Trying Something New

A simple black backdrop. One of the default wallpapers Trisch hands out to every streamer.

White letters sat on that black field.

Into the quiet of the stream came the click of a mouse, and with it the worn-out voice of a man who sounded like he had been wrung dry.

"Delivery's here. Nothing beats chicken for a late-night snack."

Jump settled in front of his computer and cracked open the box. The warm smell of fried chicken unfurled through the room, prodding at an appetite that hadn't been there a moment before.

On a normal night he would have been in Last of Quantum right now. Given when he had gone live, it was still a little early to shut the game off and drift into Just Chatting.

But the world has never been in the habit of following a plan.

Skipping lunch and dinner had been the problem, maybe. Mid-match, a health warning had popped up across his vision. Last of Quantum was a full-dive VR title, and the system was twitchy about that kind of thing. The moment it sniffed even a slight problem with your body, it threw up a warning; ignore it and keep playing, and it force-quit you on the spot. You couldn't feel anything wrong while you were jacked in, so the precaution made sense — though kicking a man off for missing a couple of meals still felt like overkill.

Like I skipped them because I wanted to.

Either way, the warning had already fired. Like it or not, Jump had to log out.

"Soon as I finish this chicken, we're hopping straight back into LoQ."

He said it around a bite of a drumstick. Factor in his usual stream length and it was still too early to go offline. End too soon and chat would plaster the place with Narak — and with the mood already sour lately, that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was the one thing he wanted to avoid.

This is all Unknown's fault.

Why the hell did they come scream in his chat every time Unknown caused a scene? Why take it out on him that she wasn't streaming? He didn't know either.

The more he thought about it, the more it pissed him off. Jump tore into the chicken like it had personally offended him. Even so, it was delicious. Picking chicken for a late-night meal had been an excellent call.

The thought that this might have been the best decision of his day lasted about three seconds. Then the donation alert rang out.

He had written, very clearly, that he wasn't reacting. And at a dollar, it wasn't the kind of donation that expected a song and dance anyway. He could just finish the chicken and—

Wait. Unknown?

The name was so familiar his jaw stopped mid-chew. Maybe it was just someone using the same handle. Then he glanced at chat, and that hope died on the spot. The jealous, bristling messages pouring in from what were almost certainly Unknown stans were already giving him a headache.

He wanted to ignore it. He really did. But he knew exactly what chat would do if he tried. This was his stream — so why was there never a single person on his side?

Jump rubbed at his temples and opened his mouth.

"Yeah, Unknown. What's up?"

The answer didn't come as another donation. It landed as a Discord message.

Had something gone wrong with the settings he'd helped her configure? If she was pinging a man mid-stream with a donation just to get his attention, it had to be urgent.

...Or so he assumed. The question that came through Discord was nowhere near that dramatic.

Why are you asking me how to open a Newtube channel?

He understood the logic, at least. He ran a Newtube channel with six hundred thousand subscribers. If you wanted advice, he was a pretty good person to ask, and he knew it. He was the one who had dragged her into streaming in the first place.

Giving advice wasn't the problem. The problem was whether this was something you needed to hunt down a man while he was live to ask. If she'd waited until he was wrapping up, he would have been happy to walk her through it.

And why him, of all people? He knew she didn't have much of a network on the streaming side, but from her recent broadcasts it looked like she'd gotten friendly with a streamer named Bernie. If the question was about Newtube, asking another woman — Bernie — would have made more sense.

He knew it was a new acquaintance and that asking might have felt awkward. He thought it anyway. Unknown did juice his numbers, sure. From a streaming standpoint, that was a win. So why was he always the one getting punched in the face for it?

The headache was getting worse. Jump clutched his skull and let out a short sigh.

"I can walk you through the Newtube stuff, but a lot of it's going to be private. Not really a conversation to have on stream... Once I end the broadcast, we can—"

A message from Unknown landed before he could finish.

What the hell was that supposed to mean.

"No, that's not what I—!"

Jump felt the situation veering off a cliff and tried to tack something on, fast. Too late. Chat was already a wall of screaming.

It did not take him long to understand what the screaming meant.

In the space of a breath, Jump had become public enemy number one. He couldn't find a single word. He couldn't exactly chew out someone who had just shut down her stream to hear his advice — and apologizing when he hadn't done anything wrong would have stung his pride.

He stared blankly at the chat racing up the screen.

Fuck it. I don't even know anymore.

He grabbed the mouse sitting beside him and mashed the End Stream button. The chat exploded into question marks. Jump ignored it. He could already see the community boards drowning in Narak ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tomorrow.

This too would pass.

I lifted a tangle of pho noodles and slurped them down in one go. The restless churn in my stomach settled at once. Good menu choice.

"If you were going to do this, you could have waited until after I finished eating."

Gulp. I swallowed the last of the noodles and opened my mouth.

"You're eating too, Jump."

"That's— look, whatever. You said you had a Newtube question. It's not that you don't know how to open a channel. The problem's editing, right?"

"Yeah. You're sharper than you look."

"Did you have to add that first part? Anyway, I hire an editor. Having someone else cut the videos is great, but you've got to pay them on a regular schedule, and..."

Listening to him only made the decision heavier. If I could afford it, hiring an editor would be the smart move. I just wasn't sure I could actually cover a proper salary. There was no telling yet how far the channel would grow. And even if I wanted one, where was I supposed to find an editor in the first place? Every editor had their own style. Finding someone who actually fit me would be a job of its own.

"If you want, I can talk to my editor for a while. Put in a word."

"No. That's all right."

I was already taking plenty of help from him. I didn't want to lean on him for this too. Borrow too many hands and standing on your own later only gets harder.

"I'll try editing it myself first."

"It's harder than you think. If you hit a wall, drop me a message on Discord."

"Got it. And one last thing — any content ideas you can throw my way?"

The reason I asked was simple. I wasn't sure people would stay interested if all I ever showed them was the same Last of Quantum gameplay. My streaming career was still short, and good ideas weren't exactly lining up to introduce themselves. Jump had been at this longer than I had, and he was a big-corp streamer. He had to have something.

"You can't just spring that on me... Hmm. That thing where you taught me a game last time went over pretty well. Why not turn that into a content series?"

"I'll think about it."

The call with Jump ended. I sat there for a long time, staring at the monitor, trying to sort through the thoughts that had been kicking around my skull.

Opening a Newtube channel was easy enough — a few mouse clicks and you were done. I had footage, too. Every broadcast I'd ever run was sitting intact in the Trisch VODs. Uploading a raw livestream whole was out of the question. Who was going to sit through a multi-hour dump? Jump had said the trend these days was clean, tightly cut videos.

So that was the plan. Edit those down and put them up.

"First things first. Download an editor."

A little digging turned up a program that claimed even beginners could pick it up. If I was being honest, I was underestimating the work. Cutting a clip and sticking it to another clip — that wasn't something you needed a class for. I could handle that much.

And sometimes a person has to try the thing they have never done.

The world does not only hand you problems that come with answers. Take one step forward and a new problem is already waiting. Problem after problem, and no answer key anywhere in sight. Freeze up and quit, and you get nothing. You have to do something before a result even has a chance to exist.

Besides. I can barely take care of myself. What business do I have hiring an editor?