An Anticipated Name

November 27th. Sunday.

Rena-ttang's new announcement had gone up, and our V-Live crew, with me at the lead, left our application comments at a relatively early hour.

Truth be told, the number-one trick to racking up ups on these application announcement posts was always name recognition, but posting early mattered too. Every now and then you'd get people who mindlessly upvoted the vast majority of applicants, and fans of the streamer who made the announcement often felt grateful that their favorite was offering content and upvoted every single one. That was why even a relatively low-profile applicant could end up ranking surprisingly high if they commented early enough.

And if the application comment itself was substantial or had some flair, all the better.

Just like mine.

Rena-ttang wasn't even a major streamer yet, and Rena World hadn't blown up in popularity either—so pulling over fourteen hundred ups in a single day was an encouraging result by any measure. It was the synergy of everything I'd laid out earlier: name recognition, an early application, and a comment with some actual flair.

The rest of our crew followed my lead and all ranked high as well. Lucy came in second—probably because she'd known me the longest and my fans already felt a sense of familiarity with her—while Miho and Mayo took third and fourth by a razor-thin margin. Looking at it another way, the outcome was only natural.

Freeca, who could be considered a higher weight class than us, was still busy putting out the internal fire from the Na-ro-si incident and remained so fixated on overseas audiences that they had zero interest in something like this. Pocotin was tied up preparing the Poko Server, and with the bad blood between their leader Ori-koong and Rena-ttang, it was only natural they wouldn't apply. Last came Decrescendo—and according to the rumors floating around, they were preparing a small-scale Minecraft server of their own.

Given how the Japanese virtual scene had cemented the perception that virtual streaming basically equaled Minecraft, they seemed inclined to try it themselves. But Poko Server's announcement had come first, leaving them in an awkward spot. Latecomers always carried the image of copycats, and in a virtual pie that was already tiny, monopolizing the hype was barely enough—now they'd have to split it with Poko Server.

That's why Park Na-na is the clever one. She talked her entire crew into heading for Rena World.

Before the regression, Decrescendo under Park Na-na hadn't even bothered writing application comments. She'd cut a private deal with Rena-ttang and walked the whole crew into the server without applying at all. Rena-ttang's self-esteem had been in pieces at the time, so she'd had no choice but to take the deal. Decrescendo was, after Freeca, the hottest virtual crew on Pangea TV.

Will they skip the application comments again this time? Probably not going to be that easy.

I'd put in the work grooming Rena-ttang and restored a fair amount of her confidence, and on top of that a crew with real weight like V-Live had already locked in their server entry. From Rena-ttang's perspective, there was no longer any need to just roll over and accept whatever came. She was the living embodiment of a power hunger—she wasn't about to let a chance to seize the initiative slip by.

Watching whether Decrescendo members' comments would even appear on the application post was going to be a small private amusement of its own.

Good. Entry into Rena World is settled without a hitch. Time to turn my attention to the rest.

There was the avatar work I'd commissioned from artist Bebe-ttang in preparation for Minecraft. It might have seemed minor, but details like that always mattered. They could add fun and immersion for the viewers.

I'd floated the idea to the crew members in advance, but all three said they didn't have spare cash right now and couldn't manage it. Equipment upgrades came first, apparently. And they weren't wrong. For a virtual streamer, gear was life. Human streamers could just fire up Pangea TV's broadcasting program Freakshot and launch whatever game they needed for content—done. Virtuals, on the other hand, had a whole stack of programs that needed to be linked just to output the avatar, facial tracking, special effects, and the rest. High-performance hardware was a necessity. Without it, the computer couldn't keep up, streams stuttered with lag, or the whole thing crashed outright.

"Want me to lend you some? It's not like I've got tons of spare cash either, but about a million won per person…"

I was a little worried that lending too much and getting it back late might make me miss the big investment window in January, but thankfully—or maybe not—all three thanked me and turned it down.

"I'm really grateful for the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thought, but it's not like I'm struggling to make ends meet right now, and I want to handle this much on my own."

"Hey hey! Leader, I may be older but I've still got some shame. Still, thanks for looking out for us."

"…… I absolutely hate debt. No exceptions."

Mayo's voice, like she was gritting her teeth, left me a little uneasy, but that was the end of it. Everyone would handle their own gear. I wasn't particularly worried. Once we got into Rena World, everyone's income was going to skyrocket. A little breathing room would follow soon enough.

Going on and on about money can look vulgar, but honestly nothing matters more than this.

Stream quality, a stable life, even retirement—everything hinged on broadcast income. And female streamers, as a rule, had short career lifespans. Search around and check for yourself. How many female streamers in their forties are out there? Even if a few exist, how many of them are pulling in enough to treat it as a real livelihood? That was why I believed female streamers, even if they took some heat during ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠their peak, needed to play the money-grubber card and grind hard while they could. Viewers weren't going to fund a streamer's retirement. Or, at the right moment, pivoting into a side-hustle stream could be a clean and graceful way to close things out.

Ah—did I go a little too deep there for no reason?

Anyway, the V-Live crew was flowing exactly according to my plan. And I still wasn't letting up on the checks. I'd jab Lucy in the side every so often and watch Blueby's reaction. I'd worked hard selling her on the advantages of Poko Server, so unless something major came up, she'd apply. Officially Rena World wasn't blocking applications to other servers, so on the surface there was nothing wrong with it.

Though unlike the public statement, the real problem will be getting personally marked by Rena-ttang.

The time wasted on Poko Server was a serious hit on its own. In Rena World, a single week could accomplish so much.

I took my time over a meal and logged into Pan-beo-gal for the first time in a while. I wanted to take the temperature of the bottom-tier public opinion.

But the atmosphere was a lot different from the last time I visited.

Before the regression, Ju-ttak had run Pan-beo-gal with a much tighter hand. The current Ju-ttak was more open, so fandom wars were flaring up from time to time. Especially with Decrescendo and Pocotin rising, those wars were only getting bigger. Fandom fights had always been the original form of the Gald Cup, after all.

Threaded through the bickering fandom wars were plenty of posts centered on Poko Server. And the majority of them were casting a negative eye on its chances of success. For all the grand presentation they'd put on, the actual substance of the participants was lacking.

The mood among streamers themselves was the same. No-name streamers could at least chase the prize money, but for anyone with real weight—why bother? Participating didn't guarantee you'd take home the prize, and the money had to be split by the number of people in a team, so the income angle didn't have much appeal either. The virtuals who already had weight were making good money as it was.

In that atmosphere, the ball ultimately came back around to Decrescendo and V-Live. A grand, unifying mood of "let's band together for the revival of the virtual scene and make a successful server." Of course, the ones driving that public opinion were mostly Pocotin fans. On the flip side, the ones cracking open popcorn and hoping Poko Server would crash and burn were the fans of Decrescendo and our own crew. Naturally—no one was in a position to cheer for a competitor's success.

So who walks into the trap?

The one I was most looking forward to was still Blueby, but I was also thinking about the other harvests. Before the regression, Decrescendo had blown up as a crew, and I knew Poko Server had played some part in that.

Poko Server. A name anticipated in more ways than one.