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China’s eSports Craze Reaches New Heights with the Victory of “Invictus Gaming” (IG)

The hashtag “IG are the Champions” received over a billion million views on Weibo over the past week.

Gabi Verberg

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Over the past week, hotlists of Baidu and Weibo were dominated by the news of China’s IG team winning the League of Legends (英雄联盟) World Championship for the first time in world history. Following China’s success at the previous Asian Games, China’s electronic-sports (esports) craze has now reached new heights.

In early November, ‘Invictus Gaming’ (IG) became the first Chinese team to win the League of Legends World Champions.

In a sold-out Munhak Stadium in Incheon, South Korea, the Chinese team took down Europe based FNATIC by 3-0 on November 3rd.

League of Legends is an online multiplayer video game developed and published by Riot Games in 2009 in which a team of players has to battle against the opposing team by gaining more strength through the accumulation of items and experience over the course of the game.

College Craze over IG

During the finals and in the days that followed, the internet flooded with reactions from esports enthusiasts. On Weibo, hashtags such as “IG are the Champions”(#ig冠军#)and “What the championship of IG means” (#IG夺冠的意义#) went viral, together scoring more than 1,5 billion views. IG’s World Championship has shown, more than ever, how booming esports actually are in China.

During the finals, many photos and videos of school canteens, sports field and internet café’s full of young people watching the final circulated on the internet.

Right after IG defeated FNATIC, videos posted online by students of the Nanchang Institute of Technology, Tianjin Institute of Technology, and many other universities showed countless dormitory rooms with students celebrating, cheering and chanting “IG are the Champions!” (IG冠军!).

At one university, several students even put up a banner reading: “If IG wins the championship, Unit 310 goes naked” (“IG夺冠!310集体裸奔”). Photos and videos later confirmed that some people partly held themselves to the agreement, showing young men wearing nothing but their underwear running around holding the IG’s flag.

Over the past week, photos of banners hanging from university dormitories, congratulating IG, also spread online – showing a craze that is similar to that over football fever in some other countries.

The IG Fever Meme Machine

The craze over the IG victory has triggered dozens of memes on Chinese social media over the past week.

One of these memes involved Chinese businessman Wang Sicong (王思聪), son of billionaire Wang Jianlin. With more than 38 million Weibo followers, Wang Sicong @王思聪 is not only a popular Weibo blogger – he is also the founder of the current ‘Invictus Gaming’ team by acquiring top Chinese gaming club ‘Catastrophic Cruel Memories’ in 2011, in order to promote professional eSports in China.

Wang was spotted eating a large hot-dog during the games, in somewhat uncharming way, sparking a range of memes.

Some copied the image of Wang eating the hotdog in art..

…but the meme also went from online to offline as some companies used it to promote their food or products.

The trend went so far that the hashtag “Wang Sicong’s Hotdog-Eating Image” (#王思聪吃热狗头像#) received over 380 million views, and that the businessman even asked his followers on Weibo to stop sharing his hotdog picture.

As reported by Radii, Wang Sicong also went viral for revealing that he would be selecting 113 fans (11.3 is the date IG won) to receive 10,000RMB ($1440) each, choosing the winners on 11.11 Single’s Day.

At time of writing, that post had attracted a staggering 17 million comments.

But there were also other types of memes on Weibo this week, namely, those making of fun of the many people who had never heard of IG before and were surprised with the online craze surrounding the championship.

Netizens used self-irony in depicting themselves feeling like some kind of Neanderthal when hearing people discussing the IG championship…

Or by depicting two monkeys with a big “Congratulations IG” above them and one wondering “What is IG?!”, and the other telling him just to follow the rest in congratulating them anyway.

This response also shows that China’s post-70s and post-80s are not as familiar with the latest esports craze as China’s younger (post-90s, post-00s) generations are.

A Momentous Victory

The enormous hype over the World Championship of the Chinese team shows that there is more to the topic than the victory the five IG players alone. Many esports fanatics see the Chinese teams’ success as a crucial moment of recognition of esports in the PRC.

After IG was crowned world champion, the hashtag “What the Championship of IG Means” (#IG夺冠的意义#) received over 530 million views, with many Weibo users liking and sharing the following text:

Perhaps middle-aged and elderly people don’t know what just happened, but the Chinese team won the LPL world championship. After seven unsuccessful years, the Chinese teams have been under tremendous pressure from the public. […] But now IG is the world champion. Why do people hear the cheers of young people outside? Because we are the teenagers that were never understood, but now at this very moment, we got our recognition.”

In conclusion, some facts & numbers:

● The first professional League of Legends world competition was held in 2011 in Sweden.

League of Legends is considered to be the largest electronic sport in the world, being the most played game in the world for three consecutive years since 2016.

● In 2018, an estimated 81 million people worldwide played League of Legends each month.

● During the 2018 world final, a record was set with 205,348,063 viewers watching the game at the same time. 203.389.444 of these viewers were Chinese.

● The total prize money of the 2018 LPL world championship was $2,250,000.

● The 12 Chinese competing players altogether earned $556,875 prize money.

● Invictus Gaming won $843,750 prize money. The money was divided equally amongst a total of six players, meaning every player earned $140,625. (Note: the team also received bonuses from other third parties).

By Gabi Verberg and Manya Koetse, with contributions from Miranda Barnes

Spotted a mistake or want to add something? Please let us know in comments below or email us.

©2018 Whatsonweibo. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce our content without permission – you can contact us at info@whatsonweibo.com.

Gabi Verberg is a Business graduate from the University of Amsterdam who has worked and studied in Shanghai and Beijing. She now lives in Amsterdam and works as a part-time translator, with a particular interest in Chinese modern culture and politics.

1 Comment

1 Comment

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    ChongChing Mayor

    November 12, 2018 at 4:48 pm

    Lmao… what dose their victory have anything to do with you? You are still video-game-playing losers, awarding professional players by your money.

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China Arts & Entertainment

China’s New Hit Drama ‘Nothing But Thirty’ Thrives in the “She Era”

Chinese latest hit drama ‘Nothing but Thirty’ has 20 billion views on its Weibo hashtag page.

Yin Lin Tan

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China’s latest TV drama hit Nothing But Thirty is flooding Weibo discussions. With over 20 billion views on its hashtag page, the show is one of the most popular shows of the season and demonstrates that China’s ‘she era’ (ta shidai 她时代) dramas are all the rage. What’s on Weibo’s Yin Lin Tan explains.

“Have you heard of ‘independent at the age of thirty’ (sān shí ér lì 三十而立)?” Wang Manni asks, her hair pulled back neatly and white shirt cleanly pressed. “I hope that, before I’m thirty, I’ll be promoted to supervisor.”

Riding on the wave of female protagonist (‘heroine’ 大女主) shows that have been taking over China’s entertainment scene, Nothing But Thirty (三十而已) is a 43-episode drama by Dragon Television that follows the challenges of three different women who have reached the ever-important age of thirty.

In a society where women are often expected to be married by their late twenties, a show like this, which tackles women’s present-day struggles, both in their personal and professional lives, has resonated with many.

In fact, the show is so popular that at the time of writing, the show’s hashtag (“Nothing But Thirty”, #三十而已#) has over 20 billion (!) views on Weibo.

 

Depicting the struggles of China’s thirty-something women

 

Nothing But Thirty revolves around the lives of three female leads from different walks of life. Gu Jia (Tong Yao) is a capable businesswoman turned full-time housewife; Wang Manni (Jiang Shuying) is an independent, career-oriented sales assistant; and Zhong Xiaoqin (Mao Xiaotong) is your run-of-the-mill office lady.

For Gu Jia, the birth of her son was what truly transformed her into a full-fledged housewife. In many ways, she seems like a perfect wife and mother: well-educated, capable, and thoughtful. But, eventually, she too has to face life’s challenges.

Driven and hardworking, Wang Manni is confident in both her looks and abilities. Her immediate goal, at least at the start of the show, is to achieve professional success. Throughout the show, her resilience is put to the test, personally and professionally.

Zhong Xiaoqin is described by many netizens as the most “average” or “normal” character. She is kind-hearted -sometimes to the point of being a pushover -, and has spent years at the same company without rising the ranks. Though her story might seem mundane at first, this peace is disrupted when her marriage takes a turn for the worse.

 

A story that resonates with the masses

 

“The show attracted wide attention, and it strongly resonated with female audiences. Many thirty-something working women saw their own lives reflected in the show,” Xinhua recently wrote about the show.

Nothing but Thirty currently carries a 7.6 out of 10 rating on Douban, an online reviewing platform.

Though some reviewers criticized how the later episodes of the show were unnecessarily draggy, most praised it for its portrayal of strong female characters, good acting, and largely realistic depiction of women above the age of thirty.

“I saw myself, and also saw the friends beside me,” a reviewer notes.

In China, women are, more often than not, burdened with expectations of getting married and settling down by the time they are in their late twenties. If you’re single and thirty, that’s made even worse.

Those who fall into this category carry the derogatory label of “leftover women” (剩女), a term that reflects how single women above the age of thirty are seen as consolation prizes or even unwanted goods.

Thirty is thus an incredibly important number, especially for women — something that’s clearly reflected in the show’s concept trailer.

Aside from societal expectations of starting a family, some women now also take it upon themselves to build their careers. In fact, you can chase after professional success without burdening yourself with the idea that you must be married – a notion exemplified by the character of Wang Manni.

Nothing But Thirty also showcases the sheer diversity of experiences for women above thirty: you don’t have to be married, you don’t have to be super capable, and you don’t have to be thinking about having children. Each woman goes through her own unique struggles and isn’t necessarily endowed with the so-called “protagonist’s halo.”

Ultimately, the popularity of the show is driven by the three female leads and the actresses who bring these strong characters to life.

By telling a story that is relatable and touches on relevant social issues, namely on expectations of women in society, Nothing But Thirty was able to achieve widespread popularity and is adding another notch on the trend of China’s ta shidai (她时代) dramas. 

 

The rise of ta shidai shows

 

Ta shidai literally translates to “her era” or “the ‘she’ era.”

Ta shidai shows explore what it’s like to be a woman in China today. The female characters are diverse when it comes to both their backgrounds and character arcs; they might have different jobs, different levels of education, or different personalities. These shows mostly center around a strong female lead and/or a main cast that is primarily female.

More importantly, they often feature capable women and how these women overcame the odds to achieve success.

Recent shows like The Romance of Tiger and Rose (传闻中的陈芊芊) and Sisters Who Make Waves (乘风破浪的姐姐) also fall under this category, as do somewhat older hit shows such as Ode to Joy (欢乐颂) and Women in Beijing (北京女子图鉴).

The Romance of Tiger and Rose is set in a society in which women are in charge and men are subordinate, in a daring reversal of gender roles. Though the show has been criticized for using social issues to attract attention, it gained a decent following for tackling topics like gender inequality and women’s rights.

The Romance of Tiger and Rose (传闻中的陈芊芊)

A reality TV competition that swept the Chinese entertainment scene, Sisters Who Make Waves attempted to rebuke stereotypes of women over 30 as “leftover women.”

The show brought together female celebrities above the age of 30 (the oldest competitor was 52), and had them go through a series of challenges, culminating in a girl group formed by the final competitors.

Nothing But Thirty is just another example of a show that’s attempted to depict the realistic struggles of women in modern-day China.

More Chinese dramas that feature women — specifically, their struggles and the expectations that society places on them — are slated to be released in 2020.

Over the past few years, more attention has been focused on women’s rights in China. As feminism becomes an increasingly important topic of discussion in China, strongly facilitated by social media and not without controversy, companies are likely to hop on the bandwagon and continue producing shows that fall squarely in the ta shidai category, given the genre’s rising popularity.

Though we can’t expect every single show to perfectly, accurately, and realistically portray women’s struggles, the fact that more stories like these are being produced already helps bring such conversations into the mainstream. 

Hopefully, the trend of ta shidai shows is a sign that these issues won’t just be tackled on camera, but in real life as well. 

 
Read more about Chinese TV dramas here.
 

By Yin Lin Tan

 Spotted a mistake or want to add something? Please let us know in comments below or email us. First-time commenters, please be patient – we will have to manually approve your comment before it appears.

©2020 Whatsonweibo. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce our content without permission – you can contact us at info@whatsonweibo.com.

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China Arts & Entertainment

Two Hour Time Limit for KTV: China’s Latest Covid-19 Measures Draw Online Criticism

China’s latest COVID-19 infection prevention and control measures are drawing criticism from social media users.

Manya Koetse

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First published

No more never-ending nights filled with singing and drinking at the karaoke bar for now, as new pandemic containment measures put a time limit as to how long people can stay inside entertainment locations and wangba (internet cafes).

On June 22nd, China’s Ministry of Culture and Tourism (文旅部) issued an adjusted version to earlier published guidelines on Covid-19-related prevention and control measures for theaters, internet cafes, and other indoor entertainment venues.

Some of the added regulations have become big news on Chinese social media today.

According to the latest guidelines, it will not be allowed for Chinese consumers to stay at various entertainment locations and wangba for more than two hours.

Singing and dancing entertainment venues, such as KTV bars, can only operate at no greater than 50% maximum occupancy. This also means that private karaoke rooms will be much emptier, as they will also only be able to operate at 50% capacity.

On Weibo, the news drew wide attention today, with the hashtag “KTV, Internet Cafe Time Limit of Two Hours” (#KTV网吧消费时间不得超2小时#) receiving over 220 million views at the time of writing. One news post reporting on the latest measures published on the People’s Daily Weibo account received over 7000 comments and 108,000 likes.

One popular comment, receiving over 9000 likes, criticized the current anti-coronavirus measures for entertainment locations, suggesting that dining venues – that have reopened across the country – actually pose a much greater risk than karaoke rooms due to the groups of people gathering in one space without a mask and the “saliva [drops] flying around.”

The comment, that was posted by popular comic blogger Xuexi, further argues that cinemas – that have suffered greatly from nationwide closures – are much safer, as people could wear masks inside and the maximum amount of seats could be minimized by 50%. Karaoke rooms are even safer, Xuexi writes, as the private rooms are only shared by friends or colleagues – people who don’t wear face masks around each other anyway.

Many people agree with the criticism, arguing that the latest guidelines do not make sense at all and that two hours is not nearly enough for singing songs at the karaoke bar or for playing online games at the internet cafe. Some wonder why (regular) bars are not closed instead, or why there is no two-hour time limit for their work at the office.

Most comments are about China’s cinemas, with Weibo users wondering why a karaoke bar, where people open their mouths to sing and talk, would be allowed to open, while the cinemas, where people sit quietly and watch the screen, remain closed.

Others also suggest that a two-hour limit would actually increase the number of individuals visiting one place in one night, saying that this would only increase the risks of spreading the virus.

“Where’s the scientific evidence?”, some wonder: “What’s the difference between staying there for two hours or one day?”

“As a wangba owner, this really fills me with sorrow,” one commenter writes: “Nobody cares about the financial losses we suffered over the past six months. Our landlord can’t reduce our rent. During the epidemic we fully conformed to the disease prevention measures, we haven’t opened our doors at all, and now there’s this policy. We don’t know what to do anymore.”

Among the more serious worries and fears, there are also some who are concerned about more trivial things: “There’s just no way we can eat all our food at the KTV place within a two-hour time frame!”

By Manya Koetse

*” 餐饮其实才更严重,一群人聚在一起,而且不戴口罩,唾沫横飞的。开了空调一样也是密闭空间。电影院完全可以要求必须戴口罩,而且座位可以只出售一半。KTV其实更安全,都是同事朋友的,本身在一起都不戴口罩了,在包间也无所谓。最危险的餐饮反而都不在意了”

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©2020 Whatsonweibo. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce our content without permission – you can contact us at info@whatsonweibo.com.

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