Anipang Grabs Time, Hearts of South Koreans/The Land of the Video Geek

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October 9, 2012, 8:45 AM KST

Anipang Grabs Time, Hearts of South Koreans

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• By Evan Ramstad

Courtesy Kakao

The main screen of an Anipang game in action.

In South Korea, there’s a new obsession: a video game on smartphones called Anipang.

The game presents a screen of 49 cartoon animals, in seven vertical columns and seven horizontal rows. The object is to line up three animals, either vertically or horizontally, in one move.

It is similar to a game called Bejeweled in which players line up jewelry on a screen. Anipang is distributed by Kakao, the social messaging service that is very popular in South Korea but trails other services like MSN Messenger and NHN’s Line in other countries.

To date, Kakao has only distributed Anipang in South Korea. The company collects revenue from in-game add-ons.

The game lasts just one minute. Then, a player’s score is instantly transmitted to everyone on their Kakao contact list who also plays Anipang, triggering competitiveness between friends and colleagues. And every seven days, all existing scores are wiped out, an automatic reset to what has become an almost national competition.

Kakao encouraged the game’s spread with a token-like system. To play, a player needs a “heart.” Kakao provides five hearts when the game is first installed. Each time the game is played costs one heart. If a player runs out of hearts, he or she can wait eight minutes and Kakao will provide one.

But another way to get a heart is to invite other people to play. That has created a flurry of exchanges between friends inviting people into the game. Indeed, in South Korea’s hierarchical society, the exchange of Anipang hearts has created a whole new tension to workplace and school relationships. Some people are resorting to sending messages via Kakao Facebook FB -0.83%and other social networks begging for Anipang hearts.

How pervasive has Anipang become? Since its release on July 30, Anipang has been downloaded to 17 million smartphones in South Korea. Each day, about 10 million play it at least once, the game’s developer, SundaytoZ, announced last week.

And a market researcher called AppRanker found that Anipang is being played an average of 54 minutes a day.

Of course, South Korea for years has been a videogame-obsessed country. Neighborhoods are dotted with game centers called “PC Rooms” where dozens of personal computers are dedicated to networked PC games. But the rise of smartphones over the past three years opened up new avenues for the country’s game developers — and roped many more people into playing games in the open.

In a packed subway car on Saturday night, at least 10 people were spotted playing Anipang, some with a friend to help move the animal faces around more quickly.

Though Anipang is downloaded to a smartphone (Android or iOS), the player must be connected via cellular network or Wi-fi to play. That’s because the score is instantly transmitted and scoreboards are updated for a player’s Kakao contacts.

A spokeswoman for Kakao said the game is the biggest hit of 21 that it has rolled out for Android phones and eight for iPhones. She declined to provide revenue figures.

Ma Ga-yeong, who lives in Cheonan, got roped into playing when a friend sent her an Anipang heart in a Kakao message. “When I play a little bit, I run out of hearts, so I wait till I get a heart in eight minutes or I send invitations to friends,” she said. “Actually people without time can’t play this.”

Judging from the data, people are making time for it.

A super-successful round of Anipang looks like this:

• Anipang,
• Kakao,
• smartphones,
• South Korea game culture

 http://blogs.wsj.com/korearealtime/2012/10/09/anipang-grabs-time-hearts-of-south-koreans/?KEYWORDS=%22Evan+Ramstad%22

Video Games

The Land of the Video Geek

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By SETH SCHIESEL

Published: October 8, 2006

SEOUL, South Korea

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Let the Video Games Begin

AT first glance, the sprawling COEX mall here seems like any other urban shopping destination. On a late-summer Thursday, there were the bustling stores and lively restaurants, couples on dates and colleagues mingling after work.

But then there were the screams.

Frantic, piercing, the shrieks echoed down the corridors from one corner of the vast underground complex. There hundreds of young people, mostly women and girls, waved signs and sang slogans as they swirled in the glare of klieg lights. It was the kind of fan frenzy that anywhere else would be reserved for rockers or movie legends.

Or sports stars. In fact the objects of the throng’s adoration were a dozen of the nation’s most famous athletes, South Korea’s Derek Jeters and Peyton Mannings. But their sport is something almost unimaginable in the United States. These were professional video gamers, idolized for their mastery of the science-fiction strategy game StarCraft.

With a panel of commentators at their side, protected from the throbbing crowd by a glass wall, players like Lim Yo-Hwan, Lee Yoon Yeol and Suh Ji Hoon lounged in logo-spangled track suits and oozed the laconic bravado of athletes the world over.

And they were not even competing. They were gathered for the bracket selection for a coming tournament season on MBC Game, one of the country’s two full-time video game television networks. And while audiences watched eagerly at home, fans lucky enough to be there in person waved hand-lettered signs like “Go for it, Kang Min” and “The winner will be Yo-Hwan {oheart}.”

All in all it was a typical night in South Korea, a country of almost 50 million people and home to the world’s most advanced video game culture: Where more than 20,000 public PC gaming rooms, or “bangs,” attract more than a million people a day. Where competitive gaming is one of the top televised sports. Where some parents actually encourage their children to play as a release from unrelenting academic pressure. Where the federal Ministry of Culture and Tourism has established a game development institute, and where not having heard of StarCraft is like not having heard of the Dallas Cowboys. The finals of top StarCraft tournaments are held in stadiums, with tens of thousands of fans in attendance.

Noh Yun Ji, a cheerful 25-year-old student in a denim skirt, had come to the COEX with 10 other members of one of the many Park Yong Wook fan clubs. “I like his style,” she said of Mr. Park, who plays the advanced alien species called Protoss in StarCraft. “I watch basketball sometimes, but StarCraft is more fun. It’s more thrilling, more exciting.”

South Korea’s roughly $5 billion annual game market comes to about $100 per resident, more than three times what Americans spend. As video games become more popular and sophisticated, Korea may provide a glimpse of where the rest of the world’s popular culture is headed.

“Too often I hear people say ‘South Korea’ and ‘emerging market’ in the same sentence,” said Rich Wickham, the global head of Microsoft’s Windows games business. “When it comes to gaming, Korea is the developed market, and it’s the rest of the world that’s playing catch-up. When you look at gaming around the world, Korea is the leader in many ways. It just occupies a different place in the culture there than anywhere else.”

JUST after 1 one Friday night, Nam Hwa-Jung, 22, and Kim Myung-Ki, 25, were on a date in Seoul’s hip Sinchon neighborhood. At a fourth-floor gaming room above a bar and beneath a restaurant specializing in beef, the couple sat side by side on a love seat by the soda machines, each tapping away at a personal computer. Ms. Nam was trying to master the rhythm of a dance game called Audition, while Mr. Kim was locked in a fierce battle in StarCraft.

“Of course we come to PC bangs, like everyone else,” Mr. Kim said, barely looking up. “Here we can play together and with friends. Why would I want to play alone at home?”

A few yards away, amid a faint haze of cigarette smoke, five buddies raced in a driving game called Kart Rider while two young men nearby killed winged demons in the fantasy game Lineage. Another couple lounged in a love seat across the room, the young man playing World of Warcraft while his date tried her skills at online basketball.

Ms. Nam glanced up from her screen. “In Korea, going and playing games at the PC bang together is like going to a bar or going to the movies,” she said.

South Korea is one of the most wired societies in the world. According to the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development, Korea had 25.4 broadband subscriptions per 100 residents at the end of last year. Only Iceland, with 26.7, ranked higher; the United States had only 16.8.

Yet despite the near-ubiquity of broadband at home, Koreans still flock to PC bangs to get their game on. There is a saying in Seoul that most Koreans would rather skip a meal than eat by themselves. When it comes to games it seems that many Koreans would rather put down the mouse and keyboard than play alone.

Woo Jong-Sik is president of the Korea Game Development and Promotion Institute. Speaking in his office far above Seoul, in the towering Technomart office and shopping complex, he explained the phenomenon simply: “For us, playing with and against other people is much more interesting than just playing alone against a computer.”

It started out that way in the United States too. But as game arcades with their big, clunky machines started disappearing in the 1980’s, gamers retreated from the public arena and into their homes and offices. In the West gaming is now often considered antisocial.

There are certainly concerns about gaming in South Korea. The government runs small treatment programs for gaming addicts, and there are reports every few years of young men keeling over and dying after playing for days on end. But on the whole, gaming is regarded as good, clean fun.

In Seoul’s dense Shinlim district, Huh Hyeong Chan, a 42-year-old math tutor, seemed to be the respected senior citizen at the Intercool PC bang, which covers two floors, smoking and nonsmoking.

“Among people in their 20’s and 30’s I think there is no one who hasn’t been to a PC bang because it’s become a main trend in our society,” he said from his prime seat at the head of a row of computers. “Most people think it’s good for your mental health and it’s a good way to get rid of stress. If you exercise your brain and your mind in addition to your body, that’s healthy.”

And cheap. At most PC bangs an ergonomic chair, powerful computer and fast Internet link cost no more than $1.50 an hour.

Lee Chung Gi, owner of the Intercool bang, said: “It’s impossible for students in any country to study all the time, so they are looking for interesting things to do together. In America they have lots of fields and grass and outdoor space. They have lots of room to play soccer and baseball and other sports. We don’t have that here. Here, there are very few places for young people to go and very little for them to do, so they found PC games, and it’s their way to spend time together and relax.”

TOP pro gamers in South Korea don’t get much chance to relax. Just ask Lim Yo-Hwan. Mr. Lim, 27, is the nation’s most famous gamer, which makes him one of the nation’s most famous people.

“Normally our wake-up hours are 10 a.m., but these days we can sleep in until around 11:30 or noon,” he said at the SK Telecom StarCraft team’s well-guarded training house in Seoul. “After we wake up we have our breakfast, and then we play matches from 1 p.m. until 5. At 5 p.m. we have our lunch, and then at 5:30 for an hour and a half I go to my gym, where I work out. Then I come home and play until 1 a.m. After 1 I can play more matches or I can go to sleep if I want.”

He smiled. “But not many players sleep at 1.”

Mr. Lim sat in what might be called the players’ lounge: a spacious parlor of plush couches and flat-screen televisions. In an adjoining apartment, the focus was on work. More than a half-dozen other members of the team sat at rows of PC’s demolishing one another at StarCraft, made by Blizzard Entertainment of Irvine, Calif. Outside, guards for the apartment complex kept an eye out for overzealous fans.

“Without covering myself up in disguise it’s really difficult to go out in public,” Mr. Lim said. “Because of the Internet penetration and with so many cameras around, I don’t have privacy in my personal life. Anything I do will be on camera and will be spread throughout the Internet, and anything I say will be exaggerated and posted on many sites.”

“It’s hard because I can’t maintain my relationships with friends,” he added. “In terms of dating, the relationships just don’t work out. So personally there are losses, but I don’t regret it because it was my choice to become a pro gamer.”

Hoon Ju, 33, the team’s coach and a former graduate student in sports psychology, added: “Actually when he goes out we know exactly where he is at all times. That’s because the fans are constantly taking pictures with their cellphones and posting them to the Internet in real time.”

Mr. Woo of the federal game institute estimated that 10 million South Koreans regularly follow eSports, as they are known here, and said that some fan clubs of top gamers have 700,000 members or more. “These fan clubs are actually bigger in size than the fan clubs of actors and singers in Korea,” he said. “The total number of people who go spectate pro basketball, baseball and soccer put together is the same as the number of people who go watch pro game leagues.”

The celebrity of South Korea’s top gamers is carefully managed by game-TV pioneers like Hyong Jun Hwang, general manager of Ongamenet, one of the country’s full-time game networks. “We realized that one of the things that keeps people coming back to television are the characters, the recurring personalities that the viewer gets to know and identify with, or maybe they begin to dislike,” he said. “In other words, television needs stars. So we set out to make the top players into stars, promoting them and so on. And we also do a lot of education with the players, explaining that they have to try to look good, that they have to be ready for interviews.”

For his part Mr. Lim cultivates a relatively low-key image. He knows that at 27 he is nearing the end of his window as an elite player. There are 11 pro teams in the country, he said, and they are full of young guns looking to take him down. But he said experience could make up for a few milliseconds of lost reflexes.

“The faster you think, the faster you can move,” he said. “And the faster you move, the more time you have to think. It does matter in that your finger movements can slow down as you age. But that’s why I try harder and I work on the flexibility of my fingers more than other players.”

Despite the stardom of pro gamers, in most Korean families it’s all about school. That is a big reason the game market in South Korea is dominated by personal computers rather than by game consoles like Sony’s PlayStation and Microsoft’s Xbox that are so popular in the United States and Europe. (The deep historical animosity Koreans feel toward Japan, home of Sony and Nintendo, is another reason.)

“In Korea it’s all study, study, study, learn, learn, learn,” said Park Youngmok, Blizzard’s Korean communications director. “That’s the whole culture here. And so you can’t go buy a game console because all it is is an expensive toy; all it does is play games. But a PC is seen here as a dream machine, a learning machine. You can use it to study, do research. And if someone in the household ends up playing games on it” — he paused, shrugged and grinned — “that’s life.”

Cho Nam Hyun, a high school senior in a middle-class suburb south of Seoul, knows all about it. During his summer “vacation” he was in school from 8 a.m. until 8 p.m. (During the school year he doesn’t finish classes until 10 p.m.) On his desk in his family’s impeccable apartment sits a flip chart showing the number of days until his all-important university entrance exams.

But no matter how hard he studies, Mr. Cho tries to get in just a little gaming, and with his parents’ encouragement. “They are at school all the time, and then they have additional study classes,” said his mother, Kim Eun Kyung, “so games are the best way to get rid of their stress.”

His father, Cho Duck Koo, a photographer, added: “Certainly the games can be a distraction, and now that he is studying for the university exam he plays much less, but in general gaming helps the children with strategic thinking and to learn to multitask. We’ve told him if he goes to university we will get him the best PC possible.”

IT’S all part of a dynamic that has taken technologies first developed in the West — personal computers, the Internet, online games like StarCraft — and melded them into a culture as different from the United States as Korean pajeon are from American pancakes.

Sitting outside another packed soundstage at another cavernous mall, where around 1,000 eSports fans were screaming for their favorite StarCraft players over the Quiet Riot hard-rock anthem “Cum On Feel the Noize,” a pinstriped banker illustrated how South Korea has become the paragon of gaming culture.

“We’re not just the sponsors of this league,” Kim Byung Kyu, a senior manager at Shinhan Bank, one of the country’s largest, said proudly. “We’re the hosts of this league. So we have a bank account called Star League Mania, and you can get V.I.P. seating at the league finals if you’ve opened an account.”

“When I’m in the U.S., I don’t see games in public,” he added. “The U.S. doesn’t have PC bangs. They don’t have game television channels. What you see here with hundreds of people cheering is just a small part of what is going on with games in Korea. At this very moment hundreds of thousands of people are playing games at PC bangs. It’s become a mainstream, public part of our culture, and I don’t see that yet in the U.S. In this regard, perhaps the United States will follow and Korea will be the model.”

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/10/08/arts/08schi.html?pagewanted=all

Video Gaming in South Korea: A National Obsession

Professional Gaming, Gaming Obsession and Video Game Dating

Benjamin Sell, Yahoo! Contributor Network
Sep 17, 2008 "Share your voice on Yahoo! websites. Start Here."

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Stories about the popularity of video gaming in South Korea have been circulating throughout the United States for the last couple of years now. Rumored accounts of high broadband penetration leading to incredible sales numbers for American games and whispered tales of outlandish salaries for professional gamers and internet cafes where young Koreans take their dates have piqued the curiosity of many an American gamer, leaving many wondering: just how popular is gaming in South Korea?

Statistics seem to indicate that it is amazingly popular. There are more than 17 million gamers in South Korea (Aleksandar, 1). A 2005 estimate placed the country's population at nearly 50 million people. This means that 35% of Korea's population plays video games. Certain games have achieved unbelievable levels of popularity. Kart Rider, an online racing game, is a good example. Nearly a third of the country's population has tried it at least once, with many playing almost obsessively (Ihlwan, 42). It is estimated that there are more than four million Koreans playing online games at any given moment (Aleksandar, 1).

As a country, South Korea spends roughly $5 billion annually on video games. The average of nearly $100 per resident is three times what Americans spend (Schiesel, 2).

Perhaps the most popular game of all time in South Korea is the PC real-time strategy game "Starcraft." In Starcraft, players compete in a sci-fi setting to gather resources and build bases and armies. The armies battle one another until only one player remains. The game requires quick reflexes and a lot of practice for those who want to become very good. Professional Starcraft players train for 10-12 hours daily to maintain their competitive edge (Schiesel, 4).

Starcraft was released in 1998 and is still one of the most popular games in the world. At the game's 10 year anniversary this March, Starcraft's developer Blizzard Entertainment announced that it had sold over 9.5 million copies worldwide. Of these 9.5 million, more than one third were sold in South Korea. A true testament to the popularity of games in the country considering that Starcraft is mostly played in local PC gaming salons (called PC Bangs) and individual players don't need to purchase it. Ten years is a lifetime in the world of video games, but Starcraft's popularity shows no signs of waning. (Aleksandar, 6). The announcement last May that a sequel was in development threw the entire country into a frenzy (Schiesel, 1).

In South Korea, PC bangs are incredibly common. Today, more than 26,000 of these internet cafes exist in the country. In Seoul, for example, there is a PC bang on nearly every block. The bangs attract more than a million people a day (Schiesel, 2).

These PC bangs have become very important places in the social lives of South Korea's young adults. So pervasive, in fact, that they have become known as "third places," or places along with home and work where individuals spend the majority of their time. Young people in Korea go to PC bangs the way young adults in America might go to a movie or out to a bar (Aleksandar, 16). In South Korea, gaming is seen as a social activity, unlike in the U.S. where gamers are often labeled as anti-social and gaming usually takes place behind closed doors.

"Of course we come to PC bangs, like everyone else," said Kim Myung-Ki, a 25-year-old South Korean man interviewed by New York Times writer Seth Schiesel. "Here we can play together and with friends. Why would I want to play alone at home?" (2)

Many PC bangs are equipped with so-called "love seat" stations. These cubicles are outfitted with a pair of computers and a double-wide seat. Young couples enter these "love seats" and play games together. The young men will typically play Lineage (an incredibly-popular massively-multiplayer online game) or Starcraft while the young woman plays a different game or video chats with friends.

Young Korean singles also flock to PC bangs for the opportunity to meet other singles. They can interact with others by video chatting at one of the bang's many stations. If a young man or woman meets someone interesting in a chat, they can then invite them to meet them at a "love seat" location in a specific PC bang. Most locations in central Seoul are less than 20 minutes away from one another, so this kind of spontaneous meeting is easily accomplished. Hookups like this happen quite often in PC bangs, similar to the way people meet one another in bars in America (Aleksandar, 16).

There is practically nobody in the country between the ages of 20 and 30 who hasn't spent a significant amount of time in PC bangs. Playing games with friends is a good way to exercise the brain and relieve the stress of school and studying for the country's tough university entrance exams. The cost is also relatively minimal. Most PC bangs provide an ergonomic chair, a powerful computer, and fast internet access for around $1.50 an hour (Schiesel, 3).

Despite the low cost of access, these PC bangs are incredibly profitable. Analysts estimate that they generate about $6 billion in revenue each year (Aleksandar, 17). Bang owners, many of whom are former mid-level managers laid off in the IMS economic crisis of the late 90's (Aleksandar, 15), hope that now-mandatory internet training in the country's schools will lead to even greater profits in the coming years.

Professional video gaming is another huge part of South Korean culture. For example, the country now has two television channels that cover video gaming full time (Schiesel, 1).

Professional video gamers are among the biggest celebrities in the country. Some fan clubs of South Korea's top gamers have more than 700,000 members. By comparison, the fan club for South Korea's most famous singer has approximately 510,000 members (Aleksandar, 12). Gaming competitions are so popular that the finals of top Starcraft tournaments are held in stadiums, often with tens of thousands of screaming fans in attendance (Schiesel, 2).

The salaries these gamers can earn are astronomical. In 1999, for example, a Canadian Starcraft champion took a job as a professional player in South Korea and was offered a $100,000 initial salary. Several years later he was a star making an estimated $500,000 per year. The average annual salary in Korea is $16,291 (Hua, 1). In 2004, Lee Yun Yeol, a respected video game champion, signed a three-year, 600 million won contract. By comparison, the average salary for a Korean professional baseball player is 71 million won (Aleksandar, 10).

The darker side of this national obsession with gaming is the growing problem of addiction. More than one million South Koreans were estimated to be "addicted" to video games in 2005, according to government figures (Hua, 7). Countless horror stories of people losing touch with reality or dying at their computers have begun to surface. For example, some of the more extreme examples include:

The parents of a four-month-old infant left her in a car while they went into a PC bang to play games online. They apparently became so absorbed in their gaming that they lost track of time and played for five hours. Outside, the baby turned over onto her stomach and suffocated. The parents have since been charged with Involuntary Manslaughter (Aleksandar, 14).

A South Korean man collapsed and died after playing Starcraft for 50 hours with almost no breaks. He only left the game for short rest periods and to go to the bathroom. He was taken to the hospital following his collapse and died. Korean police stated that his death was most likely caused by heart failure stemming from exhaustion (BBC, 2).

In 2005, at least seven South Koreans died from deep vein thrombosis, heart failure, or exhaustion associated with marathon gaming sessions (Ihlwan, 42).

Given this information, it is safe to say that the stories of gaming's popularity in South Korea are actually fairly accurate. The overwhelming popularity of specific games such as Starcraft and Kart Rider combined with the popularity and profitability of PC bangs paints a convincing picture of the industry's influence on South Korean culture and the daily lives of its citizens. The gargantuan salaries and incredible popularity of professional gamers is a testament to the level of obsession with games in the country, while the horror stories associated with gaming addiction illustrate just how far some Koreans are willing to go for that obsession.

Gaming is not just popular in South Korea, it's a national obsession. No other country takes gaming so seriously. It's hard for an American to imagine, but in Korea, professional gaming is more popular than the NFL is here in America. "The total number of people who go spectate pro basketball, baseball, and soccer put together," said Mr. Woo, of the South Korean Federal Game Institute, "is the same as the number of people who go watch pro game leagues" (Schiesel, 4).

Personally, there are parts of the gaming situation in South Korea that I can totally understand and identify with and others that I completely fail to understand. A large part of this is cultural differences. I certainly understand the level of addiction that can come with gaming, particularly when playing massively-multiplayer online games. I'm no stranger to long stretches at the computer, completely engrossed in a game, but I also know when to say when. I sleep when I'm tired, eat when I'm hungry, and take a break when I feel like I should. I cannot even fathom spending 50 straight hours playing a game. I have a decent attention span, but not that decent.

The social aspect of gaming is a completely foreign concept to me. The Korean group mentality is something we don't really have here in America. Consequently, I spend most of my time gaming alone. I play with friends online, of course, but they're rarely in the same room with me. I have tried gaming that way, and it's actually pretty fun, but it's just not a common practice here in the U.S.

Korean gamers are also far better at coordinating in a group setting within a game. If there is an objective that a group wants to achieve, individual players are perfectly willing to accept subordinate roles in pursuit of it. This leads to far greater coordination and success than is possible with American gamers who all think they should be the group leader. Few American players are willing to take orders from another player, and consequently large group activities are almost always an organizational nightmare.

It is possible that gaming may reach the level of popularity in America that it enjoys in South Korea, but a fundamental shift in ideology will be necessary beforehand. Until gaming is able to emerge as a social activity and shed the anti-social stigma most often associated with it in this country, it will most likely remain behind closed doors.

Works Cited:

Aleksandar, Dragojevic, Nevena, Vratonjic, and Zarko, Milosevic. Video Games in South Korea. 2007. Ecole Polytechnique Federale De LauSanne. 22 August 2008.

BBC News. S. Korean Dies After Games Session. 10 August 2005. BBC News Online. 22 August 2008

Hua, Vanessa. Video Game Players Score Big Money in South Korea. 18 December 2006. The San Francisco Chronicle Online. 22 August 2008 http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2006/12/18/GAMERS.TMP

Ihlwan, Moon. "Online Gaming, Korea's Gotta Have it." Business Week 9 September 2006. p. 42.

Schiesel, Seth. The Land of the Video Geek. 8 October 2006. The New York Times Online. 22 August 2008.

Published by Benjamin Sell - Featured Contributor in Technology

I spent the better part of five years as a store manager for Hollywood Video and Gamestop before quitting to finish my degree. I finished my Associates Degree in 2006 and my B.A. in English with a writing...  View profile

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