Chapter 376
[No, is this really the right thing to do?]
==
Out of all these booths, are you seriously giving up the short line at the central booth just to brave the low odds of seeing him once? LOL
There’s no way you’d actually run into him, logically speaking.
Even if you did, you’d only see him once and that’d be it.
Is this fandom short on brains?
==
-That’s what it means to be a fan, you little shit.
└Kya!
└The smartest fandom in history!
-They came here to hang out with the streamer in the first place. This counts as hanging out too.
└For real lol. Going to an indie booth, shouting, “Hey, you too?” at people, and getting “Yeah, me too” in response is freaking hilariousㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
-Short on brains, my ass. You think I came here to see the streamers at the central booth?
└For real lol
└For real lol
└For real lol
└For real lol
The second day of T-Star.
An unexpected turn occurred right from the start.
After Seojun announced that he would be visiting other booths, people immediately headed over to his booth to buy merchandise and then dispersed, just for a chance to see him even once.
[Even so, they all bought the merch with the streamer’s autograph first. They’re relentless.]
==
ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ They really are relentless.
==
- Ahㅋㅋ How could anyone resist an autograph more precise than a machine’s?
└That makes it even more valuable.
└For real. I can’t let the “Terrifying Story No. 37: The Autograph Machine” thing go.
-There’s plenty of time!
There wasn’t a single Seojun fan willing to give up merchandise that was being called a real-life Terrifying Story.
Someone had even commissioned an appraisal to determine whether the autographs on Seojun’s merchandise were machine-made or handwritten.
Of course, the person who had taken the lead had done it for fun, but many people seriously believed the autographs were machine-made.
If the appraisal revealed that they were handwritten, the merchandise would become even more valuable.
They hadn’t said that sales would continue indefinitely, either, so the entire supply available at T-Star might be all there was.
Naturally, not a single one of Seojun’s fans was willing to give up the merchandise.
Likewise.
There wasn’t a single fan willing to give up the chance to see Seojun one more time.
[Then why the hell did you guys come here?]
==
Did you really come here thinking, “It’d be nice if I could see him even once”?
==
-Yeah.
-You know us well.
-No, our streamer’s in last place! How are we supposed to sit this one out?!
└For real lol. We came to vote.
└We came to see the streamer with minus three thousand votesㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ Like visiting a son who got himself into troubleㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
-Even if he just stood at the booth all day, I’d be willing to stay there the entire time.
└That’s a bit muchㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
-I came to prove that the streamer is Kael himself.
└There were an awful lot of people cosplaying the same thing.
And that was how the tide turned.
A sense of solidarity was the feeling of being connected to one another within a group.
People didn’t participate in activities specifically to experience that solidarity.
But when placed in a situation where they could feel it, people became happy.
Their emotions were stirred, they felt a powerful sense of belonging, and they banded together.
Seojun’s fans were currently feeling that solidarity intensely, and on top of that—
[The indie game booths are actually hidden gems, aren’t they?]
==
No, they’re pretty fun.
And you’re saying there’s a slim chance of seeing the streamer while doing this?
That’s amazing.
==
-By Korean game standards, it’s not really a slim chance.
└You’re saying there’s a generous chance of seeing the streamer?
└You crazy bastardsㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
It was a slim chance.
But if they went to a booth run by a major game company, the chance was zero.
There wasn’t all that much difference in the actual entertainment value of the large and small booths.
The large booths were simply operated on a larger scale because they belonged to famous, well-known game companies and featured famous, well-known streamers, drawing in more people.
What the small booths needed, then, was word-of-mouth that they were fun.
An incentive that would make people want to seek them out.
And that incentive had just been provided.
[There are plenty of fun things besides the indie game booths, you know?]
==
(A photo of a person’s face poking through a hole in a vertically standing wooden board)
This is freaking fun.
==
-The water-balloon-throwing booth is hilariousㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
-If the streamer shows up here, it’ll be legendaryㅋㅋㅋ
For the operators of the large booths, this was a bewildering development.
They couldn’t fail to notice the trend of T-Star itself suddenly scattering people across the venue.
Naturally, there was a limit to the amount of attention visitors could give.
It was a zero-sum game.
With the number of participants increasing, they should have been able to expect an even greater promotional effect—but an utterly unexpected competitor had appeared.
The small booths.
This wasn’t about the voting.
Even if Seojun had scattered people’s attention because of the vote—
“What the hell!”
Producer Kim felt a sense of crisis at the back of the event hall.
If they let in the next group of people, the waiting line would disappear.
That had never happened before.
The other large booths were in no better shape.
Even though they kept promoting on the community boards that the large booths had no waiting lines—
People’s attention continued to turn elsewhere.
Even if Seojun had a huge number of fans, they made up only about half the visitors.
The fact that the waiting lines had disappeared nonetheless meant that a popular trend had formed, one capable of pulling in the other half as well.
That was the worst possible outcome.
Producer Kim paced a short distance back and forth anxiously before making a phone call.
“Yes, Commissioner. Shouldn’t we stop the advertising? It makes no sense for someone who came here with a booth to receive this many offers. This is ridiculous.”
The moment the call connected, Producer Kim fired off his words like a machine gun, then took a deep breath.
Seojun’s greatest problem, in the end, was that he had created a trend around the small booths, but there was no way to pick a fight over that.
So he had immediately brought up an issue he could latch onto.
Of course, there was no way the event commissioner didn’t already know about it.
[Producer, I’ve been saying the same thing, but they say it can’t be stopped because there’s no regulation against it. We were in an emergency meeting until just now.]
“What did they say?”
[Whether or not they accept promotional offers and advertise them is entirely up to the streamers. If controversy arises, it’s the streamer’s responsibility. That’s all.]
Producer Kim considered the possibility of controversy arising.
But there was no viewer with enough solidarity toward a major game company to raise an objection.
‘To make an issue of the advertising itself…’
Their image was too positively negative.
It was a bad image, but in this case, that was a good thing.
It was troublesome in every way.
All he could do was hope that once the advertising ended, the spark of the trend would die out.
Then Seojun’s advertising slot arrived.
Seojun’s stream began in front of a booth, and the lucky attendees let out thrilled cheers.
When the odds were low, the human brain naturally secreted larger amounts of dopamine.
Seojun came out to the booth, listened to the explanation, hosted the stream, and returned to his capsule.
Then he started the game.
That was all.
It was a simple shooting-game challenge.
Displaying excellent aim, Seojun easily broke the highest score and announced that the advertisement was over.
-How much did you get paid for this?ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
-If you got a hundred million won, go dieㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
-What’s the going rate?
-The effect seems damn good. There’s already a line forming at that booth.
But the effect was indeed impressive.
Before long, a waiting line had formed at the booth, nearly as long as the one at the central booth, made up of challengers determined to beat Seojun’s record.
Seojun returned to the waiting room, while Producer Kim racked his brain for a way to turn the situation around.
But then a donation rang out on Seojun’s stream.
[‘King of Robbing Bricks from Stone Walls’ donated 200,000 won!]
[You think the streamer’s going to do just one advertisement and call it a day?ㅋㅋㅋㅋ]
It made him clutch the back of his neck.
“Who is this?!”
* * *
[You think the streamer’s going to do just one advertisement and call it a day?ㅋㅋㅋㅋ]
“Minus votes? For our boss?”
How dare they?
Of course, Seojun had willingly brought those minus votes upon himself, but Lee Geon-young cleanly forgot such an inconvenient fact and became outraged on behalf of the world.
Drawing on his past experience as an internet phantom, Lee Geon-young sent the donation most capable of stoking the flames in the current situation.
Some viewers even asked whether the real editor had sent it, but donation messages from the King of Robbing Bricks from Stone Walls appeared fairly often.
In other words, there were plenty of impersonators. And this was an impersonation of one of those impersonators.
In any case, Seojun was the only one who could verify it.
At any rate—
“Hahahahaha!”
“What are you doing? Hurry up and demonstrate it.”
Another editor, Han Jimin, looked at him from the side as if he were pathetic.
“Big sis, there’s no need to worry! Rise will take care of everything!”
Thanks to his donation, people would continue wandering around the small booths.
It was fine.
Where else would the people enjoying themselves as they toured the small booths in hopes of seeing Seojun cast their votes?
Even if they truly liked a booth and cast a betrayal vote, that was fine.
The trend created by the vast majority of ordinary people was more important.
Above all, the game companies that had realized the situation thanks to that donation would begin moving quickly.
Just as he had predicted, ten minutes later—
[Well, everyone? I’ll be back in a little while.]
-ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ Are game-company contracts suddenly raining down on you?
-I’d recruit you too, if I were them.
-If you know it works, you’ve got to run over right awayㅋㅋ
-If it’s the streamer, the contracts are probably already signed. Don’t slander him.
-Don’t slander people like thatㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
Seojun ended the stream.
The thing people who lived on the internet were usually best at was this.
Trolling.
There was a reason Seojun’s personality was so well suited to Travel, the streaming world.
Lee Geon-young’s original nickname had been King of Robbing Bricks from Public Restroom Walls.
“This is it!”
So he, too, had excellent stock.
* * *
As Lee Geon-young had predicted, his donation immediately got the indie game companies that had been hesitating to take action.
But there were several obstacles.
The on-site staff had to contact the person in charge.
They had to adjust the conditions, and even finding a printer was a chore.
After printing out the contracts and then making their way to Seojun’s waiting room, it should have taken at least two hours even if they began preparing immediately.
“Oh.”
Yet there were people who had completed the entire process just ten minutes after the donation rang out.
No, not just one person—people.
If they had started preparing right after Seojun announced his advertisement, about two hours should have passed by then, so they had worked quickly.
Perhaps they had been ready even sooner, but had hesitated while watching the situation and only come now because of the donation.
‘The other game companies must have a fire under their feet by now.’
Seojun opened the door and stepped into the hallway, surveying the people gathered there.
‘Five people already prepared? That’s a lot.’
Just as he thought that should be enough for today, he heard the sound of a huge crowd running down the hallway.
“Hmm?”
Seojun turned his head.
The five people who had been waiting for him to say something also turned around.
Three people came running toward them amid a rising murmur.
“Hello!”
They were employees of small game companies who had likewise brought contracts.
The important thing was that the footsteps echoing through the hallway still hadn’t stopped.
A question mark popped up over Seojun’s head.
“Hmm?”
When he let one question mark appear, four more people joined them.
“Huh?”
This time, three people.
“……?”
After waiting a little longer, five more joined the group.
Seojun was bewildered.
Before he knew it, more than twenty people had gathered in front of his waiting room.
“No way…”
Had they all begun preparing the moment they heard that he would be advertising for them?
Seriously?
Was this really happening?