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By Michael Lowell

July 18, 2011

The Creation of Battle.net 2.0

Part One: Introduction
Part Two: Into the Dark Portal
Part Three: Cataclysm
Part Four: The Online Sensation
Part Five: An Open and Closed Case
Part Six: So, In Conclusion…

Part Six: So, In Conclusion…

There is a term in video games that gets a lot of flak.  It’s called “play to win.”  You play to win the game.  You do not change human instinct.  You do not inhibit man’s right to compete.  When you’re playing StarCraft, you don’t get upset when somebody exploits the same cheap strategy game after game.  You don’t get mad because you’ve played six straight opponents who all decided on Strategy X because it is the most effective gameplan.  You pin that fault on Blizzard Entertainment.  They created that rule set.  The onus is on the developer to fix that rule set.  The player base is just playing to win.

Think of the major video game publishers as players.  Activision-Blizzard, Electronic Arts, Zynga, Ubisoft, Sony, Capcom, and Nintendo are all a tiny, tiny portion of an entertainment industry that’s playing to win at any costs.  And I don’t hold that against them.  What I hold against these companies is that they are writing the rule set.  They are designing the rules that they play by.  They are creating a set of rules for the software that harms the consumer’s rights and harms the quality of the product.  Right now, computer software law is still a very new legal field that is changing very, very quickly.   Let’s keep in mind that Atari fought with the United States Copyright Office for fourteen years because they would not issue a copyright for the 1976 arcade game Breakout.  The government repeatedly declared that the colors and geometric shapes could not be copyrighted.  That’s the legal landscape that these companies are molding to their interests.  Much like the RIAA spends money to lobby governments so they’ll pass legislation favorable to their bottom line, software companies have created a market where they write computer software law.

With this power in tow, the goal of the major retail video game publishers is to transform their product into something similar to cable television.  They want to transform their industry from a good into a service.  Nobody will “buy” video games.  Players will subscribe to a library of games that will change at the whim of a company or distributor’s demands.  Right now, you’re seeing the baby steps for that movement. Their next goals are to cut third-party retail distribution out of the equation, saving money on packaging and pocketing the money that would normally go to GameStop or Steam.  Electronic Arts has already begun this with their aggressive marketing of their Origin digital distribution service.  Bobby Kotick has publicly expressed interest in packing his games with the hardware, creating a version of Guitar Hero that can be played by connecting the guitar into the television.*  He would do this to circumvent the licensing fees associated with creating games for video game consoles.

And with the distribution of their products on lockdown, they’ll charge the highest prices that they possibly can.  There will be no modmaking tools that aren’t explicitly authorized by the developer and creator of the game.  And as time passes, and these games become less popular, companies will have complete and full control over the distribution rights to those games.  Once people stop playing it, they’ll pull it.  It’ll be like the movie theaters: Once people stop playing the games, they’ll disappear.  Battle.net 2.0 is consistent with the vision held by every major publisher in the video game industry.  As Blizzard Entertainment said on the preview site for Battle.net 2.0, “[t]he final metamorphosis has only just begun…”*

“And with that, a mighty cheer went up for the heroes of Blizzard-ville.  They had
banished the Local Area Network forever…because it was haunted.  Now let’s
all celebrate with a cool glass of Battle.net.”

“Hey, Mikey Lowell, you know what my right as a consumer is?  To avoid products I don’t like.  You should do the same.  Quit your whining and move on!”  In the battle of “Fuck corporations!” versus “Fuck socialists!”, the free market interpretation of Battle.net 2.0 is very easy: Blizzard Entertainment is a business, and if you don’t like their rules, go buy a different game.  Let me explain my philosophy on this.

Shortly after the turn of this century, long-time computer game developers jumped ship to the consoles.  They did this in order to milk a larger consumer base and avoid the narrow computer development profit margins that were the result of increasing production costs.  The companies that remained to do business on the platform introduced incredibly unpopular “digital rights management” programs onto copies of their software.  The rationale for loading malware into the computers of legitimate customers is that software piracy was costing those companies money.  More recently, the major publishers in the console video game industry have been desperately attempting to eliminate the sales of used video games, packaging the games with one-time-use codes,* calling retailers “parasites and thieves”,* and trying to win customers over with pre-order bonuses.  Capcom would even eliminate the ability to delete save data in 2011′s Resident Evil: The Mercenaries 3D,* a means of assuring that the recipients of used copies could not delete the data and start anew.  These companies are doing this because they are losing money.  In June of 2010, the C.E.O. of Take Two Interactive Ben Feder stated that their products required “aftermarket content” (a.k.a. downloadable content) or their products could not be profitable.*  And now, I have been informed that a computer game developer has wired their online video game service into a closed system because software pirates, script kiddies, and Asian government organizations were harming their revenues.  Or are you beginning to get my point?

Total year-to-year sales of boxed video game software and hardware have declined by fifteen percent in the United States from 2007 to 2010.**  And unless Modern Warfare 3 sells forty-eight billion copies, year-to-year sales of video games will continue to decline. Yes, digital distribution has a little to do with that.  However, the consoles are not moving sixty-dollar digital games and Steam is not making enough money to ward off that decline.  Electronic Arts, THQ, and Ubisoft are all losing money.***  Activision-Blizzard will only continue to make money if the exodus of 600,000 World of Warcraft players since the release of the expansion pack Cataclysm* is an aberration and not a mutiny.  The only major American publisher making big money these days is Zynga.  Yes, the FarmVille guys.  When you say “If you don’t like it, don’t buy it!”, that’s exactly what’s happening.  People are not buying the games.  For the last six years, a period of time that seems oddly concurrent with the industry’s cockamamie fetish for distribution control, there has been no growth.  Zero.  None.  All of the people who purchased Nintendo Wiis in 2007 are now playing crappy mobile phone games because they are cheaper and more convenient to that audience. If these companies cannot get more people to buy their games, then they will grope the wallets of existing customers and see if they can charge those customers more for the same product.  And like all entertainment properties that don’t grow their consumer base, they will crash and burn.

So really, it doesn’t matter what the hell I do or whether people read this article and stop buying Blizzard games or stop buying console games or whatever.  I don’t really care.  The goal of this piece was to say, “Here’s how Battle.net 2.0 works, here’s why they’re doing it, here’s what it will lead to.”  My job has been accomplished here. When my kids (and they’ll be adopted, because there’s no way I’m getting laid after writing this article) say “Daddy, where were you when the Battle.net forums said dumb crap about Battle.net 2.0?”  I can say, “I was writing essays on a web site!”  And my kids will be like, “Yeah, um, okay.  Gonna go play StarCraft V.  Bye, daddy!”  And I’ll be like, “Don’t you realize Battle.net 4.0 is a means to control the chemical composition of your bodily fluids?”  And they’ll be like, “If you don’t like it, don’t buy it!  That’s how the free market works!  God!  Stop hating America, daddy!”  And then I’ll say, “Eh.  I tried.”

P.S.: Before I conclude, I’d like to say something to any of the game developers who worked on StarCraft II: Wings of Liberty.  Video game sales tracking web site VGChartz claims that month-to-month pre-orders of StarCraft II declined by thirty percent in the month of June 2010.*  If there is any truth in those numbers, then the article I wrote back in June of 2010 was possibly responsible for harming your ability to make a living.  If I did that, then I apologize.  It is not the intention of my writing or any writing on this web site to hurt those who are simply in this wretched business to fulfill their creative dreams and make a couple of bucks while doing it.  I’ve read enough about this wonderful industry to understand how horrible an industry it is to work in.  That’s precisely the reason that I criticize it looking from the outside in.  Now, that doesn’t mean I will refrain from being critical of a bad product.  But as I have repeatedly stated and stressed, I thought that StarCraft II: Wings of Liberty was a very good video game.  I do not like the service.  I want that distinction to be clear.

Unfortunately, the industry is designed in a funny way.  If management greenlights a successful series of video games, then magazines such as Forbes hail Bobby Kotick as a hero, “a chief executive blind to the beauty of videogames [who] developed an unmatched eye for spotting hits.”*  But if the games are not successful, the developers take the blame.  The development company is ground into dust and the employees have to find a new job.  The day that Kotick sends Activision-Blizzard operating income into China Syndrome, he walks away with a compensation package, commissions a yacht, and sails away into the sunset.  Dustin Browder and company will lose their job and have nothing to show for it.  My fight is not with workers.  I’m going after management.  They’re the dudes who hire the people who surround the company with yes-men who make the decision that in order to protect operating profits, Battle.net 2.0 has to be designed in order to enforce the company’s intellectual property.  They’re the dudes pocketing most of the money.  And until these businessmen stop creating shitty distribution models to protect their decaying business models, then I’m going to keep badmouthing them.  If you’re working for one of these dudes, you’ll have to live with that.  Just please, don’t consider it personal.  Just keep making good video games.  In exchange, I’ll educate customers so they know a good product when they see it.  We’ll make this work for both of us.  Fair?

Author Addendum on August 3, 2011: At the beginning of August 2011, Blizzard Entertainment announced that Diablo III would require a persistent internet connection.*  In addition, the game would not include any tools at all or any support for modmaking.*  I’ve been unable to figure out why this is news, because the company already announced that Diablo III would not be playable on a Local Area Network.  This was the logical step forward.  If anybody else had written a 16,000-word epic detailing the creation of the Battle.net 2.0 online gaming service, they would have come to the same conclusion.  I need to go get some Tylenol.  It hurts to be this correct all of the time.

To comment on this article as a guest or registered member, please visit the forums. Otherwise, return to the main page.

To comment on this article as a guest or registered member, please visit the forums.

By Michael Lowell

July 18, 2011

The Creation of Battle.net 2.0

Part One: Introduction
Part Two: Into the Dark Portal
Part Three: Cataclysm
Part Four: The Online Sensation
Part Five: An Open and Closed Case
Part Six: So, In Conclusion…

Part Five: An Open and Closed Case

It is impossible to ascertain the exact moment that Blizzard Entertainment decided to make a radical shift in business policy.  This is something that requires a little bit of guesswork.  Michael Morhaime told me that he won’t answer any of my “Question Rocks” until I agree to pay for the broken windows at Blizzard headquarters.  I’m broke.  So, here we are.  What we know is that Garena, KeSPA, and the Glider software presented puzzling financial quandaries for the company.  And no, you cannot blame this on Bobby Kotick.  Blizzard would not announce their merger with Activision until December of 2007, well after the Michael Donnelly legal shenanigans began.  Here is what we can say with certainty: To battle their opponents, Blizzard would go after the easiest target.  They would go after the guy who was selling cheat software for a video game.  In early 2007, Blizzard lawyers walked into an Arizona district court and announced their strategy for dealing with the ills of changing technology.  This legal team would proclaim that the copyrights owned by their client were sacred and unalterable ground.

Blizzard would have to demonstrate that the Glider software infringed upon Blizzard’s copyright and that it violated an “exclusive right” held by the company. The crux of the argument made by Blizzard would have its roots in the precedent set by Vernor v. Autodesk (2006).  That ruling would make headlines in 2010 when the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals overturned the ruling (which had previously gone in favor of EBay auctioneer Timothy Vernor) and placed the first-sale doctrine for all computer and video game software in serious jeopardy.  In 2007, portions of the ruling had already been established as precedent.  Namely, it affirmed that if the user is designated as a licensee by the creator of the software, then that is what he is.  He is a licensee.  He does not own the software.

That would create the basis for the rest of the Blizzard argument.  Since the company is the copyright holder for World of Warcraft, only they control the right to reproduce the game. Both parties had agreed that when the player loads a copy of the game software into the Random Access Memory on their computer, that copy can infringe upon the copyright unless the consumer owns the software or he abides by the terms and conditions set when a license is granted to him or her.  According to the World of Warcraft End User License Agreement, “you…accept, a limited, non-exclusive license and right to install the Game Client for your personal use on one (1) or more computers which you own or which are under your personal control”.  World of Warcraft players are licensees.  No debate here.  The World of Warcraft EULA authorizes the user to create one copy of World of Warcraft and only one copy. This copy must be used in a manner that is consistent with the rules outlined in the EULA.  Automated programs and software bots had been banned by the 2005 update to the EULA.  The update of the EULA was perfectly legal because the document stipulated “Blizzard reserves the right, at its sole discretion, to change, modify, add to, supplement or delete any of the terms and conditions of this License Agreement when Blizzard upgrades the Game Client”.  From this line of logic, Blizzard would argue that any use of the Glider software by any licensee of the World of Warcraft software resulted in a modification of the game client that was not authorized in the EULA; that the use of the Glider software was a violation of Blizzard’s intellectual property rights, their copyright.  In the plainest speak that I can offer to you: “Our copyright, our rules.  If you don’t like it?  You can go fuck yourself.”  The Arizona district court agreed.*

In 1996, ProCD v. Zeidenberg affirmed the validity of the shrink-wrap agreement.  In 2006, Vernor v. Autodesk affirmed the role of the consumer as a licensee.  And in 2008, a court has stated that the computer program loaded into your computer memory is the sole property of the creator, and that your use of that memory is limited to the terms set by the company. From this point forward, it was elementary.  Blizzard was able to argue that Donnelly knew he was infringing on the copyright of the company.  This wasn’t hard, because he wrote on the Glider web site that the software was against the EULA.  The company was also able to produce evidence that his actions financially harmed the company, leading to a loss of revenue.  On April 1st, 2009, the Arizona district court found that Donnelly’s company was liable for 6.5 million dollars in damages and that he had violated two provisions in the 1998 Digital Millenium Copyright Act, an amendment to the Copyright Act of 1976 designed to update copyright law for a digital America.*  (The ruling was later appealed.  The Ninth Circuit Court ruled that Donnelly only violated one provision of the DMCA, the provision against trafficking a program designed to circumvent copyright protection.  He was still on the hook for millions.)

Blizzard built World of Warcraft into a closed system because it was the preferred distribution model for the MMORPG.  Nearly five years after their wunderkind evolved into the most financially-successful video game of all-time, it was the center of a legal barfight.  At the end of this bloodbath, the United States legal system told Blizzard that any unauthorized modification or use of the game code could be challenged, so long as they outline which modifications and uses of the game code are illegal.  If anybody violated this copyright, the company could summon more lawyers or simply disable the use of the software.  In order for Blizzard to enforce these new-found god powers, they would have to do one last thing.  All they would have to do is code any future games in a manner that granted them significant oversight of the game code.

Two months after Blizzard Entertainment brought a financial hammer down on Michael Donnelly, the company announced that StarCraft II would not feature the ability to be played on a Local Area Network.  World of Warcraft lead designer Rob Pardo stated that the elimination of LAN was “because of the planned technology to be incorporated into Battle.net”.  Blizzard Entertainment decided that the only way their future products could be protected from this infringement would be to route and integrate the games into a new, closed version of the Battle.net service.  This service would require a persistent internet connection.  Battle.net 2.0 was born.

With these tools, Blizzard Entertainment could lash against all of the third-party entities (legal, illicit, immoral, ethical and elsewise) that had helped to make their games a worldwide phenomenon.  They could prevent Garena from making StarCraft II compatible with their service.  No LAN component, no emulation.  They could demand licensing fees from the Korean e-Sports Players Association.  No licensing fees, no games.  Under the previous Blizzard Entertainment development philosophy, the distribution model was designed to maximize profit by attracting new audiences to their products.  They would do this with “spawn modes” and Local Area Network play.  They would offer players the ability to create multiple accounts that are independent of product keys.  Now, the company would shift to a distribution model that was designed to take an existing user base and maximize profit.  And with these exclusive distribution rights, the company would not have to worry about complaints that the Battle.net 2.0 service was sub-par.  They could spend the bare minimum to create a crappy service and it would not matter.  Their servers would be the only game in town.  Blizzard took the goodwill created by these third-parties and then used it to give them the finger.  Blizzard had designed Battle.net to protect their bottom line.  They would accomplish this goal with two business strategies, one proceeding the other.

First, Battle.net 2.0 would be designed to eliminate a perception of ownership.  Take the example of Sony.  Sony argues that you do not own PlayStation 3 products when you purchase them.  They argue that you do not own the software because there is a “Licensed, Not Sold” provision on the back of every box.  They argue that you do not own the hardware because you must agree to their End User License Agreement in order to use the PlayStation 3.  When the company went to court and fought with PlayStation 3 jailbreaker George Hotz, they argued that his circumvention of security measures was in violation of the EULA that he had agreed to.  The Sony interpretation of computer software law is not in dispute. Should you decline to upgrade your PlayStation 3 firmware, you will eventually be shut out of newer services and newer games that will require that firmware.  But you don’t really give a crap.  You don’t give a crap because you can take that PlayStation anywhere you want and you can play those games whenever you want.  The PlayStation 3 does not have to be connected to a network in order to function.  (Not that the PlayStation Network functions all the time, anyway.)  Video game hardware has functioned in roughly the same manner since the Atari VCS popularized interchangeable cartridges and media, long before the advent of End User License Agreements and software updates.  Even as Sony tells you that you are a gigantic piece of shit and that your wallet is the only thing that is useful to them, there is a perception that ownership exists.

Compare that with StarCraft II.  It’s one thing for Blizzard to say in their EULA that you are the only person authorized to use your purchase.  How are they going to know that?  Or rather, how does the company make it worth their time to know whether WeedMastr420 is sharing his account?  They’re not.  Instead, they will code various restrictions into the purchase.  They’ll prohibit you from making changes to your user name.  You will get one name and that is it.  That name will be tied into a permanent ladder rating.  This will diminish the resale value of the game account that you’re not supposed to resell.  If you intentionally lose games to decrease that rating, the company will accuse you of “smurfing” and possibly suspend your account.*  (This company has no fucking idea what “smurfing” is and why it is done.  I find that highly entertaining.)  And if you’ve already licensed other games into your Battle.net account, tough shit.  Kind of hard to give your StarCraft II account to somebody else when they’ll take your Blizzard game library with it.  The company will also enforce a custom content censorship system that puts your creations at the mercy of the company. Oh, and should you run your mouth at somebody and say the wrong thing, you risk the chance of receiving a warning or suspension for your conduct.  You risk being blocked from the game service.  So yeah, there’s a sense of ownership.  Battle.net 2.0 gives you ownership of StarCraft II in the way that a ticket to Disneyland gives you ownership of the park.  And when the guy in the Mickey Mouse suit says “Park’s closed, get the fuck out!  Ha, ha!”, you will listen to him.

Then, using the service as a deterrent to both software piracy and copyright infringement, Battle.net 2.0 would stabilize a price point for the Activision-Blizzard business model.  Remember what I said earlier: Back in the nineties, the goal of the Blizzard distribution model was to get the game in the hands of as many people as possible.  That has now changed. Blizzard Entertainment has made a business decision that “making the same customers pay more for the games” is more profitable than “introducing new customers to the games”.  The company believes that they can only make more money by aggressively targeting the existing fan base.  That is why software piracy had to be eliminated.  Most people pirate software because “I can, you dumbass!” or “Software can be purchased for money?  Really?”  The Robin Hood philosophy of software piracy is that it acts as a check and balance against the creator of a work; that the terms of use will be decided by what the consumer believes is reasonable and not by the company or author that creates them.  (If you are a subscriber to this philosophy, then you are a dumb fuck.  Just saying.)  The major publishers hate the idea that if they piss off their consumers, these potential purchasers can white knight their way to ThePirateBay and download the game for free; that they can use the purchase in a manner that they see fit.

If you can eliminate software piracy, you eliminate that check and balance.  To successfully accomplish this, you must eliminate software piracy to a degree that it is either difficult for the average consumer or that it is driven completely underground, out of the mainstream’s eyesight.  Even with the release of a working crack for StarCraft II, Blizzard has accomplished this.  In this case, it’s not about the money “lost” from the illegitimate download of the software.  It’s about the money gained from absolute authority over your pricing, your distribution model, and the terms of how that software can be used.  This is a sentiment I channeled back in May of 2011 when I was discussing the rise of the Xbox Live service:

Look at what Xbox Live did. It convinced millions upon millions of people to pay a monthly fee for a peer-to-peer networking model. That is, “a central server uses minimal bandwidth and upkeep to organize the creation of online matches”. That is, little actual hosting is done by the server. That is, what Blizzard has been offering customers for free through Battle.net since they released Diablo in 1996. They convinced people to pay for the privilege of using their internet connection to do the heavy lifting in online video games! Using a networking format that generated inferior latency in first-person shooters!

I mean, holy crap! If you could do that, imagine what else you could bilk this audience out of! Developers would have been crazy to pass on this gold rush!  To consider the inverse, look at what happened when Apple built their mobile phone game store. When the company allowed anybody to make a video game for the iPhone, the price point for portable video games collapsed and Nintendo is still scrambling to deal with it. The opposite happens when an open system becomes closed. The closed system called Xbox Live created a market for maps, for clothes, for guns, whatever you could price! When Epic Games released the computer-exclusive Unreal Tournament 2004, it was packaged with nearly one-hundred maps for use across half-a-dozen game types. Thousands upon thousands of free, community-created maps followed. Two years later, Epic Games released Gears of War, a third-person shooter touted as (and would become) a cornerstone of the Xbox 360 game library. It was packaged with ten maps. Two downloadable map packs would up that number to sixteen. One of the map packs was released for free. The other one featured four maps. It could be downloaded for a price of 800 Microsoft Points™, a price point of approximately ten dollars. And they were able to set these prices by appealing to an audience that had never created a multiplayer map for Doom or downloaded free mods such as Counter-Strike.

The Ghetto, “The History of Why I’m Tired of Your Tactical Shooters: Part Three”; May 12, 2011* (Citing my own article seems a little bit pretentious.  Eh.  Not my fault that I’m the greatest writer who ever lived.  Deal with it.)

Closed systems dramatically inflate the value of the post-release content that can be sold with a game.  And currently, the development focus and core upgrade of Battle.net 2.0 for use with the StarCraft II expansion pack Heart of the Swarm will be a marketplace similar to the one used by Apple for their smartphones.*  In other words, one of the main selling points in a forty-or-fifty-dollar expansion pack will be a feature that allows you to spend more money on the game.  Under the previous system, maps and custom content could be freely and openly transmitted for no price.  It could be downloaded from third-party web sites.  No market existed for custom content.  In a system where Blizzard can regulate that custom content to the fullest extent of their ability, there is money to be made in a marketplace. And with that, the goals of Blizzard were established.  All the company now had to do is leverage their capital in order to crack down on the liberals and pedophiles who would dare defile the copyrights of Blizzard Entertainment.  It would be so.

In 2007, a group of passionate StarCraft players created the International Cyber Cup, a StarCraft private server hosted somewhere in the coldest depths of Mother Russia.*  The illegitimate nature of the server was never ever in doubt, since it was an emulated version of the Battle.net service as provided for StarCraft.  A similarly-engineered Diablo private server named BnetD was lawyered out of existence by Blizzard two years after the release of Diablo II.  However, ICCUP would provide numerous features that would make it superior to the StarCraft experience on Battle.net 1.0.  Among the features were improved latency, a robust anti-hack detection system, and clever management of the custom game system that allowed players to host “ladder matches” on a constantly-rotating map pool.  Almost immediately, ICCUP gained a reputation for its ruthless level of play.  In StarCraft II parlance, the lowest rating of “D” was equal to the level of play that can be found in the StarCraft II Master Leagues.  It became a preferred practice destination for top-level amateur players and even a number of professional StarCraft players.  The service hosted the highest level of play in online StarCraft, period. Shortly after the June of 2009 statement on StarCraft II and Local Area Networks, Blizzard broke a long-standing silence on ICCUP and declared that it was a “pirate server”.  The creators and handlers of ICCUP fired back, saying that StarCraft II would eventually be playable on their service.  Blizzard has taken no action against ICCUP and the service is still limited to use with StarCraft and Warcraft III.

Possibly pictured: Blizzard Entertainment employee goes undercover to crack down on ICCUP.

Meanwhile, Blizzard continued through three years of negotiations with the KeSPA over the use of Blizzard’s “intellectual property”.  While fans of StarCraft had been unaware that direct negotiations were going on behind the curtains,* decisions and posturing by both entities had suggested that something was amiss.  In June of 2009, StarCraft Terran legend Lee Yun-Yeol (NaDa) was scheduled to play Warcraft III figurehead Jang Jae Ho (Moon) in a special StarCraft II exhibition series at the South Korean eStars gaming event.  KeSPA used their clout to make sure that the games never made it onto television or a webstream.*  Later on, StarCraft II was given the equivalent of an Adults Only rating by South Korea’s video game rating commission, which would have prohibited the game from being broadcast on television.*

In April of 2010, after months of rumors and musings from fans,* it was reported that Blizzard would be ceasing negotiations to grant KeSPA a license for broadcasting StarCraft II.*  The next month, Blizzard CEO Michael Morhaime published a letter that was directed towards South Korean StarCraft fans and organizers.  Morhaime claimed that his company learned “KeSPA did not recognize our intellectual property rights”, to which Blizzard “decided we could not delay any further in finding a trustworthy partner who respected our intellectual property rights,” and would be taking these actions as “a way to protect our intellectual property rights as well as help e-Sports to grow further.”*  Intellectual property rights.  Shortly after, Blizzard signed a StarCraft II licensing deal with streaming video software company GreTech, placing the very existence of KeSPA’s meal ticket in serious jeopardy.  The situation is currently amicable and the television rights for each game have been licensed accordingly.  Today, Blizzard Entertainment requires that all StarCraft II tournaments be authorized by the company, and a submission form is present on the Battle.net web site for assisting in this manner.*

In October of 2010, PC cheat code and trainer website Cheat Happens reported that a number of players had been banned from Battle.net for using the web site’s programs for use in the StarCraft II single-player modes.  While there was a less-than-noble incentive for using the trainers (they provided the ability to earn achievement points in both the single-player campaign and modes versus the artifical intelliegence), the company was setting new precedent: Using cheats to modify game modes that did not actively inhibit or disturb the game experience of others were now also against the End User License Agreement.  The incident caused a very brief stink and then quietly sifted under the radar.  Little sympathy was presented to the players that were banned.

“The Terms of Use state that you may not engage in exploitative activities. Any breach of these terms can result in an account penalty ranging from a warning to closure of the account or accounts associated with the activity, based on the severity of the infraction and how often a player has violated our policies in the past. While single player campaigns may only appear to be you and a computer at first, your achievements and gamer score also caries weight and prestige for your online play. Please understand that we do not reach this decision lightly. This action has been taken in accordance with our Terms of Use. (Blizzard Entertainment: Battle.net Terms of Use).”

Blizzard Game Master Valakith, speaking in e-mail correspondence, published in “Blizzard Bans Single Player Cheaters” on Cheat Happens; published October 10, 2010*

The most recent of all these notable events occurred in late June of 2011.  World-class Canadian Protoss player Chris Loranger (HuK) achieved a personal milestone.  He accomplished what most gamers would kill to brag about: His matchmaking rating was so high that he could not find games through the Battle.net 2.0 matchmaking service.  Now, this isn’t anything new in Blizzard strategy games.  This was a common occurrence in both Warcraft III: Reign of Chaos and its expansion pack.  But in those games, the player could make a new account name and start with a fresh ladder rating. In StarCraft II, that solution was not present.  Rather than discourage new account creation by eliminating long search times, Blizzard had eliminated new account creation.  Each player would only have one user name per game license.  The company stated this was done to prevent skilled players from making new accounts so they could “beat up on the noob”, or some dumb crap that Rob Pardo should have never said.*

HuK did not have the option of making a new account.  While every minute of practice time is valuable to a top-level StarCraft player, HuK was participating in a live stream of a practice session.  People tuned in to see him and they were not getting what they came for.  Viewers equal advertising, so this was costing HuK money.  He considered his options and went with the best one: He borrowed the account of world-class German player Dario Wunsch (TheLittleOne).  As it turned out, one of the twenty-five-thousand people watching HuK play on this alternate account was German World of Warcraft Community Manager Marc Olbertz (Vaneck).  Vaneck got in contact with HuK over the phone and informed him that he did not discontinue the use of TheLittleOne’s user name, he would close the account.  The reason?  Account-sharing is against the StarCraft II End User License Agreement.

I will repeat that: A two-thousand-eight-hundred-employee creator of recreational computer software called up one of their most famous consumers and chided him on his use of the product, a violation of the EULA that was committed because their game was improperly programmed.  I mean, what the fucking hell?  Apparently, we’re past the “Apple gets the police to hunt down their iPhone prototype” phase.*  Corporations are just going to skip the middleman now.  But that’s the world you live in, gentlemen.  Fuck ICCUP, fuck Garena, fuck KeSPA, fuck trainers, fuck pirates, fuck HuK.  Blizzard created Battle.net 2.0 in order to make their position very clear: You do not own the software, you have no rights to that software, and you cannot use the software in a means that is not approved by the company.  Future Blizzard games will also use this closed network.  It has already been announced that Diablo III will not have a Local Area Network component and will only work through Battle.net 2.0.*

Thanks to to ProCD v. Zeidenberg (1996), MDY Industries, LLC v. Blizzard Entertainment, Inc. et al. (2008), and Vernor v. Autodesk (2006), you now have a system where shrink-wrap agreements are as enforceable as the contents within. I’m sure the Europeans reading this are giggling in a corner and daring these American companies to come across the ocean and lay down the legal hammer.  The End User License Agreement is a bit of a punchline in the European Union.  Well, it’s simple: Which one of you has the money to fight this in a court of law?  In order to invalidate a portion (or all of) a contract, somebody has to take it to court.  And when that happens, these publishers will leverage superior legal teams and limitless legal funds to help set precedent and affirm their declarations.  Good luck.

Continue to Part Six: So, In Conclusion…

To comment on this article as a guest or registered member, please visit the forums. Otherwise, return to the main page.

To comment on this article as a guest or registered member, please visit the forums.

By Michael Lowell

July 18, 2011

The Creation of Battle.net 2.0

Part One: Introduction
Part Two: Into the Dark Portal
Part Three: Cataclysm
Part Four: The Online Sensation
Part Five: An Open and Closed Case
Part Six: So, In Conclusion…

Part Four: The Online Sensation

At the end of the late nineties, a brand new genre had emerged.  The novelty of playing video games over the internet was no longer a novelty.  But what if you could play these games in a persistent game world with thousands of other people?  None of this “Nine vs. Nine” crap, but thousands of men, women, and children forming their own allegiances.  “Hey, uh, you know those Lord of the Rings books?  We just turned them into a video game.  Also, all of the characters in the game are being controlled by real people.  Come play!”  The new sensation was the Massively-Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game.

The genre didn’t appear out of nowhere.  It was an extension of the Multi-User Dungeons that had been in existence since the early eighties.  While 1995′s Meridian 59 was actually the father of the MMORPG, the development talent behind the legendary Ultima role-playing franchise would create a market for the games.  In 1997, Ultima Online went live.  Soon to follow were 1999′s Everquest (whose use of tiered zones and set skill trees would become the blueprint for most games in the genre) and Asheron’s Call (which established a devoted audience through the use of monthly updates that would tell the storyline of the game world).  In this model for game design, developers could not create an online portal and expect the players to pay for their own servers or host the games.  Developers would pay for the server costs and pass that cost on to the consumer.  Players would purchase the game and then support it with a subscription fee, usually in the range of ten-to-fifteen dollars per month.

Even in a niche market featuring three games that would become notorious for their ruthless game mechanics, the games were very profitable because their distribution model used a closed system.  The developer and publisher were given full power to dictate and inflate the price of entry.  If you weren’t interested in paying for the game each month, too bad.  Those developers were sure that you could find a whole bunch of other games featuring thousands of people, all engaging in a simultaneous and unprecedented multiplayer experience that would blow your fucking mind.  Oh wait, there wasn’t.  There was only one Everquest, and if you wanted to play it, you had to pay what the creators said it was worth.

Blizzard Entertainment decided that they wanted to get in this market.  In 2001, Blizzard announced World of Warcraft, an MMORPG spin-off of the Warcraft real-time strategy franchise.  At the time, it seemed like madness.  The company already put the axe to one spin-off of the Warcraft series, a point-and-click adventure game that would be cancelled in 1998.  And in 2001, everybody is waiting on Warcraft III.  Why risk ruining a good thing?  World of Warcraft had a lot of good things going for it, including an established backstory and the weighty reputation of the developer.  But it would be the company’s design philosophy that would become the greatest boon.

Since the company hit it big back in the mid-nineties, Blizzard’s modus operandi was taking existing genres with existing templates, finding out what makes those genres work, and polishing the absolute hell out of them.  For this round, the company would look at the disorganization present in the genre (where Asheron’s Call and Ultima Online allowed player participation to drive some of the narrative) and continued where Everquest left off.  World of Warcraft would structure the genre even more rigidly than its predecessors.  Between some excellent art design and the “start anew” nature of the quests that could be found in each region of the game world, World of Warcraft felt like a side-scrolling platformer from the early-nineties.  You had your snow level, you had your lava level, you had your forest levels.  The only difference is that you were given the option of choosing which order to play the levels in and Blizzard forgot to add some stage numbers.  Perhaps most importantly, World of Warcraft removed a barrier of entry for the genre, an overhaul that would be derided as “easy mode” by its critics.  Players were not punished for failure.  They were only rewarded for success.  Penalties to death with permanent punishments (loss of experience or items) were abolished.  The game also discouraged player-versus-player combat by offering no incentive for engaging members of an enemy faction.  Blizzard would eventually phase out the Wild West nature of player-versus-player combat in favor of versus multiplayer modes.  As a final touch, Blizzard would greatly reduce the amount of time and effort required to reach the maximum level cap, assuring that players with questionable commitment could access all of the content in the game and assuring that Blizzard could properly structure quests and content for a more narrow range of player-character strength.

By the time Blizzard finished making death a mere annoyance and creating a system where all consumers could access all of the content in time for a new expansion pack, the company redefined the power structure for the genre.  World of Warcraft was released on November 23, 2004.  In the twenty-four hours after its release, it would become the fastest-selling computer video game of all-time, selling–get this–240,000 copies.*  Doesn’t seem like a whole lot, does it?  Well, social gaming and word of mouth are best friends forever.  Twenty-four months later, a quarter-of-a-million subscribers would become a consumer base of seven-million strong, eventually peaking at twelve million subscribers.*  Blizzard tripled the previous record for subscription-based MMORPGs that was held by South Korean stalwart Lineage.*  And while that game’s insane numbers were dismissed by Western audiences as an “Asians are crazy for video games” thing, World of Warcraft began its shelf life as a Western phenomenon.  And news is only news when it happens in America!

At first, this MMORPG thing sounded like a niche genre for nerds.  By the time Blizzard was done with it, it was a hugely-popular genre for nerds who didn’t want to be called nerds.  It was a social gaming revolution.  With the help of Nintendo’s Wii, World of Warcraft would would fashion an ironic consumer society.  They had created a culture of moms who take a break from building farms on Facebook so they could call your “video game hobby” a waste of time.  Blizzard’s reward for exposing the hypocrisy of your mom?  With the subscription revenue generated from World of Warcraft, they would become the first software-only video game developer whose existence does not hinge on the immediate future.  The existence of the company was no longer determined on a game-to-game basis.  They had created what no other developer in the history of this industry has ever been able to boast: A blank check for video game development.  Forget video game rockstars.  They were gods.

No single-player.  Cannot have.  Is not yours. (Credit: GameSpot*)

From a business strategy standpoint, World of Warcraft was a chess piece that could jump other pieces, plant land mines, and summon reinforcements from edgier, more dangerous board games.  It was nothing like this industry had ever seen.  In tandem with the success of Xbox Live, World of Warcraft was creating a new playing field for distribution.  Computer-and-console multiplayer spent its early years giving the consumer choice for how and where the player can play his games.  You could play locally, you could play over a phone line, you could play over the developer’s online service.  But now, the two hottest properties in video games were making millions (and eventually billions) by corralling their audiences into networks where companies could control the terms of engagement.  The industry was taking notice.

You probably think this is the moment that we segue into the creation of the Battle.net 2.0 service, that Blizzard immediately realized how much money there was to be made in this closed distribution model.  It will stun you to know that Blizzard didn’t even realize it yet.  Even the most jaded gamer would be hard-pressed to argue that people should have the option of playing their MMORPG offline, lest having the entire business model collapse.  All Blizzard knew is that they had designed World of Warcraft to work behind a closed system because that was the accepted business model for making money with MMORPGs.  And it just happened that World of Warcraft became the most successful of those games.

The company was so unfamiliar with the legal ramifications of this new business model that they had nearly made a critical business mistake.  When World of Warcraft was sent to retail, it was packaged with an End User License Agreement that is much like today’s Terms of Use for Battle.net 1.0.  The service did not prohibit the use of automated software or bots.  A brief experience with the MMORPG would have told Blizzard that the genre is notorious for the use of those automated programs, and that they can have a much more profound impact on a game world where every player is playing concurrently.  (Apparently, the MMORPG sucks so hard that people can only enjoy the games if a computer program is playing it for them.)  Reception to these programs was mixed.  The Asheron’s Call community nearly went to civil war because of macros, programs that could play the game around the clock and gain levels faster than any human player.  Both the developer Turbine and publisher Microsoft (whose MSN Gaming Zone hosted the portal for the Asheron’s Call servers) allowed the practice to continue.  It would have damaging effects on both the game economy and their subscriber numbers.  On the other hand, Sony pretty much banned Everquest players for looking at their monitor at an unauthorized angle.  This was the same company that shut down a server shortly before a massive raiding team killed the “unkillable” Kerafyrm the Sleeper, citing that it was an unintended way to play the game.*  (Sony would later apologize and allow them to “try again”.  Yeah.  Classy.)

These macros tend to be the most effective in games structured around Player vs. Environment combat because amateur programmers don’t have the resources and skill to program a bot that can competently fight and deal with other human players.  World of Warcraft was built around Player vs. Environment interaction.  (This would be the same reason that the Chinese could turn World of Warcraft into a “gold farming” empire.  There was no ability for players to “correct their playstyle”.)  World of Warcraft was ripe for the prevalence of automated programs.  And yet, World of Warcraft did not feature an End User License Agreement that prohibited their use.  It would only become a matter of time before players would begin creating software for use with World of Warcraft.  The legitimacy of these programs would have to come into question.

In March of 2005, an Arizona resident by the name of Michael Donnelly developed a bot for personal use with World of Warcraft.  This simple macro bot would be named “Glider”.  It was nothing special.  Like most of the previous macros, it played the game for you.  Presumably and unsurprisingly, there was a demand for this kind of program.  Donnelly got this crazy idea in his head: “Most people release cheat programs to the public for free of charge.  What if I sell this damn thing and make some money?”  That’s what he would do.  Having been properly trained by World of Warcraft to spend long periods of time staring at a computer screen, he read the World of Warcraft End User License Agreement and correctly concluded that it did not prohibit the use of bots.  The Glider software web site went live during the summer of 2005 and the advertised price was twenty-five dollars.  Most people would look at this price point and go purchase Deus Ex because Deus Ex is the fucking shit and you are a clown if you do not play Deus Ex.*  But instead, the free market would prevail.  Thousands upon thousands of people would purchase the Glider software and Donnelly would be a very rich man.

Then, things began to get a little bit messy.  Later in the year, Blizzard had finally caught on to their mistake.  They had been a little bit too lenient.  Not anymore.  A couple of months after the commercial release of the Glider software, the company adapted their Warden anti-cheat device for use with World of Warcraft.  During the same period of time, they amended the End User License Agreement and it was a much stricter document than before.  Amongst the changes, it would prohibit the use of bots.  If Donnelly had quit right here, he walks off into the sunset with a pretty hefty chunk of change.  Instead, the dumbass decided to keep selling the software.

In an attempt to circumvent the legal questions now surrounding the software, he would loudly and broadly proclaim on the Glider website that his software was in clear violation of the World of Warcraft End User License Agreement.  In other words, “I know this shit is illegal, but hey, I’m just selling the drugs.  This stuff is against United States federal law.  I told you that when I was making the sale.  Don’t hold me responsible.  You knew what you were getting into.”  To circumvent Warden, he provided an “upgrade” designed to make its way around Warden’s anti-cheat features.  They would do this rather admirably, and presumably based on that reputation, the software continued to sell very well.  Michael Donnelly would eventually make 3.5 million dollars off of 120,000 licenses sold for his Glider software.*  Between Blizzard’s new rules and an Arizona man’s millionaire exploits, something would have to be settled.  The only question seemed to be: “How hard will Blizzard come down on this dude?”

In September of 2006, Blizzard Entertainment publicly put a foot forward and announced to the world that they were sick of Michael Donnelly’s shit.  Well, in the form of a sternly-worded cease-and-desist letter.  That’s how legal teams lay down the law.  When Donnelly asked the company why they were going all nerdrage on his software, Blizzard did not respond.  The next month, Blizzard sent a piece of their legal warfare unit to Donnelly’s home and threatened immediate legal action.  Their demands?  Stop selling the Glider software and hand over all of the proceeds earned from its distribution.  Donnelly gave it a thought.  Then, he turned those proceeds into his own legal counsel.  The man was now a millionaire and he would be damned if he was giving that up.

MDY Industries, LLC v. Blizzard Entertainment, Inc. was on.  And by “on”, I mean “Donnelly never stood a fucking chance.”  The same year that Garena would be released to the public, the same year that professional StarCraft would reach the zenith of its popularity, Blizzard Entertainment began their plans to “buy out” Michael Donnelly.  By doing so, they would set precedent for the entire computer software industry; they would establish how all future software could be programmed and how the rules of that software could be enforced.

Continue to Part Five: An Open and Closed Case

To comment on this article as a guest or registered member, please visit the forums. Otherwise, return to the main page.

To comment on this article as a guest or registered member, please visit the forums.

By Michael Lowell

July 18, 2011

The Creation of Battle.net 2.0

Part One: Introduction
Part Two: Into the Dark Portal
Part Three: Cataclysm
Part Four: The Online Sensation
Part Five: An Open and Closed Case
Part Six: So, In Conclusion…

Part Three: Cataclysm

By 2003, StarCraft fans were penciling the franchise into their “Most Wanted Sequels” lists with a rather furious commitment.  Little did these men and women know (and would not know for another four years) that StarCraft II: Wings of Liberty was already in development, a cycle that began immediately after Blizzard Entertainment finished work on Warcraft III: The Frozen Throne.  It was never in doubt whether StarCraft would receive a follow-up.  It just took a very long time for Blizzard to begin working on it.  The new Call of Duty game is in production the moment its predecessor is released.  Half-a-decade is a century in video game development.  But really, there was no reason for Blizzard to rush things.  StarCraft was still selling strong.  With this success, the company assumed a unique problem that any video game developer would kill to have.  It was becoming more and more urgent with every passing year.  That whole “people playing StarCraft in front of a live studio audience” thing?  It had been upgraded to “people playing StarCraft in front of stadium audiences”.  South Korean StarCraft had become so popular that any casual American discussion of South Korea would be littered with punchlines about Zerg rushes.  StarCraft was in full throttle and it would become a country-wide phenomenon.

Pictured: 2007 example of one of the most popular sports in South Korea.  It’s video games, man. (Credit: Seoul Space*)

In the early years of StarCraft history, Brood War was nowhere close to being “solved”.  There was still a lot of sloppy and imperfect play to go around.  And with imperfect play, there comes the possibility for creative deviations from “standard play”.  Back in June of 2001, SlayerS_Boxer was an unknown commodity playing StarCraft in front of small crowds.  Two years later, he was the darling and superhero of competitive StarCraft, revolutionizing the Terran playstyle with robust Vulture play and constant Terran Dropship harassment.  (Yes, it took four years and a once-in-a-generation talent for Terran to be considered an equal with Zerg and Protoss.  Think about that the next time you whine about game balance on the StarCraft II forums.)  Even at a time when the best players were employing one-base strategies featuring limited unit counts, Boxer was dominating opponents with his unit control.  In a game that was designed for flashy unit control, it was the flashiest style of play possible.

The public overwhelmingly approved of the man they would select to be their leader, their “Terran Emperor”.  His defining moment would come on March 22nd of 2003, when Boxer would perform one of the greatest acts of skill in the young history of competitive video games.  He would launch a successful worker rush in a tournament final against the man who would become his biggest rival, Hong Jin-Ho (Yellow).*  While Boxer would eventually lose that best-of-five series to Yellow, the moment became an encapsulation of professional StarCraft in South Korea.*  It didn’t merely measure the skill and creativity of the participants, who were playing StarCraft in upwards of forty hours per week.  But at this event, thousands upon thousands had shown up to watch two gamers perform their best at a video game, a great percentage of the spectators being women.  These people did not show up sporting the sense of awkwardness that pervades the casual fandom of competitive video games in the West.  They showed up in colors indicating which of the players they were rooting for, filing into separate seating sections, and then delivering an uproar when their chosen player was making a push.  They showed up to watch a video game and did it with an enthusiasm reserved for sports.

Now, why would I make such a stink about that iconic moment?  Well, these matches were undoubtedly generating brand awareness and software sales for Blizzard.  However, it would have been foolish for the company to ignore how these legendary moments were being financed.  In those famous March of 2003 matches, Yellow was sponsored by Korea Telecom Freetel. At the time, the company was one of the largest telecommunications companies in South Korea.  The “KTF” logo was splattered all over Yellow’s custom-tailored uniform, some strange cross between a jumpsuit and an auto racing outfit. Boxer was sponsored by Orion Confectionery, one of the largest food manufacturers in South Korea.**  The Korean e-Sports Players Association had been aggressively courting sponsorship since its creation.  These players required facilities and salaries, and some of the largest entities in South Korea would get in on the action: Electronics manufacturer Samsung, telecommunications giant SK Telecom, and jack-of-many-trades Hwaseung Corporation would all become sponsors.  Even the South Korean Air Force would support a team, designed to take in veteran StarCraft players who could no longer avoid the mandatory military service that comes with being a South Korean national.

In exchange, these companies could use the jersey and the game to promote their goods.  Imagine the amount of free advertising that comes with being “Your StarCraft OSL Champions: The Samsung Team!”  How a big a check does that cash?  Yeah, the original Starleague event was sponsored by Coca-Cola.  It would be nonsense to say that the advent of televised StarCraft was about the love of the game.  That event would be dwarfed by what was to come.  The zenith of StarCraft’s spectator popularity would arrive in 2006 and it would be covered in the colors of some of the biggest companies on the planet.  This was no amateur endeavor.  This was South Korea’s take on American college sports.  This was serious business.

Look at this.  There was all of this success turning StarCraft into a real sport, a sport with marketable personalities.  There were two separate television networks dedicated to broadcasting StarCraft games.  There were companies selling DVD compilations featuring the greatest matches of Boxer.  Take a guess who is being shut out of this revenue stream?  Take a guess.  Go for it.  Yup, it’s Blizzard.  It’s their copyrighted code, their copyrighted art properties, their copyrighted sounds being broadcasted around-the-clock.  They are not receiving a single dime from any television company or any government body.  A group of companies much, much larger than Blizzard are pocketing all of the money under the phony guise of “growing e-sports”.  (I reject the notion that KeSPA and the sponsorship were “barely breaking even”, as it has been suggested.  The National Collegiate Athletic Association claims eighty percent of the schools under their banner are losing money at the same time Division I football coaches are the highest-paid government employees in the United States.**  There are techniques for making your stinking shit pile smell like a sincere endeavor.)

Whether you believe Blizzard is entitled to any of this money, the company would have been silly to take a blind eye.  With every day of development power being poured into the sequel to StarCraft, the more pressing that issue with KeSPA posed.  The biggest risk?  A South Korean court could rule that the use of video games for spectator endeavors constitutes a type of public domain endeavor; a use of the product that does not have to be licensed.  And if Blizzard had to go into a South Korean court and argue their case, they would be going up against a government-approved sanctioning body.  Throw murderers and rapists out of the equation and that’s not a fight I would wish on anybody.  Shortly after the 2007 announcement of StarCraft II: Wings of Liberty (which fittingly took place in Seoul), Blizzard would begin to secretly negotiate broadcasting rights for StarCraft II with KeSPA.  It’s unlikely that either company was prepared for the nasty fight that would occur.

Certainly, South Korean StarCraft was not causing Blizzard to lose any money.  Two-fifths of the eleven million sales of StarCraft would be made in South Korea,* nearly one copy for every ten people in the country.  The situation involving broadcasting rights could be described as a cautious and contentious issue.  It was not going to put Blizzard out of business.  In 2006, another Asian entity would present a much more threatening predicament for Blizzard.  History did what history very often tends to do.  History repeated itself.  It came back and bit Blizzard in the ass like nothing ever ass-bit the company before.

Much like StarCraft, Warcraft III had developed a fantastic reputation for the quality of the custom content created with its map editor.  The most popular of these custom maps would become Defense of the Ancients, a map inspired by the StarCraft custom map Aeon of Strife. I’ve stated in the past that the best way to describe this “Action RTS” was to call it “Warcraft III without the macromanagement, micromanagement, or a general need for motor skills.” Little surprise that this gave DotA wide appeal in the Warcraft III community.  During this same period of time, quality internet connections were now beginning to find their way into developing portions of the world, audiences in countries that had no consumer distribution model for Blizzard games.  They could now get access to these games by downloading them off the internet.  For reasons that cannot be explained by medical science, DotA became fantastically popular in the Southeast Asian countries of Vietnam, Malaysia, Singapore, and Thailand.  Like, “most popular video game in that region of the world” popular.  Not bad for a custom map.  Much like Eastern Europe and Russia and South America, Southeast Asia has a long and impressive history of not buying computer software for any purpose whatsoever.  And since their illegitimate copies of the game had no access to Battle.net, the DotA community was left in the dark.  They were disorganized.  They needed a way to come together and settle their differences.  Do you see where I am going with this?  Much like Bob Huntley and Kie Kimbrell parlayed their insatiable appetite for Doom into the creation of DWANGO, Southeast Asia wanted a way to play their unauthorized software through an online gaming service.  The first company or players that could meet this demand would be able to make a lot of money.

Something is going on in this picture and I’m sure it sucks because it is DotA.  (Credit: Reader Pie_Patel)

In 2006, a Singapore software company would release a social-networking-and-gaming client called GGClient.  It would later be known by the same name as the software creator, Garena.  It was just a decade prior that Blizzard Entertainment lent their support to a third-party networking tool in order to create demand for Warcraft II.  The networking tools that Blizzard endorsed and sustained were now back and they were better than ever, and they had come back to haunt the company.  Garena was Kali reborn.  The service allows players to use copies of their software (legitimate or elsewise) to facilitate the creation of matches through the Local Area Network function.  Only now, the internet had gotten a hell of a lot better.  Garena is a purely peer-to-peer endeavor and it played like one. I’ve bashed Xbox Live for being a peer-to-peer service, right?  The difference is that once Garena creates your match, your internet connection does not phone home to anything.  No information is routed back to a central server.  By extension, no additional latency is generated.

Garena is as good for online video games as your internet connection can handle, offering a service for online strategy games whose latency is comparable (though not equal) to what players receive in computer first-person shooters.  Compare that with Battle.net.  The information needs to be routed back to a central server in order to prevent cheating.  That service also uses a hard-coded delay for Warcraft II, Warcraft III, and StarCraft all set at a minimum of 250 milliseconds.  This was done in order to prevent one player from earning an unfair advantage over another simply by having the better internet connection.  Battle.net was designed to sacrifice the quality of latency in order to generate a level playing field.  Because of that, Garena could offer superior latency.  The service became a splash of cold water in the face of any person who had been using the slower Battle.net over the previous decade.  Almost immediately, Garena became a preferred destination for league and tournament play, regardless of whether the players were using legitimate software.  And for all the people using pirated copies, they now had a place to play Warcraft III online.

The service went all wildfire in Southeast Asia, cementing DotA’s status as one of the most popular video games on the planet.  Today, during peak hours, nearly 300,000 people are using the Garena client.  This is almost fifty-percent higher than peak hours on the Battle.net 1.0 service.  Most of these people live in Southeast Asia and most of them use the service to play DotA.  By simply repeating history, a nothing company stuck on a concrete jungle in the Indian Ocean had created a more popular service for top-notch strategy games than the creator itself, the company that was now the most famous computer game developer on the planet.  And there was absolutely nothing that Blizzard could do to stop it.  Just like Kali, Garena manipulates zero game files.  Key in the keyhole, that’s all.  Blizzard cannot sue the makers of Garena for facilitating software piracy because their client does not infringe on any copyright.  If Garena’s customers (and they can be labeled customers, because the free-to-play service features microtransactions) are using illegitimate copies of the game, what does Garena care?  They have a very easy alibi.  “That’s not our problem.  We just host the service.  Go after the customers.”  Blizzard doesn’t have the ability to do that, because, well, the countries of Southeast Asia are too busy trying to stymie a collapse into total anarchy on an hour-by-hour basis.  They don’t really give a shit about the copyright laws of the United States of America.  Vietnam hears “A software company in the United States is going to be really angry at you!” and invites the States for a second round of total warfare.  In many ways, Garena was superior to Battle.net.  This same scenario would later be repeated with both Hamachi and the Player vs. Player Gaming Network (PvPGN), a pair of free software programs that would become the preferred methods of Warcraft III online play in China.  And there was absolutely nothing Blizzard could do to stop it.

Garena was a critical blow in a decade-and-a-half of products and decisions that allowed the computer game industry to eat itself from within.  Starting in the early nineties, computer game developers looked to shed a reputation for graphics that were inferior to what could be found on consoles.  They created games like Doom, Descent, The 7th Guest, and Myst.  This emphasis on graphics came at a serious cost for game development.  With every passing year, these games were turning the video game industry a little bit more into Hollywood, exemplified by SquareSoft and the 1997 release of PlayStation killer app Final Fantasy VII.  More cutscenes with more explosions and more dialogue and more high-profile voice actors.  With video games beginning to move closer to a “production values” development philosophy, the games got more and more expensive to create.  The big question was: “How the hell do you continue to be profitable on a niche platform with a declining user base and dramatically increasing costs?”  For most of the major computer video game developers, the answer was “You don’t.”  They abandoned their commitment to the personal computer and began creating their lucrative first-person shooters for Xbox Live, lavishing the ability to sell post-release content in a closed network for obscene prices.  And now, a third-party network had just struck a huge blow to the value of all company-developed online gaming services.

Garena devalued Battle.net because it made that service feel ordinary.  With a competing service on the market, you don’t win by default.  You win by providing a better product.  That can cost a hell of a lot of money.  Blizzard did not have a lot of good options.  Ever since the company released Warcraft: Orcs and Humans and never looked back at the consoles, their games and franchises had always played better on a mouse and keyboard.  We know this because Blizzard Entertainment ported Diablo, Warcraft II, and StarCraft to consoles with minimal success.  The developer had also carved out significant consumer goodwill.  They could not depart for the consoles without a fight from their fans.  It was a rough situation for the company.  South Korean corporations and a Singapore software studio were launching an assault on the Blizzard business model.  In order to remain the biggest computer video game developer in the world, Blizzard would have to make a fundamental shift in their business strategy.  Fortunately, the company portfolio was not limited to products designed for the Battle.net service.  They had left themselves an out.

Continue to Part Four: The Online Sensation

To comment on this article as a guest or registered member, please visit the forums. Otherwise, return to the main page.

To comment on this article as a guest or registered member, please visit the forums.

By Michael Lowell

July 18, 2011

The Creation of Battle.net 2.0

Part One: Introduction
Part Two: Into the Dark Portal
Part Three: Cataclysm
Part Four: The Online Sensation
Part Five: An Open and Closed Case
Part Six: So, In Conclusion…

Part Two: Into the Dark Portal

Yup, we’re back in the early nineties.  If you were even alive, you’re probably playing a brand-new Super Nintendo or a Sega Genesis.  It’s going to be a couple of years before Blizzard Entertainment creates Warcraft: Orcs and Humans and begins to make a name for themselves.  Computer video games are niche in a way that is difficult for today’s consumers to understand.  If your game hit the six-figure sales plateau, it was a smash hit.  Tucked in the darkest depths of this niche gaming platform is a crazy thing called Teh Internets™.  In this civilized and mature social network, there is a small-but-growing demand for online video games.  Get this: What if you could use your home computer to play video games with people from around the world?  Just blew your mind, didn’t I?  Oh yeah.  I did.  In this part of computer history, there isn’t a whole bunch to mention here.  This is a tiny market.  There’s some limited interest in “Multi-User Dungeons”.  There’s also a small group of gaming services (such as Sierra’s ImagiNation Network and a game portal linked into the user interface of internet provider Prodigy) that share many similarities with the casual gaming hubs of today.  They’re using the novelty of online multiplayer as a selling point and keeping the action confined to simple games and board games such as chess.

These services had a problem: You think your cell phone provider is giving you a tough time about bandwidth costs?  These online gaming portals were expensive.  The ImagiNation Network was a dollar-an-hour gaming service in a period of internet history where internet service providers were also charging by the hour.  Yeah, sure, they could be some great fun.  For most people, any extended playtime pushed your wallet to the brink.  It deterred any interest they would have in these products.  It would have to wait a couple of years.

So, what the hell are we supposed to find here?  How does this part of history connect us to Battle.net 2.0?  Well, two years after 1991′s Street Fighter II ignited a competitive multiplayer revolution in the arcades, Doom happened.  (If you ever walk into class and stumble into a surprise pop quiz on “American History in the Nineties”, just pencil “Doom Happened” into every blank line.  You’ll do great.)  It is this controversial and violent shooting game that would give birth to modern computer multiplayer culture. It somehow managed to accomplish this without a powerful multiplayer component.  As you would expect in a computer video game market dominated by small, independent developers and a couple of medium-sized publishers (who spent their money on getting the games to retail instead of financing the developers), iD Software had enough trouble getting Doom onto shelves with ten employees.  Although John Carmack and the rest of the team had already conceived the idea of an online multiplayer portal, the company didn’t have the time to program and test it.*

Merely setting up Doom to play through a multiplayer mode was a nightmare.  Your options were extremely complicated and they granted limited results.  Yeah, you could play the game through a modem connection.  More often than not, your latency was not going to be adequate.  Instead, players got their “deathmatch” fix by playing the game on university networks and setting up “LAN parties”.  The maximum number of players was limited to four.  Shortly after Doom was released prior to Christmas of 1993, the scope of the internet began to change.  It kills me to say this, but with the help of America Online (whose aggressive advertising campaigns built around “Free Hours!” would help to redefine the price of American internet service), there was a surge in the number of potential online gamers.  Doom was lighting the world on fire and computer game developers would be crazy if they did not court this audience.  They were looking for ways to separate their product from the more popular console video games and this could be a game-breaker.  The first of these initiatives would be launched in 1994 and the first multiplayer portal for a major computer video game would go live.  Yes, Doom happened.  Again.  But this round, it wasn’t the work of iD Software.  It was the fans of the games.

Relax.  I’m sure your modem is on the list.

Bob Huntley and Kee Kimbrell were a pair of Texas residents could not get enough of Doom.  They wanted to play anyone and anybody.  From this passion, they came up with an idea: “What if we could create a program that would allow people to play Doom through the internet?  A program where people can play against anybody they wanted to at any time of the day?”  They would independently brainstorm the same concept that iD Software could not dedicate manpower to creating.  Huntley was just throwing ideas out there.  Kimbrell was serious about this endeavor.  In response, Huntley told Kimbrell that if he could get a working prototype for the service programmed in six weeks, he would secure an audience with the creators of Doom.  (Huntley was bullshitting; he had never met anybody that worked for the company.  But hey, he tricked his friend into coding a lucrative piece of video game software.  That’s what friends are for, right?)  The mission would be accomplished and the program was programmed.

For several weeks, all the pair would have to show for their effort was a number of unanswered phone calls to iD Software.  Eventually, Huntley would get in contact with iD’s publicity firm and secure an audience with John Romero.  Romero (whose addiction to Doom deathmatch would actually strain company chemistry) took the software home and immediately fell in love with it.  The other members of the iD Software team were skeptical about handing Doom internet duties to two men with no experience in video game development.  However, Romero convinced them that this would help to build interest in the product and that it would absolve the team of funding and developing online play for their games…for now, at least.  They agreed.  And with that, the Doom Wide-Area Network Game Organization (DWANGO) went to market.  For the low price of ten dollars per month, players could chat and compete with Doom fans from around the United States.  (The service would become popular enough that servers would be installed in Asia, and players would be connecting to the service all the way from Europe and Australia.)  Huntley and Kimbrell would set up the servers.  All iD Software had to do was endorse the software and they would get twenty percent of the revenues.  This was a great deal for the Doom guys.  They were too busy trying to get Doom II out of the door before the 1994 holiday season.  But more importantly, DWANGO could act as a killer app for any games using the Doom engine.  (The software would also be packaged with the shareware version for Raven Software’s Heretic, a first-person shooter that used a modified version of the Doom engine.)*

With the release of every additional computer multiplayer game worth a damn (and there were a lot of these in the nineties), there became a greater demand for online play.  Ushered on by the success of 1994′s Warcraft: Orcs and Humans, Blizzard legitimized the real-time strategy genre and set off a world of imitators.  The best of these imitators were found at Westwood Studios, the developers that would create 1995′s Command and Conquer.  In the same year, Blizzard would counter with Warcraft II: Tides of Darkness and it would become the game that placed the company on the map.  The first-person shooter was also on its way to megastar status, and a Michigan developer by the name of Parallax Software wanted in.  They would develop the first two games in the popular space-shooting Descent franchise.  Command and Conquer, Warcraft II, Descent, Descent II.  All of these games were huge hits.  All of these games did not feature an online multiplayer portal.  Like Doom, all four of these games could be played over a local IPX network.  These circumstances would become the inspiration for the second major gaming service of its day.

Created for the exclusive purpose of playing Descent over the internet, Kali would be created by Scott Coleman (who would go on to work at Interplay) and Jay Cotton.  Both Kali and DWANGO could be configured to work with any number of games that supported the IPX protocol.  Kali was simply tricking the local network information into transmitting over the internet.  Kali did not actually host the games.  The server merely acted as a rendezvous point for the player base.  Because of this, Kali was cheap.  It was available for a one-time charge of twenty dollars and the service took right off.  While the number of games compatible with DWANGO would be limited, Kali became a portal for dozens and eventually hundreds of multiplayer titles.*  This service would single-handedly create and sustain a large portion of the competitive video game scene during the mid-nineties.  While the creation and upkeep of Kali had little backing from game developers, they were taking notice.  Blizzard was one of those companies.  If you own a late-edition DOS copy of Warcraft II, you will find “WAR2KALI.EXE” packaged onto the disc.  Blizzard packaged later copies of their product with a version of the game that was designed to optimize the quality of play over the Kali service.  They were supporting this third-party online gaming service with their own development resources.  Blizzard recognized the value of Kali to their bottom line.

Blizzard and iD had independently taken the same approach to these programs.  In the interim, they liked these programs.  These programs built brand loyalty and sold copies of the games.  These programs were good for business.  While I can’t speak for the nature of DWANGO (and there’s no reason to, because the creators had a partnership with the developer), there was another reason that Blizzard and Westwood were not authorizing their legal teams to crack down on Kali.  Not just because the internet was capable of brewing a shitstorm back in the nineties, either.  It was because Kali was perfectly legal and continues to be legal today.  They did not manipulate the game software.  They simply told the network information where it has to go and how to move over the internet.  These programs did not feature any copyrighted code from any game files.  (This is the same reason that emulators are legal but the ROM and BIOS files are not.)  Kali was just a set of keys for a set of keyholes.  It did not have to modify the keyhole (the program) in order to work properly.  And while you could play over these services with pirated copies, it was much, much more difficult to come across pirated software in 1996 than it is today.  Spare me your “Piracy has always existed!” rant.  High-speed internet was the domain of the uber nerd.  No “download in thirty minutes” crap.  If somebody was playing the game over Kali or DWANGO, they were probably using legitimate software.  Developers had little reason to oppose the use of these programs.  Perhaps more importantly, they had little ability.

Developers understood that it would become their duty to network their fan bases and reap the profits.  “Online multiplayer portal” was going to become a necessity.  It was inevitable that the third-party provider would go the way of the dinosaur.  The first-parties made sure that would happen.  In 1996, iD Software released their legendary first-person shooter Quake.  Months later, the company launched the free-to-play QuakeWorld, a service built on a client-server networking model that had been used in the year’s other computer smash hit, Duke Nukem 3D.  And just like that, DWANGO’s pay-per-month model died a disgusting and horrible death.  That same year, Blizzard’s landmark dungeon crawler Diablo would be the first game to support multiplayer on the company’s Battle.net service.  Diablo would sell millions.  It is important to note that the original Battle.net was not conceived as an anti-piracy measure.  Diablo did not require a product key.  (This would probably help to explain why the company no longer packages the Diablo Battle Chest with a copy of the original game.)

After Blizzard realized the mistake they had made, they would adopt product keys with the 1998 release of StarCraft.  StarCraft would outsell Warcraft II by several orders of magnitude and it would become the most popular real-time strategy game of all-time.  With the rise of company-developed online multiplayer portals, interest in Kali began to decline.  While Kali functions to this day, its place in history has settled.  Blizzard would suck in some of these stragglers by releasing Warcraft II: Battle.net Edition in 1999.  While a competing third-party service by the name of MPlayer would temporarily surpass the popularity of all these online gaming services, they would do this by hosting a healthy inbetween for both commercial and free-to-play casual video games.  Microsoft’s MSN Gaming Zone would commit to the same strategy.  The days of third-party services dedicated solely to the best products in the retail computer video game industry appeared to be out of the way.

Through the most financially-successful period in the history of computer video games, this contract between the developer and the consumer worked fantastically. For a short period of time, it looked a little bit shaky.  Through the end of the nineties and on to the next decade, more people gained access to broadband internet connections.  Consumers now had the ease of ability to download commercial video games at their convenience.  However, the contract continued to work.  No product key, no online gaming service.  Blizzard would become the biggest beneficiary of the boom.

In 2000, the company launched Diablo II.  Much like its predecessor, it would gain a reputation for its cheat-at-all-costs player base.  But in this round, their product key could be banned for infractions and nobody would share any sympathy for them.  If they didn’t have a valid product key, they couldn’t log in to Battle.net.  Diablo II would go on to sell over four million units.  In 2002, Blizzard shipped their real-time strategy gem Warcraft III: Reign of Chaos.  The game was the most anticipated computer video game ever released.  In order to meet demand, Blizzard shipped four-and-a-half-million units to retail* and it would go on to sell millions.  (Yeah, I know.  Those numbers don’t seem so crazy when the Call of Duty franchise sells millions on its opening day.  Remember, this is back in 2002.  The “midnight launch” was not a weekly occurrence.  Hype and first-day release sales were not driving the market like it does today.  Things have changed quite a bit.)  In order to demonstrate that Battle.net was a superior alternative to “illegal copies on a Local Area Network”, Blizzard continued to up the ante.  The version of Battle.net packaged with Warcraft III revolutionized what people expected from online gaming services.  The most impressive feature was “Anonymous Matchmaking”, the act of clicking a couple of buttons and allowing the service to find you a matchup of equal skill.  (Or, if you asked the guys at Penny Arcade, the devirginification of your asshole.*)   An official ladder website was also launched alongside the game.*  It allowed players to track and search comprehensive game stats, including a detailed synopsis of every single ladder game played on the service.  It also featured a global statistics system that measured the activity of each gametype and tracked hero compositions, map preferences, and so forth.

In order to squash any concern that the service may not be an adequate means of fighting software piracy, Blizzard did exactly what a company with lots of money should do.  They leveraged a war chest as a means of distancing itself from imitators and third-parties.  Ironically, the Warcraft III edition of Battle.net was so good that it became the blueprint for Bungie.net.  That service would be launched in 2004 for use with Halo 2, and the madly-popular console shooter would legitimize Xbox Live.  In 2009, Greg Canessa, one of the architects of the Xbox Live service, would become the lead designer for Battle.net 2.0.

Pictured: When “free-to-play” online video games didn’t mean “you get what you pay for”.

Perhaps the most quirky accomplishment of the Battle.net service would occur across the Pacific Ocean.  In 1997, the Southeast Asian country of Thailand took a day off from having its government overthrown.  Instead, it collapsed the value of its currency. One crisis leads to another, and there’s a lot of people in South Korea without jobs.  Short story shorter, the economy of South Korea would recover with a vengeance and the recovery would barrel forward with a boom in computer technology.  This small country would rapidly develop one of the best internet infrastructures in the world.  Almost immediately, PC Bangs began to pop up across the country.  They’re best compared to the internet cafes that are common in most of Europe.  These things were state-of-the-art facilities.  With some of the best computer technology on the planet, the South Koreans took up computer video games in huge numbers.

In response, the South Korean government would create a body designed to help facilitate and promote the growth of “e-sports”.  The Korean e-Sports Players Association was founded in 2000 and would become the governing body for competitive video games in South Korea.  The country was serious about this.  Much like the Canadians love their hockey and the Americans dominate “weighing more than everybody else”, South Korea would have to choose a video game (a “sport”) that they were going to get behind and destroy the rest of the world at.  They chose StarCraft.  The number of players present on Battle.net would double during the afternoon and evening hours in South Korea.  The global nature of this service was quickly creating a hierarchy for the competitive StarCraft food chain.  Eventually, the most important question of our generation was going to have to be settled: Who are the best StarCraft players in the world?  Online ladders and online performances could not settle this question.  This stuff had to be done live and in-person.  The South Koreans would answer the question in a decidedly-South Korean way.  On June 15, 2001, Zerg player Park Tae Min (GoRush) and a creative Terran prodigy by the name of Lim Yo Hwan (SlayerS_Boxer) would play each other in front of a live studio audience that was 150 viewers strong.  The games would be broadcasted on Ongamenet, a South Korean television network dedicated to video game programming.  The OnGameNet “Starleague” was born.*  Blizzard’s games were now so popular that people were playing them in front of television audiences.  It was all thanks to Battle.net.

All this success and it’s very easy to play a narrative that Blizzard Entertainment was bored with it.  Their games were now snonymous with real-time strategy and the dungeon crawler.  In the short years since the 1994 release of Warcraft: Orcs and Humans, the company shared a fierce fight with Valve Corporation for the crown of “Most Beloved Computer Game Developer on the Planet”.  And of all the valuable assets under Blizzard control, their most valuable was the free-to-play Battle.net.  The company’s most valuable asset was community.  By 2005, at least 100,000 people were logging in every single night to play their games on the Battle.net service.  Blizzard was doing multiplayer better than anybody on the planet and making tons of money off of it.  If people were playing their games on television and Blizzard wasn’t getting licensing fees, big deal.  It would be free advertising for StarCraft and the rest of the Blizzard game library.  Free advertising means “copies sold”.  “Copies sold” means “money”.  That was good.

The impact of Battle.net cannot be understated, particularly in the case of StarCraft.  For most of its early years, StarCraft was simply one great real-time strategy game in a mess of great strategy games.  Among its competition was Blizzard’s own Warcraft II, 1996′s Command and Conquer: Red Alert, 1998′s Total Annihilation, and 1999′s Age of Empires II: The Age of Kings.  To this day, you will find devoted fans who will defend any of those games as the genre’s greatest example.  And yet, all you hear about these days is StarCraft, because only StarCraft had the benefit of a stable, popular gaming portal at the time of its launch.  The closest competition came from the integration of the Microsoft Gaming Zone into Age of Empires II, and that ended when the service discontinued support for boxed retail games in 2006.  StarCraft became the greatest game in its genre because of Battle.net.  Even in the years following the release of StarCraft and Diablo II and Warcraft III, those titles were regularly hitting the top ten in monthly sales listings for computer games.  Blizzard learned lessons from DWANGO and Kali in order to create Battle.net.  And as would be expected in any industry with visible and powerful leadership, challengers would soon gain inspiration from them.  Challengers would find ways to make money off of the lessons learned from Battle.net.  Blizzard would be confronted by two separate-yet-equally-important issues that would come to shape Blizzard business strategy in the years to come.  As that famous television judge once said: “It’s like the more money we come across, the more problems we see.”

Continue to Part Three: Cataclysm

To comment on this article as a guest or registered member, please visit the forums. Otherwise, return to the main page.

To comment on this article as a guest or registered member, please visit the forums.

By Michael Lowell

July 18, 2011

The Creation of Battle.net 2.0

Part One: Introduction
Part Two: Into the Dark Portal
Part Three: Cataclysm
Part Four: The Online Sensation
Part Five: An Open and Closed Case
Part Six: So, In Conclusion…

Note: In most Blizzard products, the End User License Agreement is the contract displayed when the player is installing or updating game files.  The Terms of Use is the contract displayed when the game is loaded and a player is preparing to access the servers.  For purposes of clarity and brevity, these terms will be used on an interchangeable basis.

Update on July 19, 2011: Minor edits have been made for readability.
Update on October 11, 2011: Paragraph edits have been made for readability.

Part One: Introduction

Hello there, children!  I’m back!  You thought I was done with this topic?  Too bad!  I have a fiduciary responsibility to my shareholders!  And by “shareholders”, I mean “It’s lonely here and I need a hug.”  This month marks the one-year anniversary of StarCraft II: Wings of Liberty.  In my opinion, it was one of the ten best video games released on July 27th, 2010.  Let’s catch up on a couple of things.  Namely, I want to catch up on Battle.net 2.0.

Let’s do a quick recap of the situation.  This whole “Battle.net 2.0 sucks” thing started back in June of 2009, before the service was given an actual name.  An announcement was made by Blizzard Entertainment that you would be unable to play StarCraft II through a Local Area Network.  In order to play the game in a multiplayer environment, you would have to be connected to the Battle.net service.  This was later revealed to be a new online gaming service that was creatively titled “Battle.net 2.0″.  Being a day that ends in “y”, computer gamers took to the streets in order to burn cars and break windows all across the internet.  Their message was civil and it was simple: “FUCK YOU BLIZZERD IM NOT BUYIGN YOU’RE GAMES ANYMROE!”  Fresh off my defense of “StarCraft II: The Trilogy” (a development decision that I still defend today), I once again came to the defense of the company.  I stated that nobody knew what Blizzard was going to accomplish with this always-connected approach to computer video games.  I also stated that the company would probably build an emulation of the Local Area Network component into Battle.net 2.0; that games played on a local network within the Battle.net service would be treated as local games.  In other words, “Quit whining, nerds.”

It wasn’t crazy at the time.  The popularity of the real-time strategy genre was built by a world where Local Area Networks and company-developed gaming portals worked in tandem to hide the weaknesses of each other.  As StarCraft II came closer to launch and Blizzard developers spoke more openly about their intentions for Battle.net 2.0, I realized that I was wrong.  Battle.net 2.0 was always going to be connected to the internet in a way that would always generate server latency.  This was a very bad sign.  Split-second reflexes have always been a requirement for playing the StarCraft franchise at a high level.  Almost immediately, my opinion of Battle.net 2.0 was downgraded from “cautious” to “grudgingly tolerated”.

So, fast-forward.  I got access to a StarCraft II beta key, placed in the Top 100 in my division, blah, blah, shitty ranking system, and so forth. The game was good, the service was shit.  I lived with it.  Then, during the third week of May 2010, Blizzard released a patch for the StarCraft II: Wings of Liberty beta test.  This should have been an innocuous circumstance.  However, it’s not a good thing when the reaction to a game update can be cynically compared to the assassination of Franz Ferdinand, in that an oddball circumstance would trigger chaos and send seventeen-year-old men to war.  This patch eliminated the existing hierarchy of friends lists and mandated that all friend requests use the much-maligned RealID™ service.  Remember when it was announced that the official World of Warcraft forums would require the use of RealID™?  And in response, players cancelled pre-orders and subscriptions by the tens-of-thousands?* Yup, same RealID™.  While username and account purges had been regularly accomplished throughout the beta test, the company didn’t give any warning on this one.  They also didn’t mention, “Hey, we’re just doing this to gauge the amount of interest in RealID™.  We’re going to bring back the original system.  Relax.  It’s a beta.”  The pool of beta testers had been severed from their in-game contacts and they were not happy.  A few days later, the service shat a brick.  That is, “Battle.net 2.0 was running slightly worse than usual.”  Quite the feat.  Nobody was able to find a stable match.  The latency issues were so rampant that it inspired a TeamLiquid.net “Screen Freeze Art” thread, where players would use right-click commands to draw pictures in the playing field before they were booted from the game.*

Pictured: One of the high-level maneuvers that came to StarCraft II.* (Credit to TeamLiquid poster “earky”.)

These two events boiled into madness.  When most people are confronted with the prospect that their free beta test for an unreleased video game is not working properly, they find something better to do with their time.  Me?  Finding something better to do with your time is for bitches.  I was pissed off.  StarCraft II was the only video game of the last four years that I had penciled in as a “personal video game event”.  I came to the conclusion that Battle.net 2.0 was a business decision and not a game design decision, and that those business decisions were destroying the excellent work of Dustin Browder and his development team.  I reacted in a rather funny way.  I spent four-thousand words cursing and swearing a storm and then I published it on the internet.  “Battle.net 2.0: The Antithesis of Consumer Confidence” was published on this website during the second week in June and the damn thing went viral.  In four days, over seventy-thousand people would view the article, realize that it was longer than three-hundred words, and immediately leave the web site, never to return.  That article is currently the third Google search result for “Battle.net 2.0″.* I wasn’t the only person who gained success in making their displeasure public.  Two members of StarCraft Legacy received acclaim for publishing a kinder, gentler discussion on the failings of the service.* StarCraft shoutcaster Husky would also offer his opinion of Battle.net 2.0, earning nearly half-a-million views on YouTube.* There was a fairly pronounced community consensus: “You took away our Local Area Network and you didn’t give us a proper substitute.  We don’t like it.”

Today, the only significant difference in the Battle.net 2.0 service is a resignation from its player base that this is the future of Blizzard video games and they can’t do anything about it.  The only “victory” won by the player base has been the addition of chat channels.  Whoopity fucksterdam.  Nothing else has changed.  Battle.net 2.0 still sucks.  It will always suck.  Tethering more good video games into the service will not change that.  Pushing Battle.net 2.0 to the standards set by the online system in the nine-year-old Warcraft III: Reign of Chaos will not change that.  So why am I writing about this service a second time?  Why write about something that one obnoxious forum troll cannot change?

If it was up to me, I would leave this conversation for dead.  I don’t want to write about it anymore.  There’s a simple problem: Your mainstream video game journalism overlords will never start an intelligent debate on the Battle.net 2.0 service or any topic worth a damn.  They’re more interested in selling you the games or talking about Japan’s fetish for penises* or mocking competitive video game players.* It’s better for their bottom line.  That leaves consumers to figure it out for themselves.  And I don’t know if you’ve ever read the GameFAQs forums, but they’ve obliterated that theory about a million monkeys with a million typewriters.  Holy shit.  It has become my personal civic duty to bitch about the Battle.net 2.0 service.  It doesn’t pay well and it doesn’t get you laid.  But hey, it’s a civic duty!  This is some patriotic shit right here.  People still think this war is about a crappy system for custom games.  People think this is a war over public chat rooms.  It’s not and never really was.  And yes, I am at fault for that.  When I gave my first opinion on Battle.net 2.0, I dwelled on functionality.  I complained about things that did not get the discussion where it needed to go.  Today, the debate is still framed as “Why can’t I play StarCraft II offline?” versus “Because you are a filthy pirate who wanted to download the game!”  I want to have the debate that the StarCraft and video game communities should have had a year ago.

“This raises an interesting question. If the original Battle.net was so successful, why change it? Updating a service like Battle.net is a hugely complex undertaking. Are there really that many new features that Blizzard Entertainment could offer that would deliver a world-class online gaming experience to its community?”

Battle.net 2.0 Preview, published on the official StarCraft II Web Site; 2010.*

When this question was posed on the StarCraft II preview web site over a year ago, somebody should have answered it.  That is what I intend to do here.  I would like to answer, “Why?”  Most people think Battle.net 2.0 is about software piracy.  I took a guess that Battle.net 2.0 was about dominion over the lucrative StarCraft competitive gaming scene.  In a way, we were both right.  We were also wrong.  Neither hypothesis captured the scope of the ambition involved.  The goal of Battle.net 2.0 was to create a service that would give Blizzard Entertainment complete control of their intellectual property rights. In the world that kings, queens, and politicians are setting up for us, control of the copyright means control of the product.  Intellectual property rights can act as a deterrent to software piracy.  Intellectual property rights command the oversight of competitive gaming scenes.  Intellectual property rights create rules for the way that the game is distributed to the customer.  Intellectual property rights dictate how the customer is allowed to use, modify, and manage his or her purchase.  That’s what Battle.net 2.0 is about.  “[W]orld-class online gaming experience”, my ass.

Now, I guess all that I have to do is prove that to you.  Despite what modern video game journalism has led you to believe, the complex issues surrounding the video game industry can be explained in ways that are more meaningful than “Top Eight Mario Cupcakes of All-Time!”  I can give you better than Kotaku ever will.  The goal of this article is to explain the course of cosmic forces that led to the creation of the Battle.net 2.0 service.  This is one complicated history lesson.  When you think about the history of Battle.net 2.0, you probably think about seventeen months of uptime.  Your mind goes back to the February 2010 launch of the StarCraft II: Wings of Liberty beta test.  If you have a little foresight, you head back to June of 2009 and think about that Local Area Network debacle.  I’m a little different.  I have plenty of free time and I’m prepared to use it.  I want to do some back-in-time crystal ball shit.  I want to go back two decades, when Blizzard Entertainment doesn’t even exist.  I want to start in the days when they’re known as Silicon and Synapse, when the company is a go-nowhere software mill creating computer video game ports for the Amiga and Macintosh platforms.  From there, you can learn how this company built the most successful online gaming portal in retail video games.  And from there, you can learn how Blizzard Entertainment (and the video game industry) got this crazy idea of defending their intellectual property at all costs.

Continue to Part Two: Into the Dark Portal

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