Full CG, Secret PPL, and a Gatling Gun
Today was the first day of shooting, but none of it involved me.
A rather important solo shoot for Cheon Yua was waiting for us.
Our drama was, for a drama, unusually relaxed in its filming schedule. It hadn't been assigned a broadcast slot yet, and most of it was slated to be pre-produced. With all the CG involved, anything other than pre-production would have been hopeless. The CG demanded a staggering amount of post-production work, and steampunk without CG simply couldn't exist in the first place.
"So that's why Director Bang is so pissed off?"
The schedule was already roomy, and on top of that he'd been asked to rearrange things separately — and to make matters worse, it had come across as we have nothing to lose, so if you're not going to use it, just scrap it. Even a milquetoast like Director Bang had plenty of reason to blow his top.
"Hm? You don't have any filming today, Siwoo."
"Right. I thought I'd at least come watch how it's done."
"Oh? Really? Good idea."
As I mentioned, today was a no-filming day for me. Still, I'd decided to head to the set alongside Cheon Yua, for two reasons.
One, I was curious how a shoot like today's — destined to be smothered entirely in CG — actually proceeded. And two, I wanted to calm down Cheon Yua, who seemed fairly heated about the whole thing.
That second one was especially important.
Whenever an angry Heavenly Demon was left alone, there was a 99.999 percent chance she'd cause an incident; with someone nearby, the frequency dropped considerably. Of course, Cheon Yua wasn't the Heavenly Demon, but she seemed to be the type to quietly stew, so someone had to stand beside her and ply her with attention.
And the only person equal to that difficult task was yours truly, master of the Heavenly Demon herself. Not many people could pull off the high-level skill of coddling someone without ever letting it show.
"What's life for, anyway. You do what you gotta do."
For an investor who'd poured hundreds of billions of won into the drama, I figured this much service was simply standard. And no, this wasn't occupational disease flaring up again.
The scene Cheon Yua was filming today was essentially the drama's opening: Violet leaving America after receiving a commission to travel to Joseon. Watching the whole series through, it was one of the most important scenes, because it was the single scene best suited to showcasing steampunk — this drama's entire identity.
According to the drama's setting, Joseon was a land where steam engines had spread late, a country where steam civilization hadn't yet properly bloomed. If Joseon of all places had a steam civilization more advanced than Europe or America, that would be an egregious historical blunder.
Of course, we planned to layer all sorts of steam-age contraptions over the late Joseon sets, but that alone couldn't help falling short of delivering that overwhelming, jaw-dropping sensation. America in the drama's world, on the other hand, was the most advanced nation of steam engineering — practically a holy land of steampunk. Which meant the perfect image for proving we are steampunk! from the very first scene was footage of Cheon Yua — that is, Violet — departing America for Korea. Even just a handful of shots depicting New York, the mecca of steam civilization, would make it unmistakably clear to viewers what we were.
"It'll be slathered in CG, and that means a long post-production grind. That's exactly why it has to be shot first."
The set we'd be visiting today was Dream Metaverse Studio — one of the few large-scale CG production studios in Korea, optimized from the ground up for shooting full-CG footage. I'd never filmed anywhere like it, so even out of sheer curiosity I couldn't have kept myself from trailing after Cheon Yua. I'd heard that CG shoots were actually simpler and more deflating than regular ones, but I wanted to confirm that with my own eyes.
The moment we arrived at the set, everyone was in full swing with preparations. Cheon Yua, naturally, would receive her own care in a separate area and emerge when ready.
This is a digression, but when an actress of Cheon Yua's caliber headlines a drama, all manner of PPL requests come flooding in. This drama, however, was steampunk through and through, and the setting was so ambiguous that product placement was impossible. From the writer's standpoint, no PPL meant easier writing; from the investor's standpoint, it meant mounting costs — hardly welcome news.
Granted, Cheon Yua was less a pure investor than an actress appearing in the production herself, so she'd sooner pour in more money than let brand integration ruin the artistic integrity.
The reason I bring all this up: the only PPL that made it into this production was Cheon Yua's costume. The Violet outfit she was about to come out wearing, that is.
"This is Violet."
"...Oh. Wow, that's something."
"Right?"
True to her name, a violet-colored leather top and a cowboy hat. Two thick leather belts crossed at her hips. Holsters for revolvers strapped on either side. And to finish it off — very, very short leather hot pants and a pair of trim leather walkers. Thus was the Violet costume complete.
This is purely my personal take, but it leaned a touch fantasy while capturing the steampunk aesthetic wonderfully.
"So which parts are the PPL?"
"Ah, the top, the belt, and the shoes."
"Hmm... that top doesn't seem like something that would actually sell."
"It's a reworked piece. As long as it keeps the vibe, they said it's fine. You just detach the ornament at the collar and it reads as a women's blazer."
"...Is that so."
The purple leather top with its considerable rework, the vintage-style belt, and finally the leather walkers — supposedly the sole PPL in this entire drama. To my eye, they looked like items the average person couldn't pull off. And on top of that, every single one of them appeared to be luxury goods. Buy them just imitating Cheon Yua's look, and you'd be returning them on the spot or wearing them once before banishing them to the closet.
Wasn't this a kind of fraud too? Not that we bore any responsibility for it, of course.
"Then I'm off to shoot."
Cheon Yua, steampunk splendor at full display, entered the studio at Director Bang's direction. The first scene to be filmed: a thoroughly exasperated Violet confronting 'Scarlett,' a director of the Arcane Goldberg Company, and ultimately departing for Joseon. The very beginning of the drama.
"Rolling now. Scene 1-1-1. Go!"
"Ha, what gold mine? In some backwater country nobody can even find on a map? Keep handing me jobs like this and I'm going to get upset. I'm Violet, you know! Violet, the finest female private detective in Pinkerton!"
An office on a high floor of a skyscraper, where layered airships drifted past the window. Twice already Violet had accepted commissions to travel abroad only to come back empty-handed, and now she confronted her employer Scarlett in a thoroughly worked-up state.
But Scarlett, who had never once shown Violet a crack in her composure, deflected her with effortless smoothness.
"Of course, Violet. The pride of Pinkerton, our reliable Violet. It's because it's you that I can entrust you with a job like this."
"Ha, so could you at least give me a proper—"
"No, no. This one's the real deal. Sacramento was a joke — this is a genuine gold mine. I'm giving it to you because I trust you. You know there's a bonus in it for you."
Despite Scarlett's silky pleading, Violet's expression refused to soften. She'd already been burned twice by the same song and dance. The last commission and the one before that — she'd taken Scarlett at her word and swept through Mexico and the Russian Empire for nothing. And this time it was somewhere even farther than the Russian Empire — a tiny country in the East. By now, even the simple-minded Violet found it hard to believe a word Scarlett said.
"No, no — this time it's real. The Joseon imperial family guaranteed it. However small the country, it's still an imperial house."
"...A real imperial family?"
A rotten fish is still a fish — and an imperial family was an imperial family. She had no idea where this country called Joseon was even located, but a gold mine guaranteed by royalty was believable enough, Violet reasoned. Of course, the misunderstanding was only possible because she didn't know Joseon's imperial house had been an empty shell for ages.
"Okay. I'll take this one."
"Good. Violet, then — the Unsan Gold Mine in Joseon. I'm counting on you to investigate the place. I believe in you completely."
With a winsome smile, Violet strode out of the office. And the moment she was gone, Scarlett, who had seen her off with a grin, let out a long sigh and shook her head.
"Fucking Ruin Maker. Just a few years, I'm begging you — stay out of my sight, you demon. Just drop dead already."
Violet was famous in the industry for handling her jobs with excessive toughness and brutality. Violet was her code name, but in truth she was better known by the nickname Ruin Maker — because wherever she passed, only ruins remained. Even Scarlett, the next head of the Arcane Goldberg Company, couldn't afford to tangle with a walking bomb like Violet. Terminating her contract was unthinkable too — someone else might hire her and turn their operations into a scorched field. Better to post her as far away as possible and pray she caused no incidents than to touch her carelessly and bleed for it.
"Joseon? Where the hell even is that? A gold mine, my ass."
Having disposed of the matter, Scarlett hummed a little tune as she reviewed her paperwork, comforted by the fact that she wouldn't have to see Violet again for at least two years.
"Okay."
The take passed on the first try. There'd be additional shots from a few more angles, but the most crucial part had been wrapped up cleanly. Even to my eye, it was a tidy performance.
Cheon Yua's greatest charm was her refined, aristocratic aloofness — but the moment she played Violet, all of it vanished, leaving behind nothing but the simple, rough-edged Pinkerton detective. Well, for an actress of her caliber, that was only natural.
"...Wait. Why is Sally over there?"
"Ah, Sally? She picks up side gigs now and then when she's needed."
"...Side gigs?"
But what floored me more than anything was that Scarlett — Violet's scene partner — was played by Sally, our company's poolside-swimsuit-clad guard. I mean, why is she over there doing that?
"We do have foreign extras, but their emotional range felt a bit shaky to use as her double."
"Ah, well, that..."
"She did well, didn't she?"
"Exactly. Why did she do well?"
Come to think of it, Sally's acting had been surprisingly natural. Especially the scene where she sends Violet off and sighs like the whole thing disgusts her — that was strangely convincing. What was this... "living-room acting"?
Apparently, trailing around after Cheon Yua all these years, Sally had absorbed acting through osmosis.
"Sally really is something — I picked a winner."
"Ah, Writer Yang, you..."
Now that I looked at it, the picture was clear: they'd needed a foreign bit part, taken applications from among the guards, and Yang Yuri had judged the auditions herself. Honestly, the company seemed to self-supply every conceivable thing under the sun.
"So it's finally time to break this out."
While I stood marveling at Flame Entertainment's astonishing self-sufficiency, Cheon Yua had drifted off to another corner to check the props. And inside the enormous case she drew out with a meaningful smile on her lips — a rather imposing Gatling gun with a barrel over a meter long was waiting for us.
"...That's a prop?"
"Yep. It actually fires. Toy rounds, of course."
"Oh..."
Da-da-da-da-da-da!
"Whoa!?? Hold on — this is not just some toy!"
What kind of toy has this much firepower? And it weighs a ton, doesn't it?
"The collector of collectors, after all, is always the weapons geek. I ordered it custom."
Good heavens. So she secretly likes this kind of thing.
And the clean, all-black paint job — that was pure Cheon Yua style, anyone could see it. Don't tell me... if this woman gets annoyed, she won't actually start spraying the Gatling gun wildly, will she?
I could only pray that this world's Cheon Yua had a little more self-restraint than the Heavenly Demon — that she wouldn't start blazing away at everything in sight just because she was in a mood.