"DUDE!" A surprisingly normal-looking person (except for the horns. And tail. And third eye.) rushed toward him. "DUDE! How do you already have a skin?!"
"A what?"
"A skin!" They gestured frantically at him. "Player avatar skins don't drop until someone reaches at least B-rank! You're what, D? E? How do you have a physical manifestation?!"
"I don't know what you're—"
"It's gotta be a limited edition," something made of geometric shapes said, crowding closer. "Look at the detail work! The grey hair, the claws, even the expression is rendered—"
"This is gonna go for so much in the gacha," a moth-winged being breathed.
A nearby screen lit up with what looked like a slot machine:
[RESENTFUL RESORT COMMEMORATIVE PULL][FEATURING: PLAYER AH'MING AVATAR SET][INCLUDES: Default Skin, Battle-Damaged Variant, Formal Wear][RATE UP: 72 HOURS ONLY][SSR RARITY: 0.001%]
"Oh fuck no—" Ah'Ming started backing up.
"I'm going to pull so hard," someone declared.
"I'm whaling. I don't care. I need that skin."
The fractal-headed businessman drifted closer, examining Ah'Ming with unsettling intensity. "Hmm. I was actually hoping you'd die in that instance."
Ah'Ming's blood ran cold. "Excuse me?"
"Oh yes. I had my eye on your facial structure. Very elegant. Would've made a lovely paperweight for my collection." The businessman sighed. "Prices on fresh broadcaster parts have gotten ridiculous since the ethics committee imposed those tedious 'consent' regulations."
"You can't just buy people—"
"Of course we can!" Another being chimed in, this one looking like an oil painting given three dimensions. "How else do you think the souvenir industry works? Though I'll admit, the quality has gone down since they banned non-consensual harvesting."
"I liked his spinal structure," someone else mused. "Could've made an excellent set of wind chimes."
Ah'Ming was going to be sick.
Or pass out.
Or both.
"Your eyes would've been worth a fortune," the businessman continued pleasantly. "That particular shade of color-processing deficiency is rare—"
"THAT'S ENOUGH," a voice boomed.
No—not a voice. A presence.
Reality rippled.
Every being in the plaza froze mid-motion, like someone had hit pause on existence.
Ah'Ming's system panel exploded across his vision in urgent crimson:
|EMERGENCY PROTOCOL ACTIVATED
|BROADCASTER DETECTED IN UNAUTHORIZED ZONE
|VIEWERS ARE FORBIDDEN FROM DIRECT CONTACT WITH ACTIVE BROADCASTERS
|VIOLATION SEVERITY: CRITICAL
"Wait, what's happening—"
|INITIATING EMERGENCY EXTRACTION
|APOLOGIES FOR THE INCONVENIENCE
|THIS WILL BE EXTREMELY UNPLEASANT
"Wait, wait, WAIT—"
Reality folded.
Space compressed like paper in a fist. Ah'Ming felt every molecule of his body try to occupy the same point in space before exploding outward. His stomach lurched through seven dimensions. His vision inverted. Sound became color became pain became—
He landed face-first on concrete.
Normal, blessed, regular concrete.
Ah'Ming lay there for a solid minute, groaning, tasting copper and street grime, while his internal organs remembered which order they were supposed to be in.
"Never," he gasped. "Never again."
|System apologizes
|Emergency extractions are not designed for comfort
"You think?"
Slowly, carefully, like a newborn giraffe learning to walk, Ah'Ming pushed himself upright.
The plaza was gone.
The eldritch viewers were gone.
He was in a city.
But this city was... almost normal.
Well. Normal-ish.
The streets were packed with people—mostly human-looking, though Ah'Ming spotted enough non-human features to know he wasn't on Earth. Neon signs flickered in a dozen languages. Street vendors sold food that smelled amazing and also slightly toxic. Holographic advertisements competed for attention overhead.
It was grimy and loud and chaotic and human in a way the viewer plaza had absolutely not been.
Ah'Ming had never been so relieved to see urban decay in his life.
He stood on shaking legs and looked around.
Directly in front of him, towering over the surrounding buildings, was a structure that could only be described as "aggressively bureaucratic."
A massive complex of grey concrete and steel, with a sign that blinked in eye-searing colors:
[NEWCOMER'S CENTER][ALL NEW BROADCASTERS REPORT HERE][NO EXCEPTIONS][YES, WE MEAN YOU][STOP TRYING TO SKIP ORIENTATION]
The line to get in wrapped around the entire block.
Possibly around several blocks.
Ah'Ming counted at least three hundred people waiting.
"Oh," he said flatly. "Oh no."
|All broadcasters must complete registration
|It is mandatory
"Are all systems this nice? Or is it just you?"
|System suggests broadcaster join the queue
"How long is this going to take?"
|Previous wait time estimates range from 2-6 hours
"I hate everything."
|System knows
But he joined the line anyway, because apparently that's what his life was now.
Three hours and forty-seven minutes later, Ah'Ming was ready to commit violence.
The line moved with the speed of continental drift. People around him complained in various languages. Someone tried to cut and got ejected from the queue by invisible force. A fight broke out near the front and security drones descended from the ceiling like mechanical angels of bureaucratic fury.
Ah'Ming's feet hurt.
His back hurt.
His soul hurt.
On the plus side, it turned out that the system had an in-built solitair system that Ah'Ming could play while in line. For all the talk it had about being a broadcasting service, it didn't even let Ah'Ming watch the live cams of other people. Scams.
"NEXT!"
The voice was cheerful and robotic and made Ah'Ming want to scream.
He shuffled forward.
The receptionist was clearly an NPC—sleek white and blue plating, a screen for a face displaying a perpetual :) emoji, movements just slightly too smooth to be organic.
"Welcome to the Newcomer's Center!" The robot chirped. "Please approach the desk for processing!"
Ah'Ming approached.
The emoji face cycled through several expressions: :) :| :/ :(
"Name and rank for registration!"
"Ah'Ming. D-rank."
The robot's screen flickered. Typing sounds played from its speakers even though it wasn't typing anything.
"Processing... Processing... Oh."
The emoji changed from :( to :|
"One moment please."
More typing sounds.
The screen flickered again. The emoji cycled through several rapid expressions before settling on... :D?
"OH!" The robot's tone did a complete 180. "Welcome, D-Rank Broadcaster Ah'Ming! Congratulations on your recent promotion and your S-Rank clearance of Main Instance #4238: Resentful Resort!"
The robot actually sounded excited now.
Several people in line behind him perked up, whispering.
"Did they say S-rank?"
"On a main story?"
"Isn't that the guy from the trending videos?"
Ah'Ming tried to ignore them.
"According to your file," the robot continued, screen now displaying little celebratory fireworks, "you've been assigned premium housing in Sector A-7, Penthouse Suite 404!"
"Wait, penthouse?" Ah'Ming blinked. "But I'm only D-rank?"
"Correct! However, your clearance level has granted you access to A-rank housing facilities! This is the maximum tier for automated housing assignments. S-rank broadcasters must purchase and customize their own dimensional pocket residences!"
The robot's screen displayed a holographic map of the city, zooming in on what looked like a very fancy district.
"Sector A-7 is located in the Upper District! You'll have access to premium training facilities, high-tier merchant districts, and exclusive instance queue priorities!"
"I... okay?"
This was happening too fast.
"Here is your access credential!" A card materialized from a slot in the desk. Black with silver trim, his name embossed in elegant script, with a holographic seal that shifted colors.
Ah'Ming took it, still processing.
"Is there anything else I can assist you with today?" The robot asked, emoji still stuck on :D
"Uh." Ah'Ming's stomach growled. "Where can I get food?"
"Oh! Excellent question!" The robot's enthusiasm somehow increased. "There are many fine establishments throughout the city! However, given your recent... viral status..." The robot leaned closer conspiratorially. "Might I suggest the Golden Pavilion? They're accustomed to... unusual appetites. Very accommodating staff. Exceptional portion sizes."
"Viral status?"
"You've been trending on BroadcastWatch for the past two hours! Your highlight compilation has 3.7 million views and climbing! STATUSRELEASED %*2e thirteen13 minutes ago."