VTV3 Speaks Out on Esports Law and Organization System After Himass, TanVuu Penalties: Publisher Makes Rules, Organizes Tournaments, Penalizes Players — Who Controls the Controller?

4.1 million signatures could not save two Vietnamese PUBG players from a global ban. But it was enough to drag a national broadcaster into a fight that was previously dismissed as esports' internal affair. VTV3, an official channel of Vietnam Television, has spoken out about the penalties imposed by Krafton, the PUBG publisher, on Himass and TanVuu, banning them from all global PUBG tournaments. The point is not the penalty itself. The point is the question VTV3 raised: 'What exactly did they violate, and what was the handling process?' — a question that remains officially unanswered by Krafton. In a traditional sports system, an independent federation would investigate, adjudicate, and publish its ruling. But esports has no federation. Esports has a publisher. And that publisher plays triple roles: rule-maker, tournament organizer, and penalty-issuer. This is the structural gap VTV3 has exposed. When a national broadcaster starts asking questions about the transparency of disciplinary procedures in esports, it is no longer just a gaming community matter. It is a matter of a system that lacks a separation of powers, lacks an independent appeal mechanism, and lacks clear rules for each tier of competition — from official tournaments to a mere showmatch. The penalty imposed on Himass and TanVuu, according to Krafton's announcement, applies to 'all global PUBG tournaments.' This scope is so broad that it approaches the heaviest sanction a player can receive. Yet when VTV3 asked what exactly they violated, no official statement from Krafton cited a specific rule. The community, with 4.1 million signatures demanding justice for the two players, received only silence or boilerplate responses. Following similar cases in the international esports scene, I notice a pattern: publishers rarely disclose full evidence of violations. They cite 'internal investigation confidentiality' or 'protecting due process.' But when the convicted party is not told which rule they breached, the process becomes a black box. And that black box is operated by the same entity that issued the penalty. Placing Vietnam's case in regional context makes the situation clearer. Vietnam just won its first esports medal in ASIAD history — a milestone affirming the region's competitive capability. But when a disciplinary dispute arises, the community faces a mechanism no different from the pre-industrial era: no standard procedure for showmatch events, no federation to appeal to, no independent third party to arbitrate. Krafton's first defense is that they are the publisher and they have the authority. Yes, they do. But unchecked power leads to arbitrariness. And arbitrariness, in a competitive environment with prize money, sponsorship contracts, and 4.1 million fans watching, becomes fertile ground for systemic injustice. The story of Himass and TanVuu is not just the story of two players. It is the story of an industry growing so fast that its governance system cannot keep up. When a nation wins an ASIAD medal, when a national broadcaster starts covering esports as a social issue, when a community can mobilize millions of signatures in days, then it is time to answer: Who controls the controller? The perspective I want to emphasize here — and I believe VTV3 is heading toward the same perspective — is not whether Himass and TanVuu are guilty or innocent. I do not have enough data to assert either way. Neither does VTV3. That is precisely why the question 'what did they violate' is the most appropriate question — it shifts the debate from 'who is right or wrong' to 'how should the system work.' A good system must begin with clearly published rules for each tier of competition. Official tournaments have their own rules, showmatches have their own rules, and these rules must be made public before the event takes place. When a player is penalized, they must be informed of the specific rule breached, the evidence of the violation, and the appeal procedure. Appeals cannot be adjudicated by the same publisher that issued the penalty. An independent arbitration panel is needed, or at minimum an external oversight mechanism. Experience shows that similar incidents will recur if the governance structure remains unchanged. Not because people become worse, but because the system is designed to produce such conflicts. When the publisher is simultaneously the rule-maker, the organizer, and the enforcer, any controversial case will inevitably raise questions of fairness. That is why traditional sports separate these three roles. Esports is young, but that does not mean it cannot learn from history. Looking ahead, I am closely tracking the appeal filed by the management teams of Himass and TanVuu. If Krafton discloses the specific rule violated, the debate will shift to another question: whether the penalty is proportionate. If Krafton continues its silence, community frustration will not stop at a single decision — it will spread to the publisher's entire governance system. This is a critical moment for Vietnamese esports, and possibly for Southeast Asian esports as a whole. A routine disciplinary case has become a catalyst for a broader discussion about transparency, checks and balances, and accountability. The question 'who controls the controller' will not disappear without an answer. And if esports wants to be recognized as a true sport industry, it must accept a fact: sport cannot survive without an independent and transparent governance mechanism.