It was Sunday in October, and at the New Hope Cinema Grill, Sunday was game day. More than 100 hard-core fans crowded before the big screen, chugged beer and cheered for their favorite players.

A few people with Vikings jerseys stumbled into the large room, purple face paint covering befuddled glances, before taking flight. World Series fans were nowhere to be seen. Instead, the crowd roared to the mouse-clicking, wrist-twisting action of professional video game players – from South Korea, Canada and the United States – playing a championship match, live from Orlando, Fla. On the screen, aliens maneuvered against Marines in bloody tactical skirmishes. Across the world, hundreds of thousands watched.

“Usually we take a minimum (deposit) when you do special events. We didn’t here,” Sean Fuhrmann, owner of the restaurant, said days before the Oct. 16 event. “But a bunch of buddies of mine went to the last event. They said, ‘Dude, you gotta do this at your place.’ ”

Across the nation, most major cities have a monthly “Barcraft” event, named after the video game series of choice, Starcraft. The game’s sequel, Starcraft 2 – which fans at the New Hope event often referred to as “space chess” – is the fastest-selling computer strategy game of all time, selling 3 million in its first month and 5 million since its release in July 2010.

“(Starcraft) was built from the ground up with the idea that this would be a spectator sport,” said Bob Colayco, public relations manager for Starcraft’s developer, Irvine, Ca.-based Blizzard Entertainment.

STANDING ROOM ONLY

The idea took hold in the Twin Cities over the summer, when Kevin Petman, 30, of Maple Grove hit up a slew of metro bar owners. He wanted to commandeer their televisions to stream a championship match live via the Internet from Atlanta. Dozens would show up, he promised.

“What? Are you nuts?” was the typical response.

Finally, in August, the manager of Minneapolis’ Legends Bar and Grill lent him his basement for an evening.

“At first, I was very skeptical….Usually when people say they’ll bring 60, they bring half,” manager Jeremy Ancel said.

Come game time, Ancel descended the basement steps and found almost 80 thirsty people.

“They weren’t ready. There was one waitress, and she looked exasperated,” said Tony Lindert, 25, of Minneapolis, who said a few had come all the way from Fargo, N.D.

“It got so packed it was hard to view it,” Petman said. “He just had this kind of shocked look on his face.”

Ancel acknowledged as much.

“I was really surprised at how many are into this. They were really into watching other people play video games. For them, it’s like me watching football.”

Joe Dolin, who owns a Joe’s Pizza parlor in blue-collar Clairemont, Calif., near San Diego, still remembers a 2007 event hailed by many as one of the first “Barcraft” events.

“They said about 25 people, and 117 showed. A lot came from L.A.,” Dolin said. “We were open until 4 a.m., because the match was over in Korea, and it was just me (working). I was bussing the whole place by myself, and I literally had to climb over people.”

This month, Petman was forced to New Hope for the larger venue.

Ed Heyl, 22, of Minneapolis came to the New Hope event with his wife, father and both in-laws.

“I feel like Starcraft kind of mirrors a really high-level chess match. You can kind of see all the possibilities happening,” he said, trying to explain the appeal.

Others called it “trippy to watch,” with invisible soldiers, flying ships, insectlike behemoths.

“It’s also the personalities,” said Heyl’s wife, Jennica Kruse, 22.

Minutes before the championship match, a Korean player, “MC,” learned just enough English to convey to his Canadian opponent, HuK, “I kill you.”

The comment was said with a smile and met with laughter, but a table of four Starcraft fans shook their heads.

“We’re rooting for HuK, because Koreans always win,” said Bob Fang, 24, of Minneapolis.

BIG IN SOUTH KOREA

In 2000, South Korea experienced an economic downturn. Korean youths with little money and lots of time crowded into “PC bangs,” or street-side Internet cafes, just as the first Starcraft game was released.

A celebrity scene was born. The country now has two 24-hour cable channels dedicated to the sport, and youth-based sponsors soon gave way to such advertisers as Korean Air, Shin Han Bank and Samsung.

With monthly tournaments offering purses in the tens of thousands of dollars, “Some of the biggest players make a couple hundred thousand a year, at least, and are genuine celebrities in every sense of the word. They get mobbed when they are out in public,” said Erik Lonnquist, 28, of Mankato, Minn.

Lonnquist, who now lives in South Korea, went from being a cameraman for the Mankato Mavericks to working as a play-by-play commentator for one of several Korean-based Starcraft sports leagues, using the screen name “Doa.”

“With so many advertisements on their playing uniforms, these guys look like NASCAR drivers,” Lonnquist said, noting that one 2005 championship took place in a stadium with 100,000 people. Perhaps the best-known player, Lim Yo-Hwan, 31, also known as “The Emperor,” is dating popular South Korean actress Kim Ga-Yeon.

Professional players practice at least eight hours a day, sometimes as many as 12 – interspersed with exercise regimens, Lonnquist said.

“You have to stay physically fit….You have to keep your wrists in good shape if you’re going to be playing,” he said.

You also have to remember to sleep. In 2005, a 28-year-old South Korean man died of exhaustion after playing Starcraft for 50 hours straight, according to a BBC report.

“It’s hard to communicate just how much people care,” Lonnquist said. “Yes, it’s a video game, but people really do treat it like a sport. I’ve seen commentators break down in tears. I’ve seen players cry after games. The emotions that the players and the fans have here is really something else.”

And now, Korean players are coming to play in the West in increasing numbers.

“There’s more tournaments in the West and more prize money to be won. And frankly, the players aren’t as good in the West, so some of them see it as easy money,” Lonnquist said.

Sundance DiGiovanni, CEO of New York-based Major League Gaming, which staged the Orlando competition, has floated the idea of a $1.5 million prize pool for next year.

“It’s definitely within the realm of possibility. I can’t guarantee it,” he said, noting his organization has garnered sponsors, including Dr Pepper, Hot Pockets and Sony.

More than a million people tuned in to the Orlando matches. At a single point, viewership reached 181,000 via the organizer’s primary video stream (not counting streams owned by partner organizations) – the entire New Hope bar counted as a single “viewer.” It was one of six 2011 events, with each netting a greater audience than the last.

“Moving forward to next year, there will be a much broader competition base,” DiGiovanni said. “You’ll see something closer to what’s happening in Korea…regularly scheduled programming” over an Internet channel.

Back when the original video game came out, the only way to watch it was on Korean television or YouTube clips. But with advances in technology and more people willing and able to watch matches via the Internet, the United States is an even bigger market, DiGiovanni said.

STRATEGY, ADRENALINE

To the surprise of many at the New Hope event, HuK, the Canadian, pulled out a win and the championship. The audience stood and cheered, while parents who had tagged along struggled to figure out all the fuss.

“I have no clue….But they talk about it, my students talk about it, and I want to know more about it,” said Mark Sackett, a science teacher at Maple Grove Junior High School who came with his two daughters, ages 17 and 23, and their boyfriends.

“I’ve seen them in my living room playing and could not see the attraction. This feels totally different. You have teams and cheering. This is different.”

John Kruse, 56, came with his daughter Jennica. He said he played games years ago, but “there was nowhere near this kind of adrenaline. There’s a lot of strategy. Very intriguing.”

His wife, Nanciann Kruse, 56, rolled her eyes at some of the cheers but added: “I’m a gym teacher, and I love strategy. They’re using a lot of the same brain connections that I use.”

In one corner, Petman grabbed a seat after a couple of “Nuclear Launch” boilermakers and listened to his friend Anna Stodolka, who said she’s not a Starcraft fan and never will be. “He tried to explain how big it is. I was like, it’s kind of like a football game?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Petman replied.

But the people holding an event right across the hall, in another of New Hope Cinema Grill’s event rooms, might disagree.

In a similar space, a large, rowdy group of Vikings fans gathered to watch Minnesota take on Chicago. Some wandered into the Barcraft event by mistake.

Mark Lindell gave the cheering Barcraft fans a long glace before leaving.

“It’s some kind of video game nerd thing….We’re usually in that room. This is a lot more important and meaningful,” he said later, nodding at the Vikings game.

Across the hall, Starcraft fans saw little difference. Some wore Vikings jerseys, too.

“Maybe I’ll go over there and watch it after this,” one said.

Tad Vezner can be reached at 651-228-5461.