12. Full-Immersion Yakuza
During a broadcast that had started out like any other, a problem I'd been quietly dreading finally reared its head.
"There's nothing to play today…."
Content drought. That was the crisis at hand.
Not that anything I'd done so far really qualified as "content" in the first place.
A game?
Seeing the chat about a cafe post, I refreshed the page to check.
Haah… this is genuinely a tough call….
The game my viewers were recommending was a story-driven title — a remake of an old classic, at that.
I was a fan of the series' signature sensibility myself — the retro charm, that particular brand of absurd Japanese humor, and the way it could turn around and be genuinely cool and moving when it counted.
But here was the problem: I had already played this game back before my regression, when I was a man.
Which meant, from my perspective, I'd be playing a game with dated graphics, clunky controls, and a story I already knew inside and out.
But I had nothing else to do….
"Hmm… sure, let's play it."
I decided to just go for it. It was a game I loved, after all.
"Ah, hold on — let me get permission from my Manager first."
Before I even brought it up, all the warning I got from the Manager was: think twice, then think once more before you say anything.
"Okay, permission granted!"
"Everyone, I'll give you two options. Option one: I play it fully immersed. Option two: I play it my way."
Playing "immersed" meant doing it with a full-blown character concept.
The thinking was: if I approach it from a completely different angle than when I first played it, maybe it'll actually feel fresh.
"You've all chosen option one, which means that starting now, I will be possessed by the spirit of a yakuza."
Since I had no idea what was going to come out of my mouth, I figured I'd lay the groundwork first.
Because no matter how careful I tried to be, I wouldn't be able to stop the profanity once it started boiling up from my core.
"Therefore, please understand that everything I say from this point on is not Roze speaking, but the words of a certain Japanese yakuza."
Though, to be fair, not saying anything at all would be the best option of all.
I downloaded the game and hit start, and the opening cinematic began to roll.
"Alright, this one's rated nineteen-plus, folks."
"Oh, the protagonist's actually handsome?"
Even after all this time, he had a properly manly, good-looking face.
Excuse me, what is wrong with this chat?
All I did was say the man was handsome — is that really grounds for this kind of reaction?
I'd praised him purely from a man's point of view, so being met with this was genuinely disorienting.
"Well, my type just happens to be my own face, you see?"
But it was the truth.
Maybe if I'd never known my own face, it'd be different — but having seen it, there was no helping the fact that it had become my ideal type.
Back on screen, the protagonist was now beating down a superior who had committed an act that violated his own convictions.
"You bastard! If you're yakuza, be a proper yakuza and only pummel people who deserve it! Why are you harassing civilians?!"
I threw myself into the concept immediately, if only to steer the chat away from the bizarre tangent it had gone off on.
Thwack! Thwack!
"POW!"
My own hand-dubbed sound effects layered over the game's own, and with a satisfying crunch the superior was reduced to a pulp.
And just like that, the protagonist found himself facing expulsion from the organization over the incident.
"Are you kidding me?! I took down a superior, so shouldn't the position be MINE now? You're telling me YOU of all people get to lecture me about yakuza tradition?! MAH! YOU! Does your brain not WORK?!"
I'd never really understood what people meant when they said a concept could swallow you whole. Now I got it.
Having cranked my energy up on purpose and thrown myself into the role, I could feel myself genuinely becoming the character, bit by bit.
Well, well. I tried to have a little fun with a game and came away with unexpected self-knowledge.
…Knowledge I could have done without, frankly.
The game pressed on while I was still processing this new insight about myself. The expelled protagonist got tangled up with a rival organization, and cracks began to spread between them and his old group.
In the ensuing conflict, he was branded a traitor and nearly killed — but he somehow survived, and returned to his old organization to clear up the misunderstanding.
That was when the organization's third-in-command appeared, blocking his path.
[Traitor. You left our organization — you should have lived out your days quietly. Why show your face?]
[Spare me the speeches. Draw your weapon.]
[Hmph. To think you'd throw away the Fist Lord's mercy.]
[What's the matter? Is fear making your lips tremble? All that talk, and for nothing.]
[You insolent—!]
At this point I was about halfway absorbed into the role.
"Hey! You disrespectful piece of trash! You threw the first punch, so why are YOU the one posturing?! Someone needs to beat you senseless with a bat before you get your head on straight!"
Which is to say: the genuine article was starting to outnumber the act.
In other words, the swearing had officially begun.
And so the protagonist's duel with the third-in-command began.
Whoosh!
He shrugged off his suit jacket, revealing a tiger tattoo spanning his back.
Whoosh!
Answering his opponent's challenge, the protagonist shed his own suit — and across his back stretched a magnificent dragon.
[Come at me!]
Crack! Crack! Crack!
"KAH! Now THAT'S what I'm talking about! The romance of it all is off the charts!"
It was cool every single time I saw it.
Confronted with a scene that hit that old-school chivalric itch even after all these years, applause burst out of me on its own.
Gripping the protagonist's signature weapon — a baseball bat — I struck a pose.
"BANKAI! Heaven-Shattering Bat!"
Oh, wait — had I ever actually mentioned that on stream before?
Perfect!
Turns out this TS-enhanced body of mine was getting some serious buffs.
Dodges, well-timed parries, and combos picked to fit each situation — apparently that was all it took to string together a Perfect.
I even caught myself admiring the physical ability that made it possible.
"You rotten punk! Now that you've had a taste of my burning bat, you'd better know your place!"
And then, because my memory of the early-game story was fuzzy, I said something I had no idea would turn out to be a death flag.
"Are you KIDDING me?! Why does this guy keep coming BACK?!"
Only later did I remember that this guy was, in fact, a complete lunatic.
Oh — though to be fair, I did land a Perfect every single time he showed up.
Eventually it came to light that everything had been the third-in-command's scheme to expand his own faction, and the story barreled into its final chapter.
And in the course of it, the protagonist's comrade took a bullet.
[Hayato!]
A choice prompt appeared on screen.
A. Check on Hayato's condition.
B. Chase after the third-in-command.
I checked the chat.
Hmm. I'd assumed B, naturally, but the A camp had the overwhelming majority.
If your friend has already made the sacrifice and you still fail the mission, isn't that the greater tragedy?
"Hayato!"
But my current concept was a hopeless romantic fully immersed in the game, so I went with the chat's opinion — the one that looked like an F on every count.
I chose A, a cutscene played, and the comrade met his death.
Excuse me, but didn't we just set fire to our playtime?
If we lose him here, doesn't this whole thing end in utter disaster?
As everyone probably guessed — when I played this the first time, I picked B without a moment's hesitation, so I genuinely had no idea where the A route would go.
And yet the story flowed along exactly as if I'd chosen B.
…In which case, wouldn't it have been better to just cut the choice entirely and lock it to A?
If you pick B, you get to this exact scene without the dead-friend cutscene in between.
I brushed the question aside and focused on the game.
Chasing the third-in-command to the rooftop, I found him waiting there.
All that remained now was the protagonist's final battle.
The last conversation with the third-in-command began.
[I refuse! I will not let it end like this! I can't accept it!]
[Then allow me to make you accept it.]
The dialogue ended. Silence fell, and the camera circled slowly around the two men at the center of the frame.
And in the middle of it all, moonlight spilled across the sky and caught nothing but the tattoos on their backs — and it was SO impossibly cool!
"God, whoever directed this scene deserves a raise. One and a half times their salary. Immediately!"
The honest truth just tumbled right out of me.
The final battle concluded, and the protagonist walked over to where the third-in-command lay.
[Rest easy on your way….]
He gently closed the third-in-command's staring eyes, turned his back, and walked away — and with that final image, the end credits rolled.
"Ahh, that was fun."
This really is a masterpiece of a game.
Games this fun to revisit are a rare breed.
Whew. Playing with a full concept cranked up is exhausting.
Granted, I'd slipped from performance into genuine immersion partway through — and precisely because of that, now that it was over, the side effects were hitting me hard.
"Still, it's been a while since I played a game. That was fun."
I'd enjoyed it with the cozy feeling of revisiting a retro classic. The final scene was one I remembered, but seeing it again stirred up feelings that felt brand new.
"By the way — is it really okay for yakuza to be glamorized like that?"
Truthfully, I knew exactly what that "it's fine" meant, so it didn't bother me one bit.
But while I might know, the viewers didn't — did they?
It was just a line for the stream, anyway.
"In any case, that's it for today's broadcast!"
My viewers, well aware I'd streamed longer than usual, let me off without putting up their usual fight.
Let's see… barely any swearing, decent behavior overall.
All things considered, I'd say I pulled off "playing nice."
Today's stream was a solid one!