Smurfing

We had taken round two, so we went into a bonus, keeping the guns from the round before. The other team had saved their credits in that second round, which meant they would be walking in this time with the strongest rifles in Project A.

A bonus is usually played with the loss already accepted. The aim is to kill as many of them as you can and drop as many of their guns as possible. Even if we lost, we could still buy rifles and medium shields next round, and every player they lost would come back that much thinner. It was a round to play as safely as we could.

Maybe it was the gap in firepower. All three players holding A died to a single enemy Reyna. For a moment it felt like the pistol round all over again.

In the end the enemy took A clean and planted the bomb. A moment ago there had only been three of them. Now all five ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠owned the site, and the gap in guns was impossible to miss. A light sniper like the Marshal in my hands turns helpless on a retake once the other team already holds the ground, so I gave the round up. When the bomb detonates, everyone inside the radius dies on the spot. Staying alive means getting clear of it.

I told the team what I wanted and pushed into the enemy side of the map, hoping to catch as many of them as I could once the bomb blew and they started to run. I was still waiting on the detonation when our Jett suddenly walked onto the site. She had died the round before, so all she had was a Sheriff and a light shield. Stepping into five rifles like that was a moth flying into a flame.

?

I ignored the whining, scoped in on A Main, and waited. They ought to be coming any second now. And then I saw them: three enemies sprinting in with knives out, completely off guard. Carelessness cost them dearly.

I took both heads in a row, then, before they could trade me, used my C—Dark Step—and blinked onto the spot where the bomb was about to detonate.

Dying to an enemy hands them extra credits and an ult point. I had no reason to save the gun, so killing myself was the best play I had.

I queued up for the next round to the sound of the enemy Jett's glowing review. The game went smoothly.

My brand-new account's first match ended on a blowout. Of course I was MVP, and I picked up three more aces before it was over.

Our little kid couldn't do a thing right up to the end, dropped that one word, and vanished. The match was over, so I checked the chat again.

Every line was from a single person. I had been too locked into the game to notice.

"Huh? I am using a mic."

Something felt off, so I typed into the broadcast chat.

I had wondered if the microphone itself was dead, so I sent the message, and I was right. It was the first time I had ever used a mic at all. I must have set it up wrong.

Until I started high school, my time would be pretty open. It seemed likely enough. If I wanted to grow the channel for real, I would have to show up consistently.

I kept the stream going for a few more hours with an audience of exactly one. And of course I kept answering in chat the whole time.

Yangjeon, the streamer at the center of the controversy, laughed as he scrolled the boards. Most of it was people cursing him out, but that was exactly the situation he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had wanted.

He hadn't started out streaming like this. He had been an ordinary Project A streamer. The scene was an oversaturated red ocean, though, and his channel showed no sign of growing. He held Master on the Korea server without much trouble, but plenty of streamers played Project A better than he did, and plenty more were better talkers. Then, to make a bad stretch worse, players from the Asia server started crossing over, and even the Master rank he had been able to brag about turned shaky. For a change ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of pace, he made an alt and went smurfing.

The viewers reacted better to him smurfing on an alt than they ever had to his main. Watching that reaction, Yangjeon found more and more ways to torment new players. Land a stun and finish them with a knife. Bunny-hop through every bullet they fired just to make fools of them. Kill the same person over and over with nothing but a shotgun. Every time a newbie died, chat had a great time, and Yangjeon, reading that chat, kept at it. The vicious cycle never stopped.

Then a post went up on the boards.

A newbie Yangjeon had crushed had written it. Reading it, he thought:

"I'm screwed..."

He should have kept it moderate. He had crossed the line.

A word no broadcaster can help but fear. Yangjeon falling into it was only a matter of time.

"Huh?"

That was what he had thought. The moment the post went live, his average viewers doubled. Noise marketing. A post pinning him as the smurf streamer had ended up advertising the channel instead. Most of chat was still cursing him, but he decided to turn the mood around and use it.

"What, did I break the terms of service or something?"

And that was how Yangjeon, streamer of smurfs by trade, grew until his broadcast was pushing a thousand average viewers.