In a dirty room, somewhere in one of the more impoverished parts of Seoul, there is nothing but abandonment.

In fact, the entire street is as such, empty and left for ruin.

It is a broken memory of a time of shattered businesses and empty stomachs and entire cities in the dark, left by the government to serve as a reminder of the necessity of the Game.

A dusty couch, almost completely dissolved by time and rats and mold sits against a wall covered in peeling, rotting wallpaper, lighter patches where photographs once hung barely visible anymore.

The only other thing left in the room is a television set, its screen black and covered in dirt, the electricity rarely on in this part of the city, if ever.

But today, on the dawn of the 50th Game, electricity is being supplied to every part of Seoul, buzzing through wires and crackling with enough energy that every single person living there will be able to watch.

The television in the abandoned room in the broken street flickers to life, even if no one is around to see it.

A female voice resounds through the room, crackling, breaking, just like the images on screen, but there nonetheless.

"Welcome to the broadcasting of the 50th Game."