Chapter 461: The First Battle!
On the day of the human-machine battle, all eyes were upon it.
This human-machine battle was truly a grand affair. Not only were major domestic streaming platforms and video websites broadcasting it live, but even some television channels’ science and education programs were providing full coverage.
On Weibo, Tieba, and various forums, this human-machine battle had become a carnival for all gaming enthusiasts, instantly becoming the hottest topic of the moment.
Of course, the popularity of this human-machine battle was equally high abroad. The US, Europe, Japan, Korea—the whole world was watching.
This was largely thanks to the buzz generated by previous "human-machine battles." Initially, when artificial intelligence conquered chess, the topic was already hot overseas. By the time AI had conquered all board games, it had captured global attention.
And now, after five years of silence, AI had taken another giant leap, directly entering the gaming domain. Could it even conquer RTS games, a genre widely acknowledged as complex?
This excited many onlookers.
That’s just how humans are. When AI suffers a crushing defeat at human hands, everyone thinks it’s utterly harmless, and the hype fizzles out. But the moment AI can trounce all human professional players, people quickly lose interest again.
It’s only when AI and humans are at their closest level of skill that a "human-machine battle" garners unprecedented attention.
After all, a balanced fight is the only real fight.
On major streaming platforms, the "human-machine battle" live rooms had already drawn massive audiences.
"Hurry up and start! I can’t wait!"
"The scene is so quiet. Why no sound? Am I deaf?"
"Did they not turn on the system audio? What a crappy broadcast."
"Oh, this seems to be a room without commentary. It’s still in the preparation phase, so the scene is quiet. If you want commentary, you can go to Kaiser’s stream; he’s broadcasting the whole match live."
"Why isn’t Chen Mo streaming! Man, if we could hear his commentary, that would be amazing!"
"Wake up, upstairs. Chen Mo stopped caring about riding this kind of hype a long time ago..."
Many bullet comments were flooding the screen.
On the stream’s screen, the scene of the human-machine battle venue had appeared.
The venue for this human-machine battle wasn’t set up in a dedicated esports arena, nor were there any spectators. The setup was very simple: just two computers facing each other, ensuring Starlight couldn’t see Origin’s screen.
Origin’s computer was also very minimalist, with only a simple uppercase English logo "IN" on the back of the monitor.
This logo’s design was a seven-layered stacked space, with an open eye in the center. This was the logo of Origin’s developer, the Seventh Horizon (English name: 7th In).
Besides that, there were three referees on site, along with one staff member from Seventh Horizon.
All other personnel, such as those handling broadcasting and commentary, were in different rooms, so the scene was very quiet.
This actually felt a bit out of place for an esports competition atmosphere. Esports, like traditional sports, thrives on excitement. Some big-stage players perform even better under the cheers of tens of thousands of spectators.
Even if there were concerns about callouts, giving the players noise-canceling headphones would suffice.
Of course, Seventh Horizon had its own reasons for arranging the venue this way.
On one hand, it continued the tradition from previous matches against chess professionals. Those chess players needed a very quiet environment to concentrate, so the venue was set up like this, and the method carried over to the present.
On the other hand, it was meant to lend a more serious atmosphere to this human-machine battle.
It’s easy to imagine that the vast majority of viewers would be rooting for humanity. If there were many spectators on site and Origin crushed the human, would those players cheer or not?
If they cheered, who would they be cheering for? The computer? The computer couldn’t hear them, and it would feel a bit like "betraying humanity."
If they didn’t cheer, wouldn’t those spectators feel completely irrelevant?
Moreover, since the stakes of this match had been elevated to the level of "humanity versus artificial intelligence," inviting a large audience would make it seem overly commercialized.
Considering all this, the venue setup followed the precedent of chess matches, maintaining an overall quiet atmosphere.
Of course, Starlight still needed to wear noise-canceling headphones; that was a habit for professional players.
Starlight sat down at his computer. He glanced at the empty computer opposite him, his expression serious and far from relaxed.
Clearly, this feeling of facing an empty seat was more oppressive than facing a real human opponent. This was exactly the same kind of pressure chess players felt when confronting AI.
Origin’s physical form was a silver cylinder, about the size of an air purifier. Once connected to the computer via a data cable, it would automatically log into Warcraft and enter the official match room.
Obviously, the Origin used in this live match was an offline version, making the duel seem fairer.
Starlight had already started adjusting his equipment and warming up his hands.
On major domestic streaming platforms, this event was split into many live rooms.
One was the official stream, broadcasting the live scene and match progress, but only with system audio and no commentary.
After all, this broadcast was for a global audience. Using any single language for commentary wouldn’t be appropriate, so it was better to let other countries arrange their own commentators during their rebroadcasts.
Then there were rebroadcast streams with commentary.
Many were commentating on the match. A domestic science and education channel had even invited professional players like Night Breeze to provide commentary, making it a popular stream. Another popular stream was hosted by Kaiser, who was also commentating live.
Of course, Seventh Horizon had already informed Chen Mo about this, since Warcraft was a game he had developed.
Chen Mo was very straightforward about it: "No problem, go ahead and rebroadcast." After all, Warcraft’s popularity had already waned significantly, and this event served as promotion for the game. It was a good thing; Chen Mo was more than happy about it.
Many players were secretly wishing that Chen Mo would commentate on this human-machine battle. That would be perfect!
But everyone was well aware that Chen Mo seemed indifferent to this human-machine battle from the start. He hadn’t made any public statements, not even a single Weibo post.
Streaming online and commentating on a match featuring a Korean server pro? That wasn’t happening. Whether Chen Mo would even step up to play himself was still an open question!