Chapter 44: The Unregistered System

“No need for an account or password, just log in directly!!” Chen Shoufu and the others were utterly bewildered when they heard this, and in their hearts, they all thought Huang He was a fool who knew nothing about the Internet. Otherwise, how could he have said something so absurd—logging in without an account or password? If there’s no account or password, then what’s the point of having accounts at all?

Of course, these thoughts they only dared to keep to themselves; they would never say them aloud.

They didn’t dare speak up, but Huang He certainly did. Our boss Huang said straightforwardly, “I know, you’re probably all cursing me in your hearts, thinking I’m crazy and clueless about the Internet. But let me ask you: when someone sees that they need to register an account to use some software, isn’t their first reaction usually reluctance or outright refusal?”

“That’s actually true!” Everyone nodded. They had all experienced this feeling, and the more someone used computers and the Internet, the stronger their aversion became.

Registering an account inevitably takes extra time.

What’s more, the process is often a hassle—not only do you have to enter an account name and password, but you also have to set up security questions, enter verification codes, and so on. Some sites even require an email address, and the most outrageous ones might demand you fill in a hundred different pieces of personal information. Just filling out the registration details can eat up several minutes, even ten or twenty minutes.

And then there are sites that make you answer a hundred questions during registration, and if you don’t pass, you can’t register. That’s even more bizarre.

That’s assuming the registrant is computer-savvy. But what if they’re a beginner, someone who struggles even to type? For them, even switching between upper and lower case, entering punctuation, or using the mouse to click into a text field can be a challenge. They have to rely entirely on friends or relatives to help them sign up.

Even in 2021, people like this were everywhere—at least 50% of users needed someone else’s help to register an account.

And finally, there’s the issue of failed registrations.

Statistics show that, on average, only about 40% of people successfully register an account on their first try. The remaining 60% have to attempt the process more than once, running into all sorts of problems that lead to failure.

It’s a bit like how 70% of users plug in a USB the wrong way the first time, and 30% even get it wrong three times in a row.

The numbers sound unbelievable, but they’re true.

In short, the two major headaches with account registration affect both newcomers and seasoned users alike, making everyone dread the process. Every time you use a new website, you have to go through it all over again.

This growing aversion to account registration only intensified over time. In 2001, it was a relatively minor issue, but it got worse and worse, to the point where 80% of Internet companies eventually went bankrupt because of it.

The simplest evidence is that nowadays, every app or program, whether it’s QQ, Taobao, or even newer giants like Douyin, Meituan, and Pinduoduo, all have login options for QQ or Taobao accounts. No matter who you are, if you want new users, you have to offer these login methods.

If they didn’t, they wouldn’t get any new users at all. That’s why Tenda and Taobao later became dominant in China’s Internet industry: they controlled the most crucial entry point—the user’s account. When every user needs your account to log in to every app or program, you’ve already secured your invincible position.

And the root cause of all this is, simply put, that users hate registering new accounts.

So, in the tech world, there’s a well-known saying: whoever controls the ID controls the Internet.

“The chairman has a point. I remember when I first tried to register for QQ, I saw that I had to create an account and just couldn’t be bothered. Later, my classmate wanted to chat with me on QQ and said it was convenient, so I had no choice but to register a QQ number!” one team member said.

“Me too!”

“I think I was the same!”

More than half the team remembered that their initial experience with QQ was exactly this—they gave up because of the registration step, and only later registered for various reasons.

Realizing this, they looked at Huang He with newfound respect. He truly lived up to his status as a billionaire chairman—his vision was razor-sharp!

“But Chairman, this is a real problem, but it can’t be solved,” Chen Shoufu said with a wry smile. “A messaging app must have individual user accounts. If you don’t register, how can it work?”

“Let me ask you: if a new user double-clicks the icon and immediately enters the software with a unique, temporary personal account, is there any technical problem with that?” Huang He asked bluntly.

“But without an account, how would they enter…”

“Don’t think about anything else. I’m just asking you—is it technically feasible?” Huang He tapped the table, and Chen Shoufu nodded.

“Alright, it’s easy to understand. It’s like visiting someone’s house. By custom, a guest should introduce themselves.”

“But if we’re more welcoming, we don’t need them to announce who they are. We can just give them a name in our minds and let them come right into our OO software, can’t we?” Huang He said with a smile.

Chen Shoufu opened his mouth. “But that account is created by us, not the user, and the user doesn’t even know it. If they log out, won’t they have to create a new account next time? All their previous data would be lost…”

“We’ll discuss that later,” Huang He said, ignoring Chen Shoufu’s grumbling. He registered a new account and entered OO, and the program immediately popped up a user profile creation screen.

There were many fields—username, birthday, hobbies—just this one page had over twenty pieces of information to fill out.

Huang He shook his head and said, “That’s way too much. It’ll make new users impatient and drive them away! From now on, when creating a new user, the first page must only have three fields: username, gender, and birthday.”

“As for all the other information, put it in later pop-up windows. And once the user fills out these three basic fields, give them a prompt: tell them they can start using the app right away, or they can continue to complete their profile.”

“Of course, to encourage users to fill out more details, you can add a line: ‘The more complete your profile, the more likely you are to be noticed by someone special!’”

“Don’t worry about whether that line is too direct—who really wants to chat with people of the same gender, anyway?” Huang He said with enthusiasm. The team listened, stunned; they had never even considered such an approach, and for a proper developer, they might even be embarrassed to admit they built such software.

But from the user’s standpoint, this kind of software would feel incredibly easy and convenient to use!

“Finally, about accounts!” Huang He tapped on the screen. “We can just use the user’s own information to generate the account.”

“The key is, during the profile setup, say the user enters the username ‘Take a Bite of Pudding’ and their birthday is November 11, 1990. We can automatically generate an account ID as ‘Take a Bite of Pudding’ with the password ‘19901111’.”

“But if someone else has already used that username, just set it so the user must pick a different one. Simple as that,” Huang He laughed.

“But how will users remember the account ID we assign them, when they don’t even know it?” Chen Shoufu asked.

“There are two ways to handle that. First, after they complete their profile, pop up a message telling them they can log in next time with their username and birthday.”

“The other way is, on their next login, prompt them to enter the username and birthday they set last time.”

If, under these circumstances, they still can’t log in, then asking them to create an account themselves would be pointless—they’d never remember it anyway.

“And if users want their account name and username to be different, just give them options to change their password or account name, and put those buttons in the most obvious place on the login page. Most users will eventually want to change it if having the same name and ID becomes inconvenient. That’s all there is to it!” Huang He rubbed his nose.

This kind of approach was only possible in 2001, when internet regulations were almost nonexistent and online scams were rare. Once the rules were in place, this sort of loose registration would no longer be possible.

So they had to seize the opportunity and make the most of it!