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넥슨 "AI 시대 게임 경쟁력은 구현 아닌 맥락"
"AI라는 거대한 흐름은 게임 산업에도 많은 질문을 던지고 있다" [경제일보] 이정헌 넥슨 일본법인 대표는 지난 16일 경기 성남시 경기창조경제혁신센터에서 열린 ‘넥슨 개발자 콘퍼런스(NDC) 2026’ 환영사에서 이같이 말했다. 올해 NDC는 인공지능(AI)을 핵심 화두로 삼고 게임 개발과 라이브 서비스, 이용자 커뮤니티 운영 전반의 변화를 조망하는 자리로 마련됐다. NDC는 2007년 넥슨 사내 소규모 기술 발표회로 출발해 2011년 외부 공개 행사로 확대됐다. 이후 게임 개발 노하우와 기술 혁신을 공유하는 국내 대표 개발자 콘퍼런스로 자리 잡았다. 이날 기조강연은 강대현 넥슨코리아 공동대표가 맡았다. 강 대표는 ‘구현이 쉬워지는 시대, 우리는 무엇으로 경쟁하는가’를 주제로 AI 확산 이후 게임 산업의 경쟁 조건이 달라지고 있다고 진단했다. 그는 생성형 AI가 코드 작성, 이미지 제작, 프로토타입 개발까지 지원하면서 게임 제작의 진입장벽이 빠르게 낮아졌다고 봤다. 그러나 제작이 쉬워진 만큼 경쟁은 더 치열해진다는 것이 그의 판단이다. 강 대표는 “AI는 우리만 쉽게 만드는 것이 아니라 모두를 쉽게 만든다”며 “구현이 쉬워질수록 경쟁의 무게 중심은 다른 곳으로 이동할 수밖에 없다”고 말했다. 그가 제시한 답은 ‘맥락’이다. 강 대표는 “구현이 쉬워지는 시대에 무게 중심은 맥락으로 이동한다”며 “게임은 구현의 수준이 아니라 맥락의 깊이로 결정해야 한다”고 강조했다. AI 모델은 누구나 쓸 수 있지만 이용자와 함께 쌓아온 시간, 신뢰, 관계, 문화는 단기간에 복제할 수 없다는 의미다. 강 대표는 게임 이용자가 단순히 콘텐츠를 소비하는 존재가 아니라고 설명했다. 그는 “게임 이용자들은 콘텐츠를 소비하는 것이 아니라 게임 안에서 살아간다”며 “개발사는 무대를 만들 뿐이고 그 안의 문화와 이야기는 이용자들이 만들어간다”고 말했다. 대표 사례로는 메이플스토리 이용자 커뮤니티에서 오랫동안 회자된 ‘헤네시스 대참사’와 게임을 통해 인연을 맺고 결혼한 이용자 사례를 들었다. 게임이 하나의 서비스 상품을 넘어 이용자 삶과 관계가 축적되는 세계로 확장될 때 장기 경쟁력이 만들어진다는 설명이다. 강 대표는 이를 ‘축적된 지능’으로 표현했다. 그는 “아티피셜 인텔리전스(Artificial Intelligence)는 사서 쓸 수 있지만, 어큐뮬레이티드 인텔리전스(Accumulated Intelligence)는 오직 시간을 통해서만 축적할 수 있다”고 말했다. 생성형 AI를 활용하는 능력과 함께 이용자 경험, 운영 노하우, 커뮤니티 신뢰를 얼마나 쌓아왔는지가 AI 시대 게임사의 차별화 자산이 된다는 뜻이다. 넥슨은 올해 NDC에서 AI 관련 강연 비중을 크게 늘렸다. 넥슨컴퍼니를 비롯해 크래프톤, 로블록스, NC AI, 구글 딥마인드, 스노우플레이크 등 국내외 게임사와 IT 기업 관계자들이 연사로 참여한다. 생성형 AI와 머신러닝을 활용한 콘텐츠 제작, 개발 생산성 향상, 데이터 분석, 라이브 서비스 운영 사례가 다수 공유될 예정이다. [아주경제 2026년 06년 18일자 13면에 게재된 기사입니다.]
2026-06-18 08:40:46
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Lessons in Leadership from the Classics | Chapter 4: Nvidia
The Patience and the Ascent of Jensen Huang How the Alleyways of Korea and the Floors of Semiconductor Factories Forged the Aesthetics of 古枯孤高 [Economy Daily] At the beating heart of the civilizational upheaval we call artificial intelligence stands one company and one man: Nvidia and Jensen Huang. The world measures them in market capitalization and market share. But the deeper truth of great leadership outlasts any number. It is the power of time, long and unhurried. It is the discipline of subtraction. It is the courage of solitude. And it is, finally, the dignity that comes only from having endured. In the vocabulary of East Asian philosophy, these four qualities compress into a single phrase: 古枯孤高 — ancient (古), austere (枯), solitary (孤), elevated (高). Nvidia's rise is not the story of a stock that spiked overnight. It is the story of these four characters slowly calcifying into the bones of one man and the culture of one company, across thirty years of painstaking accumulation. 古 — The Ancient: Time as the First Discipline Every great enterprise, if it is truly great, eventually earns its face — but only through time. Jensen Huang had been walking this earth as a businessman long before the world knew his name. His relationship with Korea begins here, and it begins on foot. According to domestic industry accounts from that era, Huang made repeated visits to Yongsan Electronics Market in Seoul in the late 1990s and early 2000s — when Nvidia was still an obscure startup struggling to be taken seriously. He came not as a visiting dignitary but as a salesman: explaining graphics cards to shop owners, persuading assemblers, winning trust one transaction at a time. Huang himself has said his connection to Korea dates to 1996. He has spoken of how South Korea's explosion of high-speed internet, its PC-bang culture, and the nationwide fever for StarCraft formed a critical foundation for Nvidia's early growth. Korea, in those years, was the world's most electrified laboratory for digital culture — and the heat of its gaming rooms, the sharpness of its consumers, the velocity with which it embraced new technology, all of it nourished a company that had not yet found its footing. This detail matters enormously. The histories of great corporations are often rewritten to begin in gleaming boardrooms or on famous stages. But Jensen Huang's formation happened in narrow storefronts, surrounded by towers of component boxes, in a market where customers were price-sensitive and performance-obsessed and utterly unimpressed by brand mythology. In Yongsan, he did not sell a brand. He sold credibility. He sold product knowledge. He sold the felt experience of superior performance. The I Ching offers an image for this season of a man's life: 潛龍勿用 — "the hidden dragon does not yet act." The dragon submerged beneath the water has not yet ascended to the sky, but it is already gathering strength, already orienting itself toward its direction. Korea was that submerged time for Jensen Huang. It was where the dragon went quiet and grew. 枯 — The Austere: The Discipline of Withholding Austerity is not poverty. It is restraint. And few companies in the history of Silicon Valley have practiced restraint as rigorously or as consequentially as Nvidia. While its competitors raced to win the surface war — chasing specification numbers, upgrading the cosmetics of their products, playing to the gallery of consumer benchmarks — Huang kept his organization's attention trained on something less visible and far more consequential: the underlying architecture of computation, the logic of parallel processing, the infrastructure that would eventually become the indispensable engine of artificial intelligence. This is the aesthetic the Chinese literati call 枯淡 — a beauty that comes not from ornament but from essence. The Diamond Sutra puts it this way: 凡所有相 皆是虛妄 — "all that has form is ultimately illusion." In business terms: what catches the eye rarely determines a company's fate. What determines fate is the capability that cannot be seen. Nvidia understood this early. That is why the Nvidia of today rests not on the appearance of its products but on the depth of its software ecosystem, its developer base, and the intellectual architecture that competitors cannot easily replicate. This philosophy of austerity extends to Huang's understanding of human character. Speaking at Stanford, he told students that the most important trait for success is not intelligence but resilience — and went further, saying, "I hope you will have the experience of suffering and hardship." It is a startling thing to say, and deliberately so. His point is unambiguous: greatness is not the product of cleverness alone. Character is forged not in comfort but in friction. Huang speaks from experience. He has publicly described being bullied in an American boarding school as a boy, washing dishes and cleaning bathrooms at minimum wage. His philosophy of hardship is not rhetoric. It is autobiography. Most organizations today speak to their people endlessly about well-being and are afraid to speak about tempering. But Jensen Huang did not flinch from the uncomfortable truth: growth always requires some degree of resistance and endurance. He knows this in his body. 孤 — The Solitary: The Courage of the Unfashionable Conviction Solitude, properly understood, is not the condition of being alone. It is the willingness to choose a road that others have not taken — and to walk it long enough to find out whether you were right. Nvidia was, for a very long time, a company that received no particular applause. It was known as a graphics chip company, and in that category, it was formidable. But inside that public identity, Huang carried a private and lonely conviction: that the dominant paradigm of computing would shift — that the age of the general-purpose CPU would eventually yield to an age of accelerated computing. Markets demand the present moment. Leaders sometimes have to absorb today's contempt in exchange for tomorrow's vindication. Only those who sustain that solitude earn the right to the rewards of early arrival. The Analects of Confucius puts it plainly: 德不孤 必有隣 — "virtue is never truly alone; it will always find its neighbors." What appears solitary and eccentric at the beginning eventually draws its community. And in the story of Nvidia and Korea, this movement from isolation to alliance is almost perfectly illustrated. The partnership between Huang and South Korea has long since outgrown its origins in retail sales. SK Hynix began collaborating with Nvidia on High Bandwidth Memory in the uncertain early days of that technology — a bet made before the outcome was clear. That relationship has since deepened into something that resembles co-development more than supply chain. Nvidia has been advancing large-scale AI chip supply and infrastructure cooperation with the Korean government, Samsung, the SK Group, Hyundai Motor Group, and Naver. The lonely salesman who once walked the aisles of Yongsan is now at the table with the leaders of Korean industry and government, shaping the architecture of the nation's AI future. The solitary vigil became a strategic alliance. What was once walked alone is now walked together. 高 — The Elevated: Altitude as Accountability Elevation is not merely position. It is character — the capacity to see farther and to hold responsibility longer than others can or will. The Doctrine of the Mean speaks of 至誠無息 — "true sincerity never rests." This is, unexpectedly, one of the most precise descriptions of how Jensen Huang has run his company. He did not build Nvidia on a passing fashion. He crossed product failures, market cynicism, supply chain crises, and geopolitical headwinds, and climbed — slowly, deliberately, one foothold at a time — to the position the company occupies today. This is not a mountain ascended in a season. This is a summit reached in decades. Here, again, Korea re-enters the story. However regal the title "emperor of the AI era" may sound, the circuitry running through that crown is substantially Korean. Korea began as the consumption frontier — the PC-bang, the gaming market, the early adopter culture that gave Nvidia its first mass foothold. It has since become the strategic frontier: the partner in HBM and advanced memory, the co-architect of AI factories and digital transformation. Between the image of Jensen Huang persuading shop owners in Yongsan and the image of Jensen Huang discussing AI infrastructure with the heads of Korea's largest conglomerates, there runs a very long river. But the river is unbroken. What he first saw in Korea was not merely a sales opportunity. He saw a society with an extraordinary capacity for fast technical comprehension, for organizing technology into industry, for connecting the work of the mind to the work of the factory floor. That insight lives inside every partnership he has built here since. A Reckoning for Korean Business What, then, should Korean business leaders take from this? The lesson is not complicated, though it is demanding. Innovation does not arise from eloquent mission statements. It arises from time endured, from the discipline to discard the inessential, from the independence to pursue an unpopular answer, and from the accountability that eventually transforms all of it into something worthy of the word dignity. Jensen Huang's career is not a story of a man who happened to catch the AI wave at the right moment. It is a story of sediment — of years and decades of experience, discipline, and conviction accumulating until they were precisely aligned with the door that history opened. Which asks certain questions of Korean business. Do we still carry the original instinct of those years when we wrestled with the market on the ground floor — when we had no reputation to trade on, only our knowledge and our reliability? Do we have the austere courage to strip away what is not essential? Do we have the nerve to choose the lonely right answer over the popular wrong one? Management, at its best, is completed in the love of people, in the respect for the work done in the field, and in the refusal to defy the logic of time and nature. The tree that grows too fast is hollow at its core. The success that comes too easily has shallow roots. Nvidia — Jensen Huang's Nvidia — took the opposite path. It stood like an ancient tree, silent and unhurried, enduring the winds and the droughts, growing upward alone toward the high place it had decided, long ago, to reach. His success, for that reason, is not a flash of light. It is light that stays. That is the lesson of 古枯孤高. Only those who have endured long enough ascend high enough. Only those who have passed through austerity reach genuine depth. Only those who have borne solitude long enough find themselves, one day, at the center of their age. Jensen Huang's Korean story is one essential thread in that larger narrative. Today's glory is conceived in yesterday's alleyways. Even the history of the world's most powerful technology company is completed, in the end, only on the accumulated sweat and trust of human beings. He is demonstrating that, quietly, every day. The author is a contributing columnist covering business philosophy, technology, and economic history.
2026-04-22 11:57:23
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