I became the Tyrant of a Defense Game Chapter 388

◈ 388. [Side Story] Classic Deokhu

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

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

The two met at a jazz bar and fell in love at first sight. It’s a romantic story in the world if you listen to it like this. Reality is usually a mess.

Father was a poet. To be precise, he was an aspiring poet.

He wrote poetry all his life and delivered bundles of manuscript paper to newspapers and magazines every spring, but no one gave a good answer.

Strictly speaking, my father had no talent.

Mother was a singer. Singing an old pop song in an obscure jazz bar.

He was a person with no concept of savings, who would use it up that day whenever he received an envelope containing tens of thousands of won in money after performing on that day.

No, it would be correct to say that there is no economic conception.

The meeting may have been romantic, but the two who were married were always poor.

Born in the first year of marriage, I also lived in that poverty.

My father wanted me to write poetry.

So all sorts of old poems were read to me.

In my old father’s alcove filled with books of poetry, with a musty smell, I memorized and rewrote old poems.

My mother wanted me to make good money.

So he made me study.

Where did you get the money from without money, you sent me to private academies from an early age and got me tutoring.

It seems that both of them wanted me to release 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 machine that my neighbor had abandoned without my parents’ knowledge, connected it to a cathode ray tube TV with poor sound quality, and played games all night with my eyes closed.

I still remember the opening of that game.

On the dull dot graphic screen, the sun rises… … The protagonist, the hero, raises the holy sword above his head while bathing in the sunlight.

and phrases that come to mind.

-PRESS START

– Insert A Coin To Continue

Please press the start key.

Please insert a coin to continue.

The game was thousands of times more fun than composing boring poems or studying that didn’t even come into my dull mind.

That old game machine was the only way out of my frustrating childhood.

The escape ended when the parents broke the game console and threw it away.

***

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

Their theory was that if you work hard, you can overcome anything.

After school, I came home and couldn’t breathe, and I had to write poetry, memorize poetry, and study.

There were no changeable friends.

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

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

– My child should be raised as a poet. You should win an award in your teens. Let’s focus on making poetry right now.

– what are you talking about. My child has to be sent to a prestigious university in Seoul. Skip poetry and focus on your studies.

Every night my parents fought like that.

Isn’t that funny?

I didn’t even think of anyone giving me rice cakes, but I was told to drink kimchi soup first, and that’s exactly what happened.

The poetry I wrote did not receive a single prize, and my grades were barely at the top of the school.

I spend half of the day on poetry and half of the day on studying, and the result is this.

… … .

3 years have passed. My high school life is over.

My poems still haven’t received any awards.

And ruined the exam.

***

My parents divorced around the time I was in my third marriage.

Unable to overcome the hardships of life, the two parted ways.

And then, I let go of my expectations. Would it be correct to say that I gave up?

While working part-time, I prepared for the third exam at the Gosiwon, and was able to enter a national university that wasn’t bad for 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.

It seems that he 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 really luckily, I was able to get a job at a big company that anyone would know by name.

My mother hugged me and wept loudly.

I said you knew how to do it, and you said you would do it if you did… … .

Dad didn’t answer the phone.

In fact, I haven’t given up yet, I’ve been writing poems every year, and I’ve secretly submitted them, but I still can’t win the prize. I didn’t tell my father.

Because I didn’t want to write poetry anymore.

I entered the company

And, from the first day of work, hell began.

***

1 year.

The day I lasted at that company was exactly one year.

Harsh working environment, daily overtime or weekend work, bullying from seniors… … Well, I actually had to endure this. Aren’t humans creatures of adaptation?

I endured like an idiot while listening to the sound of an idiot, and I was upgraded from a low grade to a normal level.

My spirit was able to hold on. The problem was my body.

One night, on the tens of consecutive overtime days, I can’t even remember when I went back to my room.

I fell down 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 the heart.

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

After leaving the emergency room, I took a taxi back to work to finish the overtime work I was dealing with.

The sun came up in the east. I blankly looked at it.

Is it an illusion?

Under the beating sunlight, it seemed as if the letters made of dots were visible.

-PRESS START

I stopped the taxi.

I turned to my room and called my boss.

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

“I will quit the company.”

I hit the start key.

And then, my real life began.

***

When I quit the company, my mother also cut off from me.

I didn’t understand that I quit that good company, a place that took my whole life to get into, because it was a little difficult.

He said he was disappointed in me, and cursed at me as a guy who didn’t know how to work hard.

I lost contact with my parents. She had no original friends. My co-workers didn’t want to care about me anymore after I left the company.

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

In front of overflowing time, I pondered for a while on what to do.

Because I was a boring person with no interesting hobbies.

“… … that’s right.”

Recalling my childhood memories, I murmured.

“I liked the game.”

I stopped by Yongsan that day. As a bastard who didn’t even know C in computers, I overcharged the vendors and got a computer with the highest specifications. the dealer asked with a smile.

“You’re doing such a good job, you think you’re trying to broadcast a game?”

I couldn’t understand what he was saying, so I just laughed.

The vendor put a mouse or keyboard on it, saying it was a service. I only found out later that it was inventory processing, but at this time I was just grateful.

I brought the computer home, finished the installation with grunts, and stopped crying while looking at the computer that booted up successfully.

It was because, for the first time in my life, I realized that I bought what I wanted to buy for myself.

***

While I was building a wall with games, games had improved tremendously.

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

returning user… … It’s nothing to say, newbie, new games were unfamiliar and embarrassing to me.

I was a much older human being than I thought.

So, I started playing the classic game.

I started playing old games from decades ago that I felt relieved just by looking at them.

Fortunately for me, it was not difficult to find old games, perhaps because selling memories is always a popular content.

In addition, remasters and remakes were giving away old titles again.

Every time I ran the game like that, there was something that kept appearing at the top right of the screen.

[Broadcast the game]

It seemed to be a built-in function of the computer’s graphics driver. It supports its own broadcast function.

At first, I didn’t want to pay attention, but every time I turned on the game, that letter came to my mind, and my eyes got more and more.

– Are you trying to broadcast a game?

I remembered the words of the technician who adjusted the computer.

So, one day, impulsively… … Turned on the broadcast.

[Please set a nickname for broadcasting.]

nickname.

what to do… … After thinking about it, I clumsily knocked on the keyboard.

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

[Classic Deokhu]

That’s how my first broadcast began.

***

But the show wasn’t terribly popular.

In the first place, I also started with the feeling of leaving the game on while playing, but it was really not popular enough to be desperate.

Well, in this day and age, broadcasting old games from decades ago, even without a cam or microphone. Who in the world is coming to see you?

However, since I did not know the ecology of internet broadcasting at all, I did not know how to improve it.

So I just turned on the broadcast whenever I played the game.

A month has passed.

My broadcast was still flying, and viewers who came in from time to time often left after just looking at the screen.

‘Should I quit?’

Turning on the game, I thought so.

I was just about to reach the ending of a classic side-scrolling RPG.

After watching this ending, I thought I would stop broadcasting.

The final hidden boss popped up on the screen.

I nimbly manipulated the pad to play with the boss, and defeated the boss without getting hit.

game clear.

The ending staff roll came out. On the screen that followed, the hero who saved the kingdom was praised by the people.

In reality, I’m just playing games as if I’m dead alone in a studio where no one knows.

“after… … .”

said with a long sigh.

“Woke up.”

After speaking, I was shocked.

It was because I belatedly realized that I left the microphone on because it was the last broadcast. She was surprised, but then smiled.

What if the voice is transmitted?

It’s a show that no one watches anyway… … .

It was then.

– brother!

In an empty chat window,

A single message came up.

– He’s really great. how did you break this?

“… … .”

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

then it was seen

number of viewers. One.

Since when? How long have you been watching?

I was speechless.

I didn’t know how to respond to the message from the first viewer I received after starting the broadcast.

As I stood still in bewilderment, one more line of his message came up in my field of vision.

– I’ll keep it for fun. Will you broadcast again next time?

“Uh, uh… … That, yes.”

As I stammered, he left a waving emoticon… … .

– It was fun! see you again!

left the broadcast.

“… … .”

Again, the number of viewers is 0.

Was it an illusion? Did you see something wrong?

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

I read and re-read the chats left by unidentified viewers.

“… … haha.”

A laugh came out.

For some reason, the bridge of my nose was cold. I hurriedly suppressed my burning eyes with the back of my hand.

I was stuck in an egg.

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

I thought I wanted to live like this myself.

But no.

In fact, I was hoping someone would reach out to me.

It’s not me who writes poetry. I’m not studying. It’s not me making money. not me who is useful

I just like to like things… … I hope you like it.

In fact, it’s what I’ve been wishing for all my life.

So, this one chat left by a complete stranger without a one-sided relationship. Even if the person in question left a meaningless message.

To the sense of being connected to someone.

To the favor that someone extended to me who had become useless.

I was so happy that I cried.

“Broadcasting, shall we do a little more… … .”

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

And this choice has changed my life ever since.