subscriber base.
And then…
After-School Survival Activity became a hit far beyond imagination.
Its viewing time overseas was easily a hundred times higher than in Korea. Netflixplay had been so stunned by the unexpected success that it rushed to add dubbing in seven more countries.
Season 2 was then produced with another six episodes, and it did even better than Season 1. It ranked within the top ten most-watched titles on all of Netflixplay.
After-School Survival Activity proved that Korean content could work worldwide, and after that, global OTT platforms like Netflixplay began dumping money into Korean productions.
As companies battled each other to secure exclusive titles, the value of Korean content rose by the day.
That was a huge opportunity for domestic production companies, too.
In the past, for a drama to go abroad, it had to pass through multiple contracts and layers of distribution.
But now?
The moment it went up on Netflixplay, every Netflixplay subscriber around the world could watch it.
“You know the director who made this, right? Tak Dongsik. He’s currently co-CEO of TakStory. Word is he’s preparing a follow-up right now.”
“What’s it called?”
“It’s still a working title, but Seven Round. Genre’s battle royale.”
“Ah…”
Battle royale was one of the rule sets in professional wrestling: a format where multiple participants fought within a confined space.
Later, that concept moved into novels and films and became established as its own genre.
“That’s a Netflixplay project, isn’t it?”
I remembered my first life.
Netflixplay’s exclusive Seven Round had been the undisputed number one in Netflixplay viewing time, sparking a worldwide boom in the battle royale genre and winning dozens of awards at major ceremonies.
Dong-ho senior nodded.
“It looks like Netflixplay’s investment is basically confirmed. I told him we should meet before anything gets signed.”
“Good call.”
* * *
I had nothing else on my schedule, and I’d wanted to meet Tak Dongsik anyway, so I went there in person with Dong-ho senior.
The meeting place was a three-story building in Chungmuro: TakStory headquarters.
We met a middle-aged man there.
“Thank you for coming all this way. I’m Tak Dongsik.”
He wore glasses, and his hair was neatly styled.
Unlike the graphic violence he never seemed to spare on screen, his appearance was perfectly ordinary. By reputation, though, he was a bit sharp-tongued and extremely proud.
Well, that was allowed if you were a genius director.
“I’m Lee Dong-ho from Continue Capital.”
When he saw the business card, he looked startled.
He probably hadn’t expected the head of the Korean branch to show up personally.
After Dong-ho senior introduced himself, I followed suit.
“I’m Han Miru. I enjoyed After-School Survival Activity.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“The CEO of Snow Crash, Lucas, is a fan of yours. He told me to let you know he had a great time with it.”
I wasn’t especially into zombie stories, so I’d watched it more or less casually, but Syd seemed to have loved it.
He’d even gone so far as to say, after watching it, that “Korea’s basically a zombie powerhouse now.” Coming from Syd, that was high praise indeed.
At my words, Tak Dongsik looked genuinely surprised.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Snow Crash was already the kind of famous cloud company everyone had heard of by name. So it was only natural for him to be shocked when the CEO of a company like that turned out to be his fan.
“So the rumor’s true, then. The Snow Crash CEO really does like zombie stories.”
“Of course.”
After all, he’d even had a CG program built because of Zombienado.
After the introductions, we sat down, drank coffee, and talked.
“I reviewed the proposal you sent over. Thank you sincerely for the investment offer, but I think this project is right for Netflixplay.”
He’d already made up his mind.
Then again, Netflixplay had probably offered favorable terms too.
He sipped his coffee and said, “Since Netflixplay came in, the production environment for Korean dramas has changed a lot. Terrestrial and cable broadcasters only invested in formulaic dramas, the kind with guaranteed commercial appeal. That led to a flood of similar shows. Netflixplay, on the other hand, invests across genres. Thanks to that, we’ve been able to make dramas we never would have even dreamed of producing before. In fact, After-School Survival Activity was rejected by every broadcaster and was supposed to be thrown out. Netflixplay is the reason it got to see the light of day.”
That was a matter of market scale.
If you were only thinking about the Korean market, it made sense to create genres that would appeal to the masses. Since it was broadcast content, you also had to keep the rating level in check.
But Netflixplay was different. It had subscribers all over the world.
To attract consumers with all kinds of tastes, it had to offer all kinds of content. That was why it was willing to invest in niche genres, too.
“I’ve heard global OTTs besides Netflixplay are pouring a ton of money into Korean content as well.”
Tak Dongsik nodded.
“There are two reasons for that.”
Dong-ho senior asked, “And those reasons are?”
“First, the Asian content market has enormous growth potential. North America and Europe are already saturated, but Asia is still growing. Global OTT platforms want content that works in Asian markets, but China, the biggest market, is blocked by censorship, and Japan doesn’t really produce many works that break out beyond its domestic audience.”
“True.”
I really wished they’d stop adapting every single manga into live action.
“And the second reason?”
“Korean production costs are absurdly low. Compared to the U.S., they’re not even one-tenth.”
By simple arithmetic, the money it took to make one American drama could finance ten in Korea.
Normally, product prices are set according to production cost. But content doesn’t work that way.
A low-budget film doesn’t get a cheaper ticket price just because it cost less to make.
If production costs are low but viewership is similar?
There’s no reason not to do it.
It seemed he’d already made up his mind to go with Netflixplay, because he looked eager to wrap up the conversation.
From the start, this had been a meeting meant to politely decline us, but now that someone too high-ranking had shown up in person, he seemed to be feeling the pressure.
I said to him, “It’s fine to work with Netflixplay, but there’s one big problem.”
“What problem?”
“The content ends up belonging to Netflixplay forever. Netflixplay must have earned at least fifty times its investment on After-School Survival Activity. Their revenue will keep growing from here. But the production company only gets a little profit on top of the budget.”
If Netflixplay invests, the production company gets the budget plus a guaranteed return.
But that’s where it ends.
Whether the content makes money or loses money, Netflixplay takes it. And that’s true not just for Netflixplay, but for all OTT platforms.
“On the bright side, Korean production conditions are improving because of it. But on the dark side, we’re turning into a global subcontracting base. A well-made piece of content can be leveraged in countless ways. Isn’t it a waste to just take the money and hand it over to Netflixplay?”
Tak Dongsik said, “Even if I take Continue Capital’s investment, wouldn’t I still be giving up the IP all the same?”
“We’ll distribute profits transparently and fairly. Any use or distribution of the content will require the production company’s consent, and if you refuse, we won’t do it. Future sequels and secondary creations will also follow the production company’s wishes.”
In practice, that meant the IP would be jointly exercised.
At my words, he looked conflicted.
Should he accept Netflixplay’s investment and hand over the IP outright, or take ours instead?
After tasting the success of a hit once, Netflixplay had probably thrown out all kinds of conditions to keep him.
Netflixplay was not a company that lost bidding wars because of money, so trying to outspend them here would have been pointless.
Instead of talking money, I brought up something else.
“After-School Survival Activity was a very good work. But there was one major disappointment.”
At my words, his face stiffened.
The way he went rigid at a single sentence told me his pride really was sky-high.
“A disappointment? What do you mean?”
I answered in one word.
“The CG.”
He let out a small sigh and began explaining, almost defensively.
“To be honest, Korea’s CG production environment isn’t very good. In Hollywood, CG costs take up as little as 30 percent of the total budget and as much as half. But in Korea, it’s not even ten percent.”
Part of that was because CG work comes late in the production process.
Budgets tend to run dry as production goes on. Once you’ve already spent the money, there’s nothing you can do about it, so the only place left to trim is the CG line at the end.
Tak Dongsik smiled bitterly.
“There are plenty of scenes I couldn’t include, or had to cut, simply because there wasn’t any money left for CG. Novels and comics can show whatever the author wants, whenever they want. But video is different. No matter how badly you want a scene, if you don’t have the budget or the time, there’s nothing you can do.”
In reality, it was common to revise the script midway through production because of cost and scheduling constraints.
A director’s work was like a child to them.
What director wouldn’t want their creation to appear in the world exactly as they’d imagined it? He must have been the one most wounded by the shabby CG in After-School Survival Activity.
I said to him, “By any chance, have you seen Loki, the CG program Prisoner released this time?”
At my question, he nodded immediately.
“Ah, yes. It was remarkable. I was amazed at how naturally it could generate CG. Every producer I’ve met lately has been talking about it. They say it’s much cheaper than the old methods, and the production time is far shorter too.”
“That’s right. Alcatraz, under Prisoner, is currently setting up a studio in Korea.”
His eyes widened at that.
“R-Really? Why Korea…?”
As he said, Korea was cheap to produce in, and the amount spent on CG was pitifully low. From a CG company’s perspective, it wasn’t a particularly profitable market.
And yet there was only one reason to set up a studio there right away.
“To support Korean content production.”
His follow-up project, Seven Round, was a battle royale genre.
Since the core of it was people killing each other, it would require an enormous amount of CG.
“If you can get high-quality CG work at a low price, that cuts production costs and time significantly. And that can then be used to improve the work itself.”
Tak Dongsik’s eyes shone.
By now, he was probably already picturing all the CG scenes he’d wanted to include.
“T-Then would it be possible to have Alcatraz handle the CG production right away?”
“Yes. Due to manpower constraints, they’ll only be handling CG for projects that have received Continue Capital’s investment for the time being, but yes.”
“……”
I asked him again.
“So… will you sign with us?”