It has been nearly five years since the shockwave hit China's battle‑royale community. Back in late 2021, every official PUBG esports competition was suddenly outlawed across the country—not because the game lost popularity, but because it simply never secured a publishing license from the National Press and Publication Administration (NAPP), China's gatekeeper for video‑game approvals. Now, in 2026, the ban remains firmly in place, and the landscape for players, streamers, and entire organisations has transformed in ways few could have predicted.
When the news first broke, it wasn't just a minor policy tweak. The PUBG Champions League (PCL)—a franchised circuit with multi‑million‑dollar prize pools and a direct route to the PUBG Global Championship—was effectively erased overnight. Tencent's Penguin Esports pulled every PUBG broadcast from its catalogue. DouYu and Huya, two of the biggest streaming platforms in China, scrambled to rebrand the game. PUBG became known as “Chicken Game” on DouYu and “Daily Chicken Dinner” on Huya, a surreal linguistic disguise that tried to distance the title from its esports ambitions. Yibo Zhang, Vice President of the China Culture Management Association Esports Committee, didn’t mince words at the time: “This ban will affect thousands of PUBG tournament organisers, teams, content creators, streamers, and professional players,” he told Sports Business Journal. “It’s not clear whether PUBG will be banned on live streaming platforms. So far it’s only PUBG competitions.”
Fast‑forward to 2026, and the uncertainties from that statement have largely crystallised. The competitive ecosystem has withered. Professional players who once dreamed of etching their names on the global stage have either retired, switched to other titles, or moved abroad in search of opportunities. Organisations that built their brands around PUBG have pivoted toward VALORANT, Apex Legends, or mobile sensations like Peacekeeper Elite—the China‑specific, NAPP‑approved version of PUBG Mobile that still thrives as a standalone esports scene. Meanwhile, the original PC version of PUBG exists in a strange limbo: casual play is tolerated, but any gathering of players that smells of an organised tournament risks immediate shutdown. Streamers must tread carefully, avoiding explicit references to competition while still entertaining millions of fans who adore the title.
One of the biggest ripple effects hit the PUBG Global Championship circuit. Before 2021, China was a powerhouse, sending stacked rosters to international events and often dominating the leaderboards. Since the ban, only a handful of Chinese players have managed to qualify through convoluted paths—usually by relocating to regions where the game is fully licensed and building new teams from scratch. This has diluted the competitive diversity that made global finals so thrilling. For Western fans, the absence of Chinese squads might have opened the door to easier runs, but it also stole away some of the fiercest rivalries the sport had ever seen.
The regulatory reasoning hasn't shifted much in five years. The original report hinted that the ban was aimed at Steam—an overseas platform that operates outside Chinese regulatory frameworks—rather than PUBG itself. This theory gained traction because other foreign titles like VALORANT and Apex Legends also lingered in NAPP approval limbo for years. However, by 2026, the situation has fragmented. VALORANT, after intense negotiations and a local publishing deal, finally received its China license in early 2023 and now boasts a thriving esports circuit. Apex Legends Mobile briefly flickered into life before sunsetting, while the PC version still waits for a definitive green light. PUBG, despite being one of the most popular games in China’s internet cafés, remains stuck in the same bureaucratic bottleneck—a testament to how much leverage the NAPP holds over which titles can build durable competitive scenes.
For the everyday player, the ban has reshaped how they engage with the game. Ranked matches still run smoothly, and the player base remains surprisingly large, sustained by nostalgia and the game's unmatched tension. But the absence of official leagues has given rise to a murky underground of unofficial tournaments, often organised on Discord or WeChat, with prize pools funded by cryptocurrency or local sponsors. These events operate in a grey zone, constantly at risk of being flagged by streaming platforms. It’s a far cry from the sold‑out arenas and million‑viewer broadcasts of the old PCL.
Looking ahead, there's little sign of a breakthrough. The NAPP's approval process has not become any less stringent, and the political sensitivity around overseas gaming platforms has only intensified. Krafton, PUBG's developer, continues to release updates and seasonal content, but without a license, the game’s esports future in China seems permanently frozen. As 2026 rolls on, the “Chicken Game” moniker lingers on streaming sites—a quiet reminder that one of the world’s most influential battle royales was once the crown jewel of a nation’s esports ambitions, now reduced to a casual pastime that must never be too competitive.