It’s not that kind of malicious broadcast

StarPork, Yoon Ahri was an undeniably exemplary student.

While she didn’t possess extraordinary intellect or unique talents, she had an innate diligence and an endless capacity to understand. In other words, when given a task, she worked hard without questioning why she couldn’t understand something. Even when faced with unusual content, she didn’t harbor much curiosity, simply accepting it and moving on.

In the evaluation system up to high school, these individuals were typically the ones who benefited the most. She might not have graduated early or gotten into the top colleges, but she had no problem being outstanding students.

Naturally, StarPork reached a fairly decent university by diligently following textbooks and references and sincerely adhering to her teachers’ guidance.

It was only in university that she faltered and wavered, a quintessential model student’s experience. A model student who followed orders without question struggled when required to act autonomously in university. Such stories were common, and hundreds could be found.

The slightly unique aspect about StarPork was that her diligence was genuinely close to her essence, not something imposed on her by others.

Thus, in university, even when she sought freedom, she played diligently – eventually growing tired of finding even her hobbies to be productive.

One of her friends suggested internet broadcasting as a way to waste time meaninglessly. So during the vacation, she holed up in her room and started watching internet broadcasts.

However, not even a month had passed when StarPork found herself nodding her head as if watching a lecture, thinking, “Ah, so that’s how you conduct a broadcast.”

Eventually, the curiosity about whether she was doing it right won over her, and she started broadcasting herself. Her initiative and diligence were truly in the top 1%.

As a broadcaster, now she found herself analyzing and finding points to learn from other broadcasts she found enjoyable. A hobby that temporarily brought her comfort had turned into a stress-filled task.

However,

“What kind of broadcast is this today…?”

GetDevoured, Lee Yena’s broadcasts were exceptions.

She loved them. She found herself laughing unknowingly and getting so immersed that she even got mad at Lee Yena’s antics. But despite that, what could she learn from watching it? Her actions were beyond the scope of anything one could hope to learn from.

When the hype around the tournament reached its peak, drawing over 20,000 viewers eagerly anticipating a fantastic KoK performance, Lee Yena would be sitting against a pixelated game title screen playing the ocarina and saying, “It’s nice to see so many music lovers today. The next song is…”

It was utterly baffling to figure out which part of the chat was full of music lovers. The next mystery was understanding why she repeated this routine for 40 minutes, enjoying it so purely.

The chat exploding with cries of agony like a hell, and her playing becoming haphazard as if she was running out of breath—it was impossible even for StarPork to find something to learn.

Consequently, Lee Yena’s broadcast was something she could enjoy without any care.

Somehow, this unpredictable and incomprehensible broadcast became a precious refuge for StarPork, allowing her to escape the compulsive need to earnestly learn from everything around her.

Of course, she could not comprehend it—

‘Our… unnie… she plays so well. Really…’

-OO has donated 1,000 won!-

【Our unnie is really good at playing ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ Is she a goddess?】

Yes, admiration wasn’t impossible.

* * * *

“The starting age to communicate is 10, and you can finish all the child-rearing tasks with just a mouse click and enjoy the results… Whoever designed this game, they must have struggled a lot with parenting. They probably stayed up memorizing dinosaur chronologies until they passed out.”

I could vividly recall my sister’s face getting thinner day by day as she raised her niece.

There was no way I could forget the sight of that stern person pretending to be bitten by a Tyrannosaurus and screaming ‘Kyaoo—’.

And despite her dedicated performance, she ended up apologizing to her daughter for wrongly identifying herself, saying, ‘I’m a Tyrannosaurus from the late Cretaceous, but how could mom be a Driosaurus from the late Jurassic?’ as she apologized and then screamed ‘Crooo—’ again. This set of memories became an unforgettable, joyful experience.

I remember whispering from the side, ‘Wow, that’s a really realistic Drio… something Saurus. Was it the Cretaceous or the Jurassic?’… I don’t think that was why she made the mistake. It’s been so long, I don’t remember clearly.

Anyway.

It’s a bit disappointing not being able to share such memories with the viewers. That probably leads to some misunderstandings too.

『Does this girl have a child?』

『Baby here, change my diaper』

『I want to see GetDevoured’s dinosaur imitation』

『What kind of parenting simulation is this, I waited for 30 minutes, just turn it on already』

『How old is she? Her accounts are oddly real』

『Please show some motherly love』

『Clarify this… never mind, just do as you like』

『Please be a Great Sword Knight, 53 tries』

『Is she married?』

『How old is her kid?』

But it’s okay.

Right now, it’s time to focus on the game.

-OO has donated 1,000 won!-

【So, how long are we going to play this – damn – game?】

Since viewers were curious about the game, it seemed like a pretty good time to start it in earnest, even though it was a bit of a twisted interest.

Queen Maker 2 was a game where one had to appropriately train a 10-year-old girl, use the money earned from that to educate her, send her on expeditions to gain experience, and ultimately make her ascend the throne as a queen at age 18.

Of course…

… being a queen wasn’t really the goal.

“How about we do it in a way that she ‘changes her class to a rogue’ since we’re already playing? Not a thug… Why do you think a rogue is a thug? This is a warning.”

One had to raise her strong, free, and versatile for her to become a rogue.

“I’m going to raise her as a Demon King. Grow strong, my daughter.”

* * * *

Lee Yena’s Queen Maker 2 broadcast didn’t last as long as expected. It was because she achieved the goal on her first try.

Queen Maker 2 was a game that showered unreasonable rewards to those who succeeded in its insanely difficult mini-games, which were not essential to clear the game.

And at some point, Lee Yena began to choose and conquer only those crazy difficulty mini-games.

『Crazy LOLOLOL LOLOLOL』

『How is that even possible?』

『Did anyone see that?』

『Is this… was this the kind of game it was…?』

『At least read the mini-game descriptions before you clear them』

『Was it a spot-the-difference game?』

『I think it was a reaction time game』

『Wow, she’s really not human』

During martial arts training, the master of the dojo from the neighboring village came to challenge them.

One had to block 20 attacks by clicking the points with the mouse within 0.15 seconds of the opponent moving their hand, then catch the delay to counterattack.

After about 5 minutes, the formidable signboard destroyer was defeated by a 10-year-old girl—RogueRogue, the daughter of Best— and the adorable RogueRogue gained strength stats that typically took 3 years of training to acquire.

One would think she’d be raised as a warrior with those stats, but suddenly, she was entering a music competition doing a rhythm game.

『Can you even see that?』

『She’s got to be hitting it without seeing』

“The minigame is so freaking terrible, seriously.”

“Oh, this is the track from earlier, it’s good.”

“Are you using a helper?”

“Show us your finger cam!”

“Rhythm games must have a hand cam.”

“What’s this? Are you a pro Queenmaker?”

Despite the unnerving comments and the minigame’s poor alignment with the actual music rhythm, Lee Yena swiftly cleared it in one go without any mistakes.

It was a level of skill that defied common sense.

Displaying such extraordinary talent, regardless of the game, always bore a certain appeal. Though the chat room remained noisy, the viewers’ satisfaction with Lee Yena’s broadcast was surprisingly high.

The only downside, perhaps, was when she immediately attempted to recreate the track on an ocarina right after the minigame ended, saying, “Isn’t this piece quite good?”

Fortunately or unfortunately, such opportunities didn’t come often.

As time passed, with each spec-up, the ocarina celebration concerts played and the stats-loaded RogueRogue, setting out on an adventure at the age of 15, finally defeated the hidden boss, the Demon Lord.

By occasionally working in taverns to lower her morality and increase her karma, she set herself on the path to the highest difficulty hidden ending, the Demon Lord route, even if she spent the remaining three years going on vacations.

With nothing left but vacations, occasional demands for bikini illustrations in beach scenes appeared in the chat room. The once-large group clamoring for exposure had clearly lost much of its strength.

A majority of the viewers had since become deeply engrossed in the game, unlike the initial vocal crowd when the game started. Even though Lee Yena had already achieved her declared goal before raising RogueRogue, the chat was now filled with discussions on how to continue nurturing the daughter.

Suggestions poured in: “If you raise her elegance a bit more, she can become the queen”,

“How can you make her work in a tavern”,

“Let’s do more minigames to create the ultimate Demon Lord”,

“Make her meet a guy”,

“If there’s a name-change event in the game, please change her name”,

“If she kills all the other noble ladies, can’t she marry the prince?”

However, seemingly detached from the fervor in the chat, Lee Yena, idly twirling the mouse as if something was missing, suddenly terminated the game and declared:

“Shall we do a boss rush? If you recommend a game with ‘rogue’ or ‘rogue’ in the title, I’ll play it until I clear it once.”

Simultaneously, she switched screens to the search bar on a game distribution platform, with the cursor blinking slowly.

“Since many of you are here, let’s harness collective intelligence. Please recommend games with an average playtime of under 5 hours. No story games requiring 20 hours. Ah, and no horror games either, they’re not my style. It’s boring spending time with unscary cutscenes occupying the screen.”

-Drrrrrp.

Following the familiar sound of pouring liquid, an unchanged lazy voice echoed. Observant fans of her broadcast might have detected that something felt slightly different.

“If I fail, what should I do… Hmm, let’s see.”

-Gulp.

However, there was no time to contemplate what was different.

“Cam broadcast… Great team spirit. Hmm… Then if I fail, I’ll do that. I’ll do it.”

The statement that thrilled countless viewers and led to a flood of terrible game recommendations was heard.