What Kind of Bullshit Is This?

What kind of bullshit is this now?

Shortly after the broadcast ended, a new post appeared on the Neo Chronicle Gallery.

Public perception of a game meant nothing to players of competitive PVP titles. Whether someone insulted their game or they cursed it out themselves, most people barely batted an eye because they lacked any real sense of community attachment. When someone vented, complaining that the game was unplayable dogshit, the universal response was simply telling them to escape the psych ward and move on.

RPGs, however, operated under an entirely different dynamic—especially online MMORPGs. Players poured astronomical amounts of time, effort, and real cash into them, naturally developing an intense sense of tribal ownership. It was much like living in South Korea: citizens might criticize their own country all day long, but the moment a foreigner uttered a single disparaging word, their blood boiled.

Even so, the fire did not catch immediately. The Neo Chronicle Gallery was already a playground for all manner of daily shitposters and trolls. Like any massive internet community, it had developed a robust immune system. It was hardly fragile enough to combust over a single post devoid of evidence.

Yet forums of that size harbored all sorts of predators—including hyenas ravenous for Meetube clicks. A couple of hours after the post went live, a textbook piece of ragebait dropped as a Short.

It was a cheap script thrown together on a whim, read aloud by a grating synthetic AI voice, stamped with a clear target right at the bottom. While the Neo Chronicle Gallery possessed a filter for internal drama, external hostility was another matter entirely. When struck from the outside, the community retaliated with vicious solidarity.

Once malicious editing entered the equation, the forum regulars gladly discarded their hesitation to attack an ordinary civilian.

United by a shared offense, their collective outrage quickly found its direction.

Armed with a single narrative that had spread across the gaming sphere like wildfire, the mob completed its preparations.

What in the actual fuck was going on?

I started the broadcast, adjusted the webcam angle, placed the study timer in its usual spot, and clicked the lead of my mechanical pencil into place. Glancing up at the monitor, I realized the chat overlay was missing from my screen. Remembering I had forgotten to bring it up, I pulled the window into view—and froze.

The chat sped by so fast my vision blurred. Trying to pick out individual sentences felt like trying to track a single droplet of water shooting upward from a reverse waterfall.

"Wh-what?"

Wondering if real humans were actually generating this text, I shifted my gaze toward the stats bar.

Three hundred sixty viewers? Could that many people produce a chat this blindingly fast? I looked back at the window. Only the vile curses peppered throughout stood out clearly against the white noise. I blinked, tilting my head. I could not comprehend what was happening in the slightest.

Let's see what they're actually saying first.

I grabbed the scrollbar, pausing the rush of text to read through the messages. Just insults, more insults... What the hell is a 'design philosophy'? ...Wait, Neo Chronicle?

A memory from the previous night flashed through my mind: a consultation with a viewer whose boyfriend was hopelessly addicted to Neo Chronicle.

Wait, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that was nothing.

Even if harsh words had been exchanged, I hadn't voiced my own personal opinions. More importantly, I hadn't attacked any person—only criticized a video game. If I explained the context, the issue would resolve itself in no time. The violent trembling in my hands from the initial shock gradually subsided.

"Everyone, please calm down for a second. I think there's a misunderstanding."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

A momentary pause followed my words, and question marks began to pierce the relentless sea of profanity.

I had said it. Even if I was just repeating what a friend had told me, the words had crossed my lips. In the world of gossip, the person who passed the slander along was just as guilty as the one who originated it.

"Even if I was just repeating what my friend said, the words still came out of my mouth. I'm sorry. I know nothing about Neo Chronicle, and I've never played it. So please understand that I didn't say those things out of malice."

Claiming a misunderstanding had merely been a hook. This was my real strategy: first, openly acknowledge my mistake.

"I'm sorry for shooting my mouth off about something I know nothing about. Feel free to curse at me until you feel better."

Second, demonstrate empathy.

"Though I have to admit, I was genuinely terrified. Whew, I just ate a lifetime's worth of curses in three minutes flat."

Third, act a little pathetic.

Never in my life had this three-step combo failed to defuse tension. Surely these people would—

What the hell?

The proportion of profanity spiked even higher. Why were they reacting like this? I had admitted fault and apologized. Normally, people might throw a few parting jabs before settling down. What was the point of getting angrier from here?

That was how my mind worked, but clearly, these people operated under an entirely different logic. The chat accelerated beyond its previous frenzy.

As the headcount ballooned, the text scrolled past so violently that the individual characters barely registered. To make matters worse, hateful messages were now flooding in from platforms other than Meetube as well. I stared intensely at the monitor, pretending to reflect deeply, while my mind spun with endless question marks. Since the webcam was aimed directly at my face, I needed to project the impression that I was reading every single comment.

Five hundred people had invaded my channel just to tear me apart. Even after an apology, the barrage showed no sign of stopping. Stranger still, they had no concrete demands. They were simply seizing upon my words to mock and twist them, cursing me out purely for the sake of cursing me out.

"Okay. Understood. Let me lay out the entire situation clearly."

Right. I needed to make them understand the context. If I walked them through the circumstances and the tone of the conversation, they would surely comprehend.

Galleries came in endless varieties, created around every conceivable topic under the sun. Among them, the OnAiri Gallery, dedicated to live-streaming culture, boasted a staggering number of active regulars. Whenever drama or scandal erupted, the sheer volume of transient lurkers ready to mob a stream was monstrous.

The moment that post went live, viewers surged into Jung River's broadcast on OnAiri. On screen, a clean-cut young man was visibly straining to suppress his mounting fury.

"I already went over everything while reviewing yesterday's VOD with you guys...!"

"It was a viewer consultation, and I only repeated what my friend told me."

"No, I'm not blaming the viewer or my friend! How many times do I have to say that I was also in the wrong for repeating it...?"

Jung River glared at the chat window. To any seasoned streaming viewer, his appearance was the textbook definition of an extroverted, socially well-adjusted outsider. Such a person was now attempting to argue pure logic, utterly disconnected from the unwritten rules of streaming culture.

"I acknowledged that I spoke carelessly, and I apologized."

"So what exactly is your goal in continuing to throw insults at me?"

No matter what he said, the chat remained unmoved. Long spammed copypastas and short quips crashed across the screen like turbulent waves. Jung River, his brow deeply furrowed, suddenly caught sight of a specific message.

"Is my apology attitude... inappropriate, you say?"

"Hmm. Then what kind of apology do you want?"

"A suit and a chroma... key? What even is that?"

"I don't have that kind of equipment."

"So you're saying it's not a real apology without it?"

"At least don't sit down?"

"Kneel...? Are you serious?"

His expression laid his internal thoughts bare for everyone to see: What kind of insane power trip is this?

Nearly two hours had elapsed since the broadcast began. And at that exact moment, a fresh wave of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠newcomers carved out an entirely new current in the room—a wave targeting the very mob doing the harassing.

RPGs carried a deep sense of tribal loyalty, but Neo Chronicle was hardly the only titan in the domestic market. Alongside three other massive titles, it formed what the community dubbed the Big Four MMORPGs, and their player bases subtly overlapped. In other words, players from competing titles—along with trolls who simply savored chaos—had crashed the party.

The viewer count exploded in an instant. Watching the situation spin completely out of control despite his best efforts to defuse it, Jung River firmly pressed his fingers against his throbbing temples.

What kind of bullshit is this now?