What is a colleague to me?
To me, they’re like a ghost that exists only in stories or on organizational charts.
In reality, I was part of the operations team, with my desk right next to the operations team leader.
However, I was semi-isolated from the actual work of the operations team.
This odd system was because all my tasks were assigned by the company president, and my reports went directly to them as well.
It made sense, though. I was the perfect person to handle sudden, unconventional tasks, and delegating through someone else would only delay things.
When you’re dealing with the unpredictable chaos of livestream culture, even the president had to adapt.
As a result, I never imagined working with anyone else.
Watching VTuber streams simultaneously?
For big collabs, it wasn’t unusual for me to monitor at least five streams at once—sometimes even ten. Of course, not every moment of every stream is a highlight.
I’d focus on one main stream and mute the others, switching focus as needed.
Initially, writing industry-level reports after each stream was a bit tricky. But as I adjusted to summarizing only the data the president and planning team wanted, it became second nature.
Sure, it stung at first to swap watching my favorite VTubers for monitoring the company’s talent, but even that resolved itself after two months. The talents handpicked by the president were undeniably captivating.
I, someone who believed “falling for a new favorite is like getting hit by a truck,” couldn’t resist their charm.
Outside their streams, they were often clumsy and chaotic, prone to causing trouble. But once they went live, they transformed into stars worthy of admiration. They shone brightly, following in the footsteps of my beloved oshii, Momo.
Work satisfaction?
Right now, it’s through the roof.
I’ve never felt overwhelmed by the workload, nor worried about it increasing in the future. I mean, I’m literally being paid to watch, analyze, summarize, and report on VTuber streams. Why would I complain?
Yes, I also manage broadcast equipment, handle issues during streams, oversee chat and donation policies, and relay real-time instructions to moderators. But those are tasks I chose to take on.
From my perspective, it’s more efficient for highly educated and experienced professionals to focus on planning profitable collaborations and running smooth events.
Their efforts create better content and happier audiences, which ultimately benefit the company’s financial health.
Except for the chaotic early days of the business, I’ve always worked alone.
“A junior… huh.”
Rather than feeling excited, I was more worried.
After working solo for so long, I figured I’d end up leaning towards a “sink or swim” dynamic rather than fostering teamwork.
The to-do list I sent to the president? It was filled with tasks I currently handle because I couldn’t imagine myself mentoring someone step by step. My unspoken message was, “Hire someone who can work like me—or don’t hire anyone at all.”
[President]
[President: This isn’t a list of your tasks.]
[President: Could you write down tasks you’d like a junior to help with?]
But the president seemed determined to hire someone new. If that’s the case, I should cooperate.
If you had to pick the most important factors, would they be these three?
1. Someone who genuinely enjoys watching all our members’ streams.
2. Someone who can multitask efficiently.
3. Someone tech-savvy with a great memory.
Points 1 and 2 are for stream monitoring and report writing.
If I’m ever unavailable, having someone draft a rough version of the report in my place would be helpful.
Point 3, likewise, is for ensuring quick responses to equipment issues that might arise elsewhere when I’m busy supporting a specific member’s stream.
Honestly, there’s a whole list of other points I could have added 4, 5, 6, and so on but I decided to stop there. Things like personality or diligence weren’t worth mentioning since those are baseline qualities the president looks for in any hire.
Once I sent off the document via email, I checked the time: it was already 2 PM time to head to work.
“Already?”
I slipped my fully charged tablet into my oversized work bag, which was much larger than me. Normally, I avoid carrying it around because it makes my shoulder ache, but I’ve had a reason to bring it every day lately.
It’s awkward watching someone else’s stream especially someone who isn’t even a VTuber—on the office computer. This might be the first time in my life I’ve ever cared about a corporate guy’s face-cam stream, and a live one at that.
Still, the opponent I’ll be dealing with soon is none other than Mu Gun, an ex-pro.
If I want to land a solid hit on him, I can’t afford to take him lightly.
Know your enemy and yourself, and you’ll never lose.
He even opens his streams to public participation in the early hours, so I might take a shot at sniping him after work. Playing alongside him could reveal weaknesses that aren’t obvious from just watching the broadcast.
* * *
The start of MooGun’s stream is typically around 6 PM on weekdays.
He usually begins with a dinner mukbang while chatting with viewers, and after finishing his meal and tidying up, he jumps straight into the main game.
If you were to pinpoint his strengths as a former pro, his skill would top the list.
But the most jaw-dropping aspect, which has also earned him his nickname, is his “Magnet Aim.”
His pre-shot flicking looks as if the crosshairs are drawn to the target like a strong magnet, hence the nickname.
Moreover, whenever he picks up a sniper rifle, whether it’s for close or long-range, he dominates, even taking down unsuspecting enemies who try to ambush him from behind.
This has made him famous as someone who disrupts games by countering foes in bizarre and unexpected ways.
In the game Battle coliseum, due to shields, one-shot kills aren’t possible.
However, at higher ranks like Diamond tier, it’s common to see MooGun spraying down opponents with a single magazine.
For most snipers, being flanked means almost certain defeat due to their low DPS, but MooGun shattered that expectation.
Of course, if he were only good at sniping, he likely wouldn’t have pursued a career as a streamer after leaving the pro scene.
Chat Reactions:
– “Okay, okay.”
– “Wowww!”
– “Is it pistol day again? lol.”
– “That aim is insane, lol.”
– “Is his tracking for real?!”
– “Is MooGun a god? Is MooGun a god? Is MooGun a god? Is MooGun a god? Is MooGun a god? Is MooGun a god?”
– “I’m losing my mind, lol.”
While MooGun stood out the most as a sniper and built his pro career around it,
he excelled with any single-shot firearm: pistols, shotguns, sniper rifles, and even hunting bows dropped in supply crates.
His love for single-shot weapons was what drew him to flares in the first place.
In Pandemic Village, a game designed to evoke realistic horror, the controls deliberately feel sluggish.
Even under those conditions, MooGun would face bosses head-on after brief aim checks.
He set a record of hitting every single headshot against the final boss and ended his run with a cool, composed exit.
Considering the opponent was a pattern-based, semi-predictable AI boss, there were, of course, plenty of people who could beat it.
But for MooGun, a professional, that video sparked something in him—his heart burned with excitement for the first time in a while.
For the past three days, he had obsessively used only a handgun, driven by an irresistible urge.
Isn’t it natural for any guy who plays shooting games to want to channel the spirit of a dog-avenging killer and create a headshot montage at least once in his life?
However, after three days of using the pistol… not so much.
Despite his blatant obsession with headshots—raising his headshot rate to 50%—which was insanely high, considering the tournament average was about 25%, it still felt lacking for some reason.
Of course, 50% was already an insane stat in a flashy, hero-based shooting game, but it didn’t feel quite right.
It was as if he couldn’t shake the greed, the thought: If I just put in the time, couldn’t I hit 100% headshot rate in a single game?
During his pro career, he’d always prioritized shots that would secure victory over flashy moves. But now? He was just a streamer.
No one could criticize him for abandoning efficiency and diving headfirst into this insane goal.
“… Guess I’ll stop here for today.”
But before he knew it, it was already 4 a.m.
The end of his stream was near.
“It’s already this late. To wrap things up, let’s play two rounds of casual random squad matches.”
ᅳkhkhkh
– Already?
– Where did my time go?
– Let’s stream snipe~
:: Mission ::
:: Win a match within two games – 100,000 clouds ::
“Whoa, thank you for the 100,000! I’ll do my best to secure a win in the next two games.”
ᅳHaha~
– Let’s get that win!
And so, the final matches of the day began.
Excited to see what kind of teammates he’d get, MooGun queued up.
The left slot in the random squad filled first, followed shortly by the right slot—pop.
It was none other than Crazy Shot.
Recently, Crazy Shot had been making waves with some jaw-dropping plays, especially with dual double-barrel shotguns.
Both the viewers and MooGun instinctively checked the new teammate’s nickname.
[3p:MooGunisMomoAnti]
“…?”
A weird nickname, not quite hostile but not exactly friendly either.
It felt more like a toxic viewer disapproving of MooGun and Momo’s camaraderie rather than a fan.
Curious if the player would use voice chat, MooGun opened his mic first.
“Hello, are you by any chance watching the stream?”
After a short pause, the other player responded.
[You. Good. Game with me. Fun. Thanks.]
A robotic TTS voice answered, but it wasn’t just the voice that threw him off—it was the awkward phrasing.
It felt like an international viewer had used a poorly performing translator to join his game.
“Can you understand me? Uh…You understand my talk?”
[Yes. I. Am. Pro. Good. At. Listening. To. Korean.]
ᅳLOLOLOLOLOL
– What’s with this guy? LOLOLOL
– He opens viewer games and immediately gets a comedian! LOLOLOL
MooGun figured it didn’t matter as long as they could understand each other.
After all, it wasn’t a ranked game, so just having fun would suffice.
But when the “comedian” of a viewer started throwing out a challenge, the situation shifted.
[Want. Bet. You and I. Win. You shout. MooGun. Overrated. I lose. I reveal. Real voice.]
– What does that even mean? kekekekeke
The viewers were baffled, unable to fully grasp the meaning.
But MooGun, who had encountered similar foreign viewers before, quickly caught on.
“Alright, I accept. What’s the bet?”
– Oh, it was a bet?
– No way, he didn’t call him overrated—he said he’s overhyped! lololololol
The TTS voice replied shortly after.
[Kill. Many number.]
It had been a while since MooGun had such prime YouTube content handed to him.
A guest who made the audience laugh from the moment they showed up? That wasn’t something you saw every day.
Plus, it was a casual game. There was no way MooGun, who could dominate matches when bored, would lose in kill count.
For some lighthearted fun before wrapping up the stream, it was the perfect bet.
But a bet was still a bet, and no matter how much fun the viewers were having, MooGun couldn’t just let his opponent win.
Grabbing a sniper rifle and the pistol he’d been using all day, MooGun grinned.
“Alright then. Let’s do this.”