Blizzard's Ambition

Chris had thought about these questions, but they were mostly fleeting ideas, never before connected in this way.

"What other force drives the orcs? Is it just the Burning Legion? Or does this world itself hold some secret that even the Titans covet?" Nakayama Takuya patiently explained, breaking down the grand theories of later generations and feeding them bit by bit to the future "Father of Warcraft."

"Burning Legion... Titans..." Chris muttered these words, his hand unconsciously gesturing on the table, his eyes growing brighter and brighter. "If you add this tragic element to the orcs, they're not just simple monsters anymore! That creates conflict, that creates drama!"

Mike Morhaime looked somewhat worried as he watched Chris, who was engrossed in his brainstorming session.

As the company's steward, he was more sensitive to money.

"Mr. Nakayama, your idea is indeed—breathtaking. But it means a tremendous workload." Mike gave a wry smile. "Our current manpower is already stretched thin, requiring us to work overtime just to develop the game. If we were to build such a vast world, the budget and timeline would likely be—"

"Who said everything has to be crammed into this generation of games?" Nakayama Takuya leaned back in his chair, unscrewed a bottle of Coke, and took a sip. "This generation of games just needs to have a solid framework, leaving room for expansion. As for those grand backstories, they can be presented in other ways."

"Another way?"

"Take a novel, for example," Nakayama Takuya said, pointing at Chris. "Words are the cheapest yet most expensive medium. Find someone with good writing skills, or Chris, you could write these settings into a story. Include it with the game as a collector's edition, or publish it separately. Let players know before they even enter the game that this is a living world, not just a game where you command a bunch of armies to fight each other. Or, after playing the game, they can read the novel and uncover the story behind it."

Mike's eyes lit up. This was indeed a low-cost way to get started.

"And don't worry about the money." Nakayama Takuya saw through Mike's concerns. "This work isn't urgent. Your priority right now is to finish Warcraft: Orcs & Humans. As for expanding the world, that's for Warcraft 2 and Warcraft 3, and some parts of the world and settings can even be made into games with different gameplay styles. Since Sega has invested in you, they won't withdraw their funding just because you want to tell the story well."

At this point, Nakayama Takuya paused, his tone becoming more serious. "I hope that Blizzard will sell not only game software in the future, but also a culture. This will provide your games with more revenue streams and help you withstand greater risks. In the future, after Blizzard and Warcraft become globally renowned, who knows, it might even be made into a movie."

These words struck them like a heavy hammer.

In an era when most games were still stuck on "rescuing the princess" and "fighting monsters," the vision depicted by Nakayama Takuya was too ahead of its time and too tempting.

Mike Mohuaimi took a deep breath, and his worries about being bossed around by investors or having his shares coveted completely vanished.

The man in front of them not only gave them money, but also gave them the direction they needed most.

"Understood." Mike nodded solemnly. "We'll revise the configuration documents. If we're going to do it, let's make it a true Azeroth."

Chris was so excited that his cheeks turned red, and he wished he could rush back right now to rewrite the script.

He grabbed the sketch on the table, his hand trembling slightly. "About the Burning Legion," he said, "I suddenly had an idea... what if—"

"Keep your ideas, write them down, and refine them." Nakayama Takuya stood up with a smile and patted Chris on the shoulder. "Take your time, we have plenty of time."

Watching the two figures refocus on their work, Nakayama Takuya's lips curled into a slight smile.

Without the annoyance of troublesome investors, this generation of Blizzard may be even stronger.

After saying goodbye to the Blizzard team, who were once again immersed in pizza and code, Nakayama Takuya drove back to Redwood City without stopping.

Compared to Blizzard's geeky "workshop" atmosphere, the current headquarters of "Silicon Valley Online" has a distinctly Wall Street -like solemnity and order.

As soon as he entered the meeting room, Frank Marshall handed him a glass of espresso instead of a Coke.

"It seems this year hasn't been easy for you, Frank." Nakayama Takuya took the coffee, his gaze sweeping over the mountain of data reports piled on the table.

"It's a bittersweet experience. Especially last month, when the 42nd United States President Clinton detailed his ambitious plan to build an ' Information Superhighway ' in his State of the Union Address, proposing to connect every classroom, clinic, library, hospital, and even businesses, shops, and banks in the United States by the year 2000."

"After connecting with news organizations, television stations, conference halls, entertainment venues, and computer data, our valuation exceeded US dollar 300 million."

Frank unbuttoned his suit jacket, sat down, and pointed to the candlestick chart on the wall. "In the past year or so, at least a dozen companies have tried to copy our model. They copied ICQ's interface, copied BBS forum categories, and some even copied our user agreement verbatim."

Tom Kalinske, sitting next to me, pulled his legs off the table and chuckled. "And what happened? They just put on a facade. Users registered, found themselves in a ghost town, or a ruin filled with trashy characters, and eventually obediently returned to us."

Frank nodded, his expression proud. "Because our core assets can't be moved. The 'Industry' section now has extremely high entry barriers; top engineers and professors only recognize our account IDs. Last month, a discussion thread about TCP/IP protocol optimization directly attracted responses from the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA). This level of expertise is our deepest moat."

Nakayama Takuya flipped through the operations report in his hand, his finger pausing on the "Startups & VC" page.

This place, once considered a "wild and outlandish" testing ground, has now become Silicon Valley's fiercest arena of capital.

Do venture capital firms these days still send interns to monitor this sector every day?

"An intern?" Tom laughed. "Takuya, you underestimate yourself. Now it's Sequoia Capital and KPCB."

Our partners personally oversee it! As soon as a seemingly promising project is posted, the poster's inbox is flooded with messages within ten minutes. Hundreds of companies have secured funding through this platform; we've become Silicon Valley's de facto online incubator.

"Although our influence is expanding, business is still business."