Editor’s note: In September 2018, I asked friends and other members of the LCK Legion to write some words about their favorite intros, outros, and promo vids from OGN and SpoTV to celebrate the last few years of broadcasting Korean League of Legends. It’s been a few months, but better late than never. I hope you guys will enjoy this look back before the new era of LCK starts this week!

(ascend to glory)

Champions Summer 2014

Summer 2014 was arguably the best split of competitive play in Korea and OGN’s intro served as the perfect precursor to the “Survivor”-esque split. The heavy bass and guitar riffs, shattering glass, and the stoicness of the players involved couldn’t have better foreshadowed the intensity that would be 2014 Summer. The snap heard ‘round the world — Najin’s Watch was never the best League of Legends player, but he was one of the best at contributing to OGN’s aesthetic. OGN always had a knack for putting players in the right place at the right time and each player had the opportunity to look as badass as possible. KaKAO and Score running side by side illustrated the race between the two KTs and the grappling between a risky, eccentric player and the calm and collected veteran. And then followed CJ Entus Frost’s Madlife, who is portrayed literally smashing glass with his mind, as he did to our minds for so many years. Madlife had been out of the spotlight, along with CJ Entus Blaze, but both teams were still remembered as the groundbreaking pillars with Flame’s death stare to follow. I, much like other Flame fanboys, was plenty happy to have his eyes peer into my soul. Eventually, we get the best player to ever play the game, Faker, pulling back some accursed black fire energy of the sorts, only to be flanked by superhuman Dandy smashing onto the ground from who knows where. Both players were superhuman and the standouts of their respective teams, but they were nothing compared to Samsung Blue as a unit. Faker and DanDy were godlike, but Samsung Blue literally ascended as Gods above the rest of Champions Korea — no one could touch them. The talent and stardom that existed in 2014 Summer was a story and the introduction told it perfectly. It was the summer before I began college and I still remember sitting quietly in the middle of the night, watching every moment unravel and occasionally falling asleep to the tune of DoA and Montecristo, only to be delighted with a VOD the next morning. 2014 Summer was my warm blanket, the peak of my League of Legends fandom, and the result of many esports tears. It was the last split of Champions Korea and I will never forget it or what OGN gave us that year.

— Xander Torres’ first Champions split was 2012 Summer. He can be found on Twitter at @xGoomiho.

This moment — we own it.

LoL Masters 2014 Final

What I love about this opening is that it almost crosses into traditional sport territory, what with the stadium lights and pump-up background music and locker room team huddles. The heavy base gives an extra swagger to every frame, from Acorn’s dramatic entrance to Spirit and Dandy’s exchanging low-fives to Faker’s fist pump. The music also dials things up from corny to badass, and the timing of the lyrics are perfect too (‘only God can judge me now’ as Faker steps into the light, ‘this moment, we own it’ as Marin stakes his claim by planting the SKT flag into the gymnasium floor). The ending staredown between Faker and Dade is pretty badass as well, and even as I watch this years later, it’s easy to feel the epicness of their midlane matchup.

— Mel started watching LCK in 2016. She can be found on Twitter at @lightningbot.

The feeling that we left behind.

LCK Spring 2017 (OGN)

I love 2 points in this teaser. First, that they mentioned ex-ROX Tigers, who separated to different teams. It hurt to see but it’s just like how we have to grow up and move on. Second, that they showed the players which were in other leagues like LPL and EU LCS. It’s the rewind concept, because they have returned.

— Gift first began watching Korean professional League of Legends in Season 5. She can be found on Twitter at @giftshinku.

I wasn’t familiar with OGN. In fact, OGN wasn’t even on my radar until the better end of 2016. I just hadn’t had the time nor interest to actually pay attention to the Korean League of Legends scene. Was I aware of their existence though? Of course. It was difficult to ignore powerhouses like Faker and SKT T1. But the power of narratives, of shedding light on faceless players, was even more difficult to ignore, especially during the most major event: the World Championship. I found myself focusing more on players from other regions than my own. Their stories spoke more to me, their struggles drew me in, and before I knew it, I felt like I’d gotten closer to teams which I previously hadn’t recognized at all. Somehow, I’d managed to fall in love with that year’s ROX Tigers (expected) and that year’s EDward Gaming (not as expected). Needless to say, I failed to realize just how volatile team rosters could be. Though in hindsight, if it hadn’t been for the ROX Tigers completely splitting up, and Pawn and Deft returning to Korea, would I have been as deeply invested in the LCK as I am now? Because despite the hurt and the feeling of loss, I couldn’t deny that the reunions and breakups which awaited in the 2017 LCK weren’t interesting. There was the breakup of the ROX Tigers, the team that arguably managed to charm the world, and the reverse exodus of multiple well-known Korean pro-players whose stories had yet to be retold and redefined.That’s how I first came in contact with OGN. And how I came to realize, that even if one’s heart is broken, it doesn’t mean one won’t ever be able to find love again. At least, that’s the feeling I got from OGN. OGN, somehow capable of seamlessly weaving between narratives in a way that made me feel at home; as if I’d been here from the start. You see, OGN could’ve zoned in on the ROX Tigers storyline, on the breakup of such a lovable team filled with, according to the Western scene, personality. But instead of feeding into the whims of certain people, OGN ensured an introduction focusing on the personalities of each player featured, mixing two massive narratives together without feeling either haphazard or tone-deaf. OGN showed me how so much could be conveyed through so little. The 2017 LCK Spring Split opening starts with the ex-Tigers toplaner Smeb, looking over his shoulder as a brand new team title follows him, one that reads KT Rolster. And in the midst of flashing images (a Newton’s cradle, a ticking time bomb rewinding), the rest of what used to be the ROX Tigers emerge. What had struck me in this shot wasn’t the Tigers literally fading into stars; it was the fact that no one was wearing their ROX Tigers uniform. It was a reminder, of difference within familiarity. Even though the league remains the same, the teams you know of are no more. But OGN doesn’t bleed out this image, doesn’t even let it burn into your memory. As soon as the former Tigers are one with the night sky, they are gone, and that’s that. “It’s impossible to see,” Alana Watson from the band Nero sings while an unfamiliar face replaces what had just been an illustrious ROX Tigers. It’s a player named Punch, a jungler for Kongdoo Monster, and someone whom many no doubt will forget. But in that second, he is the star of the frame. And isn’t that what matters? There are so many players out there who no doubt have charms and personalities of their own, just waiting to be revealed if they were only given that special time of the day to be seen. So, why should the ROX Tigers be treated in any special way? And really, that was what was enough for me. I’d gone into this knowing nothing of the history of OGN, and as someone who’d worried the Tigers narrative would overtake the entirety of the spring split, perhaps even the season itself, I wasn’t sure what I’d get. This was everything I had wanted, and more. Rewind/Reboot flickers across the screen, and it’s the kind of title that makes you shake your head and think “how come I hadn’t thought of that?” The answer is simple: you’re not OGN. “All the things we used to be,” Watson continues to croon while KT Rolster Score walks into frame. The Tigers weren’t the only ones to suffer a harsh breakup. I’d say Score suffered an even harsher one. Because in the case of the Tigers, no one was left behind. In the case of Score, he decided to be the one left behind. He stayed, while everyone else left, as the last bastion of KT Rolster. Contrast that to the shot of Gorilla and Pray, a lifetime duo, facing each other while the lyrics “And it’s impossible to say” echo in the background. For the world may be vast and unpredictable, but at least they have each other. But duos for life are hard to find in competitions, especially in a scene as susceptible to change as esports. Which is why it’s only fitting to have Samsung Galaxy Crown walk by himself as the music dims for a brief moment. The silence is drawn-out as the camera shot lingers on him. One of the many midlaners who’ve gone head to head with Faker, one of the few to push him all the way, yet still one of many to ultimately fall by his hands. After the loss on the biggest stage, after being so close yet so far away from victory, how will he fare in this new split? The silence ends as Crown disappears from the shot, and all of a sudden the returning Korean players come into light. It’s Mata, Deft and Pawn, and Marin from China’s LPL. It’s Spirit from Europe’s LCS. It’s Huni from North America’s LCS. It’s a return, a reverse exodus, an arrival. They’ve returned. And in doing so, just like how OGN managed to balance out these major narratives, they’ve managed to balance out the breakups in the league with the reunions. It’s not over or the end; it’s only a new beginning. And in the middle of all these big names, OGN once again makes sure to highlight the less popular players. “But they don’t know if I can,” accompanies both Mickey and Beyond. Mickey, the new midlaner for the new ROX Tigers. And Beyond, the jungler for MVP. Both of them stare defiantly into the camera. For what is there to fear when nothing has begun yet? Especially for Mickey, who left Afreeca Freecs to carve a name for himself on the ROX Tigers, a team that has already made its mark. For him, it’s both leaving and arriving at a certain destination. The same can be said for Marin and Faker, shown gazing at each other, smiles on their lips. Maybe out of nostalgia, maybe out of the situation they’re both faced with. They were once teammates, and now they’re rivals. Just like the rest of the league they’ve broken up, yet reunited under different circumstances. The end of Rewind/Reboot has the players walking together, backs facing the camera. It’s kind of like finding all the pieces in a puzzle, and trying to somehow fit them together to form a coherent picture. Perhaps that’s the reason why, in this sea of change, Faker is the only one to turn and look back. He’s the only one who’s looking over his shoulder, straight at the you, the viewer. And perhaps that’s just the case; he’s the only constant for new and old viewers alike. Apart from the music, no words were needed throughout this opening. No narration flowed between the player shots to explain what was going on. Quality over quantity. And while watching this, I felt just like the players. I felt like I too was trying to navigate my way through a foreign yet familiar landscape, unsure of what would await me. But more importantly, as someone who doesn’t deal well with change in general, I felt like OGN was reassuring me. Change doesn’t mean things have to be bad. On one side there are the breakups, but on the other side there are the reunions. Everything will inevitably change, for the good or for the bad, or even both, but what matters is seeing it in its entirety. Beauty can always be found, even in the most broken parts.

— Linda started watching LCK with the 2016 summer playoffs. She can be found on Twitter at @iCrystalization.

Champions Spring 2017 was the intersection of history and progress for the LCK: the return of the storied Korean pros who left in the exodus after Worlds 2014 meeting the players who had forged their narrative in Korea in 2015 and 2016. Listen to the lyrics during Score’s moment in the intro, “All the things we used to be” acting as a reference to his being the last remaining player from the OGN Invitational after Madlife had departed the relegated CJ Entus squad, rendering Score the only original link to the start of League of Legends esports in Korea. The fact that that is a small, underappreciated detail lets you know how many levels this intro works on. Immaculate stuff.

— Chris Smith’s first split of Korean professional League of Legends was Champions Spring 2012. He is now a color commentator for the English broadcast of LCK. He can be found on Twitter at @PapaSmithy.

Kept working that same ol’…

LCK Spring 2017 Finals (OGN)

2016 was the year that I got into esports. To be honest, my memories of 2016 are sketchy at best, and while it was the beginning of what would become two years (and counting!) of enjoying my time screaming at nerds playing video games, I’d say 2017 was the beginning. 2017 was my first full, complete season, since I started watching LCK only in the middle of Summer 2016. 2017 Spring Finals marked my first full split since having gotten into League of Legends and SKT, and was the first (and only) LCK trophy that I watched the team I had come to know and adore lift. This introduction video, I think, for me personally, was one I hadn’t wanted to see happen, but one that managed to capture my heart in the end. The reverse sweep of 2016 Summer playoffs still lingered, too fresh and too painful a memory, in my mind. This finals, I think, represented redemption for my team, in more ways than one. Perhaps it’s the yearning for success, for better times, that led me to choose to write on this introduction video. Looking back at the two seasons that have since passed, this was their most successful split. One of my favourite shots in the video is of the full rosters of both teams facing each other in the abandoned warehouse. I think it captures the essence of the finals. SKT and KT were, back then, two of the best teams in the LCK, and their long time rivalry needs no introduction. While there is a disparaging difference in the number of players, at the very apex of it all stands Faker and Score. We all know of Faker’s first trophy win, that rainy day back in 2013. That was the day Faker snatched the title away from Score, and led to the beginning of what we would affectionately dub Score’s never-ending suffering. Years and years later, they stand, again, facing each other, with different people behind them, but the same rivalry. There is a lot to love about this video, minute details I enjoy that would take far too long to list one by one. I particularly enjoy the shot of Score standing in the middle of the room and the rest of KT Rolster walking towards him. How many times did we hear that this iteration of KT was supposed to be a Super Team, one that had come together, been built around Score, to give him his first title? Countless times, I’d say, and I really like how this scene was filmed to reflect that, that these players had come together, become a team around Score, their star player, their captain. The song choice, of course, should be highlighted as well. If you don’t know the lyrics, here they are: All that same ol’

Everyday it’s that same ol’

You keep making the same ol’

Ol’

Fool out of me, yeah Up until this point in 2017, KT had always been hard pressed to find victories against SKT. 2016 Summer playoffs was the only exception (that I can think of, of course; there may be past victories I know not of), and in Spring 2017, SKT emerged as victors both times they met in the regular season. To me, the lyrics are very much how I believe KT felt towards SKT, that they’ve always been the demons to haunt them, demons that they have to take down. We now know, of course, that 2018 was a very different story. At the time, however, I don’t think it’s too far of a reach to say that SKT were the opponents that KT Rolster most desperately wanted to be able to take down, to not be made fools of from again. Lastly, of course, there’s a very personal reason for my choice to write about this video. If you know me at all, you were probably expecting this. Spring of 2017 was when Blank was first given the title of “The Dark Knight”, the “Saviour of SKT,” you name it. As a fan, what most of us want is just to see the players we admire happy. For them, in this industry, happiness usually stems from success, and success is what Blank was able to bring SKT. Blank, as a player, received more criticism than I think he deserves. That isn’t to say that I am not extremely biased, because of course I am. And yet I think he was blamed too much and too often for SKT’s losses, and not given anywhere near enough the credit he deserves. So many people said that he was carried through Worlds, back in 2016. Admittedly, he didn’t have the best showing in both semi-finals and finals, but he shined against RNG. He did well in the group stages. He played a vital part in even getting SKT to Worlds, considering Bengi had been in a slump for most of Summer 2016. For some reason, it’s difficult to find people who acknowledge that. Maybe this is looking at the past with rose tinted glasses. Maybe my choice is only because I’m yearning for the good old days, where he was undefeated for the majority of 2017. Maybe this is me trying to escape from the reality of SKT not making Worlds for the first time since 2014. Maybe I’m sick and tired of seeing him receive hate from people who care only about the success of an organisation and not for the people sitting behind the computer screens, working harder than they could ever imagine. Maybe I want SKT to smile again. I think, maybe that’s what it all comes down to. Spring Finals of 2017 was the last time I saw my team this happy. The introduction video is amazingly produced, the games were exhilarating to watch, but when it all comes down to it, it’s the smiles on SKT’s faces that led me to choose to write about this video. It’s the last time they were champions. The SK Telecom T1 in this video no longer exists. Victory is but a memory, for those who remain. Contrastingly, the KT Rolster in this video found one more chance to thrive in 2018. Ironic, isn’t it, that the victors fell so far, and the runners-up found the success they were denied in this finals. The SK Telecom T1 in this video is long gone. But I believe that 2017 wasn’t the end. I believe they’ll rise up again. One day, in the future, we’ll have another video, another Telecom War, another finals to go down in history. One day, their rivalry will begin again.

— Ray first started watching LCK in July 2016. She can be found on Twitter at @burankeu.

We are fighting war!

LCK Summer 2017 (SpoTV)

The opening starts with just a beat, coupled with a simple but distinct guitar riff. A figure in the centre of the darkened background flickers in patches, becoming a bit of everyone at once, then blinks into the monochrome of Faker, staring impassively into the camera. The body of the opening is brimming with pastel colours and basic shapes, with the ongoing motif of a flight of white stairs, most of which lead up to a door. Throughout the video, four people open the door: Ever8’s Malrang, KT’s Score, Longzhu’s PraY and AFs’ MaRin. The door could symbolise different things for each of them — entry to the LCK for Ever8 Winners, growing into a veteran position for Score, or, as popularly thought for PraY and MaRin, winning a summer season championship. The last thing we see is a dusty dark screen, and at the very top of the flight of stairs are SKT’s Bang, Faker and Wolf, perched on the steps in front of the door like they’re guarding it, silhouetted by the bright light pouring from the outline behind them. Around them, in the maze of staircases and platforms against the smoky purple-blue background, the shadowy figures of the rest of the league stand, waiting. LCK Summer 2017 marked the end of many things. It was MVP’s last split safe from the promotions tournament, after what seemed like a promising 2-year run. It was Ever8’s first and last split in the LCK, after the initial hype around their midlaner and jungler. It was Samsung’s and Longzhu’s last split under the names that made them famous (or infamous) — they become KSV (later, Gen.G) and Kingzone DragonX after this. It was the last time KT got denied their Worlds entry, after a tear-inducing, frustrating three years. Like most of the other things on this list, we didn’t know it back then, but it was also the last of SKT’s Worlds’ streak. SKT would go to Worlds that year, struggle through a harrowing, exhausting 3–2 quarterfinals and semi-finals, before going to the finals, where they would be dispatched 3–0 by Samsung, much to the ecstasy and despair of League fans around the world.They would then return to the LCK and fight desperately to keep their heads just above water throughout 2018 Spring and Summer, missing Summer playoffs and then getting eliminated in regionals by Gen.G, forced into their first autumn vacation in 3 years. LCK Summer 2017 holds a “last” of many things for me. It also marked the first time in history that a team made it to the finals all the way through the Wildcard match in playoffs. The team in question defeated the Afreeca Freecs in the Wildcard round and went on to take down Samsung and KT in subsequent matches. That team faced Longzhu in the Finals and gave it their best. That team knew the stakes and the players and the way the wind was blowing and refused, even for one moment, to fold. That team was SK Telecom T1. SKT changed the way I thought about the people around me and the way I thought about the things people said. SKT changed the way I viewed the people I look up to and the way I view the people who look down on me. In 2017, for me, the meaning of unstoppable changed from something that kept moving up to something that just kept moving. The climb to the top is a tiring journey, made all the more painful by the inevitable descent that follows. But I hope that team, the team that changed so much for so many people, know that when they finally come down those stairs, back from a good fight fought well and for so long — They will come down and be welcomed with open arms.

— Angel’s first split of LCK was Spring 2016. She can be found on Twitter at @kaonashiking.

The blood and sweat is what made me.

To tell the truth, I owe everything to the art of the LCK intro video. It’s why I started writing feelings diaries, for a start. Every now and then, when I get down and forget why I disrupt my sleep cycle to watch video games halfway around the world, I remember the SpoTV 2016 summer intro, which functions as a history lesson, a self-introduction, and the shortest movie about a high school gangland turf war ever made. Whenever I want to show off what it’s like to understand the weight of your own history and express it in an effortlessly stylish and subtle way, I show the OGN spring 2016 intro and linger on that unforgettable final image, all the progamers lined up by generation.

And when I think about 2018, I will remember it the way OGN told me to: the beginning of an end. The fantastic run. The end of an era.

The language of televised esports is the language of OGN. What I find most amazing about their work is not how consistently polished and striking it is, or how they manage time and time again to make their progamers seem larger than life — though all of that is no small feat. What impresses me the most is that OGN managed to create through one and a half minute bites a shared language of images and references. We watch an OGN video looking for a snap of the fingers, a clenched fist, an empty chair, a rose, a door opening. They are all symbols — of what, we can’t quite tell you, but we know their meanings in our hearts. They are cinematic, aesthetic, impenetrable. We can stitch them together in sequence or out to form meanings, to tell stories, to make sense of history and tell the future both. Have I told you my theory that OGN loves to feature someone from KT in motion, advancing or jumping or running across the screen? That the SpoTV summer 2018 intro was actually a callback to the famous Champions Winter 2013 “Radioactive” intro, just because of the glass cube, and thus foretold the beginning of SKT’s end?

This is all bullshit, of course, more pattern recognition from an overactive imagination that likes to make and solve its own riddles. But OGN, at least, does it on purpose, or at least acknowledges the legacy they’ve left behind. And there’s no better example of OGN’s deft ability to weave narrative, history, and optimism than their 2018 summer split opening.

This is an opening that rewards those who know the broad strokes of the league’s history and may appear inscrutable to those who don’t. The language of the shots themselves are pure, vintage OGN. The seasoned viewer will know that only the defending champion (here, Kingzone) will have their full roster represented (perhaps unsubtly on the roof of a building, as opposed to everyone else who are advancing through it or up it). There’s a cheeky nod to team colors in the way the individual shots are desaturated and colored — a detail I didn’t pick up until many rewatchings. Viper from Team Griffin — then newly promoted from Challengers Korea — plods into a room full of representatives from the more historic LCK teams, another shot familiar to the veteran Champions/LCK fan.

But OGN goes the extra step by stuffing this minute and a half full of league history. Score, the “core” of KT, stands next to posters of himself representing other KT iterations. Intentionally or unintentionally, the line of posters going down the side of the wall are a visual parallel to the line of rectangle glass panes during Faker’s tracking shot — echoing, maybe, how both of them are the figureheads of their historic organizations.

And then, of course, there’s this intro’s tour de force: a line of jerseys representing the participating teams of 2018 summer which magically transform into the jerseys of players and teams that have, for one reason or another, left the league. The MiG and Najin names (Madlife, Watch, Maknoon, Cpt Jack, CloudTemplar) flash in rapid succession, like we’re calling down old gods in an incantation. Mata, his IGN emblazoned on the back of his KT Rolster uniform, slyly turns to look at us as he is faced with the names of MVP Ozone Imp and Samsung Blue Dade, as if to ask us, do you remember them too? The light brings Bengi’s name out of the shadows as Faker approaches, and of course it’s the most classic, most original of the SKT uniforms, the red polo shirt.

I’ve written about these intros many times, and as long as someone is making an intro video for an esport I watch, I’m sure I’ll keep writing about them. But this era of the OGN-produced LCK intro is no more. They have become like that line of uniforms, their greatness preserved in our memory, to be trotted out again at some distant time in the future as if to say, remember those times? They were good, weren’t they? At the end of the video, OGN turns the participants of the 2018 summer split into a line of uniform shirts too. The point is that the rising stars of today can become the old gods of tomorrow. But the point is also that this moment, too, will end. That we are not young and present forever. That all things are temporary, and in the end we are all at the mercy of memory.

In one scene, Crown lifts a black cloth that’s hanging over the slanted star of the Champions logo. Is it a mourning veil, or a dust cover, or both? It’s hard to tell if OGN is showing us the beginning of a new era or trying to lift the veil of memory that separates us from the old. But watching this intro again, I notice for the first time that the camera never shows you what is under that cloth. You only know by estimation, by pattern recognition, by memory, that it must be the Champions logo underneath. You only know because you’ve seen it so many times, over and over, until the image is burned in your heart, become a shape you can form by touch in the dark. You only know because it’s what you are anticipating. You only know, because that is the only way for the legacy to continue.

And may it continue.