"Ah, dammit!"
At one end of the sofa, Xiao Qi slumped back. He had seen Brother Gu's and Brother Xie's player IDs flash by several times—how did it end up picking this guy!
"De Yuechen probably doesn't even know what this is about," Xie Huai laughed heartily. "Bet he looked completely bewildered when he got the reinforcement prompt."
"Brother Xie, how can you still laugh about this?" Xiao Qi's curly bangs were practically covering his eyes, clearly disapproving of Xie Huai's attitude.
Xie Huai shrugged.
"De Yuechen doesn't care about dungeons like this."
He'd crossed paths with De Yuechen in a few dungeons before. Based on his shallow understanding of the man, something like lending a helping hand was impossible for De Yuechen.
Even if someone died right in front of him, the guy probably wouldn't even blink.
"Better pray for yourself."
As he said this, Xie Huai threw another 66 sponsorship points at the little streamer from his own district, just as a token of his feelings.
It was then that Ge Baiyuan asked: "What item does he want by starting the stream?"
“Are you going to sponsor him?” As soon as Ge Baiyuan spoke, Gu Heng chimed in. “Better not. It might encourage bad practices. Old Xie has already sponsored over 500 points, hasn’t he? That’s more than enough for a stranger—he’s already gone above and beyond. It’s just his own bad luck, getting assigned an S-rank.”
The atmosphere in game livestreams really has been getting worse lately. It’s all because points are hard to come by—and sometimes too easy. That’s why livestreams of some dungeons have become more and more distorted.
Back in the early days, dungeon livestreams were still about providing outside players with more information, or properly exchanging tips and assistance.
As soon as Gu Heng finished, Xiao Qi was the first to object.
“Brother Gu, you’ve changed your tune fast. What did you say back when I called out those people clowning in the chat?”
Just here for the laughs!
Xiao Qi felt his Brother Gu had suddenly become contradictory.
“I don’t see a problem,” Xie Huai said, still cheerful. “I’m also curious what item he wants.”
But before any of them could act, someone in Shi’s livestream beat them to it.
The player’s in-game tag looked somewhat familiar.
And seeing the request made in that comment…
The group in the villa couldn’t help but feel:
As expected, this game of ours—it’s just like this!
In Shi’s livestream, a tag marked with an S-rank player symbol sent a comment:
[How many points do you need?]
And the requirement they posed to the streamer was:
[Switch the perspective.]
Switch from the first-person view, which didn’t show the streamer’s face, to the objective perspective that would expose more information.
An objective-perspective livestream would, of course, let viewers see the streamer.
***
Half an hour had passed.
No external reinforcements arrived for the people in the instance.
Though this was somewhat expected, their morale visibly sank nonetheless.
Shen Jing was still in the team channel, trying to soothe her teammates’ emotions—mainly reassuring Xiao Shi not to feel pressured—and once she spoke up, the others chimed in one after another.
It really wasn’t Xiao Shi’s fault!
It was fate!
The players wept silently.
Wen Shichun also felt bitter inside.
Realizing no external help would be coming to deal with the A-rank ghosts in the instance, he glanced at the barrage of comments displayed on the right side of his panel.
At that moment, the barrage was filled with teasing, discussion, mockery, and sarcastic remarks, mixed with some strange, offbeat comments.
But the points were still trickling up, bit by bit.
As long as that was the case, Wen Shichun could completely ignore the meaningless noise in the barrage.
He was even counting on accumulating enough points to buy a detector.
Now he could only pin his hopes on tools.
Facing reality, Wen Shichun blinked his eyes, which really didn’t want to see any ghosts.
At the same time, he fervently hoped he could slash that thing—the one pretending to be a ghost—tonight.
—If it came for him, that is.
He also prayed repeatedly that until then, he wouldn’t encounter any ghosts, wouldn’t see any ghosts.
While steeling himself mentally and preparing for his next moves, Wen Shichun remained unaware that during this time, the system had logged another long list of game IDs from the barrage that had spoken disrespectfully about him.
And it was right then, amidst the vast sea of bullet comments, that Wen Shichun saw that particularly eye-catching one:
[How many points do you need?]
...
Wen Shichun first noticed the player whose in-game code name was [Claymont] because the other party had posted several eye-catching messages in a row.
—This person's comment bubbles were colored.
It was impossible not to notice.
And it made one instinctively click on the code name, after which information about this S-rank player from the District 6 was displayed.
...
Claymont's request in the livestream was simple: he just needed the streamer to switch the camera angle and show their face. In return, he would immediately transfer the streamer the points they needed.
Before making this promise, Claymont didn't even know exactly how many points Wen Shichun required.
Moreover, after this person's comments appeared, the number of odd, strange comments in the previously chaotic live chat noticeably decreased.
This made Wen Shichun realize the influence the person behind the code name held.
It was similar to the influence he had observed when "Huai Xieli" spoke in the District 10's communication channel.
And people like that usually didn't go back on their word.
Even though he wasn't clear about the other party's motives.
...
In the livestream, Claymont's latest comment was still pinned at the top.
The system was just about to advise its host not to bother with these people, that they were all scammers—when it accidentally overheard the host's inner thought: What a generous person.
Regardless of the other party's motives, points were currently the most effective tool for Wen Shichun to ensure his survival.
As for anything else, if he got caught by a ghost in the instance, it probably wouldn't matter anymore.
System: [...]
Regarding the stranger Claymont, although Wen Shichun felt suspicious in his heart, he still glanced at his balance.
Then he said:
"Still need 4500 points."
He felt a slight pang of regret as he spoke.
The gap was too large. It would probably scare off any kind soul.
Yet, the moment his words fell, an even more eye-catching notification appeared in the live stream:
[Player Claymont has tipped 4500 points]
...
Wen Shichun's fingers, which had been swiping through the panel, froze.
Claymont: [Switch the camera angle.]
Wen Shichun: "..."
System: "..."
Live Stream Viewers: [...]
[Oh my god, I don't know why, but I'm holding my breath right now.]
[I don't dare to speak either, but I have to ask...]
[Is this big shot from District 6... perhaps an audio fetishist?]
...
[...]
Quickly, the system, which reacted first, said coldly: [Switching is not allowed.]
Before Wen Shichun could ponder the system's changed tone again, a trace of confusion first flickered in his ice-blue eyes. The value of points in his mind kept shifting. Perhaps, for an S-rank player, these points really were trivial?
However, upon hearing the system's voice, Wen Shichun still replied hesitantly in his mind: [Wouldn't it be bad to deceive...]
The other party had already transferred the points, and so many people were watching the stream.
Not fulfilling the promise during the live stream...
It seemed like it would leave a very negative impression.
...and it might even affect the increase in points during the next broadcast.
System: [...]
It suddenly realized that it could no longer stop its host!
Sure enough, in the very next moment, the system heard the host clear his throat—a habit Wen Shichun had developed before speaking into thin air.
"Thank you, Claymont," said the white-haired youth.
He then fulfilled his promise, switching the livestream's perspective option from the subjective view to the objective view.
Wen Shichun also wanted to see the difference between the visuals under the two broadcast modes.
As soon as he completed the switch, Wen Shichun saw himself on the panel's livestream screen—along with two secondary switch options available under the objective perspective: Top-Down View and Eye-Level View.
It also included perspective control buttons: Zoom In, Zoom Out, and Pan Up/Down/Left/Right.
...
So that's how it was.
AH??? I NEED MORE
ReplyDelete