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Chinese series The King's Avatar, now showing on Netflix, brings e-sports to the streaming screen.
Opinion
What a view
by Stephen McCarty
What a view
by Stephen McCarty

The King’s Avatar: show on the Chinese e-sports scene is oddly addictive

  • The show explores the world of live gaming tournaments, which are big business in China and South Korea
  • Plus, HBO’s creepy anthology series Room 104 returns for a spine-tingling third series
When is a sport not a sport? Well, when it’s snooker, for a start. But how about the far greater threat to healthy, active, fresh-air (where available) outdoor pursuits posed by an entire industry?
E-sports”, or electronic sports, comprising video game contests featuring individual or team players and watched by millions of spectators, now revel in a billion-dollar market, much of that annual revenue being generated in China and South Korea. Some might say such things should be left in the realms of fantasy, where they can least influence young minds and bodies: cue The King’s Avatar – now streaming on Netflix in all its 40-episode, first-series glory – which straddles the domains of live action and e-sports.

Ye Xiu (Yang Yang) is a former e-sports professional and the greatest player in the history of the video game Glory, which attracts untold numbers of devoted amateur players as well as superstar teams in branded uniforms. A triple champion as captain of Team Excellent Era, Xiu has been forced out of the organisation for his noble refusal to join fan-exploiting marketing campaigns, and replaced by his nemesis, the sullen Sun Xiang (Liang Sen), who affects the look of a rock ’n’ roll rebel.

In the 3D motion-capture, computer-animated Glory world, Xiu was known as One Autumn Leaf, a battle god and slayer of all enemies; in the real world, working as a gofer at the Happy Internet Cafe, he’s a complete klutz, literally unable to change a light bulb without cutting off from their fix an angry army of Glory-obsessed gamers. This is not a po-faced show without humour.

At least one potential love interest fails to connect the latex-luminous features of One Autumn Leaf with the airbrushed face of the human Xiu, but he’s far too busy to worry about any romantic nonsense. Already back on medieval-flavoured Glory territory, with its monsters, maidens and meatheads, Xiu, now playing as Lord Grim, is plotting revenge against his former team and its usurper skipper. Supported by All-Piercing Lance and Sleeping Moon, and wielding a weapon of mass demolition of his own design – the snappily named Myriad Manifestation Umbrella (shades of Kingsman , conceivably) – how can he fail?

“Glory is a world that belongs to all of us,” intones a devotee, perhaps party to inside knowledge of the forthcoming second series and film. It’s certainly a place where insecure, lumpy or otherwise fallible humans can become idealised versions of themselves, if not other people entirely.

Even delving vicariously into this sword-and-sorcery domain (with essence of Alien and Gladiator) by watching a computer game played during a television show, can be oddly addictive. And it’s much more fun than any internet chat room. Just remember to go outside occasionally, and don’t forget to eat.

Creepy goings-on continue in the third series of HBO’s Room 104

Some of the guests who check into Room 104 of a certain American motel must think they’ve mistakenly booked Room 101, especially when their stay turns criminal or horrific.

Now in its third series, Room 104, on HBO Go and Cinemax with new episodes at 11am on Saturdays, has wasted no time in reinvesting all that discomfort and unpredictability from the first two. Its creepy tales of the deeply unexpected are set in the same dispiriting room, characters and plot changing with each instalment.

Reserving Room 104 largely means a trip to the dark side, even if it’s with the likes of Luke Wilson, Gina Gallego and Arturo Castro. And before watching episode three, consider cutting your fingernails – for your own protection.

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