Novels online

Became a tyrant of defense games - Episode 388

◈ 388. [Side Story] Classics fanatic

I don’t have any particularly good memories of my childhood..

I was born to a poet father and a singer mother..

It is said that the two met at a jazz bar and fell in love at first sight. If you just listen to it like this, it's a romantic story. Reality usually sucks..

My father was a poet. To be exact, he was an aspiring poet..

I wrote poetry all my life and sent bundles of manuscripts to newspapers and magazines every spring, but no one gave me a good answer..

Strictly speaking, my father had no talent..

My mother was a singer. Singing old pop songs in a no-name jazz bar.

He was a person who had no concept of savings, and every time he received an envelope containing tens of thousands of won after performing on stage that day, he ended up spending it all that day..

No, it would be more accurate to say that he has no economic sense..

The meeting may have been romantic, but the married couple was always poor..

I, who was born in the first year of marriage, also lived in that poverty..

my father wanted me to write poetry.

So all kinds of old poems were read to me..

In my father's old, musty-smelling room filled with poetry books, I memorized old poems and wrote them down..

My mother wanted me to make good money.

So he made me study.

Where did they get the money from a life they didn't have? From a young age, they sent me to academy and taught me tutoring..

I guess they both wanted me to relieve them of their resentment in an area where they had no talent..

Unfortunately, I had no talent for poetry or studies..

I was just an ordinary kid who liked games..

I picked up an old game console that my neighbor had thrown away without my parents knowing, connected it to a cathode ray tube television with poor sound quality, and played games all night with my eyes glued to it..

I still remember the opening of that game..

On the dull dot graphic screen, the sun rises... … The hero hero soaks up the sunlight and raises the holy sword above his head..

And the phrase that comes to mind.

- PRESS START

- Insert A Coin To Continue

Please press the start key.

Please insert a coin to continue.

Playing games was a thousand times more fun than writing poetry, which wasn't fun, or studying, which didn't even make sense to my dull mind..

That old game console was the only escape from my frustrating childhood..

That escape ended with my parents destroying the game console and throwing it away..

***

As I grew up and it became clear that I had no talent for poetry or studies, my parents' obsession became more intense..

Their theory was that you can overcome anything if you try hard..

When I finished school, I came home and had to focus on writing poetry, memorizing poetry, and studying without being able to take a single breath..

I didn't have any good friends.

It was a life of just going back and forth between home and school with no time to hang out..

When I entered high school, my parents started fighting. The pattern was mainly like this.

- Our child must be raised to be a poet. You should win the award when you are in your teens. Let’s focus on writing poetry right now..

- what are you talking about. We should send our child to a prestigious university in Seoul. Forget things like poetry and focus on studying..

My parents fought like that every night..

Isn’t it funny?.

I didn't even think of anyone giving me rice cake, but I started drinking kimchi soup, and that's exactly what it was like..

The poetry I wrote didn't win any decent awards, and my grades barely managed to stay in the top ranks of the school..

I spent half the day on poetry and half the day on studying, and this was the result.

…….

3Years have passed. my high school life is over.

My poem still hasn't won any awards.

And I ruined the CSAT.

***

My parents divorced around the time I turned three..

Unable to overcome the hardships of life, the two separated..

And only then did I let go of my expectations of myself. Is it correct to say that I gave up?.

I prepared for my third year at a gosiwon while working part-time, and was able to enter a decent national university with a 3-year scholarship..

It was a department that had nothing to do with poetry and was a good place to get a job. His father declared separation from me at this time..

I guess they wanted me to go to a department related to poetry writing. her mother was delighted.

After serving in the military, I studied hard until I graduated from college..

And I was really lucky, I was able to get a job at a large company where everyone knows my name..

My mother hugged me and cried loudly..

I knew you could do it, and you are the type of person who can do anything.…….

My father didn't answer the phone..

In fact, I haven't given up yet and have been writing poems every year, submitting them secretly, but I still haven't won the prize. I didn't tell my father.

Because I wasn't going to write any more poetry..

I entered the company.

And hell began from the first day of work..

***

1year.

It was exactly one year that I lasted at that company..

Harsh working environment, daily overtime or weekend work, harassment from seniors... … Well, this was actually worth enduring. Aren’t humans an animal of adaptation?.

Even though I was called an idiot, I stubbornly persisted, and my evaluation was upgraded from a poor grade to an average grade..

My spirit held on. the problem was my body.

One night after working overtime for dozens of days in a row, I can't even remember when I went back to my room..

I collapsed with a nosebleed, and when I opened my eyes, I was in the emergency room..

They said there was something wrong with the blood vessels in my heart..

They said overwork was the cause. He was told that if he continued to live like this, he would not last long and he would die..

After leaving the emergency room, I took a taxi back to the office to finish up the overtime work I had been working on..

The sun rose in the east. I looked there blankly.

Is it an illusion??

Under the shining sunlight, letters made of dots seemed to be visible..

- PRESS START

I stopped the taxi.

I headed back to my room and called my boss..

Like a dot graphic warrior pulling out a holy sword, he courageously took out his cell phone. said this.

“I'm quitting my job.”

I pressed the start key.

And then, my life really began.

***

When I quit my job, my mother cut herself off from me..

He didn't understand that I had quit that great company, a place that took me my whole life to get into, just because it was a little difficult..

He said he was disappointed in me and cursed me, calling me a guy who doesn't know grit or effort..

I lost contact with my parents. Her original friends were not there. My coworkers no longer wanted to deal with me after I quit my job..

I also stopped writing poetry. There is no need to study anymore.

With so much time in front of me, I wondered for a moment what I should do..

Because I was a boring person with no special hobbies..

“……that's right.”

Recalling my childhood memories, I muttered.

“I liked games.”

I stopped by Yongsan that day. As an idiot who didn't even know C, I overpriced the dealers and got a computer with the highest specs. The businessman smiled and asked.

“Since you have such a good computer, I guess you're trying to broadcast a game.?”

I didn't understand what he was saying so I just laughed..

The vendor said it was a service and provided a mouse and keyboard. I found out later that it was an inventory transaction, but at the time, I was just grateful..

I brought the computer home, finished the installation with a sigh, and when I saw that the computer had successfully booted, I stopped crying..

Because for the first time in my life, I realized that I had bought what I wanted for myself..

***

While I was living in isolation from games, games were improving tremendously..

Brilliant graphics, deep and wide-ranging genres and systems, and complex controls.…….

Returning user... … As a newbie, the new games were unfamiliar and embarrassing to me..

I was a much older person than I thought..

So, I started playing the classic game..

I started playing old games from decades ago that made me feel safe just by looking at them..

Fortunately for me, I was able to obtain old games without difficulty, perhaps because selling memories has always been a popular content..

Moreover, because of remasters and remakes, old titles were being released again..

Every time I ran the game like that, something kept being displayed in the upper right corner of the screen..

[Broadcast the game]

It seemed to be a built-in feature of the computer's graphics driver. Supports its own broadcasting function.

At first, I didn't want to pay attention to it, but every time I turned on the game, those letters came to mind, so I started to notice more and more..

- I guess you're going to do a game broadcast or something.?

I also remembered the words of the person who installed my computer:.

So, one day, on an impulse… … I turned on the broadcast.

[Please set a nickname for broadcasting.]

nickname.

What should I do... … After much thought, I clumsily typed on the keyboard..

A nickname that suits the old me who memorizes old poems, listens to old pop songs, and plays old games..

[Classics fanatic]

That's how my first broadcast began..

***

But the broadcast was extremely unpopular..

From the beginning, I started with the feeling of turning it on while playing the game, but it was so unpopular that it was truly miserable..

Actually, in this day and age, you can broadcast old games from decades ago, even without a cam or microphone. Who in the world is coming to look after me?.

However, at the time, I had no idea about the ecology of Internet broadcasting and had no idea how to improve it..

So I just turned on the broadcast every time I played the game..

A month has passed.

My broadcast was still buzzing, and the occasional viewer would leave after just looking at the screen..

‘Should I quit?.’

That's what I thought when I turned on the game.

I was almost at the ending of a classic side-scrolling RPG..

After seeing the ending of this, I thought I would quit broadcasting..

The final hidden boss pops out on the screen..

I manipulated the pad nimbly, toyed with the boss, and defeated the boss without getting hit even once..

clear the game.

The ending staff roll played. On the screen behind him, the protagonist who saved the kingdom was receiving praise from the people..

In reality, I'm just playing games like I'm dead alone in a studio where no one recognizes me..

“after…….”

said with a long sigh.

“woke up.”

I was very surprised after speaking..

This was because I realized too late that I had left the microphone on for the last broadcast. She was surprised, but then she burst out laughing.

What happens when your voice is transmitted?.

It's a broadcast that no one watches anyway.…….

It was then.

- brother!

In an empty chat window,

A one-line message was posted.

- Bro, you’re really amazing. How did you break this??

“…….”

I opened my eyes in shock and saw the message. I read and read again.

Then I saw it.

number of viewers. 1.

Since when? Since when have you been watching??

I was speechless.

I didn't know how to react to the first message I received from a viewer after the broadcast started..

In my field of vision, which was frozen in embarrassment, one more message from him came up..

- I'll enjoy it. They'll broadcast it again next time.?

“Uh, uh… … Yeah, yeah.”

As I stuttered, the guy left a waving hand emoticon.…….

- It was fun! see you again!

went off the air.

“…….”

Again, the number of viewers is 0.

Was it a mistake? Did I see something wrong??

I wanted to, but the log in the chat window remained clear..

I read and reread the chat left by an unidentified viewer..

“……haha.”

I laughed.

For some reason, the bridge of my nose felt sore. I quickly suppressed my hot eyes with the back of my hand..

I was trapped in an egg.

He was dying alone in an isolated dormitory where no one thought to look in..

I thought I wanted to live like this myself.

but it wasn't.

Actually, I was hoping someone would reach out to me.

It's not me who writes poetry. It's not me studying. It's not me who makes money. I'm not useful.

Me, who just likes what I like… … I hope you like it.

In fact, it's something I've wanted my whole life..

So, this one chat left by a complete stranger whom I have never met. Even if the message left by the person concerned has no particular meaning,.

The feeling of being connected to someone.

Because of the favor that someone extended to me who had become useless,.

I was so happy that I cried.

“Let’s do a little more broadcasting.…….”

I gave up the idea of ​​quitting the broadcast and decided to continue for a few more days..

And this choice changed my life thereafter..