On December 24, 2001, a bombshell news erupted online: Jiangnan Games had signed an agency agreement with Blizzard Entertainment of America, granting them the full proxy rights for Blizzard's latest Warcraft III series.
However, this news did not create a massive stir. Firstly, Blizzard's reputation and perception in China at the time were only average, with few people knowing about them. Apart from Diablo II, their games had not garnered significant attention domestically, leading to a muted reaction.
Only E-Games felt aggrieved, but no one paid them any mind. After all, Jiangnan Group's scale was in a completely different league from E-Games. E-Games had no other recourse but to weep and lament.
The second reason was that the entire gaming circle was abuzz with the news of the Chinese team clinching three gold medals at the first WCg.
In the original timeline, the WCg had very ordinary recognition in China during this period. Even those within the gaming industry were largely unaware of such a competition.
This could be seen from the fact that these champions had no significant fame in the esports scene in later years. Apart from dedicated esports enthusiasts, genuinely few people cared about the WCg.
Historically, only a few media outlets had reported on the WCg, and that was the extent of it.
But this time, the situation seemed different. Firstly, Popular Software, the most renowned game media outlet in the gaming circle, actually released a special issue to report on the WCg.
This special issue was a hefty fifty pages, with half of them in color, yet it was priced at just one yuan, practically given away for free. Thus, when the special issue arrived at various newsstands, it was quickly snapped up by students.
This special issue was entirely dedicated to reporting on the WCg, covering the preliminary preparations, domestic qualifiers, the players' itineraries in Korea, match schedules, and every significant battle. It particularly detailed every event where a gold medal was won.
In addition, there was a deeply emotional commentary piece, spanning five pages and over twenty thousand words, describing the arduous journey of accompanying these players in their battles.
The players couldn't afford coaches and had to walk to the venue. They couldn't afford hotels and had to cram 21 people into a rented apartment. Many of them hadn't packed winter clothing, and the rented apartment lacked sufficient blankets, forcing them to dismantle all their clothes and even the curtains in the room to use as bedding.
Some players even caught colds on the spot due to insufficient air conditioning in the venue.
Despite all this, all the players still placed their country, victory, and esports at the forefront of their hearts, continuously striving and ultimately securing three gold medals, earning world-class honor for China and establishing China as number one in the esports arena.
The editor's writing was excellent, far superior to that of a certain pudding. Many readers were deeply moved to tears. Fortunately, the editor concluded by stating that the outstanding performance of these players had also moved President Leng Zhimeng, the head of oo, who was present at the competition as an esports enthusiast. With a stroke of her pen, she decided to become the sponsor for all Chinese players, allowing them to finally stay in hotels, have warm down jackets, travel by coach, and even rent internet cafes for training.
In addition, the special issue featured interviews with several players, each sharing their stories.
These typically began with their families, recounting how they faced parental opposition and family rifts to play games, ultimately bringing glory to the nation. The articles invariably included expressions of gratitude towards Leng Zhimeng, describing her as their greatest warmth in cold Korea.
Oh, and for the first time in its history, Popular Software included a CD-ROM with its special issue. But don't misunderstand; this wasn't that kind of CD, nor was it a game. It was a compilation of all the match videos from the competition.
Users simply needed to insert the disc into their computers to access all the crucial match videos from the WCg, specifically the gameplay of the three gold medalists from the quarterfinals to the finals.
It was obvious what a tremendous sensation such a special issue would create in China's gaming community. After all, Popular Software's special issue, priced at one yuan and including a CD, sold out its initial print run of 300,000 copies in just two days, forcing Popular Software to reprint it. They reprinted it a second and then a third time, with nearly two million copies distributed nationwide within a week, setting an unprecedented peak for Popular Software.
More than a decade later, an editor from Popular Software remarked in an interview that he never dreamed his magazine's peak would be an unexpected special issue, and one that was published at the investor's request.
Indeed, this special issue was not initiated by Popular Software itself. Producing an issue with content comparable to a monthly publication in just over ten days, and selling it for one yuan, meant Popular Software lost nearly three yuan for every copy sold. The sale of two million copies resulted in a loss of six million yuan, an amount that the penniless editorial department of Popular Software could not afford.
In fact, on December 8th, the supervising body of Popular Software, the China Association for Science and Technology, accepted social funding. The investor injected 3 million RMB, acquiring 90% of Popular Software's shares, and jointly established Jiangnan Media Company. Thus, Popular Software transitioned from a public entity to a private one.
This brought both good and bad news. The good news was that all the editors were pleasantly surprised to learn their salaries had increased from a basic wage of 600 yuan to 1000 yuan, a significant improvement.
The bad news was that they had to work overtime and produce such a special issue according to the new owner's requirements.
The editors of Popular Software initially wanted to refuse, but seeing the substantial salary increase and the pride of the Chinese team's multiple victories at the WCg, they enthusiastically worked overtime for more than ten days, producing this unprecedented special issue.
The result was that this single special issue created an unparalleled sales miracle for Popular Software in its six years of publication, leaving them baffled by the world.
Regardless, this special issue was incredibly successful. First, all the players who saw the special issue learned about these events. Then, the information spread geometrically through the gaming community, even reaching their parents through these players.
Why did it reach their parents?
Naturally, because 90% of players faced strong opposition from their parents and families when playing games, leading to conflicts.
The most common excuse parents used to stop their children was that games couldn't earn a living, that playing games was a waste of time, and that there was no future in it.
Previously, players couldn't refute their parents on this point, as playing games seemingly couldn't earn money. Until this WCg victory, these players now had the most powerful weapon to argue with their parents.
"Look, I can not only make money by playing games, but I can also become an international athlete and bring honor to the country. You can't stop me from playing games; you're stopping a world champion!"
In conclusion, the impact of this special issue was immense. It alerted other game media outlets to the fervor of the event, prompting them to follow suit with their own reports and attempts to uncover more exclusive news to boost their magazine sales, thus further expanding the influence.
Several gaming television programs in China, such as "Game Trends" and "Games for Me," also caught the scent of the news and began producing news segments and even special reports. Eventually, there were even whispers that CCTV was considering producing a gaming-related program.
Finally, it wasn't limited to gaming media. Even traditional news programs allocated tens of seconds to report that Chinese athletes had achieved excellent results at the WCg, winning three gold medals and ranking second in the medal standings, fully demonstrating the formidable capabilities of Chinese people in any competition.
In the parlance of 2021, this event had "broken the circle."
As for the protagonists of this event, the players who won the three gold medals, they were gathered in a villa in Wenzhou. A freshly hung sign outside the villa read, "Jiangnan Esports Club Training Base." Their hearts were filled with surging passion.
They suddenly realized that overnight, their world seemed to have changed. All their friends came to congratulate them, people were praising them online, and they even had fans. Even their parents were calling proactively to inquire about their situation, mentioning that relatives who usually mocked them were now congratulating them while asking if their children who played games daily could also become esports players.
Some players even received invitations from other organizations to become star players for different teams. In essence, their world had transformed from a desolate winter into a fiery summer.
At this moment, everyone seemed to be getting ahead of themselves, until Pei Le pushed open the base's door and appeared before them.
"Do you know how much the boss spent to promote you?" asked Pei Le, the team manager, straightforwardly upon meeting them.
"Promote?" Everyone was taken aback.
"Let me tell you, a total of over ten million yuan was spent to acquire the entire Popular Software just to build your current fame. Without the boss, who knows where we'd be, eating instant noodles in some internet cafe!"
"The boss specifically instructed me to tell you not to get complacent, to train diligently, and not to do anything foolish. After all, you've signed five-year contracts with a penalty of three million yuan for breach. Think carefully," Pei Le knew exactly how to bring these inflated egos back to reality.