검색결과 총 2건
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삼성전자 게임스컴 대형부스, K게임 글로벌 무대로…'붉은사막' 직접 뛰어보니
[경제일보] 27일(현지시간) 독일 쾰른메세에서 열린 세계 최대 게임 전시회 ‘게임스컴 2026’. 삼성전자 부스에 들어서자 가장 먼저 눈에 들어온 것은 게이밍 모니터 앞에 몰려든 관람객들이었다. 펄어비스의 ‘붉은사막’과 액티비전의 ‘콜 오브 듀티: 모던 워페어 4’를 직접 플레이하려는 관람객들이 줄을 이었다. 삼성전자는 올해 게임스컴에 1090㎡(약 330평) 규모의 전시장을 마련했다. ‘#PlaySamsung’을 주제로 오디세이·갤럭시·게이밍 허브·T1 등 4개 구역을 구성하고 모니터뿐 아니라 TV, 모바일, SSD, 헤드셋까지 게임에 필요한 제품을 하나의 생태계로 묶었다. ◆ ‘붉은사막’이 보여준 하드웨어와 게임의 결합 현장에서 ‘붉은사막’은 삼성전자의 게이밍 하드웨어가 게임 콘텐츠의 강점을 부각하는 방식으로 활용되고 있다는 점을 보여줬다. 중세 판타지 세계를 구현한 화면은 캐릭터의 움직임과 배경의 세부 묘사가 또렷했고, 특히 하늘을 날거나 대규모 장면이 펼쳐질 때 고해상도 화면과 높은 주사율이 게임의 몰입도를 끌어올렸다. 삼성전자는 ‘붉은사막’에 HDR10+ GAMING 기술을 적용했다. HDR10+ GAMING은 게임 장면의 밝기와 명암 정보를 활용해 화면을 보다 세밀하게 표현하는 기술이다. 회사는 이를 통해 게임 개발자가 의도한 화면 표현을 구현하는 데 초점을 맞췄다. 삼성전자 입장에서는 인기 게임을 통해 제품의 성능을 보여주고, 게임사 입장에서는 글로벌 관람객이 자사의 콘텐츠를 최고급 하드웨어로 경험하게 하는 구조다. 게임과 기기 가운데 어느 한쪽만 홍보하는 방식보다 서로의 강점을 활용할 수 있다는 점에서 게임스컴이 하드웨어 기업과 게임사의 새로운 협업 무대로 활용되고 있는 셈이다. 삼성전자는 게임스컴을 신제품 공개 무대로도 활용했다. 27일 공개한 2027년형 오디세이 라인업에는 세계 최초 1100Hz 주사율의 27형 오디세이 G6와 360Hz를 지원하는 49형 OLED G9 등이 포함됐다. 초고주사율과 대형·고해상도 디스플레이를 앞세워 경쟁 게임부터 영화 같은 그래픽을 요구하는 대형 게임까지 이용 환경을 세분화했다. 갤럭시 구역에서는 ‘갤럭시 Z 폴드8 울트라’와 ‘갤럭시 S26 울트라’ 등 모바일 기기를 활용한 게임을 선보였다. AI 기반 ‘뉴럴 프레임 퓨전’ 기술을 적용해 장시간 고사양 게임에서 전력 효율과 프레임 안정성을 높이는 방식이다. 게임이 PC와 콘솔에만 머물지 않고 모바일까지 확장되는 흐름에 맞춘 구성이다. TV와 모니터에서 별도의 콘솔이나 게임 다운로드 없이 클라우드 게임을 이용할 수 있는 ‘삼성 게이밍 허브’도 체험 공간에 포함됐다. 여기에 세계적인 e스포츠 구단 T1과 협업한 공간까지 마련해 게임 콘텐츠, 디바이스, e스포츠를 하나의 경험으로 묶었다. 삼성전자가 한국 PC방 콘셉트를 부스에 적용한 것도 관람객의 눈길을 끌었다. 방문객이 미션을 수행해 한국 간식 등을 받을 수 있도록 하고, 무안경 3D ‘스페이셜 사이니지’를 활용해 T1 선수와 함께 사진을 찍는 듯한 경험도 제공했다. 단순 제품 판매보다 ‘한국의 게임 문화’를 하나의 콘텐츠로 보여주는 전략이다. ◆ 대형사뿐 아니라 인디게임도 ‘글로벌 테스트’ K게임의 글로벌 진출 무대는 삼성전자 부스에만 한정되지 않았다. 한국콘텐츠진흥원은 게임스컴 홀2에 ‘코리아 게임 로드쇼’를 마련하고 국내 중소·인디 게임사 13곳의 해외 진출을 지원했다. 참가사들은 현장에서 게임을 직접 시연하고 해외 퍼블리셔·투자사·유통사와 1대1 비즈니스 상담을 진행했다. 에이버튼의 ‘건즈 앤 드래곤즈’, 하이퍼센트의 ‘백룸 클리너스’, 메이플라이의 ‘프로젝트 레버넌트’ 등 PC·콘솔 게임부터 ‘포레스트 아일랜드’, ‘카피잇’ 등 모바일 게임까지 장르도 다양하다. 지난해 한국공동관이 16개사를 지원했던 것과 비교하면 올해 참가기업은 13개로 줄었지만, 해외 퍼블리셔와의 비즈니스 매칭 및 현장 테스트에 집중하는 방식으로 지원 방향을 선명하게 했다. 한편 K게임의 글로벌 경쟁은 이제 ‘어떤 게임을 만들었느냐’만으로 결정되지 않는다. 삼성전자처럼 글로벌 이용자가 몰리는 현장에서 게임을 경험할 수 있도록 플랫폼을 만드는 기업과, 콘진원처럼 작은 개발사의 해외 퍼블리싱과 투자 연결을 지원하는 생태계가 함께 움직여야 한다. 한국 게임사들이 글로벌 게임쇼를 국내보다 적극적으로 찾는 것도 같은 이유다. 글로벌 이용자와 직접 만나고 현장에서 반응을 확인하는 동시에 퍼블리셔·투자자와 사업 기회를 만들 수 있기 때문이다. 게임스컴에서 삼성전자 부스에 몰린 관람객과 한국공동관의 작은 개발사 부스 앞에 줄을 선 이용자들은 서로 다른 풍경처럼 보이지만 같은 메시지를 던진다. K게임의 다음 경쟁력은 게임 자체의 완성도뿐 아니라 세계 시장에서 게임을 발견하게 만드는 ‘접점’까지 누가 만들어내느냐에 달렸다.
2026-08-28 10:00:30
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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