If You Want to Stream Without a Manager, Don't Speak

If you want to stream without a manager, don't speak. [Lene] [Hello] [Talk | 1,876 viewers | 00:21:39]

Fifty remaining followers. Even after cutting the number down, fifty was by no means a small group. Since I'd already decided to hire a manager, I wanted the best possible person for the job. But with this many applicants, it was impossible to talk with each one individually and get a real sense of who they were. More accurately, it would simply take far too long.

So how could I narrow these fifty people down even further? The answer had already been decided the moment I chose the fifty.

"First… I'm planning to hire about five managers in total. Even so, having a conversation with all fifty of you one by one isn't exactly easy, right…? I'd get exhausted, and so would all of you watching… and it would take an absurd amount of time…."

More than anything—

"Just talking for a few minutes wouldn't really tell me what kind of people you are…."

"So… I'm going to select the managers based purely on skill…."

"W-what are unpaid slaves…?"

Obviously, choosing a manager was directly tied to the future of my stream, so I had no intention of picking them the same way I used to recruit unpaid slaves—no, the same way I used to pick the top posts on Lema Gallery. Back then, almost no one watched my stream and almost no one used Lema Gallery, which was why I could afford to pick so carelessly. I knew that the people who watched that kind of stream were the ones who genuinely liked it.

But the scale now was completely different from back then. Of course, I wanted to believe everyone was a good person… but there was no way to know what kind of people might be mixed in. So I decided to first pick people whose usernames I recognized, check what kind of chat they'd been posting to set up at least a basic filter, and then test their actual skill before having a proper conversation.

"I just sent the link… so please join the Mistcord server I made…."

The moment I said that, all fifty followers gathered in the server at once.

Followers who hadn't applied or had already been eliminated sent those questions. Explaining it one by one would take too long—showing them would be much faster and clearer.

"Then, starting now, this is what you'll be doing…."

I launched a website as I spoke.

A manager's job was to keep the stream chat clean. They had to delete unpleasant or offensive messages before anyone else could see them, preserving the atmosphere. In other words, they needed to check the chat faster than anyone and remove anything that crossed the line.

So who would be good at that kind of work? Obviously, someone with fast reaction speed. Which meant this test was probably the best way to measure a manager's ability.

"This is actually my first time doing this too…."

According to the instructions, the test was simple:

1. Click the gray circle in the center of the site to start.

2. The gray circle turns red.

3. Within ten seconds, the red circle turns green.

4. Click as fast as possible the moment it turns green.

5. The green circle turns red again.

Repeat steps 3–5 five times total. The average time it takes to click the green circle is your reaction speed.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

Only the sound of the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mouse clicking echoed quietly through the silence. And then the result appeared.

"This should be good enough…."

At first glance, the number of stars made it look impressive, but I couldn't be sure. Maybe fewer stars were actually better.

"Eh?"

★ [Lene] [Hello] [Talk | 1,951 viewers | 00:49:51]

According to what I heard, my result was higher than the human maximum. I never expected people to ask what I was even hoping for from a mere chat-moderating manager. Still, I figured those comments were probably exaggerations. There were also messages saying the numbers weren't completely reliable because ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of site-to-site variance.

"I'm going to keep the ten fastest people… You'll each get two chances…. Starting with the person I call, please turn on screen sharing and take the test. LowMars, you're first…."

Thus began the manager aptitude test.

Not a single person even came close to my record of 107ms, let alone broke into the 100ms range. Thanks to that, the chat was… well, it was holding some kind of festival. They kept teasing me, calling me a beast over and over and over…

What? I was just trying to hire a chat manager, and now everything was turning into an even bigger mess. What exactly had I done wrong?

Eventually, all fifty reaction speed tests were finished, and the chat was still calling me a beast. …No matter how I looked at it, this was slander. They had clearly deliberately posted lower scores just to tease me. But I refused to yield to such slander and bullying.

"Then the top ten, please stay, and the rest of you followers can leave…."

The moment I tried to kick everyone except the top ten—

"…Huh."

Messages started appearing in the Mistcord server.

"Ah?"

I tried to do something about the people who posted those messages, but they had already left the server.

After all, I could always take action on Mistcord and on stream. So why were they doing this? The thought crossed my mind for a moment, but that wasn't the real issue. If they had cursed or crossed a line, it would've been easier to respond. Most of my chat had been like that until now.

But the atmosphere was completely different from the usual chat. Messages saying they enjoyed my stream, messages openly saying they liked me—completely different from the teasing and insults I'd been getting…

"Huu…."

Looking at them, for some reason my face felt hot. I felt embarrassed.

In my entire life, I had never heard someone express affection toward me so directly. In my previous life, my parents had treated me like a tool. The people I met through work had never contacted me privately. In that other world, being alone had been normal. Now I at least had Bora, but the affection she showed me felt completely different from what these people were sending.

My body felt strangely itchy, and I felt good, but also embarrassed. I didn't know what to say.

"Th-thank you, everyone…."

In the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠end, that was all I could manage to say.