A Product of the Unconscious

The stream wrapped up to roaring success. With viewer counts still climbing right up until the moment she hit the end button, calling it a triumph felt more than fair.

Her hunch had paid off — the whole premise of teaching viewers who wanted to learn Camilla had landed exactly as she'd hoped. Of course everyone loved Camilla. That much was obvious.

She wandered through the boards and communities afterward, checking the reactions, and they weren't half bad. People saying they were jealous, that they wanted coaching too, that Kayak was terrifying… Wait. Had she been scary? She didn't think she'd gotten particularly angry or anything.

Ordinarily, scouring the communities right after a stream was something you simply did not do. Satisfying every single person watching a broadcast was impossible, and she'd heard more times than she could count how even a stream that ended on a high note could send you spiraling into burnout the moment you ran into a nasty reaction.

Listening to fellow streamers who'd started before her had never hurt. Some of their advice was the kind you could only learn by living through it yourself, and a lot of it had genuinely helped.

This time, though, she made an exception and kept browsing. As long as she was already in, she wanted to hear the raw, unfiltered opinions that never made it onto the official boards.

Sure, some people would sneer about what kind of insight you could possibly dig out of a sewer like that — but even dog droppings had their medicinal uses. Digging through galleries every now and then had a way of turning up surprisingly good ideas.

Like a wild ginseng hunter tearing through every mound of dirt in the mountains, she poked around here and there, soaking up all kinds of chatter. Some of the internet's self-styled ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sages claimed you could grasp the entire state of world affairs just by reading gallery posts every morning. In the end, it all came down to how you used the poison.

And with her considerable experience in community diving, even the most vicious posts weren't about to leave her emotionally wounded. Not unless someone launched an indiscriminate cyber nuclear terror campaign, anyway…

That was when it happened. There were so many posts that she searched with the keyword "Kayak," and even that returned a mountain of results.

Then one post caught her eye.

Roughly summarized, it was about a new game coming out. The way people were gushing that the quality was historic left an impression — though as far as she knew, new games that didn't slap on that kind of superlative were the rarer ones.

So the content itself was run-of-the-mill. What actually snagged her attention was something else entirely.

"Hmm…"

Now that was an interesting set of comments.

Remarks that prodded at the gamer's pride buried deep inside her. As provocations went, they were excellent.

Excellent enough to make someone who never planned her streams sit down and map out her immediate future.

"Hello, yes. I've always been diligent, thank you. SuperMilla updates? I heard she hit Silver. Of course she did. She's my student."

She'd promised SuperMilla ongoing feedback afterward. Follow-through had to be airtight.

She'd told her to ask about anything she didn't know, anything she was curious about, any wall she hit while playing — and questions had been pouring in every single day.

A model student, no question about it.

Apparently, after nothing but Abyss lately, a fair number of viewers were hungry for something else.

Other games had their own kind of fun, or so they claimed. Even though she hadn't played all that many titles outside of Abyss on stream, a whole viewer base had sprung up craving variety content. Having people who would stick around even when she booted up something other than Abyss was a good problem to have.

With the chat clamoring for every game under ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the sun, she quietly moved her mouse and switched the screen.

There was a little flutter of nerves in her chest. Like planning a surprise for a partner, she hadn't dropped so much as a hint.

The delayed reactions from viewers who finally saw the screen exploded all at once. The flood of question marks was a spectacle.

"Hehe… We're playing Eternal today. I heard it's super hot right now, so I installed it ahead of time."

A slightly awkward laugh slipped out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from the mild embarrassment.

Chat flooded with praise — Legendary Kayak, that's our streamer, she delivers when it counts — the whole chorus of worship.

Normally she never prepared for streams at all, just booted Abyss or scrambled to install whatever the viewers recommended on the spot. Showing up with something already ready had them eating it up.

There was a world of difference between someone who was always good doing well as usual, and someone who never bothered suddenly pulling it together. A kind of plot-twist effect, maybe. If she'd known they'd love it this much, she might've started preparing sooner.

No — stuff like this only hit harder when you did it once in a while. Yeah. This was the right call.

To the viewers' thunderous cheers, she launched Eternal.

A tense, grand BGM welcomed her alongside the main screen.

The backdrop had a distinctly apocalyptic vibe. A ruined city, walls painted red with something that might have been blood or paint, and armed outlaws standing among the wreckage.

"Looks fun. Genre's survival, right? But it's not an FPS."

"I wanted to experience it with you guys on stream, so I deliberately didn't watch anyone else's broadcasts. Just installed it and that was it."

She left the viewers to their usual overreactions and headed into the game.

Once she was in-game, a whole spread of newbie explanations was waiting for her. Skimming through them briefly, it definitely felt like they'd thrown a bunch of different genres into a blender.

Similar to a certain FPS that always came to mind when you said "survival game," but with a few extras layered on top.

The playable zone shrank over time. The weapon pool wasn't limited to guns. Neutral monsters scattered across the map could be hunted to upgrade the parts you were wearing.

On top of that, each class had unique skills — there was a lot to learn.

People had said the reception was good. It was certainly novel, though she couldn't help thinking that if the game stagnated even a little, new players trying to break in might have a rough time adapting.

"Well, there's a lot going on. Looks like plenty to figure out… First I need to pick a class. What should I go with."

"Hmm…"

Recommendations for new characters poured in from every direction. This one's good, that one's good, no if you're a newbie you have to pick this, Kayak's a talent freak so difficulty doesn't matter even as a beginner…

She glanced at the viewer count and it had already blown past ten thousand. Not exactly surprising these days, but with a crowd that size, taking character recommendations from chat was going to be a nightmare.

So she just picked a decent-looking class for now. If it felt wrong once she tried it, she could always switch.

Her choice split the viewers into celebration and despair.

"I'll try it first and switch if it's bad. Stop fighting, you guys… Oh, there's character customization too. That's the real flavor in games like this. Should we do a custom?"

Hair should be white. Eyes… blue, maybe. Outfit-wise, if mobility was the same either way, prettier was better, right? You could pick shoes too — something flat and comfortable, no heels…

And so the finished product looked somehow familiar.

She'd just gone with the flow, customizing on pure autopilot.

"Huh…?"

The customized character looked just like Camilla.