nashuaworldcup Chapter 309 The Headache of EA
Chapter 309 The Headache of EA
When Lu Ran saw this topic, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
He has difficulty even walking now, so he can't hold a concert until his leg is fully recovered.
Moreover, he never thought about holding a concert. He always felt that he was a person behind the scenes. Singing occasionally was fine, but standing on stage and singing all night was another matter.
Another trending topic was #What is Lu Ran's next song?
This topic has generated even more discussion than #Nocturne.
Netizens, like detectives, searched for clues from Lu Ran's previous posts, trying to deduce the style and content of the next song.
"Lu Ran said this album is called 'The Ordinary Road,' so will the next song also be called 'The Ordinary Road'?"
"I think it might be 'Boundless Oceans, Vast Skies.' My third sister's second uncle's grandson's neighbor's former colleague is said to work at Star Moon Studio, and he told me about it."
"Whatever it is, I'm ready to listen to it on repeat."
"One song a day is too slow, can you do two songs a day? Or even three!"
"Lu Ran, remember to take care of yourself. If you're tired, send a song; if you're thirsty, send a song; if you're hungry, send a song; if you're sad, send a song..."
As Lu Ran scrolled through these comments, the corners of his mouth couldn't help but turn up in a smile.
The enthusiasm of these netizens made him feel that what he was doing was meaningful.
It's not because he needs this attention and popularity, but because this attention and popularity proves one thing—the Chinese music scene in this world lacks good songs.
Listeners were so eager to hear truly good music that they became so enthusiastic when "The Lone Warrior" and "Nocturne" came out.
It's not that Lu Ran is so amazing, it's just that there are too few good songs in this world.
This realization strengthened Lu Ran's resolve to finish and improve this album.
Each of the ten songs must be a masterpiece, and each one must live up to the audience's expectations.
We can't let our guard down just because the first two songs were hits. The next eight songs must maintain the same level of quality, or even be better.
He opened his phone and glanced at the rating of "Nocturne" on Wanwan Music.
With a maximum score of 10, the number of ratings has exceeded 500,000, resulting in an average score of 10.
This score is unparalleled in the history of Wanwan Jingting's ratings.
The comments section has been scrolled through hundreds of pages, all of them positive. Occasionally, one or two people say they "don't really like this style," but they are politely refuted by fans.
"I gave it a 10 out of 10 because that's the maximum score. It's not because the song is only worth 10."
"I listened to this song on repeat all day long, and it got better and better with each listen. The first time I heard it, I just thought it was nice to listen to. The second time, I found the melody to be very special. The third time, I noticed the details of the arrangement. The fourth time, I started to think about the meaning of the lyrics. Every time I listened, I made new discoveries."
"That's the thing about Lu Ran's songs; they're listenable. Unlike some songs that you get tired of after a few listens, his songs get better and better the more you listen to them."
...
"The Lone Warrior" and "Nocturne" have dominated the first and second positions on the new song charts of various platforms, and no new song has been able to shake them.
The competition for third place was fierce, with new singles from popular stars, comeback songs from veteran singers, and debut songs from talent show champions, but none of them could dethrone Lu Ran's song from the top two spots.
The difference is significant.
"The Lone Warrior" has surpassed 20 million views, with "Nocturne" following closely behind with over 10 million views.
The third-ranked video had less than two million views, which was not even a fraction of Lu Ran's.
This overwhelming dominance silenced the entire Chinese music scene.
But it's not just the music scene that's silent.
Shanghai, EA's temporary office.
David Morrison sat in the conference room, a video playing on his computer screen.
The video quality isn't great; it was clearly filmed with a phone pointed at a computer screen, and the image is a bit shaky. However, the content is crystal clear—five people are battling on a map, each controlling a hero, pushing towers, killing enemies, taking dragons, and destroying the crystal.
Li Ming stood to the side, holding a notebook, barely daring to breathe.
Morrison had been staring at the video for a full ten minutes.
He dragged the progress bar back, started playing it from the beginning, then dragged it back again, and started playing it from the beginning again. He watched the same scene over and over again, no less than ten times.
"Is this the new game from Tutu Technology?" he finally asked, his voice devoid of emotion.
"Yes," Li Ming quickly replied, "It's called League of Legends. It's supposedly a multiplayer online battle arena game where five people form a team and fight against five opponents on a map. This video was leaked from within Tutu Technology last week; it was probably recorded by an employee in the technical department during testing, and I don't know who uploaded it online."
Morrison didn't say anything, and watched the video again.
In the scene, a warrior wearing golden armor charges into the enemy ranks, swinging his greatsword in circles, causing the health of the five opponents to drop rapidly.
The person operating the device was clearly a novice; their skills were used haphazardly, and their movements were erratic, but the sheer exhilaration was palpable even through the screen.
"How widely has this video gone?" Morrison asked.
Li Ming opened his notebook; he had the data ready long ago: "On TUTU, the original video has already surpassed 30 million views. Adding in all the reposts, edits, and fan-made content, the total views are conservatively estimated at over 100 million. And it's still growing at a rate of tens of millions per day."
Morrison frowned.
"What about the user response?"
"It's incredibly enthusiastic," Li Ming said. "The comments section is filled with anticipation, with many saying it's the most fun game mode they've ever seen. Some people are even drawing maps, designing heroes, and researching tactics based on the footage in the video. Several dedicated player communities for League of Legends have already appeared on TUTU, with the largest having over 500,000 members."
Morrison paused for a moment, then asked a crucial question: "When will this game be released?"
Li Ming hesitated for a moment: "TuTu Technology hasn't officially announced the specific launch date yet, but judging from various information, it should be within this week. Lu Ran mentioned when 'The Lone Warrior' was released that 'League of Legends' would be launched next week.' Although he didn't say which day, it should be soon."
Morrison leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing.
His new game in collaboration with Perfect World is still in the development stage and will not be launched until at least the first half of next year.
Sakura Games' "Samurai Warriors" is ready to be released in the Chinese market, but the launch date will be next month.
Meanwhile, TuTu Technology's "League of Legends" will be launched next week.
A one-week time difference might not seem like much in other industries.
But in the internet industry, a week can determine the life or death of a product.
Taking the lead allows you to capture users' minds and seize market opportunities.
By the time the competitor's product is launched, the users have already been snatched up and the habits have been formed. Trying to win them back will cost ten or even a hundred times more.
"Li Ming," Morrison suddenly spoke up, "could we speed up the progress on Perfect World?"
Li Ming gave a wry smile: "Mr. Morrison, I've spoken with Perfect World's CTO. Their development schedule is already the fastest; any faster and they'll sacrifice quality. Besides, their technical team isn't familiar enough with the engine for this new game, and many issues will take time to resolve."
Morrison remained silent.
He knew that Li Ming was telling the truth.
Developing a large-scale game is not like hosting a dinner party; it's not something you can rush.
Code needs to be written line by line, bugs need to be fixed one by one, and servers need to be deployed one by one. All of this takes time and cannot be rushed.
But he was just anxious.
Tutu Technology is growing too fast.
TUTU's daily active users have rebounded from a low of 62 million to over 90 million. The songs "Lone Warrior" and "Nocturne" have brought Lu Ran a lot of attention. Now that "League of Legends" is already this popular before it is even launched, what will it be like when it is officially launched?
"Keep a close eye on it," Morrison finally said. "On the day League of Legends launches, I need to know all the data—downloads, concurrent users, user retention rate, paying user rate. Every single one of them."
"Understood." Li Ming quickly jotted it down in his notebook.
"Also," Morrison paused, "have the marketing department prepare a targeted marketing plan. We need to take action after League of Legends launches. We can't let them steal all the attention."
Li Ming nodded and left the meeting room.
Morrison sat alone in the empty conference room, staring at the video that had been played countless times on the screen, his anxiety surging like a tide.
He recalled that when he first arrived in China six months ago, everyone told him that the market was huge, but the competition was fierce.
Tencent, NetEase, and Perfect World are all behemoths.
He felt at the time that as long as EA's technology and IP were strong enough, they could always find a way to break through.
But he didn't expect that what would really give him a headache was not those behemoths, but a small company that had been established for less than a year and a young man in a wheelchair.
...