Chapter 18: Bunnyrun’s Dilemma and Han Yurim’s Ambition

After ending the voice chat with Han Yurim, Bunnyrun immediately started the broadcast.

It had been a long time since she last did a PC broadcast, the last being during her mukbang days with a webcam.

“Hello, everyone!”

The cutest bunny in the world, Bunnyrun, is here!

The cutest bunny in the world, Bunnyrun, is here!

The cutest bunny in the world, Bunnyrun, is here!

Why isn’t there a greeting today?

Why isn’t there a greeting today?

Why isn’t there a greeting today?

Why isn’t there a greeting today?

What? Is this a PC broadcast?

Finally going back to the webcam?

“Greeting? You can go ask Yurim unnie to do it.

I’m not turning on the webcam.

If you want to see me, get rid of the laggers in MyTube.”

Anyway, the laggers just use old webcam photos, right?

Shouldn’t we just quit being VTubers?

It doesn’t even have much effect.

“Hmm.”

Bunnyrun showed a subtle reaction.

Honestly, she had been thinking lately, “Do I really need to be a VTuber?”

Since she had decided not to get into trouble anymore, couldn’t she just turn on the webcam?

Moreover, even if she became a VTuber, the laggers used old webcam photos.

It was ineffective.

But that was the problem.

It felt like a waste of money.

With the popularization of VR devices, avatars had become widely accessible and easy to create, but VTuber avatars were still expensive.

Design was based on ideas, and the value of intellectual property was in the realm of talent, regardless of how easily something could be made.

In short, all avatars that caught people’s attention were expensive.

It seemed like continuing to be a VTuber was still the better option.

And it wasn’t just that her current broadcast had viewers who wanted the webcam.

If it had been during the time when she first became a VTuber, it would have been different, but now it had been a year since she debuted as Bunnyrun.

There were surely people who had settled in because they liked VTuber Bunnyrun.

“Turn on the webcam, you idiot! ”

• Or maybe not.

But since the viewers were asking for it, Bunnyrun was inexplicably reluctant to comply.

A rebellious spirit was rising within her.

“I’ll think about it as an event later.”

If it’s not a webcam, then why a PC broadcast?

“…To play games.”

Bunnyrun answered in a slightly squeaky voice.

She didn’t know why.

It wasn’t like she had done anything wrong; why was she feeling this way?

Then wouldn’t it be better to just start the broadcast in VR?

Why turn it on in PC mode only to switch to VR later?

The viewers didn’t understand Bunnyrun’s words.

The very idea of playing a game on PC was foreign to them.

For them, PCs were only for work or servers.

That was how people perceived it.

Bunnyrun shouted out of an inexplicable embarrassment.

“You guys are from the last generation of PC gamers, right?

You all played games when you were kids, so why pretend you don’t know?”

How many years ago was that?

Could it be that she really wanted to play games on a PC?

The current VR devices came out when Bunnyrun was still in kindergarten.

So even during her elementary school years, the power of PC games was still strong.

Innovation typically takes some time to settle in.

For that reason, among Bunnyrun’s viewers, there were hardly any who hadn’t played PC games at least once.

But that was it.

It was just so long ago that it felt unreal.

“Anyway, as I mentioned earlier, today we’ll be playing a game made by Yurim unnie together.”

She never mentioned that!

Is she really starting the broadcast like this?

A self-made game? Hmm.

Self-made games, or indie games, were quite familiar to streaming viewers.

Games and streaming coexisted.

As a result, internet broadcasters often brought indie games into their content.

It was inevitable that viewers would know what indie games were like.

From the perspective of those viewers, indie games felt a bit ambiguous.

They could either be a huge success or a complete flop.

And even the successful ones often turned out to be so bad that they became entertaining;

it was extremely rare for the quality of the game to be genuinely good.

She understood that.

Usually, they were made by a single person, right?

The grind of coding alone is notoriously difficult, let alone creating a game, which is a comprehensive art form.

There were so many other things that needed to be done besides coding.

Managing to do everything alone while maintaining quality was typically hard.

If someone could do that, they were not human. They were a superhuman.

“Shall we take a look at the promotional video first?”

Bunnyrun opened Han Yurim’s MiTube and played the video.

As the player struck the hammer, the base was completed in an instant.

Waves of monsters came rushing in.

Initially weak, the monsters gradually grew stronger, until a powerful boss monster finally appeared.

With a loud bang, the scene of the demon striking down with a massive greatsword marked the end of the promotional video.

Hmm.

Looks like she spent quite a bit of money on this.

“Looks fun, right?”

Bunnyrun was slightly impressed as well.

In truth, Bunnyrun didn’t know much about Han Yurim.

She knew that Thierry was the main character and that she had good physical skills,

but other than that, she was in the dark.

In fact, the VR broadcast gallery had more information about Han Yurim.

Bunnyrun had casually said she would play the game just because it was made by Han Yurim,

but she hadn’t expected this level of quality.

‘Didn’t she say she made it all by herself?’

Bunnyrun carefully read the information for Fantasy Life registered on the store.

Production, design, models, music, and scenario,

every name was listed as Han Yurim.

It really was a one-person production.

Could there really be such a big difference between the PV and the game?

But then again, it was a gameplay trailer.

It didn’t seem likely that the in-game experience would be significantly different from the PV.

What could it be?

This curiosity seemed like it could only be resolved by trying it out herself.

To play the game, Bunnyrun immediately called Han Yurim on voice chat.

[I told you it would be fun.]

Han Yurim must have been watching Bunnyrun’s broadcast, as she said this as soon as she picked up the voice chat.

“I didn’t know it was like this.”

[PC games aren’t dead yet. They’re still active.]

“…I can’t say they’re still active.”

Bunnyrun thought of League of Legends as the last active PC game.

She remembered that the professional league had managed to survive for quite a long time, holding on stubbornly.

And now even League of Legends was considered an old game.

For PC games to be considered active, far too much had happened.

[A 40-year-old pitcher doesn’t necessarily have to retire.]

“It is the right age to retire, though.”

[Bunnyrun, you seem to be the type who shouts for players to retire when their performance drops. I’d probably drop you too when my popularity wanes.]

“I have more popularity than you, so why would I drop out if it decreases?”

[It’ll happen soon. Young people like me eat up Bunnyrun and grow stronger.]

“But you’re two years older than me…”

Black hole activation ON!

Should I just curse freely and take a break?

Is this tic-tac-toe or gegenpressing?

As Bunnyrun began to get used to Han Yurim’s speaking style, she replied casually and started the game.

The song that Han Yurim often played during her broadcasts started playing, and the title screen appeared.

Fantasy Life

Bunnyrun asked,

“How do I play this?”

[The room’s open. Come in.]

As Bunnyrun entered the room by entering the code, Han Yurim said,

[By the way, there’s a separate in-game voice. Turning off voice chat will help you immerse better.]

“Got it.”

Ding! The voice chat was disconnected, and the game began.

Han Yurim awkwardly grabbed the mouse and moved her character by pressing WASD.

“What should I do now?”

Do I even need to ask?

Still, Bunnyrun had been a game broadcaster for nearly five years.

She quickly grasped the game’s system.

The moon was gradually turning red at the top of the screen.

When that moon turns red, waves of enemies will come, so she needed to create a base before then.

“First, let’s gather some materials.”

Having set her goal, Bunnyrun picked up nearby wood and stone to make tools.

As Bunnyrun broke rocks and trees with her axe and pickaxe, an animal appeared in front of her.

After killing the animal with a stone sword, Bunnyrun gathered meat and hide and then built a campfire.

She skewered the meat on a stick and placed it over the fire.

With the hide, she made a backpack.

After finishing the deer hide bag, Bunnyrun raised her view to look at the sky.

“The stars are beautiful.”

Is this really a one-person production game?

Did she not outsource it? There’s no way she could have made this alone.

The viewers were in awe.

Even in an era where PC games had seemingly died, people still recognized the value of PC games.

It was the same principle as recognizing the value of artistic works created in the past.

While it lacked the vibrancy compared to VR, aside from that, the quality was on par with the latest games being released nowadays.

That she made this all by herself was utterly unbelievable.

It seemed more realistic to think that she had outsourced part of the work.

“…Why does she even stream?”

That question came to Bunnyrun naturally.

For Bunnyrun, streaming was everything.

Even after repeated scandals, she only did temporary jobs before returning to streaming.

But Han Yurim was different.

If Bunnyrun had Han Yurim’s abilities, she wouldn’t be streaming. Not that she hated streaming, but no one can do everything, right?

Both streaming and game development were time-consuming endeavors.

Realistically, one had to make a choice. In that case, Bunnyrun would have chosen game development.

That’s how dazzling Han Yurim’s talent was.

However, contrary to Bunnyrun’s expectations, Han Yurim was still streaming.

Why?

‘…She did say it didn’t sell well.’

Maybe her spirit had been crushed because the masterpiece she poured her soul into didn’t sell at all.

Feeling a sudden pang of bitterness, Bunnyrun muttered,

“She’s probably done with game development now, right?”

[Nope. I’m working on a new game, and it’ll be out soon.]

“Unnie! Give me a sign when you show up!”

Startled, Bunnyrun turned around to see Han Yurim standing behind her.

Tilting her head, Han Yurim asked,

[There’s a sound system. Didn’t you hear my footsteps?]

“…I didn’t, I was focused.”

[You don’t need any special controls to cook meat, do you? Or is this a bug?]

“No, it’s not that…”

After hesitating, Bunnyrun cautiously asked,

“Unnie, are you really still making games?”

[Of course.]

“…So, you won’t be able to stream anymore, right?”

Bunnyrun had hoped Han Yurim would choose game development.

But now that she was giving up streaming for it, Bunnyrun felt oddly disappointed.

Han Yurim replied,

[What? Then I wouldn’t be able to promote my games. Of course, I’ll keep streaming.]

“……?”

Bunnyrun was a bit stunned by Han Yurim’s greedy determination to have it both ways.

“You’re saying you’ll develop games and keep streaming?”

[Yes.]

“And that’s possible?”

[I don’t need much sleep. It’s just how I’m wired.]

Shifting the topic, Han Yurim pulled out a glowing stone from her inventory and said,

[More importantly, let’s get started on building our base, shall we?]