Webdir Goes Online
CD Projekt is still too weak; it's better for it to be nurtured under Ubisoft's wing.
By the time their contracts expire in 1995, those two "idiots" should have managed to get the team up and running.
Then we can separate the Eastern Europe market and directly negotiate with them for agency opportunities, or even investment.
After all, who wouldn't want a studio capable of creating the Witcher series and Cyberpunk 2077 in the future?
"Alright, I understand. Maintain the status quo, but have the supervisors in Europe keep an eye on this company called CDProjekt and give them some 'special treatment,' such as priority in sourcing."
"Clear."
In the last week of March 1994, the rainy season in California had just ended, and the air in Silicon Valley was filled with a restless scent of pollen.
For Frank Marshall, CEO of Silicon Valley Online, the air this week is thick with the smell of burning dollars.
"W... Webdir. com---" Frank held a list in his hand, two huge dark circles under his eyes, but he was as excited as if he had just swallowed a whole bottle of vitamins. "I've registered every domain name that has 'Directory' and 'Web' in it. Now, even if someone wants to follow suit, they'll have to rack their brains just thinking of a name."
This tactic of "taking someone else's path and leaving them with no path to take" was a devastating blow in an era before domain name squatting became an industry.
At 10 a. m. on Monday, there was no ribbon-cutting ceremony, no champagne celebration, and Frank didn't even have time to finish his cold coffee.
The head of the technical department simply pressed Enter on the keyboard, and the website called "Webdir" silently connected to the external network.
It's less of a website and more of a "directory" of the internet.
The page is ridiculously clean.
There was nothing messy or disorganized, just rows of neatly arranged blue hyperlinks, categorized by [News], [Sports], [Technology], and [Entertainment].
To prepare for this moment, Silicon Valley Online's Marketing Department went to extremes with its "flyer offensive."
That eye-catching poster was displayed outside every small computer hardware store in Stanford University, UC Berkeley, and even San Jose.
The poster features only one soul-searching tagline. "Still wandering aimlessly in the dark ocean of the internet? Webdir, we'll give you a light."
The effect was even more intense than expected.
Just two hours after going live, server load alerts started screaming in the server room.
"Looks like our propaganda campaign is working." Frank muttered to himself, staring at the backend data, but his hand instinctively grabbed the phone and yelled at the tech department, "Add more servers! Switch both backup servers over! If it crashes, I'll put you guys on the BBS homepage for all to see!"
At this point, the "Web Chatter" section of Silicon Valley Online BBS was in complete chaos.
The pinned post, "<Webdir Experience Feedback>", garnered hundreds of replies in just one hour.
A user with the ID "Surfer-Boy" commented. "God, I finally don't have to manually copy website addresses into that damn Notepad anymore! Before, if I wanted to check NBA scores, I had to try five times to get the domain name right, but now I only need to click the mouse twice. Who came up with this brilliant idea? I'm going to send them a check!"
Another user, "CodeMaster," was more direct. "The categorization is clear, but I suggest adding a 'Hot Recommendations' section. Also, could you include my personal profile? Even though it only has a few pictures of my cat."
Watching the barrage of praise scrolling across the screen, Tom Kalinske leaned against the door, fiddling with his lighter, a hint of schadenfreude in his smile, "Frank, looks like your worry about bandwidth costs is going to double again. But this time, you probably won't mind, right?"
Frank wiped the sweat from his brow, staring at the almost vertically rising visitor count curve, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Feeling sorry? I'm only worried about not having enough users right now. This is traffic, Tom, this is naked power."
It was past 3 a. m. in Tokyo.
Nakayama Takuya was still awake; only the heavy CRT monitor in front of him continued to tirelessly radiate its fluorescent light.
The screen was refreshing line by line at a maddening pace—first, a rudimentary logo at the top, the word "Webdir" with a few design elements that resembled Sega's "SEGA" logo; then two thick black dividing lines, and finally rows of neat and densely packed blue text chains.
Despite some CSS stylesheet enhancements, the page still appears somewhat plain and rudimentary, even using the browser's default Times New Roman font. The entire page retains a strong "industrial semi-finished product" feel, as rough as a potato that has just been dug out of the ground, washed, but not yet properly dug.
But this potato is now made of gold.
Nakayama Takuya moved the mouse, listening to the rustling sound of the mouse ball rubbing against the mousepad, and the cursor stopped on the "Entertainment" category.
This was the internet portal in 1994.
There were neither those fancy pop-up ads that appeared later, nor tracking scripts that could crash the browser.
It's simple, direct, and even a little silly, much like the legendary website "hao123" from deep within my past life memories.
No, it's even more primitive than hao123.
If hao123 is a simply furnished house, then Webdir in front of us is at best a rough, unfinished house that has just been plastered with lime.
But this very simple, dilapidated house is currently exciting countless United States netizens who have just connected to the internet across the ocean.
"It's so ugly."
Nakayama Takuya couldn't help but laugh out loud, his fingers tapping lightly on the table.
But this ugly thing actually looks kind of endearing.
Given the pitifully slow internet speeds and limited hardware performance these days, any unnecessary embellishments would be a crime against bandwidth.
This minimalism isn't for aesthetic reasons; it's purely for the user experience.
He clicked on one of the links and watched as the status bar at the bottom of the browser slowly began to load.
Although Webdir is currently just a silent guide that can only point the way, once users get used to this crutch, they can easily replace it with a wheelchair or even a fully autonomous car in the future.
Frank may complain about the high cost of bandwidth, but his execution is impeccable.
Although this page is a bit ugly, its structure and logic are exactly the same as the sketch he drew on the whiteboard before, and even the order of the categories is unchanged.
Seeing the page finally redirect successfully on the screen, Nakayama Takuya stretched, his joints cracking.
At 10 a. m. the next day, the most prominent "GG" image on the Silicon Valley Online BBS homepage suddenly changed.
There was no fancy design whatsoever; it was just a red banner with white lettering that would drive any graphic designer crazy, featuring a line of highly provocative data in bold font:
[Webdir's first day report: 201,342 unique visitors, 1,245,899 page views. Thank you to one-tenth of all internet users in the US for choosing us.]