Immigration Inspection

“It’s finally up!”

It was late on October 6th, but just as promised, Ssa-yo’s notice for the tentatively named “Wooga-dol Audition” had gone live.

Why “Wooga-dol”? Because one of the nicknames representing Pangea TV was “Uga-uga.” It wasn’t a compliment. Rabbit TV users hostile to Pangea TV had coined it as a slur—Pangea was a primitive continent, and its viewers were natives who grunted “uga-uga.” At first, Pangea TV viewers found the nickname deeply offensive. Later, though, they started using it as self-deprecating comedy, and it became an everyday word they barely flinched at.

This one really left a massive mark.

The Wooga-dol Audition was, without question, a successful piece of content. In the short term it ignited the virtual boom on Pangea TV; in the long term it launched a virtual idol crew that actually made it. Plenty of people still called it a failure, of course—so many scandals and disasters piled up that the final product drifted far from the original model. Even so, I rate it highly. The sheer mental fortitude to endure endless hate and still hold on to the end… and the fact that even in 2025, before my regression, that crew still commanded real recognition and weight among virtuals—calling it a success felt fair enough. Especially when you remembered that most of the finalists had either never streamed before or sat at an average of fewer than thirty viewers.

Hoo… my heart’s racing.

My pulse hammered. Entering the Wooga-dol Audition would be a massive turning point in my streaming life. That wasn’t empty talk. Before the regression, even contestants who didn’t make the final cut but still posted meaningful results carried a premium afterward—labels like “Wooga-dol Round 4 participant” or “final candidate.” Their stream size jumped, and whenever they wanted into collabs or big content later, the name recognition paid real dividends. In short, how I performed in this audition would decide whether I started my civil-service career at Grade 9 or Grade 7.

Starting at Grade 7? Absolutely not settling for less.

Even though it was late, I didn’t put it off. I filled out the audition application on the spot and mailed it. Then I left Lucy a Discord message: the schedule was out, so write your application and transfer already.

After my talk with Blueby I’d secured her cooperation and managed to persuade Lucy. For the past week she’d been practicing streaming as a virtual streamer. I’d helped her steadily in private rooms. Thanks to that, the prep for her transfer was almost finished. All that remained was Lucy’s final decision and timing the move right.

Auditions start on the 15th, so ideally before the 10th at the latest. I need to get her name out a little before then.

I reviewed the plans I’d carefully laid out and logged into FM Community. The Pangea TV board had become a completely different ecosystem from a month ago. In a den without a tiger, the fox is king. With the big-corp streamers’ fans drained off into the StarCraft boards, the V-tukis had filled the vacuum—young fans who’d just discovered virtuals, plus the study-abroad crowd already fluent in virtual culture from hopping between YouTube and Rabbit TV. On top of that, fans of the Rena Universe streamers who’d decided to transfer had piled in, and once the Wooga-dol buzz spilled over to Rabbit TV, dopamine-crazed refugees chasing the audition high flooded in too.

Some users were just wearing V-tuki masks for the bit, but the firepower itself was genuine. The viewer counts made it obvious. Every time Ssa-yo dropped audition details, roughly ten thousand people—about double his usual size—took their seats. When virtual streamers went live, the V-tukis swarmed over and made their presence known with noisy energy. They weren’t just padding numbers either. Because they took virtual seriously, they didn’t skimp on Candy donations either. Solid viewer counts plus heavy donations? That generated even more attention and pulled in new transfers. Then Rabbit TV users followed those transfers over, and the whole thing fed a virtuous cycle that kept expanding Pangea TV’s virtual scene.

No one except me could have imagined this future. Most people had probably thought, “It’ll pop for a bit as a one-off and fizzle.”

That’s why everyone’s wasting this golden window. They don’t even realize what a chance this is.

I searched FM Community meticulously, but thankfully nothing resembling or related to the collab content I’d planned had appeared. I even browsed logged-out through Rena Universe and the transfer streamers’ broadcasts; all of them were just running quiet solo streams.

They all transferred too suddenly. They’re still disoriented and don’t have the bandwidth to prep anything extra.

Collab content naturally draws more attention than solo streams, which means equal risk. If the quality is low or it isn’t fun, your own stream and every participant’s stream hold hands and sink together. So the host carries that much extra pressure. There’s a reason people say “pleasure without responsibility.” Most streamers are happy to join content but reluctant to host it themselves. Expecting polished collab content from virtual streamers who’d only just transferred was probably unrealistic from the start.

Knowing the future is broken like this. You can prepare in advance.

While the transfers were still thrashing around trying to adapt to the sudden environment change, I would surge ahead in one go. That was the ambition I’d carried since late ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠September while building this content. And as a bonus, the format was perfect for bringing Lucy along too.

The next morning, an early-rising Lucy sent a Discord reply. She could transfer starting October 9th. Saturday the 8th would have been nicer, but Sunday wasn’t bad either.

“Then let’s lock in the 9th at 2 p.m. I’m planning to wrap the content in about two hours, so the moment it ends you fire up your transfer debut stream. I’ll drive the aggro hard for you, so don’t tense up—just do well. This is a real opportunity.”

“……Okay. Got it. I’ll prep hard.”

To ready Lucy for her first transfer stream I shared the PPT and materials I’d used for my own debut, holding nothing back. My aggressive help must have gotten through to her; between the private-room practice and everything else, she really threw herself into the prep. She was younger than me… well, actually older, but still. Being on the receiving end of one-sided help seemed to leave her with both a sense of debt and a sense of responsibility. A good reaction. Lucy was fundamentally low on ambition and easygoing by nature, but she still handled what she had to do properly. She never wanted to inconvenience others because of something she herself had failed to do.

Lucy’s ready, so I should write the notice too. One person alone would leave the sound thin and make the content look sparse. Better to run it as three including me…

I posted a notice to recruit one more virtual streamer for the collab.

Right before the audition, I was prepping one big hit.