I will try my best to identify what persuaded the South Korean gamers though, and in order to do so I at first tried turning to Ian Bogost and his book Persuasive Games. Contrary to what I expected, Bogost’s work devalues the rhetoric of play, and instead focuses on what he calls procedural rhetoric, or “a technique for making arguments with computational systems and for unpacking computational arguments others have created”(Bogost 3). Throughout the book, Bogost refers to obscure examples of video games, specifically ones that are charged with overtly political, educational, or advertising-related messages, claiming that the procedures and gameplay found within video games “make arguments about the way systems work in the material world” (Bogost 47). I think that his definition of “rhetoric” is rooted a bit too firmly in the traditional sense of the word, as rhetoric can be about things other than politics and advertising, and it most certainly does not have to be intentionally placed.
Using his ideas, it would make StarCraft seem like it was making an argument for the use of drones in the military. The players are in a safe location, commanding their units and conquering enemies, but if they lose, they pretty much just get a message stating “Game Over” with no harm being done to themselves. The mission is failed, the war lost, but the player lives to fight another day. Argument presented, case closed. But to completely ignore the commercial aspect of games, seeing what makes players continue to play certain games over and over again, is a grave mistake on Bogost’s part in my opinion. Wargames like StarCraft aren’t only about “creating ideologies of the enemy,” and establishing the player as a hero (Bogost 75). Using these ideas and the knowledge of South Korea’s ten plus years of fanatically playing this game, if Bogost’s theory held true and the mass consumption of the game reflected discontent and military might, South Korea would be one of most militaristic societies in the world. We only need to compare the country to its counterparts to the north to see how laughable this is. The persuasion of StarCraft, according to Bogost, would be all about enforcing a perfect military, and viewing the three different races, their organizational structures, their tactics, and their interactions with one another under a microscope in order to look for aspects that criticize current practices within Blizzard’s or its game’s players’ own government. Would this really result in the seemingly endless StarCraft craze if it spoke to the people in 1998, and continues doing so in 2010 while South Korean government and society has advanced in leaps and bounds?
Needless to say, I was a bit disappointed when I read through the book- the abstract made it seem like his ideas matched closely with Brummet’s, but this is sadly not the case. Of course, in our traditional everyday usage of the word rhetoric, his definitions fit in perfectly, but for the sake of this paper, his only use was to point out exactly what I disagree with when it comes to a game’s rhetoric, which is indeed beneficial in a way. However, Bogost does introduce a few theories, ones he disagrees with naturally, that are helpful when attempting to examine what message was received by South Koreans. One of which was introduced by Brian Sutton-Smith, who feels that “rhetorics of play ‘identify how games and play embody ideological values and how specific forms and uses of play perpetuate and justify these values’” (Bogost 52). So, in applying this to StarCraft, we can say that the game itself, and the text surrounding it, which involves everything between playing alone at one’s home, to meeting friends at a local café to play, to attending a huge stadium, embodies the widespread values of South Korea as a nation. So unlike America, where there is a great divide in the value of playing a computer game, this culture as a whole has come to embrace it, and obviously justifies the values by awarding so much merit to it (sponsorships, money, etc.). But this doesn’t answer where this inherent value came from still.
Yet I may have a reasonable explanation. Looking back at the Department of State’s profile on South Korea, there was a heavy emphasis on electronics and technologies in the 1990s, as the shift from industrial production to this field guaranteed a shot in the arm for the country’s struggling economy. The industry took off in almost all major fields: LG and Samsung were rapidly increasing their international sales in wireless communications, promising robotics and cybernetics programs were evolving, and even the field of biotechnology saw profit. But, according to Rossignol, the locally produced video games from Korea were terrible. These games did not provide innovative gameplay, but were rather cheap knock off attempts at reproducing the most popular online gaming genre of the 90s, the MMORPG or Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game. Basically, these kinds of games had millions of users all taking the role of their own respective adventurer in a massive, immersive landscape. In a top quality MMORPG, like Blizzard’s other smash hit World of Warcraft, players can go on quests, battle one another, interact with various people from across the world, as well as with the in-game environment in the role of their in-game character. However, Korea’s MMORPGs offered very little in terms of content, and amounted to “nothing more than glorified chat programs” (Rossignol). Rival Japan saw huge successes from their console sales of Sony Playstation and Nintendo’s various systems, so the South Koreans knew exactly how much potential was in the field, but were frustrated with their inability to tap into it.
When StarCraft finally fell in the laps of these bored teens (who could only play Baseball or practice Taekwondo as other forms of play since the popularity of sports was crawling along), as well as in the hands of the struggling South Korean video game industry, all hell broke loose. Blizzard is renowned for its high quality games—they can delay games for years at a time if they feel that the product is not up to par, and have no qualms about disbanding a game altogether if the end product is inferior to their reputation. So I think this answers one of the questions I posed earlier, where what was so special about StarCraft—which is that South Korea had never seen a product of this kind before, both in terms of its art, creativity, refinement, and coherence, as well as in its capability to allow so many people to connect online simultaneously, interacting with one another in order to form an online community. If nothing else, the overall product of this game had its own form of persuasion on those who witnessed it in South Korea: Success and entertainment was possible in the video game industry.
As for the rhetoric that appealed to South Koreans in the game itself, I would argue that StarCraft’s futuristic setting was very reminiscent of the West’s creative outlook on the future. Specifically, I am referring to the idea of Neo-Tokyo from Japanese animation and manga. This New Tokyo is a recurring trend in several movies and comics overseas, a fictitious future version of the city of Tokyo where technology reigns supreme, complete with robots, bright lights all over the city, and a variety of imagined technologies that would be impossible to pull off today. South Korea, despite its feud with Japan, really took to this form of the arts, as did much of the Orient. The fictional idea of New Tokyo aligns itself well with South Korea’s initiative to produce as much technological advances as possible, since the nation seeks to be a worldwide leader in emerging electronic fields. I think that the Terran and Protoss races utilize ideas found in Japanese animation’s fictitious societies, and the advanced technologies, space travel capabilities, and robotics struck a chord with South Korea. Even though the races are stuck in an endless cycle of conflict, their array of weaponry, machinery, and computers are impressive and unprecedented. Am I saying that all South Koreans are drawn to the game because they want to create these things? Not necessarily, but when technology is stressed as a valuable resource that will be the lifeblood of their entire country, it’d be hard to argue that a fast paced, science fiction game based in outer space in the future would not at least pique the interest of a great number of people.
Now, we’ve established that there are two very different sets of rhetoric and persuasion when it came to the introduction of StarCraft to South Korean society. First, this immersive experience that was unlike anything the Koreans had access to proves that this field of technology had value in entertainment and communal aspects. Second, the futuristic setting of the game persuades the players to at least come investigate what the game was about in the first place, as the focus on technology and strategy spoke to both society’s values and to pop culture in the form of manga. But the question remains as to what turned this game into a legacy over there? Super Mario Bros. for the Nintendo Entertainment System is one of the highest selling games of all times, but that didn’t stop consumers from moving on to other games as they were released. As mentioned previously, South Korea is not a militaristic nation, so the thrill of all out war doesn’t seem likely. For more help, I turn to Jose Zagal, who says that players have the ability to learn a great deal through video games, and not solely in the educational sense like our friend Bogost does. Using Zagal’s terms, StarCraft became so successful because the South Koreans could “understand” the game. This means that they possessed “the ability to explain, discuss, describe, frame, situate, interpret, and/or position games and by deconstructing them and understanding their components, how they interact, and how they facilitate certain experiences in players” (Zagal).
I would argue that the majority of South Korean society positioned this game in a high spot because it was so unlike anything they had ever experienced before, and the gameplay specifically spoke to them. The simplest way to break down what makes a StarCraft player exceptional at the game versus being average is how many actions they can take. A player’s “micromanagement” of specific units across the game’s maps, and their thought-to-action speed are often the deciding factors in a StarCraft match at the professional level. I truly believe that human nature makes us competitive creatures, and these South Koreans take pride in their ability to operate the game. Whether they were cognizant of the fact or not, they were able to deconstruct the game into something pretty simple: Who can form strategies and implement them the quickest. There is a simple enjoyment in winning a battle of wits against another human being, one that is not exclusive to South Korea, as evidenced in this YouTube video from the 2009 Video Game finals for StarCraft:
The finals took place in China, and the announcers were speaking in English, so the professional gaming realm has begun to spread outside of solely South Korea, even though both finalists were indeed from the country. It sounds ridiculous to American society, but South Koreans were able to learn about themselves from this game and turn it into a huge part of their economy and society.
I can only reiterate how fascinating this topic has been. I gained more knowledge about persuasion than I ever thought possible, and learned that everything around us has the potential to carry messages. The text of the StarCraft video game that I played regularly so many years ago has so many connotations and stories, whether they are from my own personal experiences, American pop culture, or South Korean national pride, the game definitely has its own rhetoric that speaks volumes. I truly enjoyed studying our rhetoric of the game versus that of South Korea’s, attempting to find reason in a video game explosion that makes almost no sense to us over here. I hope my study of both cultures and their rhetoric found in the game by the separate societies has proven to be an interesting study if nothing else, because I know it has been a great deal of fun for me.
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