The broadcast had just ended.
However, instead of throwing myself onto the bed as usual, I remained seated in front of the computer, lost in thought for a moment.
A tournament, huh? The reason I became so interested as soon as an anonymous viewer mentioned it was because I had always had a fascination with tournaments.
When I hear “tournament,” it’s naturally the Abyss Tournament that comes to mind.
I’ve always been obsessed with tournaments, internal matches, and friendly competitions.
Just watching six heroes split into teams and clash against each other was enough to make my heart race.
I was especially fond of Abyss, and at one point, I even organized the Abyss Gallery-hosted Friendly Tournament.
I put up prizes myself, and sometimes even participated… All of that has become fond memories.
I enjoyed participating in matches, but even if I didn’t play, I loved just watching the game itself.
Back in the days when there wasn’t a professional league, there weren’t many matches to watch, so I mainly followed high-ranked players’ solo queue or event games that were held before the game completely flopped.
If a proper pro league had existed back then, I might have become a dedicated fan who attended every match in person.
You know, like those people who are always at baseball games, eating chicken and cheering for their team?
If Abyss hadn’t flopped and the league had been run properly, I probably would have been one of them.
No matter what, Abyss was my only hobby and the driving force of my life.
Now that I think about it, with the game inexplicably becoming popular again, I wondered if a pro league had been established.
The thought passed through my mind, so I immediately searched for it, and sure enough, the seasons were packed with matches.
“Whoa.”
The ticket prices for watching those matches in person were quite steep, causing me to click my tongue in surprise.
But it felt good.
The fact that the tickets were so expensive likely meant that the seats were always completely sold out.
I also anticipated that getting tickets would be quite difficult.
I kind of want to go at least once.
Maybe I should start looking into ticketing schedules today.
Anyway, I’ve always had a positive impression of tournaments, whether it’s a pro-level competition or a friendly match among friends.
The tournament mentioned by the viewer during the broadcast earlier was no exception.
It was an event tournament hosted by the streamer Taker.
Any streamer could participate, regardless of their tier.
However, according to the viewer, most of the participating streamers were either small-time streamers no one knew, people who didn’t focus on Abyss as their main content, or those who had no interest in the tournament but just wanted to leech off of it — and those types were apparently getting cut behind the scenes.
Am I good enough for this?
Does my stream meet the minimum standards to avoid getting cut?
As soon as the viewer finished explaining that Taker was hosting this tournament, most of my viewers immediately started urging me to participate.
My stream has been steadily gaining traction, and thanks to that, there were no small number of people watching today’s broadcast.
Roughly… just under 1,000 people, I think.
It was a bit of pressure, having so many people telling me to join and apply right away.
So, I ended the stream for now.
I’ve already reached Master rank, and I’ve played as much as I wanted to.
Before getting swept away by the crowd, I left with a response of, “I’ll think about it,” and ended the broadcast.
But the more I thought about it, the more I found myself leaning toward applying.
There are many reasons, but the biggest one is that it just seems fun.
I still remember those days.
Back when the number of concurrent players was slowly dwindling, and it was obvious to everyone that the game was dying.
We organized tournaments and held event matches in an effort to save the game.
Like the eldest son of a declining family, I ran around with the gallery members, doing everything we could.
The tournament was held with the aim of getting more people to play Abyss, but the game back then was so enjoyable that I still remember it clearly.
Of course, a lot has changed since then in terms of the game’s status and the players involved.
Still, there are things that remain unchanged.
For example, in this country, I—known as a living history in the Abyss Gallery—am still the same.
…Or am I? It’s not entirely accurate to say I’m the same, since even my appearance has changed significantly.
Anyway, aside from that, my mind leaned toward applying for the tournament.
I moved my mouse to the link the viewer had provided and carefully examined the tournament rules, application form, and deadlines.
Twitch account name, streamer name, Abyss tier, top rating, main heroes, etc.
Hmm, there’s more to write than I thought.
When I organized tournaments, I only needed to provide the gallery nickname and tier—those two were enough.
Well, it makes sense that this would be quite different from the somewhat haphazard gallery friendly matches.
Comparing the two is almost embarrassing.
As I continued to read through the form and fill in the necessary information, I came across another requirement.
A sentence accompanied by an email address. A highlight video, you say?
“I don’t have anything like that…”
I lightly scratched the back of my head and leaned back in my chair.
It suddenly felt like the requirements from the organizers had increased.
What should I do about this? Should I record some ranked matches now and edit them?
That seems like it would take too long, though.
In the midst of my quiet frustration, I found myself spinning the chair I was sitting in.
“Ah.”
One thought crossed my mind.
Could that work? I think I still have it.
“Did I put it around here…?”
After digging through the cluttered contents of my computer’s C drive for a few minutes, I finally found what I was looking for.
It was a video file with a title that clearly indicated its content.
This was a highlight made for me by someone who claimed to be my fan in the gallery a few years ago.
Out of everything I have, it’s the highest quality video. It’s good enough to upload directly to VTube.
There was a reason it came to mind as soon as I heard “highlight.”
However, there was one problem:
“This is from a long time ago… Is that okay?”
The time I played the game in that video was several years ago.
The graphics alone are different from now.
It definitely feels like an old video, and despite good editing, the game’s graphics have aged noticeably.
But it’s not so bad that you can’t recognize it.
My gameplay stands out enough to be impressive, which I like.
The only concern was that it was an old video.
After pondering for a moment, I reached a conclusion.
“I’ll send this along with a few recorded ranked matches.”
I decided to send multiple videos altogether. The more, the better, as it seemed preferable to having too few.
With that thought, I launched Abyss again and began playing ranked matches to record some footage for the highlight video.
“Let’s see, even Nicang has applied… and next is Hangang…”
It had been a few days since the announcement about the event tournament was made.
Taker was logging into his email to categorize the applications of the participants and was in the process of finalizing the list of those who would participate.
Whether it was because Taker’s broadcast had grown larger than before or due to the news that the game company Ionix was involved, the number of applicants had more than doubled compared to the last time.
Thanks to this, Taker’s workload increased, but he seemed to be humming along as he worked.
In any case, it was undeniable that his content was progressing smoothly.
As long as nothing unexpected happened, Taker’s broadcast life would likely continue to be smooth sailing.
To ensure that, he needed to be more careful with the classification work.
He had to exclude anyone who might cause controversy or incidents among the participants, and include those who would guarantee a decent viewer count simply by participating…
“Hmm?”
In the midst of all this, Taker found himself stopping the mouse cursor in front of someone’s application.
The name on the application was both familiar and unfamiliar.
“Camilla is weak, Kayak? Has this person streamed before?”
Quickly searching Twitch and browsing the community, he discovered that, although she had only recently started streaming, she was already boasting considerable fame.
As he had sensed during the previous recording, she also had a remarkable talent for gathering people.
Taker nodded in satisfaction.
“Good, good… A new face who seems to have some viewers already. Skills are good. Performance is good…”
It was only natural that Taker would reach out to Kayak’s highlight video.
“You’ve sent… quite a lot of videos? Let’s see.”
Taker started playing the first video, the one with the largest file size.
“What’s this…?”
He muttered in confusion, unsure of what he was looking at.
Before him was a video featuring gameplay from Abyss season 2, a time often referred to as the legendary era.
The footage from that time was now playing on his screen.
The adventure continues! If you loved this chapter, The Crazy Woman Acts Too Well is a must-read. Click here to start!
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