Year-End Awards Ceremony
Yesterday was a day that made it clear our fans had been waiting for this.
Three full hours of roulette time.
The total number of Candies I received in donations yesterday came out to a staggering 214,758!
It was a number that smashed Park Na-na's previous virtual roulette record of 182,559.
Naturally, the virtual-related galleries went completely berserk.
The donation wars that erupted across those three hours of roulette time were just the baseline — every time the count updated in real time by the tens of thousands, a new live-update post went up.
Around the time we closed in on 180,000, gallery users who were almost certainly Decrescendo fans started leaving comments that bordered on curses. And the moment the reverse finally happened?
They wheeled out a brand-new line of reasoning, as if they'd prepared it in advance.
Baiyo and Park Na-na always cut their roulette times under two hours
Look at her clawing every last Candy out of her fans for a full three hours. Vicious. Actually vicious lmao. Take the cam off and a mean girl would walk out
What had looked like a friendly relationship between Decrescendo and the V-Live crew on the surface was now a full-blown war of nerves — and actual fighting.
Honestly, this flow was inevitable.
The reason Decrescendo's fandom and ours had been able to get along with all the laughing and joking before was because the hierarchy had been set, and everyone behaved according to their assigned place.
But the story had changed a little now.
Starting around Christmas, the V-Live crew had begun a sharp upward climb.
Of course Decrescendo was no pushover either, but looking at recent momentum alone, we were the ones pulling ahead. Even with a one-day later upload, our Christmas carol video had overtaken theirs in views, and after I stood out during Park Bong-sik's Rena World tour, the Mu uncles and casual viewers had started seeking out our crew's streams.
Before we knew it, our weight class had climbed to roughly the same level as the Decrescendo members.
On top of that, through the Best Streamer selection broadcast two days ago, we now held three badges while Decrescendo held two — Elsa and Muyo.
For a Decrescendo fandom that had been riding high, watching the various metrics slowly slip away had to be unnerving.
We're… not actually losing, are we?
In that situation, Decrescendo fans pulled out their last line of defense to lock in a solid counterargument.
It was the single most important metric for any streamer: Candy power.
In a capitalist society, it was a question no one could ignore.
So how much did you make?
Fans who projected themselves onto their streamers puffed up their chests as if those earnings were their own.
In November's virtual Candy donation rankings, Seo-a had been first — but second, fourth, and fifth had all been Decrescendo crew members. In December, thanks to the roulette influence so far, Park Na-na and Baiyo were sitting in first and second.
Faced with that ironclad logic, even V-Live fans had been forced to shut their mouths.
And then, just yesterday!
In a single day, with 214,758 donations received, first place in the December virtual Candy rankings had been ripped away.
Naturally our fans celebrated like a festival had broken out, while Decrescendo fans — their final defensive line shattered — had every reason for their venom to spike.
We've been winning this whole time, and now we lose for the first time?
With that kind of story backdrop, of course the donation war between the two fandoms was as fierce as if they were facing mortal enemies.
I'm proud our crew has grown this much, but… this is really…
I could shrug it off myself, but I was worried about the crew members.
Casual viewers had been increasing lately, and mixed in among them would be the nasty ones who put on a mask and casually needled people in chat while pretending they weren't, plus fans of rival crews who aimed their scopes right out in the open.
How vicious these bastards could get — before the regression, there had even been incidents like this.
Someone with a grudge against a virtual streamer would leave that streamer's broadcast running and record it live the entire time. Then one day the streamer made a slip of the tongue that could become a controversy, realized it, and deleted the VOD — but the material the troll had secured through real-time recording was out of their hands.
A hit piece went up on FM Community, and the streamer had to go through a period of self-reflection.
You might think that was an unusually idle and creepy level of trolling, but looking at the streaming scene, there were plenty of people worse than that.
There's no real way to respond to this kind of thing. You just have to be careful on your own…
In the end, it was something like a streamer's destiny.
The bigger your weight class grew and the more viewers you gained, the more eyes there were watching you — that was something you had to remember.
How many people in the streaming world had swaggered around because they were doing well, only to fall straight into hell?
Day and night: fire safety, mouth safety. Never forget!
"Yeah, eat this."
I'll say it one more time — you really have to watch your mouth.
Friday, December 30th.
It was the day of Pangea TV's year-end awards ceremony, the one that came around every year.
I wasn't bold enough to go head-to-head with this grand festival that every major corporate streamer and mid-tier streamer attended in person without exception.
Round up every crew member without fail!
Today we had decided to watch the year-end awards broadcast together with our viewers.
The official year-end awards broadcast had brought in Choi Min, a comedian-turned-streamer, as the opening host.
We had gathered on Mayo's stream for the purpose of stacking data toward next month's Best Streamer selection.
From the start, everyone had a lot to say — it was noisy.
"Seo-a, I snuck a look at yesterday's stream and something was spinning real hard, huh?"
"Ahem!"
"Mayo snuck a peek too, geosida. That rotten leader made Mayo farm Enders while she spun the roulette herself, geosida. Mayo can't even play solo queue and is seriously pissed, geosida."
"Seo-a, more importantly, what on earth was that stream title yesterday? Hmm? Underboob, high-leg, cat pose from behind — what is that supposed to…"
From the opening bell, the assault over yesterday's karma was sharp.
I desperately twisted my whole body through every dodge I could manage, then finally escaped the situation by promising the crew members Baemin gift certificates.
Hah! Just you wait. You think you're never spinning a roulette for the rest of your lives!?
Even while we bantered back and forth, the year-end awards opening proceeded without a hitch.
A long red carpet had been laid out as if we were watching a scene from a famous film festival, and Choi Min was stepping forward to pull in the famous streamers as they entered for short interviews.
One, two, three… streamers kept appearing with no end in sight.
Wait — were there really this many streamers famous enough to show up at the awards ceremony in person?
Most of them, though, were from StarCraft, cam streams, and visible-radio broadcasting, so there weren't many faces I actually knew.
Well, I'd only started watching streams from 2022, so streamers who weren't tied to virtual were ones I didn't really know.
I was reacting just enough and steering the broadcast mainly through conversation with the crew members when, at last, a streamer we actually recognized appeared.
"Doiru~ Doiru~ At last, a superstar has arrived. Introducing Kim Hak-do, who will be taking on the role of today's reporter."
Kim Hak-do, the major corporate streamer known as the LoL President of Pangea TV.
He'd been active in Rena World recently as well, so he was a fairly familiar face.
Unlike his usual comfortable streaming clothes, Kim Hak-do appeared in a sharply tailored suit fit for an awards ceremony.
The official broadcast chat window started getting spammed with "Doiru."
"Come on, Kim Hak-do — you're one of the strongest contenders for this year's grand prize in 2022. Are you expecting to win?"
"I naturally believe I should win. These days it's not an age of humility — it's an age of self-PR. It's only right that I receive it."
"Ahaha! Your confidence, at least, is rock solid. Hoping for a good result for you. Alright, next person!"
"Huh? That's it for me? Honestly, for a grand prize contender the interview feels way too short."
Kim Hak-do secured his screen time to the very end, then disappeared.
After him, Ssa-yo came walking down the red carpet.
"Hello. I'm Ssa-yo, who does variety game broadcasts on Pangea TV… and who has now taken on the role of president of a virtual idol group. It's truly an honor to be invited to today's year-end awards ceremony."
"Wow! Ssa-yo, you've been really hot lately with the virtual audition. I personally enjoyed it a lot too. The group name was Freeca, if I remember right."
"Oh! Is that so? Thank you so much. Was there a member who left an impression on you?"
"Ah, yes. I… which one was it. The one with the pink hair. Right, ah! I remember. Na-ro-si. Na-ro-si's tone was really nice."
"……."
Ssa-yo, our crew members, and every viewer watching the broadcast — in that single moment, we all shared one heart and one mind.
Kill that bastard!
From the very start, the year-end awards ceremony was heating up hot.