The Blue Tag (2)
In gallery parlance, an "armband" referred to the orange tag and the blue tag—the managers granted the authority to oversee the forum.
On paper, that title sounded like a solemn duty that demanded tireless dedication. In reality, it was nothing of the sort. In truth, running the place with half-assed neglect was completely acceptable; after all, everyone had their own lives to live. And whenever things grew too overwhelming, a head manager had the power to appoint a deputy manager—a blue tag—to shoulder the burden.
Fr don't know
The core issue was that the return was pathetically disproportionate to the burden. In practice, being a deputy mod was closer to unpaid volunteer labor. Naturally, every regular user went to great lengths to avoid receiving the armband. On the rare occasion when people were fed up with the head mod, all it took was a single warning—"Do you want to turn blue?"—to silence any dissent on the spot.
Isn't it exhausting running the whole place alone?
In short, a blue tag was an indispensable post that everyone agreed was necessary, yet no one wanted for themselves. Deleting posts and banning disruptive users? Such minor privileges were hardly compensation. Even if one worked tirelessly, there were no crumbs of reward to be found.
Back when the head mod and deputy mod met up IRL to throw hands and both ended up dead
Title says it all
In contrast to the thankless blue tag, the head moderator's authority was immensely powerful. They were exempt from the strict twenty-four-hour cooldown on trades and possessed administrative access to tinker with various forum functions. Because of this absolute dominance, the overarching atmosphere and trajectory of the Continental Unified Gallery were almost entirely dictated by whichever individual held the orange tag at the time.
The current head administrator, Don't Abandon the Hero, was somewhat eccentric and had a few screws loose, but was fundamentally earnest, righteous, and strictly devoted to core principles. Put uncharitably, he was an inflexible prude of a stickler—though he did possess an occasional sliver of pragmatism. The trouble was that, for reasons unknown, his attendance was prone to abrupt dry spells, during which the gallery plunged into chaotic disarray. It was precisely for such contingencies that deputy moderators existed, yet the head admin had resolutely refused to appoint one.
Title
If deputy mods are appointed by the head mod, how is the head mod chosen?
Fascination with the armbands never waned, yet no one truly understood the precise inner workings of the system. Considering that the current head administrator had openly admitted to knowing next to nothing about the gallery's technical mechanics, there was little more to say.
Ultimately, nearly all absolute authority was concentrated in the hands of the orange tag, while the blue tag was reduced to an expendable serf. Who in their right mind would volunteer to be the group project leader, the uncompensated drudge of digital servitude? Succeed, and one barely earned tolerance; slip up even once, and an avalanche of vitriol came crashing down.
If someone genuinely desired the role, they had to fit one of two categories: either their psychological fortitude was cast in adamantine, or they suffered from a useless, agonizing abundance of empty time.
Coincidentally, an individual meeting both prerequisites had just stepped forward.
A closed exchange between the head administrator, Don't Abandon the Hero, and the supreme sovereign of the Demonic Cult, Yu Sowol.
Yu Sowol waited patiently for the head mod to formulate a response. On the surface, the encounter resembled a delicate negotiation—and in many ways, that was precisely what it was. The only difference was that this was not the customary bartering trade interface, but a genuine private channel.
The head mod held unchecked, comprehensive administrative privileges. As long as the initiative came from the head mod's end, direct communication was entirely possible. To provoke that very outcome, the Heavenly Demon had bombarded the admin with trade requests day and night. Flooded with persistent pings, the head mod had been forced to take notice.
Rather than slinking about in secret, it is far better to stride forth boldly into the light. If scorn must be endured, let it be confronted swiftly.
Anticipation fluttered in Yu Sowol's chest. Would the head administrator truly yield the armband?
Her ambitions were twofold. First and foremost was securing an unhindered private channel with Grylls. Every time she attempted to comment on his updates, an irritating swarm of pestilent flies hovered around him; direct, unmonitored communication was infinitely preferable. Second, she sought a clearer grasp of the gallery's underlying architecture. Though a deputy mod's authority was narrow compared to the head mod's sweeping reign, administrative privileges were administrative privileges nonetheless. If she unraveled those mechanisms piece by piece, a path forward would inevitably reveal itself.
All private correspondence within the gallery was visible to the head administrator. While this normally applied to transactions conducted between registered users, the Heavenly Demon was on the verge of receiving official authority. This implied that even the profound mnemonic oral formulas of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art might be exposed to the head mod's watchful eyes.
Yet Yu Sowol harbored little concern on that front.
It has already been exposed to the head administrator once before.
The head mod held the absolute prerogative to inspect even encrypted and private posts. In the gallery, there was no secret that could remain hidden from them. That being the case, speaking openly in a direct channel made little difference.
Moreover, she was well aware that no one would take it seriously anyway. Yu Sowol understood her reputation in the gallery with painful clarity: a notorious fixed-nick poster who flooded the boards with daily shitposts and unhinged rants. The irony was that embedded deep within those erratic ramblings were the genuine enlightenment and transcendent martial insights of the Heavenly Demon. Yet nobody believed a single word—and the head administrator was no exception.
Yu Sowol had already calculated everything down to the finest detail.
As the connection severed, a brilliant blue tag materialized beside the Heavenly Demon's handle. The instant the badge manifested, she navigated straight to Grylls's latest post. It appeared an incident of some magnitude had unfolded during the brief span she spent persuading the head administrator.
A triumphant smile played across her lips as she left a comment.