As the five-man Weibo Gaming squad chased after a lone T1 player, the crowd inside Seoul’s Gocheok Sky Dome held their breath.
His health slowly whittled away as he retreated to the top lane. It looked like Weibo could gain some much-needed momentum. Then, like a fist closing around a stress ball, the other four T1 players collapsed on Weibo and caught them in a kill box, wiping them all out in a flurry of chaotic attacks. The crowd erupted into raucous cheers as their Korean home team all but sealed their victory over their Chinese rivals. Sure enough, T1 swept the floor with Weibo at the 2023 League of Legends Worlds finals, and after seeing it live, in person, I finally understood the appeal of the esport.
K-Pop and palaces
By pure coincidence, I visited South Korea on holiday, catching up with a friend as the Worlds final match waged. After a few emails to Riot PR, I attended the Fan Fest and the Finals. I’ve been to esports events before, but the sheer scale and production value of Worlds rivaled even traditional sports. Fan Fest took place in Gwanghwamun Square, right in front of Gyeongbok Palace. In a part of Seoul where the modern glass and steel office towers meet the traditional palaces and Hanok Village, thousands of League fans gathered in the bitter cold to watch Western artists and K-Pop stars. MUSHVENOM gave a bizarrely entertaining performance, at one point riding an exercise bike before jumping off onto a hoverboard, and (G)I-DLE stole the show with some KDA remixes and their viral hit Queencard. DJ Alan Walker even played some hardtek, which I was surprised to see the crowd absolutely jumping for.
Before the show, there were loads of booths fans could go to for merch or to play games, plus a giant Teemo statue that cosplayers were taking pictures next to. The entire week I explored Seoul, I saw people playing League on their phones on the subway or wearing League merch while out and about. I’d always heard South Korea loved esports, but it was wild seeing it for myself.
Worshippers at the altar
The subway was chock-full of people decked out in Worlds gear, so I didn’t need to use a map to find the Sky Dome. I’d been impressed by how many braved the cold for Fan Fest, but this entire baseball stadium buzzed with the swarms of League fans. Thousands were buying more merch, queuing to see the opening ceremony, and taking their seats in the area, awaiting the final confrontation between Weibo and T1.
Fan Fest had whet my appetite, and the opening ceremony offered a phenomenal main course. Performances from the very real HEARTSTEEL and NewJeans seamlessly integrated on the large screens with virtual elements from League, as performers danced around and fought the Baron in the middle of the venue. Pyrotechnics went off as spells were cast and high notes were hit, and all of a sudden T1 and Weibo appeared on stage too. They had to stand all stern to psyche each other out, but I know, deep down, they were all fangirling for NewJeans just as hard as everyone else in that arena.
I say that, but honestly, the cheers for T1 were louder than I’ve heard at most concerts and far exceeded the energy the crowd had for the young K-Pop stars. As they got called to the front of the stage by the MC, the crowd erupted at the mention of each name, but especially for Faker, the legendary mid laner. I got caught up in the energy, it was so infectious. Unfortunately, I still had no idea how a game of League actually worked. Fortunately, I sat with freelancer Cecilia Ciocchetti, one of Dot’s many League experts. She explained the neutral objectives, why I frequently saw two opposing players fighting minions but not each other, despite being just a few feet apart, and what all those towers were about. Once I actually understood what was going on, I could become fully immersed in the incredible ability on display.
I get it
T1 absolutely washed Weibo. Every time Weibo cornered an opposing player, they’d retreat, luring them back to a position where the rest of T1 could tag in and annihilate them. T1 even managed to take two neutral objectives at once while Weibo just sort of stood nearby, watching. It almost felt unfair at some points. After seeing the level of calm cohesion shown by T1, I felt the pain of every friend and colleague who’s had to queue with randoms and watch their teammates feed the opponents instead of communicating and working together. After years in the industry never quite understanding League or its appeal, it only took an international final held in a huge stadium with screaming fans, complete with live music and flames to make me finally get it.
By the last few minutes of the third match, it became clear even to me that T1 would walk away with the trophy in hand, but that didn’t make the victory any less sweet to watch. The commentators, crowd, and even other journalists went wild, and as T1 got up and stood before the trophy, I saw them as everyone else did: as gods.
