Conditions for a VTuber?
The conditions for becoming a VTuber? If you've made up your mind to do something, you put it into action right away. That's the Soviet way.
First off, what do I need to become a VTuber?
"Money."
Money and someone to do the streaming. That's all—just those two things.
With money, you can buy a computer, mic, camera, illustrations, and all that other headache-inducing crap.
If it's too complicated, I can just ask my lovely little sister to handle it.
"Hey, Dad."
"My girl, what is it this time?"
So I called my father right away.
Nothing major—just had something to say.
"Send me some money."
"...Money out of the blue?"
"I wanna do streaming here in Korea."
"Ekaterina, you've got plenty of money yourself."
"I don't have any?"
"No, weren't you deployed in Syria for four years as a soldier? Where'd all that cash go?"
"Gave it all to Tanya?"
"...Why Tanya?"
"She went to Seoul first. But she said Grandpa's house wasn't livable and wanted money to buy a new one, so I gave it all to her."
"Haa... Tatiana... Seriously. So, Ekaterina, how much do you need?"
"About 20 million won?"
"Holy... What the hell are you gonna do with that much?"
"I told you. Streaming."
"My girl, how much vodka have you had?"
"One bottle. So Dad, about sending the money..."
Beep—
"...He hung up again."
My dad, true to his Soviet spirit—a real man's man.
"Haa... Fine, let's take it one step at a time."
There are two main ways to become a VTuber.
First is indie VTuber, and second is corporate VTuber.
Obviously, I'm aiming for the first one—indie.
I'm not short on cash anyway, and there's no reason to join a company. Hell, joining one would just put someone higher up than me over my head, which is a straight-up disadvantage.
Money—Dad said that, but he'll send it quick enough. I left all the cash from my deployments back home, so of course he'll send it.
Sure, I've got some in my Korean account and cards, but hey, might as well squeeze Dad for a bit while I'm at it.
"Hmm... I need a lot of stuff."
I sit down at the computer and start digging into what I need, one by one.
"Avatar, tracking gear, driving software... Keyboard and mouse are here, so skip those..."
Shit-ton to buy. At least... this ain't something I can knock out with a day or two of online clicks. Looks like I gotta go out in person?
"...In this body?"
I wasn't planning to hole up forever anyway. Eventually, I'd have to step outside...
Prior... Nah, call it a dry run?
"Wait, hold up—what about clothes?"
The thought hits me like a truck as I stand up to head out.
I'm a woman now, right?
So what about my clothes?
Not to brag, but back when I was a guy, my body was huge and burly.
198cm, over 130kg of pure mass... but now?
"Eye level's definitely lower, huh?"
Feels like it's dropped nearly 20cm. Sure, the body's lighter for it... but whatever, back burner that.
"Shit, my clothes won't fit like this."
I rip open the suitcase from Russia, and yep—it's stuffed with massive oversized gear.
Pull out one shirt... Ugh, this thing could cover my whole body and then some.
Hell, I could jump rope with it. And I wore this stuff? For real?
"Haa... So even this oversized crap I'm wearing now means I gotta go out in some insane oversized fit?"
ID and face changed, but why the hell are the clothes the same?
"This is straight-up trash."
I bunch up the top—which is basically dress-sized insanity—and stuff it into my pants.
Fold the dragging pant cuffs over and over, and finally, it kinda looks like clothes. Whew~
"Shoes are fucking huge too."
Head to the shoe rack to gear up, and these giant beasts greet my tiny, precious feet.
"Holy..."
Put my foot in one—feels like goddamn slippers.
Man, in a few hours, my sneakers turned into flip-flops.
"Gonna need to buy a ton."
It's been about 30 minutes since turning from man to woman?
Already feeling lost on how to live like this, but kinda exciting too.
"Ah, ah, ah~"
Voice is pretty, limbs feel light and free.
Face is beautiful, figure's killer.
What else is there? Gotta accept it.
"Eung~"
Humming a little tune, I open the door and step out.
Alright, let's go!
Flustered.
Utterly flustered.
"Hmmm..."
Two years—over 700 days—working at this convenience store, I've prided myself on seeing every type of customer imaginable.
"Hmmmmmm..."
But what the hell is she?
Didn't think much when this woman in a dress-sized insane oversized fit pushed open the door and walked in.
Then I glanced at her face—stunning blonde hair, piercing blue eyes. Foreigner.
Despair hit. I suck at English.
"Checkout!"
"Uh, yes?"
"Checkout this stuff, I said?"
But when natural Korean came out of the foreigner's mouth, I was moved.
A foreigner speaking Korean that fluently? My patriotism, faded since the army, reignited.
Then I noticed something off.
"You want me to... ring this up?"
"Yes."
"This?"
"Yes."
"...For real?"
"Just ring it up already!"
What she'd plopped on the counter? Vodka.
You know that vodka that shows up sometimes? The pricey stuff, 50k to 100k won a bottle.
Over 40% ABV, sometimes pushing 50% or more—that poison...
This crazy chick piled up five bottles.
Five bottles of something that knocks you out in one sip? Her liver made of steel or what?
"Ma'am, got ID?"
"Of course!"
She grins wide and pulls an ID from her oversized tee pocket like it's no big deal.
But this...
"Russia?"
Cyrillic script? How the hell do I even...
Born 1984?
"No way, you're really born in '84?"
"Of course."
"What's the name? Say it."
"Ekaterina Vladimirovna Medvedeva (Екатерина Владимировна Медведева)."
"...Huh?"
"E-ka-te-ri-na. Vla-di-mi-rov-na. Med-ve-de-va."
"...?"
"Why don't you get it? My name's Екатерина Владимировна Медведева."
Her tongue rolled out that perfect native pronunciation—I was speechless. Fuck, for real.
"Ahahaha... Kidding, here's my Korean residence card."
She giggles, rummages in her pocket, and pulls out another ID.
"Not exactly an ID, but a residence registration card—works for verification, right?"
"Right."
Correction noted. She hands over the residence card politely with both hands.
I take it, read it—Ekaterina Vladimirovna Medvedeva.
Damn, what a mouthful.
"...You're really born in '84?"
Shocked once she's a real Russian, twice she's really 40-ish, and three times that bod can handle five bottles of vodka.
Guess Russians really have vodka in their veins instead of blood.
"Verified... Let me ring you up."
Pretty face, but pushing 40...
Thought Westerners age fast, but guess that's a stereotype.
"Total's 390,000 won. Receipt?"
"Nah, good."
"Alright~"
She swipes her card, pays, flashes a bright smile, and sweeps up the vodkas.
Like a squirrel hoarding acorns.
Kinda cute.
"Thanks for your hard work!"
She gathers the bottles, winks, and heads out.
Her clothes shift, flashing a glimpse of hip...
"..."
Tattoo there. Not some cute one—skull? Pistol? Dagger?
Why the hell is that...
Ding-a-ling—
But before I could process, she was gone.
"...Holy shit."
This is mandatory internet forum legend material.
Hot late-30s Russian blonde blue-eyed chick buys five bottles of vodka, and she's got tats?
Can't pass this up.
"Haa~"
Wonder if I'll see her again. I pocket my phone—no customers, time for a quick break.
"Gotta watch some VTubers."
That lady? Girl? Whatever—she probably doesn't give a shit about VTubers.
Poor thing. Doesn't know about this awesome hobby.