Chapter 17: A Forgotten Legacy: Streaming PC Games in a VR-Dominated Era

It may seem obvious, but I do have parents.

And now, I’ve become a woman.

Naturally, a question arises:

If the world and my gender have changed, what about my relationships?

Friendships weren’t an issue since all of mine were online, but family was different—we’ve lived together all my life. It was only natural for things to change.

This thought didn’t occur to me immediately after I became a woman. It came to me one day while working at the movie theater, probably because I’d been chatting with Kim Inho about parallel worlds.

People can endure hunger, but they can’t endure curiosity.

So, I went straight to my parents’ house and found out something surprising.

Not much had changed.

I was still close with my mother, and my relationship with my father was slightly less close than with her.

I had long solved the “Do you love Dad or Mom more?” dilemma—it was far easier than the world’s toughest question would suggest.

The gap in closeness with my father arose from the fact that I only saw him two or three times a year.

It wasn’t because my parents were divorced; my dad had simply moved to a place away from home for work. This arrangement had been in place since I was in middle school.

While it wasn’t a typical family setup, I liked it. My parents got along well, and I was on good terms with my dad too.

Still, I thought our bond had been built on the kind of deep conversations shared between men. But I guess not—since the closeness remained unchanged even after I became a woman.

This must be what they call agape love.

Anyway.

Why am I bringing all of this up?

I wanted to point out that some things remain the same, even when the world changes.

For instance, my relationship with my parents.

Or the existence of computers.

Even though VR games had taken over the market, computers still existed. While VR devices offered versatile functionality, their strength lay primarily in gaming performance.

If you were just watching videos or playing games, VR made sense. But for general tasks, computers were still the better option. As a result, computers remained a household staple.

However, their role now resembled that of old TVs. Just as people used to watch movies on a 27-inch monitor despite having a 55-inch TV in the living room, nowadays, kids only used VR devices.

It was similar to when smartphones first emerged. People comfortable with PCs preferred PCs, while the smartphone-savvy generation stuck to smartphones. Likewise, the VR generation now favored VR devices.

Of course, due to the limited specs of VR devices, high-end games still required computer support—but that wouldn’t last long. Given the rapid pace of VR performance improvements, it was clear that PCs would soon become obsolete.

We had entered an era where the glow of a monitor lighting up the night was forgotten, and mice were buried among the junk, relics of a time when nobody cared about PC gaming anymore—a crude joke from a bygone era.

In such a time, a woman decided to create a PC game.

[“Are we really doing this?”]

“It’s designed for up to four players, but two works just fine.”

[“Umm…”]

A hesitant voice responded.

You promised to grant any wish, and now you want to back out? There’s no escape.

“You said you’ve played PC games before.”

[“Yeah, but that was ages ago when I was a kid.”]

“So, you have played before.”

That’s all I needed to know—no need to explain what a click is.

[“But… do you think the viewers will like this? They don’t usually enjoy really old games.”]

“…It’s a recent game.”

[“But it only has nine reviews. Are you sure it’s good?”]

“…It’s good.”

BunnyRun kept doubting the gameplay quality of Fantasy Life. People these days are too obsessed with reviews—it’s so frustrating.

[“Where is this even made? Do companies still make PC games?”]

“They did… but they’ve shut down now.”

[“And why do these developers act like they’re world-class? Games with vague descriptions are never any good.”]

“It will be world-class.”

[“Who’s the developer? Han…?”]

It’s Han Yurim.

[—]

“……”

[“Did you make this, unnie?”]

“That’s a bit disappointing. I know everything about you, BunnyRun—from the time you called an idol a fraud and went into self-reflection, to that one-on-one showdown you had with a viewer.”

[“But you don’t even have a Wikipedia page!”]

Ah… When will they create my page? I’d love to see my games listed there.

I glanced at the stream’s follower count and asked BunnyRun, “Do you not like PC games?”

[“I don’t mind playing, but… how many players is this game recommended for?”]

“Four.”

Fantasy Life wasn’t like the narrative-driven Accel Busters. Creating distinct experiences for 1, 2, 3, and 4 players was difficult, so the game was designed with four players in mind for balanced difficulty.

[“So, it’ll work best with four players for promotion, right?”]

“Promotion?”

[“Isn’t that why you wanted me to play it? For promotion?”]

“No, I just thought you’d enjoy it.”

I only suggested it because it was sad to see such a good game barely played by 50 people. There was no other reason. She could even play it off-stream if she wanted.

[“Hmm…”]

After a brief pause, BunnyRun made up her mind.

[“Since we’re doing this, let’s promote it too. I think the viewers will love it, especially since you made it.”]

“That’s an excellent choice.”

[“We’re two players short. Do you know any other streamers, unnie?”]

“One. But they’re at work, so I can’t call them now. What about you?”

[“…I do know a few people, but not close enough to call for this.”]

I got what she meant—more acquaintances than actual friends.

But seriously, five years of streaming, and not one close streamer friend?

[“Friendships have nothing to do with streaming experience.”]

Wait… how did she answer something I only thought to myself?

[“Unnie, you’re saying it out loud.”]

“Oh.”

I paused for a moment. Should we open it up to viewers just to get a four-player game going?

There didn’t seem to be a need. The game recommended four players, but two players would be just fine.

“Let’s just play with the two of us.”

[“Are you sure?”]

“When I make games, I try to ensure solo play is enjoyable too. Forcing multiplayer makes it too hard for people without friends—trust me, I know from experience.”

[“So, you don’t have friends either, unnie?”]

Why was BunnyRun suddenly so excited?

[“Unnie, I’ve been meaning to ask—why do you keep using formal speech with me? Just talk casually.”]

“We haven’t known each other that long, and I am being casual with you.”

[“It doesn’t sound like it.”]

How do I explain that I’ve gotten into the habit of using honorifics? It’d require going back ten years to a summer in LA…

[“Unnie?”]

“This is comfortable for me. Don’t overthink it, BunnyRun. Just talk however you like.”

[“Really?”]

“Yes.”

[“But won’t it feel strange if you speak formally and I talk casually?”]

“That kind of contrast is what viewers love.”

It’s like the appeal of combining chocolate’s sweetness with mint’s freshness—it drives people wild.

[“Are you going to stream too, unnie?”]

“Multiple perspectives would be more interesting.”

[“Alright.”]

BunnyRun left the voice chat, likely preparing her stream.

Rather than waiting, I started my own stream. I typed in the title, moved the mouse, and clicked the start button.

[Surviving in a Fantasy Apocalypse World]

Viewers started pouring in.

100, 200… 1,000?

Why are so many people joining?

Curious, I checked the community to see if anything unusual was going on.

But everything seemed normal. Most of the chatter was about other streamers returning from long breaks—nothing about me.

Occasionally, posts like [Han Yurim’s Stream ON] would appear, only to get buried beneath waves of content like [Panicky Legend LOL] or [Paepa’s Just Born Talented LOL].

Judging by the viewer count, it seemed today’s audience wasn’t influenced by any community buzz—they were here purely for Han Yurim.

Wait… Paepa?

The name rang a bell, but I couldn’t place it. Shrugging it off, I turned off my phone and checked the chat.

[Ugh, this song again? …Okay, it’s kinda good tho LOL]

Since I planned to play Fantasy Life with BunnyRun, I had kicked off the stream with its OST.

As soon as the music ended, I switched from the waiting screen to the live broadcast.

“Hello.”

What? This isn’t a VR stream?

It’s on PC?

“Yes, that’s right.”

Streaming via VR and PC had distinct vibes. With VR, the audience saw exactly what the streamer saw—like the player’s POV in a first-person shooter.

That’s why switching from VR to PC streaming was noticeable. It felt completely different.

[So… you gonna turn on your cam and do a mukbang or something?]

The top streaming platform these days was V-TV, run by a VR device manufacturer. But not every streamer used V-TV.

In Korea, Mirinae—another streaming platform—was still going strong.

The vibe on Mirinae was different. While V-TV focused on gaming streams, Mirinae thrived with talk shows, mukbangs, and camera-based content.

Honestly, Mirinae embodied what I remembered about streaming: none of this VR nonsense.

As new media platforms rose, old ones still had their unique roles. Similarly, PC streaming specialized in mukbangs and chat-based shows.

Sure, you could use VR for those, but PC was much better for interacting with viewers. As a result, many streamers still stuck with PC broadcasting.

However, PC streams had become synonymous with cam-based content—mukbangs or talk shows—largely thanks to Mirinae shaping that perception.

“Nope. We’re playing a game.”

And that’s why gaming on PC was almost unheard of now. Even Mirinae streamers used VR if they were broadcasting games.

[Wait… a game?]

“Yes.”

[On PC?]

PC games still exist?

The chat’s reaction felt like I had shown up with some ancient relic. A sense of duty stirred within me.

Our beloved PC games aren’t that obsolete.

Just watch.