Zerg Rush

From the good people at Slashdot, a fascinating almost Jane Goodall-esque profile of video gaming in South Korea, especially the phenomena of StarCraft tournaments.

A brief snip:

Impossible, because the man on the stage is on Korean television almost every day. He is about to sit down and play what is close to becoming Korea’s national sport: Starcraft. His name is Lee Yunyeol, or in game [RED]NaDa Terran. He is The Champion. Last year his reported earnings were around $200,000. He plays a seven year-old RTS for fame and fortune and to many Koreans he is an idol. Every night over half a million Koreans log on to Battlenet and make war in space, many of them with dreams of becoming like Yunyeol. But his skill is almost supernatural. Few people who play all day long will be able to claim a fraction of his split-second timing and pitiless concentration. Practicing eight hours a day, Yunyeol’s methods and tactics are peerless. Well, almost peerless. In fact there are two or three other players who command similar salaries. They might not hold the crown now, and one of them will probably take it from him soon, but for now at least, Yunyeol is king.

While the article goes on to dissect why South Korea is a growing gaming hotspot (and how they built a Sony-Sega-Nintendo free zone), they never answered the obvious: why Starcraft? The only reasonable answer I could think of is the climate with their northern neighbors. Growing up with the DMZ and thousands of short-range missiles pointed at them, I imagine SoKorean youth find some sort of release in a RTS where you have to defend against and defeat an enemy bent on your destruction. Starcraft is a war game at heart, and an intensely addictive one with campaigns lasting 20 minutes to an hour. Perfect for quick psychic depressuration against a hostile force to the north.

Another word about the article. The writer is from the UK, so you get a sense of gaming culture from two countries.

One more word, more or less personal. Blizzard (the people who made Starcraft, as well as Diablo and Warcraft) has muttered audibly about bringing a handheld version of Starcraft to the DS, which would cause me to turn into Gollum, hiding away in the dark for hours on end as I play my new precious. Bringing an RTS to a handheld would be a Herculian task, but Gameboy-Advance.net has brainstormed a decent way it could work.

Happy New Year

A bit belated, but happy 2006.

Currently in a holding pattern in my local Apple Store to get my precious, my Shuffle, fixed. It gave up the ghost a couple days ago, not showing up anywhere on my host laptop despite all my techno hoodoo. All I want to do is trade it (it's under warranty, so just gimme a new one, please). Wife is off in a happy orbit shopping without me lumbering around behind her, hiding my petulance not that well.

Just occured to me. I've been using Apple products longer than the young whippersnappers manning tech support in the store have been alive. Hey, I lived through the idiocy of Gil Amelio. Just give me a new Shuffle, damnit.

Will write about my goals for the new year later, but wanted to check in, and say the trip to Chicago went well. My grandma is hanging in there. She's day to day, but then aren't we all.

Happy Holidays

Off to Chicago tomorrow. Ready to endure the security delays, the crowded flight, the throngs of family all broken into bite-sized pieces over numerous homes, the endless food, the off-putting sensation of being in a foreign bed, the subtle differences of American culture between Chicago and Seattle, the complete lack of moisture in the air, the rituals, the usual faces, the red and green and the ornaments and lights, the crispness of Midwest air, the hints that snow comes over the northern skies, the gray lick on the streets were the salt trucks left their stains, the threadbare trees which look like upraised bony fingers, the quiet broken by the tinny voices from my mom's favorite AM radio hosts, bulky sweaters, darkness at 2 p.m.

Tonight, we pack. Tomorrow, we begin our own tradition of going away. We shall miss our cats. We shall miss our bed. But this is the time for family, and our antisocial ways begin to ebb. Perhaps it is the primal fear of the seasonal darkness, and we must retreat to greater numbers, numbers rich with people we know. Well-decorated caves, with garland and other greenery. My grandmother will be there, presiding in her 88th year, and that's probably the best gift of them all. She's still with us, and we have another holiday together.

Family Ties with Holiday Ribbon

Finally got through to my grandma, who sounded 'old,' where the spirit starts to take on the weight of a body that's growing too worn out from natural use. There's a deepness in her voice, a bit of exhaustion that lingers to a finality. My mom had relayed to me that when my grandma had her recent spell, she seemed to be giving up the fight. Now, she's back home and comfortable with my mom and step-dad. The medication is keeping her upright and devoid of suffering, but there's little life in her voice. It could be because she's just tired, but the tone makes me want to be there even faster. It's a futile and selfish desire to want to help her. She has all the help she needs, and I want to be there to soothe my guilt for not being there the rest of the time.

But my grandma is getting a slew of visitors. It's almost as if my mom's house has become the Vatican, with my grandma being a cooler, more with-it pontiff. So, she's not lonely. And in a few days, my wife and I will be in Chicago, probably hovering around her too much.

I also suspect that there is a strange low-level tension at my mom's house with a daughter trying to come to terms with a dying mother, and a grandmother who sits and rests in her apartment, thinking about what was and what's beyond that personal veil of twilight when she finally bids adieu to us all. There's things to be said and not said, pleasantries that mask deeper questions about love and mortality. My wife gently reminded me that I should say what I need to so there's no regrets when her passing comes. Words fail me now, and I dread I'll turn into a crying idiot around her. I know I'll tell her I love her, but I don't know what else. Maybe this isn't something to be rehearsed. Just go and be there for mom and grandma (and my step-dad, who I imagine is negotiating this from his own island, understanding the weight of loss after losing his father not that long ago). It's Christmas, and the whole family will be together.

78

A very happy 78 months to my lovely wife. I love you and am happy we have been together for six-and-a-half years. And I know you love me since I'm going to subject you to bitter Chicago cold in a few days when we travel east to see my family for the holidays. Every month I'm amazed how much you love me as well all the kindness and support you give me, even when I'm not looking. You are my love, my center. I hope we are always together and always in love.