RPWP (2)

9.

He tried to keep the costs of production of his content as minimal as he could. Meaning that the day after he had recorded the newest episode of him playing a session, he once again packed his laptop and wallet to leech off of the university’s license of the software use by students.

As always, he arrived around nine or ten in the morning, went to buy himself a bottle of mineral water, and grabbed an empty seat in a random hallway, connecting his laptop to the power outlet and going online to work. 

A professor walked by after he had sat there for an hour or two. The man made a double take, steps slowing down to a pause. He looked up at the man.

“Oh, that’s not the most common sight!” the professor exclaimed. “Are you back to studying, Tomi?”

Tomi removed the headphones out of politeness. “No, I’m just helping an acquaintance with how to use the video editing software for an assignment.” Tomi looked around. “Should be coming any minute now, really, unless I go stood up,” he lied.

The professor did his presence further: “Then I’ll await the excellent creative choices.”

Tomi chuckled at the jab. “If you can’t see traces of my work, then I taught them poorly,” he said.

The professor didn’t linger any longer and hurried down the hallway. Tomi could return to staring at his screen with footage of a recording he did last week, headphones on.

The scene wasn’t full och action. He watched as pale hands moved a token across a map.

“Let’s roll for what happens at this location,” he said before he rolled three d20s. He shuffled the card as he looked over the companion book he used to play solo. “Oh, I got my first card! Also, the location I arrived at is a city with fishing as its main resource.”

The hands grabbed a pencil and added a coastline to where the token was. The hands then added a circle onto the paper to show it was a city and named the location “Salmon Port”.

Tomi watched as the hands finished all the basic exploration tasks in order and the detached voice explained what the Knight he played for this game found in this city, while writing down the same information to know the information without having to rewatch the VOD if the detached voice ever decided to use the map generated during this playthrough for a future game.

The hands reached for a deck out of sight, while the voice said, “I didn’t take out the deck, god fucking dammit.”

Tomi stopped it there to mark the time before he continued.

He had indeed forgotten the tarot deck he needed for the game. When he recorded on Friday last week, he had still felt rather rattled by the sudden gifted subscriptions he had received the day before. It wasn’t as if he had never got a few gifted subs. He could accept someone wanted to share their subscription with someone else.

However, he didn’t even have enough viewers during a stream to justify that many subs.

Some still remained unused and would get distributed to random passersby who decided to follow him on the platform and who went to see the VOD or to add another month to some subscribers who weren’t there when he was streaming.

The hands returned to the screen while shuffling the card. The hands dropped half the deck off the desk. “Fuck.”

After picking all of them up, he heard his detached voice say “Retake!” before there was a pause and stillness. Then the hands returned to the desk, appearing while shuffling the cards.

“Let us see what fate brings me today. Also, these cards are so nice. They’re so easy to shuffle.”

Tomi paused and went back a few second in the footage. He marked the end of his selection and tapped the delete key. He then compared the ending frame before the cut and the opening frame after.

He sighed. There was some movement to some items on the desk. He would have to add a few edited frames and work some mask to visually hide that sudden change.

10.

As he was adding a correction to himself in text to his video, after the voice accidentally said his strength stat as his modifier but counted with his modifier, he took a sip of water. His stomach grumbled. He checked the time. It was a little past half-past two. The café he frequented would open at four, and he would save money if he just… lived off of water for maybe two, no, three hours. Getting there too early would make him too inconspicuous. 

He grumbled as he stared at someone’s forgotten protein bar on the windowsill from across of the small table he was staking his claim of today. A while earlier, the hallway had been full of students working through lunch, eating all sorts of things.

The half of the protein bar was melting in the sun falling through the hallway window.

Even the cleaner had just left it there when cleaning everything else, as if it was Tomi’s responsibility to throw it away.

He returned to the footage and switched screens to see multiple folders taking up space on it. He found the one labelled BGN and searched for a keyword to find royalty free music that fit the tone of what was going on plotwise.

Sample after sample, he listened through them on repeat until he looked up at the granola bar.

And found himself startled by seeing the shape of a person at the edge of his field of vision. His head snapped straight to looking at the man.

The man was looking at him over his shoulder with a slight tilt of his head, his dark eyes thoughtful behind a pair of wire-frame glasses.

He got visibly startled a moment after Tomi looked at him.

“Goodness!” the man exclaimed, clearly more taken by the scare than Tomi was.

Tomi gave him a quick once-over.

The middle-aged man wore a light pullover over his button-up and the tie was carefully tucked in. He had a dark jacket, which matched his trousers, over one arm and a leather bag over the shoulder. In one hand he held a folder in the othera partially emptied bottle of water. With grey at the temples, his hair was styled in a way that looked intentionally a little unpolished.

The man placed his things on the table next to him. He inhaled deeply before he exhaled slowly.

He must have really got a fright.

Tomi turned to look at the protein bar in thought. He pulled his gaze away from it and recalibrated. His train of thought had crashed into a sudden obstacle and he lost momentum in his work.

He was about to click on the samples again, but sensed a stare. He looked at the middle-aged man who mimed removing headphones seeing Tomi turn back to him.

Tomi heard conversation perfectly fine with the headphones on, but he slid them off, and then waited for the man to speak.

“Have we met?” the man asked, uncertainty in his deep voice. “I apologise for staring earlier. It’s just that you feel incredibly familiar, but I can’t place where it may have been we have met.”

“It depends on the definition of having met. We had a brief encounter last week. Nothing major. I called a cab for you late at night.”

The man’s gaze flicked across Tomi’s face before turning to his hands. Tomi propped his chin in his palm. The man’s gaze still lingered before it moved to Tomi’s face again. There was a slight sheepishness to it.

“I’m sorry for the trouble. I had been at a work function of sorts.”

“I didn’t know the faculty here had work functions.”

“Oh. No. I’m not faculty. I merely attended as a guest lecturer.”

“Oh, really? On what?”

“Cooperation between positions and roles in a certain environment.” The man gave Tomi a once-over. His eyes once more lingered at his hands. Then he looked at the laptop. He finally turned back to Tomi. “Are you a student or…?”

“Just borrowing some space, since I otherwise work from home.”

“Oh.”

The man turned to his things. He put away the folder and water into his bag.

Tomi fingered the headphones, but decided to watch this man until he left. It was amusing how awkward one man could get over being a little drunk after a “work function”.

Clearly this man had something less speakable going on that day, since that excuse sounded as much as a euphemism as the last one.

The man glanced at Tomi as he grabbed his jacket. He looked a little like he could have been in a fashion magazine for men in their forties to fifties. Or that he had directly taken the outfit out of a spread from one.

“Do go on, I don’t wish to disturb you.”

“Nah,” Tomi replied and leaned back. “I was just about to take a break, anyway.”

The middle-aged man paused and turned to the protein bar on the windowsill.

“…” Tomi cleared his throat. “That’s not mine.”

“I didn’t think it was.”

“Good.”

“Have you eaten? If not, I am available right now to return the favour from last time with a meal. I haven’t had the time to eat anything myself.” The man paused. “I don’t think I have caught your name yet…?”

Tomi chuckled. “It was irrelevant the last time we met. We didn’t exchange them.”

“I see.” He finished buttoning his jacket before offering his hand. “I’m Lars Hagen.”

“You can call me Tomi.”

11.

The restaurant was the fanciest place Tomi has ever visited.

He once stayed at a pretty nice hotel for an event a few years ago when he was covering it on his blog. He had been invited but when he was supposed to book lodging, only a more expensive hotel had any available option. To him, there was no difference, since he didn’t pay for it. It had been the only reason he had agreed to come, because he was nearly as broke as a student as he was nowadays.

That hotel was nothing compared to the quiet locations he was at now. Even the server greeting them looked more expensive than Tomi’s entire game collection.

Still not as costly as the laptop sitting in his bag, however. That was truly his life insurance made tangible and the only thing he owned that was truly of any proper value.

When asked to leave their things in the wardrobe, Lars Hagen shook his head minimally with a simple, “That won’t be necessary. It’s merely a small meal.”

Good. Tomi wouldn’t give away his precious livelihood to the hands of someone who wouldn’t understand the value of what was in his bag.

They got shown to a table, and they both sat down before the server offered them each a menu.

Tomi looked around without embarrassment. There were a few businessmen and -women around the establishment. Others didn’t exactly come in business casual attire and certainly not in a hoodie and jeans. The most casually dressed person was that middle-aged man across the table from Tomi.

The man had removed his jacket before he sat down, and was now rolling up his sleeves with in a way that looked more dignified than it needed to be.

Perhaps he realised Tomi was looking because he looked up from his own arm and offered a sheepish smile. “Don’t mind me. I usually have my sleeves rolled up for work. It’s easier that way as some days I move around quite a bit.”

“I don’t mind looking at a man’s bare arms,” Tomi replied casually.

There was a minor pause before Lars Hagen replied, “Right,” and picked up the menu.

12.

The server returned after some time. “What would you like to order?”

Lars Hagen put down the menu and adjusted his glasses. “Whatever fresh fish you got will do quite well. I would like potatoes with it. Plain water, thank you.”

“Excellent choice, sir. Today’s fish with potatoes and water. Would you like an appetiser or dessert as well?”

“Just the fish.”

The server turned to Tomi and smoothly said, “And what would you like to order, sir?”

Tomi finally skimmed the menu. “The chicken,” in he said.

“Which chicken?” the server asked.

“The chicken dish,” Tomi responded, tone calm and confident.

“Yes, I understand. But which one, sir?”

Tomi looked up from the menu. “Why are you asking me? What is your chef up to all day if he needs my input on how to cook? Isn’t the chef the professional?” He turned to Lars Hagen to confirm.

There was visible amusement in the man’s eyes as he studied Tomi. He then turned to the server. “Tell the chef to make the dish based on the stated preference and the chef’s own sound judgement,” he said.

The server jotted something down on the notepad, without a single change in expression. “Appetiser? Dessert? Drink?”

“No, no, and…” Tomi looked through the list of options before settling. “Orange juice.”

“Right, sir,” the server said dryly. “Excellent choice.”

13.

While they waited for food, Tomi decided to continue their small talk. He had already talked about the weather on the way there.

“So you’re a guest lecturer?”

“About once a year, yes,” Lars Hagen replied.

“Just once a year?”

What a shame, Tomi thought. He had found that this not-drunk man’s voice was rather pleasant to listen to.

“I’m often unavailable, so I do any lecturing between projects.”

“I see,” Tomi replied non-committally. “Always lectures on cooperation?”

“Yes. Between roles and positions for a harmonious and productive workplace for everyone. Oh, and departments too, I suppose. Everyone must manage to work together, or the final product will be of poor quality.”

“As someone self-employed, I’m too unfamiliar with the structure of cooperate employment to understand,” Tomi replied with a chuckle.

“Self-employed…” Lars Hagen murmured.

“Mhm. I’m a professional reviewer and beta-tester,” Tomi explained. “And I have a side gig as a video editor.”

“I see. Do you receive a lot of work?” Lars Hagen asked.

“Meh. ‘Tis all right. I make rent.”

Lars Hagen nodded. He looked as earnest sober as he did drunk.

Tomi could appreciate this fact about this middle-aged man who brought him to an establishment where Tomi certainly needed to punch above his weight class.

The dark brown eyes narrowed, the new expression softening Lars Hagen’s features into a slight smile. Wrinkles appeared at the tail end of his eyes. Only this, aside from the greying temples and spots of salt and pepper, showed the age of Lars Hagen.

Well, that, and his choice of clothing.

14.

What do you review?

That would be the usual follow up question that Tomi received, but Lars Hagen did not continue the topic in that direction. Instead, he said, “I presume this is your way of saying you are relatively established.”

Tomi chuckled. The Solitary Paladin was not big, in terms of followers or subscribers. Even the member count on his website was, in the large scheme of things, abysmal after so many years.

And yet, he had some amount of comments and every review he wrote on the website had comments. He had been referenced by larger content creators who man multiplayer content more than once.

He was, in a sense, established in the strictest definition of the term. Perhaps not in how people would interpret it, though.

“That’s a way to put it,” he says. “I have done this for a handful of years, but what I review is in a small niche, so the demographic is rather small. Even if I were to be the biggest in my niche, surely it wouldn’t give a large income.” He paused. “What about you? Have you guest lectured for many years?”

“It’s been a while, that’s true, but not quite a decade, either, I don’t think.”

“But it could be a decade?” Tomi asked, curious.

“Could be,” Lars Hagen said. He seemed to think, his gaze moving away from Tomi for a moment. “I hear my career counted more often in terms of successful projects than in years. A decade is, in fact, not an unreasonable amount of time. But I didn’t lecture immediately after coming in contact with my current career path. It was a later addition done as a change of pace at first.”

“Is that so?”

“My colleagues are often too busy, but around this specific time of year, I often have some free time, although it varies from one project to another. I can’t hand the responsibilities to someone else , so when I do lecture, it has to fit around my usual schedule.”

“Oh, so you do project management?”

Lars Hagen was quiet before he nodded seriously. “I do manage projects.”

So this middle-aged man named Lars Hagen was apparently a project manager. Tomi immediately lost interest in the man’s professional life.

15.

The meal was far quieter than the wait for the dishes. At the same time, Tomi had the distinct feeling that the man on the opposite side of the table didn’t dislike his company. It seemed Lars Hagen simply was not a talkative person.

It could also be that the man was not used to speaking during meals. Tomi would accept this option too.

Tomi had nothing against a quiet meal. Lars Hagen was a stranger after all and, while Tomi certainly could chatter away, small talk was not quite his preferred way of communication. He was not poorly suited for it — he just preferred talking to a camera where he could not see the faces of the people hearing him.

Even the video calls for group assignments necessary while he was in school some years ago had been an experience he had deeply loathed, although he had always had done decently when speaking to a group, despite the eyes watching him.

Or not watching him.

How many times had he not noticed classmates looking into their notes or using the phones instead of listening to what he was talking about?

No, he preferred being greeted by nothing but usernames. Then the group before him felt imaginary. Imaginary, without performing interest or, intentionally or unintentionally, showing disinterest.

“How is the chicken?”

Tomi was brought back from his thoughts when Lars Hagen spoke after a long stretch of silence. He chewed before he swallowed, before he replied, “It’s edible.”

This brought a chuckle to Lars Hagen’s expression, although Tomi could neither see nor hear it. He just knew the man was laughing after observing him for this long.

“I was hoping you’d enjoy it, too.”

“I do. It’s not bad.”

“Then all is well. This is my show of gratitude for your help the other day, after all.”

Lars Hagen fell quiet again after this.

16.

They finished their meal without another word. Neither wanted dessert, nor had the time to stay, so they both politely said their farewells.

Tomi nodded as he was about to leave, but then remembered something. “Did you find your phone?”

“My phone?”

“You couldn’t find it on you when I asked for it to call a cab. The other night.”

“Oh… Yes, I found it.”

“Great.” Tomi turned toward the city library to work there until the café opened.

He felt like someone was staring at his back, but when he turned, no one familiar remained in the crowd.

Happy Swedish National Day!