It’s not that kind of malicious broadcast

It was a time when internet broadcasting had risen to prominence.

Just as old media like newspapers and magazines once yearned to make a leap into the realm of new media, it was not uncommon to see individuals who thrived on public networks striving to penetrate platforms like Tw*tch or G-tube.

Seeing celebrities on internet broadcasts was no longer an unusual sight.

It was an era where prominent politicians and well-known entertainers made appearances on personal broadcasters of broadcasters to promote themselves.

Yet, the sight of a global company’s CEO dressed in a sharp black suit, a woman in mourning attire struggling to contain her bursting white shirt, and an ancestral rite table as the background presented an unexpected image.

Not only was there no explanation in the announcement but the broadcast’s title simply stated, “Interview: KoK, is It Really Okay?” hinting at nothing significant.

There was no indication that the guest on the broadcast was none other than the CEO who directly coded the backbone of a globally trending game.

Therefore, unless someone could recognize J. Dox’s face from a tiny thumbnail amidst countless streams, outsiders wouldn’t know what was unfolding.

This was why the fact that J. Dox was appearing on GetDevoured’s broadcast hadn’t yet spread to other international communities like R*ddit.

It was a brief period of peace.

Like the eye of a storm inside a teacup.

* * * *

“-So, in the early stages, KoK was a game controlled solely by the keyboard and mouse. I thought there might be traces left of that.”

“That’s correct! Allowing for keyboard and mouse control even now was a sort of stubbornness on my part as a developer. I wanted to keep a bit of the original KoK. In fact, I even considered having the control remain purely keyboard and mouse while only the view would be in VR until the end. I gave up since the current technology couldn’t overcome the motion sickness.”

The beginning was a normal interview.

As agreed.

A few days earlier, at the office of the Korean branch manager.

Once the lawyer’s involvement ceased, the two began to bond quickly, overcoming barriers of rank and language.

For J. Dox, it was a surprisingly harmonious time.

It had been a long time since he burned with such passion for the pure talk of games.

As he grew older, friends gradually distanced themselves from gaming due to work and parenting. Colleagues who once enjoyed gaming with him eventually started regarding it strictly as part of their jobs.

This was especially true within Faraday Games.

Those on par with him were only interested in business matters, and it was evident that those who genuinely cared about games felt uneasy around him, a founding member and C-level executive.

Even though he worked at the company managing Knight of Knights, his favorite game, opportunities to discuss KoK as a game diminished over time.

Therefore, conversations with Lee Yena, who showed an extreme level of immersion in the game, had naturally become enjoyable.

Initially, he casually listened to Lee Yena’s thoughts on how to improve KoK’s current state. At that stage, it felt like he was just considering the opinions of an exceptionally devoted fan. However, soon enough, their discussions naturally delved deeper into the game itself.

Hours flew by as they conversed about various topics:

Why there were six characters, the variables from fixed weapon types, the extent to which their skill trees were pre-planned, the hidden effects of various traits, and the inadvertent synergies between them.

Lost in these lengthy conversations, J. Dox found himself thinking, with more than a little embarrassment at the cliché, “If we’d met under different circumstances, we could’ve been good friends.”

It wasn’t entirely appropriate to have such thoughts about a much younger, beautiful Asian woman. Her youthful appearance made her look like a teenager.

Appearance-wise, at least.

Overall, she was clearly not a child.

Caught in a half-dazed state from the rare pleasure of having a matching conversation and sharing insights on KoK’s issues, the combined results included an agreement to appear on her broadcast and recklessly approving interview questions she sent later on.

Ordinarily impulsive as he was, this was not something he would have done under normal circumstances. Agreeing to appear on a relative stranger’s personal broadcast after just a few days was highly unusual.

However, the timing had been almost too perfect.

He had been feeling disillusioned with colleagues who seemed to have abandoned their passion for gaming, sensing that the game he had dedicated 70% of his life to was deteriorating, and growing weary of investors who tried to use his positive image among users as a shield.

In the midst of wanting to escape it all, meeting Lee Yena, who impressed him with her sheer love for the game, and discovering how she had revealed her identity and led public demonstrations in support of KoK, added fuel to his impulsive decision.

The general manager and nominal CEO had been thinking about nothing but escaping and taking a break. Meanwhile, this broadcaster had rallied people solely to demand better game management, even leading a demonstration.

He couldn’t help but get swept up in the idea of wanting to lend support. Nevertheless, if it weren’t for that protest video—

I mean, if he hadn’t seen hundreds of people collectively praising the character he had designed while chanting, “Rogue, rogue, the best of all!” (a translation by Lee Yeri)—

If only that hadn’t happened.

Had it not been for that, there was no way he would have decided to appear on a live broadcast. In fact, regaining his composure and thinking it over, there were plenty of other ways to lend support.

But the die had already been cast, and the water had already spilled—

“Uh, right? No, I mean, considering the users’ skills… The guardian was initially designed to be hard to penetrate. It’s meant to reward those who manage to capture the base after fierce battles, while somewhat compensating for the skill gap between teams.”

“Your operating philosophy seemed to be to nerf anything that feels a bit too strong… Are you really not going to nerf it? There’s a story that the number of bronze and silver users who died ramming into the guardian exceeds the number of chimpanzees on Earth.”

“… Why the comparison… No, I won’t answer that. Yes, we have also noted the feedback that users feel overly pressured by the guardian’s rapid attacks. There’s room for adjustments on the numbers. But seriously, do you have a spy planted somewhere? That’s a felony in the U. S.”

“Here, killing the game is the greater crime. Anyway, it seems the guardian might get nerfed in the not-too-distant future. Everyone should exploit the two-joint archers while they can. Now… Let’s move on to the next question.”

The consequences began to emerge starkly by the middle of the interview.

Of course, considering the cost involved in approving a script that was refined to something like, “There’s a view that the guardian’s defense is excessive compared to the average user’s breakthrough power, leading to a high rate of death. What do you think? Are adjustments possible?”—

It might have seemed overly significant.

But,

“I’m likely not going to ask exactly as per the script, you know. I’ll reflect the reactions in the chat, and my own feelings will come into play as well… Yes. I must tell you that I don’t have good feelings towards ‘Faraday’ right now.”

Lee Yena had warned him, nodding aggressively.

“I like it even better! An interview that reads exactly as from a script doesn’t suit me at all. I’d rather leave those interviews for friends who like to parade as CEOs or COOs. Since we’re doing an online broadcast anyway, please include my honest feelings as a player and respond to raw reactions from the chat!”

He had shouted.

In hindsight, it was a fitting outcome, close to poetic justice.

* * * *

Near the end of the questionnaire.

I glanced down at the question that read, “I understand that Mr. J. Dox was the designer who conceived the core tree for the Rogue in its early stages. In that sense, I’m curious about your opinions concerning the background and reasons for the recent nerf to the Rogue.”

It was the core question he most wanted to ask. Finally reaching it at the end of a fairly long interview.

“So, next… The Rogue, you’re the developer, right? What compelled you to do such a thing to our Rogue? It’s like a son born from your heart… At least explain the reason. I just want to know the reason.”

– The murderous intent in those eyes, wow ddd.

– Did he really kill his son or something, lOLOLOL.

– He has a right to be angry.

– That’s the gaze of a widow whose husband was dismembered.

– ???: Why did I do it? Well… if you want the rogue nerf to be canceled, you know what to do, kheh.

This message had been permanently deleted.

… Why is the response delayed?

It had already been agreed that we would naturally transition to part 2 here.

Thinking as such and checking the face, it was clear he was exhausted. He even seemed a bit out of it. How long had it been since we started—already looking a bit hollow-eyed.

… Can they play in that state? VR can be pretty tiring.

“… Would you like a glass of water?”

“Yes, please, please.”

“We have alcohol too.”

“That’s… wait, what kind of alcohol?”

“Well… since we’re not at home, it’s not much. I brought emergency vodka, whiskey, and soju. There’s cola in the fridge too; do you want me to mix something for you?”

“… Emergency? I think that translation might be a bit off… no, never mind. I’ll have a glass of whiskey, thank you.”

… Is he drinking too quickly? It would be troublesome if he got drunk.

We’re supposed to have a match in part 2. Though he’s a Master, it seems he’s been taking a break from the game. Playing a rogue while drunk… can he handle it?

Slightly dubious.

“… Alright, whatever! Let’s see what happens, let’s go for it today!”

… He doesn’t seem able to handle alcohol well either. Maybe I should have a drink too for balance.