Alexia
“Merlin’s beard, just look at these visuals! Look at them and tremble in awe! Everyone else in the industry better watch out, because Kolimi is coming to take you down!”
I mute my mic for a second and watch everyone in the stream chat erupt into excited cheering. The new season of Crimson Skies: Illustria’s Last Tomorrow was only just announced last night. Within hours, the trailer on the Kolimi Games channel was already setting the internet on fire.
As a professional streamer, I was one of the lucky few to get my hands on an early copy. But I haven’t played it yet. Too many bad days lately, too much time being chronically online and not enough to rest. I’ll get to it when I can.
For now, I watch the fire emojis, the comments in all caps, and a multitude of memes and virtual hands raised in joy stream by in a haze of online applause. There are more than fifteen thousand people in the thread at the right bottom of my screen having a collective happy breakdown, and I love it.
Sighing contentedly, I think about that. I love my life. So much.
Well, not all of it. I don’t exactly love the struggle for viewer stats. There are days when having to monitor my channel performance really sucks all the joy out of gaming and replaces it with bone-deep insecurity.
But I’m doing well right now enough that gaming on livestream pays the bills, so I grit my teeth and power through the bad days. I’m doing it for the fans, I tell myself with a streak of possessive pride a mile across. My fans.
The life of a professional RPG streamer is tough, without a doubt. There’s a whole wide world out there of people obsessed with role-playing games. Millions and millions of users, all willing to spend their time, energy and cash on virtual worlds that allow them to escape into a fantasy adventure.
All I’m asking for is a good chunk of that audience. Or that’s the dream, anyway.
The problem is that I don’t have the outreach yet to be explosive. My audio setup is good enough, and I’ve spent tons of money on good lighting, great video quality, and the right aesthetic for my background. I don’t use a green screen. I’d never stoop that low.
But I know for a fact that there are gamer bros out there who skate by on ridiculous fake wallpapers in their virtual background. Their equipment is great, but their contribution to the actual genre is nil. How does shaking your head and pointing at the screen qualify as commentary? It’s insane.
But they still get about half a million other bros each on their live streams, all just watching for the frat house vibes. Meanwhile, I have to work twice as hard for less than half the stats to prove that I even know what I’m talking about.
One day, I promise myself, I’ll show them all. When I get to the top and win my first Streamer Award, I’ll make it a point to remind everyone that a girl can actually make it to the highest ranking on gameplay skills alone. Graciously, of course. But someone needs to say it.
“Tell the world. My body is READY!” someone comments in the thread.
It makes me break into a grin. While the visuals are stunning, the real selling point for Illustria’s Last Tomorrow is the multiple romance routes the player can take. Every single option is hot.
Like not just hot, but hawt hot. My personal favorite is Zen Rathmore, heir to the throne of the Illustrian kingdom. He’s a prince, he’s a hero, and he’s a whole snack. What’s not to love?
But the game stats are stacking up in favor of a few other fan favorites, too. There’s Jett, the hunky but sweet stable boy, or Kly Creighton, the soldier with his own code of honor, or Leon Sennet, who I love but can’t seem to get into romantically anymore. To name just a few.
My player character is Elle Argenti, my own custom character. She’s hugely over-powered compared to many—though not all—of the bosses in the game. As she should be. I’ve put in literally thousands of hours of gameplay to get her to level eighty-seven, where she sits unchallenged.
Unlike me IRL, she’s cool, confident, and basically unkillable. I sigh. What I wouldn’t give to have her life instead of mine.
I type, “Everybody stay with the W’s in this chat!” as the mouth-watering Duke Charon Val Corvinus enters the screen. He’s not a romance route, but wow. Oh, wow. He certainly looks like one.
With his blonde hair layered into immaculately stylish waves, cheekbones to die for, the aquiline nose of a young Caesar, and the body of a lean, mean, killing machine, I can’t help but stare a little longer than I need to.
This is the biggest bad, the most magnificent evil boss to ever bring his flair to bear on the world of Illustria. Duke Charon Val Corvinus, who is perhaps the only in-game character that Elle Argenti, the Golden Hero herself, might consider an equal match.
He’s not new to the game, but no one has been able to defeat him yet. He’s a near invincible character, leveled at a whopping one hundred. Crimson Skies’ main storyline tops out at level twenty, so you have to complete sidequests and alternate storylines to level past that.
You can also play something the devs call the “New Game Plus,” which lets you restart the story without losing your character’s perks, levels, and equipment. This also makes the enemies more challenging, as they’re beefed up to remain entertaining to seasoned players. I’ve “restarted” five times now, enjoying my romance with Zen lasting through several of them.
Charon lifts a finger in the cutscene, immediately grabbing my attention. He’s in the foreground of the Dark Fortress, his appropriately Gothic stronghold, surrounded by a dangerous forest and fortified with vampire magic. Not to mention a whole army and several high-powered generals under his command.
“Dare to defy me,” he says, his glacial blue eyes narrowed intently, “and pay the price. In blood.”
Ravens caw with sinister effect in the background. The sky is designed to grow murkier and block out the light every time he’s onscreen, I think, because this aesthetic design is beautifully, sumptuously dark.
“I’ve reigned over darkness for years without count,” he continues. What a great voice, too. Pure cold steel with a layer of honey on top. “But now, my goal is to vanquish Zen Rathmore, the so-called heir to the Illustrian throne, and take his place. And then. . . ”
I gulp in anticipation. I’m so ready to take this guy down in the new season.
“And then,” he continues, “I plunge the realm into darkness and take my rightful place as the ruler of all dominions conquered by the eternal night!”
“Challenge accepted,” I hiss. “Give me hell, and I’ll answer with Armageddon.”
It’s one of my most favorite lines that I’ve ever made Elle Argenti say. It’s cool, it’s fierce, and it’s biblically accurate. Three out of three for dramatic impact.
And the viewers on my stream get excited about it, turning it into my catchphrase. Right now, the chat is exploding with excitement and cheers.
It should feel satisfying. It usually does.
But right now, a harsh cough chokes off my breath. I double over, gasping.
My hand goes feebly to my mic controls. This huge crowd doesn’t need to hear me coughing and spluttering. Chronic illness is such a vibe-killer.
The trouble is that I can’t afford to go to a doctor right now. Streaming is paying the basic bills, but insurance without an employer is ridiculously expensive. So getting on a decent medical plan is a distant dream, and I most certainly can’t afford medication and treatment in a private facility.
I mean, just look at how I live. My studio apartment is a dump. I have a basic bed, the cheapest plastic plates from the local thrift store, and a tacked-on old bedsheet across the single window to substitute for the curtains I couldn’t afford.
Staring around miserably, the self-loathing hits me hard and fast.
The chat window is still full of exuberant celebrations flashing by quicker than the speed of light. I should be celebrating with them. I should be responding, turning my mic back on to do more commentary. But all I can do is stare miserably at the cracks in the floor.
If I don’t succeed at this streaming job, I’m done for. Even if I sell my equipment, I’ll still lose my place. After that, it’ll be living out of my car and surviving on cheap junk food while telling everyone I know that I’m “between jobs” and “I’m going to be fine.”
Except I’m not. I’ve never felt less fine in my life.
In the game, Elle Argenti is specced into solar magic and swordcraft. In real life, I, Alexia Grey, am a useless loser with barely enough strength left to apologize to my streamers and rush to the tiny bathroom before I throw up.
Outside, a streak of lightning flashes across the sky and illuminates my tiny place. I get wearily to my feet and flush the mess that just exited my body. There’s an ache deep down in my bones, and the thunder rolling by makes it worse.
As if paying for this shitty one-bedroom with basically nothing in it except my equipment and the cheapest metal bed frame I could find online wasn’t hard enough. As if ogling fictional characters on screen was ever going to help with that.
Now I have to worry about something being wrong with my body. It’s so unfair.
I can’t. I can’t do it anymore.
Just as I think the words, the power flickers out.
I jump up in a panic and go to reboot. No. No! I’m not going to be knocked off my stream on top of everything else.
But just as I reach for the power button, an electrical shock current surges up my arm and sends me crashing to the floor.
This is it, I think as everything goes dark. My eyes drift shut. I’m officially done for.
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