When you do broadcasts, your temper tends to get worse.
It’s something that anyone with a decent amount of experience as a streamer or BJ would nod along to and somewhat relate to.
Back when I just started, communicating about trivial topics and spotting familiar faces in the chat while also receiving donations here and there was just so much fun. In the early days, facing a new world like that was exhilarating. But somehow, as time passed, those positive feelings faded, replaced by a growing disgust for humanity.
Why is the world like this? Why is this person so angry? I just can’t understand these people.
Internet broadcasting isn’t bound by the constraints of time and space. You can turn on the broadcast whenever you want and shut it off whenever you want.
The same goes for space. No matter where you’re broadcasting from, whether it’s the countryside, the metropolitan area, domestically, or overseas, all sorts of people can gather.
This is a strength, but it can also be a weakness.
It’s a double-edged sword. The more people there are, the higher the ratio of those with abnormal mindsets, the so-called idiots.
Especially since internet broadcasts tend to attract jobless folks or internet ghosts, the density of these behaviors becomes even thicker and can feel pretty creepy.
Because of this, as you broadcast, you eventually find yourself operating mechanically, devoid of that initial passionate spirit.
It’s no wonder people say streamers lose their original intentions. The environment is just perfect for evaporating your initial enthusiasm.
There might be a bit of exaggeration, but it’s true that one’s perspective on humanity changes over time.
It’s basically the same when dealing with people. It usually starts with call center operators, then public servants handling complaints, and teachers burdened by pushy parents.
This is the pain of the service industry. You laugh because of people, and you cry because of them. Because of this professional trait, someone who gets badly burned once declares they’ll never face people again.
Haryeong, a streamer on Twitch, has also recently been mired in similar thoughts.
“Should I quit broadcasting?”
This has been popping into my head more frequently lately. Looking at the flood of chat messages, occasionally seeing the donations come through, my mind just goes blank.
When I look at the donations, my mind goes blank.
All I feel is a strong desire to just run away. I’ve actually ended broadcasts on impulse many times. Then I put up a fake apology saying I suddenly felt unwell…
But why has this happened? It surely wasn’t like this in the past.
Haryeong captured viewers with her pretty looks, pleasant voice, and decent gaming skills.
The viewers who were drawn in enjoyed the cheerful broadcasts, chatting and bantering with Haryeong.
But everything changed when Haryeong’s streams unexpectedly blew up and she started being called the top streamer on Twich.
To be precise, it all changed when a supernova streamer named Kayak appeared.
At first, I didn’t think much of it. Haryeong wasn’t the type to be overly ambitious about streaming. She appreciated the success, but whether she had many or few viewers, it didn’t really matter to her.
However, as the influx of viewers Haryeong had began to drift away due to Kayak’s arrival, the situation flipped.
More and more people started comparing Haryeong to Kayak, sneering and mocking her.
The so-called top streamer on Twich seemed to crumble with Kayak’s clear advantage over her. Why watch Haryeong when Kayak’s the real deal? Haryeong’s stream was barely worth as much as a waiting room for Kayak.
Such comments circulated in the community, and during live broadcasts, more people began to subtly pick at Haryeong.
If it were Kayak, they’d have handled it differently. Kayak turned on the camera, while this stream hasn’t.
For Haryeong, it was her first experience with the malice and toxicity of humans. It would be better if they just openly cursed at her rather than acting so petty.
As I became more furious at the insidious comments, reactions followed suggesting I was just being sensitive or that they hit a nerve.
Haryeong felt completely lost. When did my streams become like this? It wasn’t like this before.
Even though there were only half the viewers and consequently half the income back then, I can say I was happier streaming back then.
Now, it feels less like broadcasting and more like being treated as an emotional garbage can. Even a thousand-won donation, meant as support, feels exceedingly unwelcome.
Before I knew it, the entire atmosphere of the broadcast had radically changed. Haryeong had no idea where to even begin fixing it all.
I had no clue.
A long-time subscriber who thinks the scratching chat and donations are just a game? Those social misfits who don’t know their lines? The community that terrorizes her every time she goes live?
Honestly, she should have taken a tough stance from the start. Initial responses are the most crucial in any situation. Like cancer cells spreading, her broadcasts that missed the treatment window have become grotesquely sick.
Haryeong wanted to grab the old version of herself, who used to have a flower garden in her head, and shake her by the collar.
Of course, she knew there were still people who liked and supported her.
Among the weird daily emails filled with sexual harassment, coaching for her broadcasts, and attempts to create rifts with other streamers, there were still emails from genuine fans worrying about her.
She knows, she knows, but…
“It’s just too hard.”
She’s utterly exhausted now.
She felt like she could no longer enjoy talking and broadcasting with people like she used to.
Haryeong ultimately made her decision.
Today, she would go live one last time to say she’s quitting.
[Haha (means Haryeong)]
[Please leave a broadcast notice! Haha, I almost missed it!]
[Is everything okay lately? I’m worried ㅠㅠ]
[The one and only Haryeong has arrived ㄷㄷ]
[You came early!]
Even those seemingly fine chats couldn’t be taken at face value anymore.
After realizing that even the community that dislikes her enters the broadcast wearing a mask, she felt like a paranoid person, needing to suspect every single message from the viewers.
Haryeong just wanted to feel at ease as soon as possible. She wanted to cut this tether that connected her to her viewers.
“Um…”
But despite her resolved decision to quit, once she turned on the broadcast, the words just wouldn’t come out.
It had been a few years of steady broadcasting. She started casually, as a hobby, but now it was something she couldn’t detach from her life.
It wasn’t something she could just slice away in an instant.
[Finally talking!]
[Is the mic off?]
[Haryeong, aren’t you doing VR? Kayak was having fun last time.]
Just as Haryeong hesitated and the usual chats started popping up on screen.
[Kayak donated 100,000 won!]
-Stop being unlikable!
Suddenly, a huge donation came flying in.
With Kayak’s name attached.
For Haryeong, who was seriously contemplating her broadcasting situation, it was utterly shocking.
Haryeong, who was deep in thought, found herself utterly flustered.
“Kayak…?”
[100% a fake, lol]
[What if they really bring Kayak here after all that Kayak talk?]
[Why is Kayak even watching this broadcast?]
The viewers’ reactions were rather cold. There was a vibe of confidence that the person who sent the donation was not Kayak.
This was because on Twitch, anyone could set a different name when sending a donation.
Haryeong, like the viewers, didn’t really think the donor was Kayak either.
But just in case, she checked the Twitch account of the person who sent the donation using her streamer powers.
What appeared next was astonishing.
“Is it really Kayak?!”
The linked account had a profile picture of Camilla and a record showing broadcasts just up until the day before.
This meant the one who donated was the real Kayak.
[What the…?]
[This is wild.]
[Big-name Kayak making waves from public broadcasting to Haryeong’s stream, whoa!]
Haryeong’s mind started whirring.
Why did Kayak donate during her stream? Had she been watching all along? Stop being so unlikable? What did it mean?
Haryeong’s questions were answered by Kayak’s next donation.
[Kayak donated 100,000 won!]
– “Please don’t keep bringing up my name in Haryeong’s room or I’ll be mad!”
[?? Did something happen?]
[Looks like it’s because of the person spamming ‘Kayak’ in the chat.]
[Anyone would feel uncomfortable having their name brought up continually.]
[But was it serious enough to say it in a donation?]
Among the viewers, the prevailing notion was that Kayak seemed sensitive and was overreacting. Considering the situation, it made sense. A random streamer barged into a broadcast they were enjoying, asking to stop talking about themselves out of the blue.
“….”
However, from Haryeong’s perspective, who was constantly being tormented by Kayak’s name, it felt different.
Kayak coming to her stream and donating like that didn’t feel rude or burdensome; it felt as if she was seeing right through Haryeong’s heart and comforting her.
Haryeong shifted her original thoughts and spoke differently.
“…Since the person involved, Kayak, has said that, I’ll ban any random mentions of Kayak from now on. It’s disrespectful to her too.”
Somehow, she felt like she could stream just a bit longer.
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