Chapter 112: Dissatisfaction Among the Streamers (Bonus Chapter for the Helm Master!)
"What the hell is this, for real?"
"A match pause? Are they crazy?"
"Heh, if they keep pulling this, they'll be trending for all the wrong reasons tomorrow. This is professional suicide."
"Are you kidding me? A pause in this kind of tournament? Is this a joke?"
"They must have lost their minds. I'm speechless!"
It wasn't just the viewers watching the livestream who were complaining; the streamers participating in the tournament and their invited guests were just as frustrated. To be honest, this was a first for all of them. Everyone knew that in *PUBG*, even in professional circuits, there was no option to pause.
Why? Because *PUBG* is a hundred-player competitive game where chance and split-second occurrences play a massive role. If a match were paused mid-game, it would inevitably disrupt the flow and compromise the fairness of the competition. Think about it: if multiple teams were locked in a life-or-death firefight, could someone suddenly call for a timeout?
Impossible! In such a situation, whoever stops moving is the one who dies first. It’s the same in a tournament. If one side suddenly pauses, it could affect other ongoing skirmishes and even alter the outcome of battles elsewhere. That wouldn't be fair to anyone else. It’s like war—once it breaks out, there is no stopping it. The only way to end the war is for every team but one to surrender. But is that realistic? No. Therefore, the only way to end the match is through combat. Whoever stands until the end is the victor. Only then is the war officially over, and the match concluded.
*PUBG* has no mid-game pauses. It is a fight to the death, and that is exactly why the viewers and the participants were so furious.
This pause should never have happened. The official decision was absurd.
Meanwhile, seeing the game freeze, the commentators, Xiao Qi and Xiao Mo, were stunned. This was an unforeseen emergency. Fortunately, both possessed a wealth of experience, so they didn't panic. In an instant, Xiao Qi signaled the staff to cut the stream back to the broadcast booth. Facing the camera, he spoke calmly, "Everyone, please don't worry. I'm going to find out why this happened."
"Exactly, it's so frustrating! I was just about to see my idol take the field, and then they pull this on us," Xiao Mo added, feigning indignation. With her playful and charming demeanor, much of the viewers' initial anger dissipated, and the chaotic comment section began to settle down.
They were professional commentators for a reason; their quick response managed to defuse the potential fallout from this broadcast mishap. However, they knew this was only a temporary fix. If they didn't provide a satisfactory answer, the sudden pause would not only leave the audience feeling cheated, but the entire invitational tournament would become a laughingstock by tomorrow.
Moments later, the duo received the reason from the staff. Upon hearing the answer, they both wore expressions of pure shock before glancing at the frozen game screen. They exchanged a helpless look, and then Xiao Qi turned back to the camera. "So, here’s the situation. I’ve just been informed that the match was paused due to a game bug."
The moment those words left his lips, the chat exploded.
"Are you kidding me?"
"A game bug? Are you pulling my leg?"
"They’ve been preparing for so long, and the organizers still have a failure like this during the very first qualifying round? Unbelievable."
"If not for my goddess, I’d have turned this off by now."
The viewers were utterly speechless at Xiao Qi's explanation. Just as the complaints began to mount again, Xiao Mo took the lead. "Director, please cut the camera back to the game screen."
At her request, the frozen game returned to the livestream. Many viewers were confused. "Everyone, take a look and see if you can spot anything unusual," Xiao Mo asked with a faint smile.
Hearing the hint, many viewers became curious. Just as some began to notice, Xiao Mo spoke again: "I believe some of you have figured it out. There is one person missing from the plane on the flight path."
"Coincidentally, that person is my idol, Lin Ziqin."
After saying this, she chuckled, teasing, "I never expected such a blunder in the first match. My own idol has been abandoned."
Her revelation left the audience stunned, and her follow-up joke made them burst into laughter.
"No one wanted this to happen, but given the circumstances, our organizers are currently discussing a solution: whether to continue the game or restart," Xiao Qi added, picking up where she left off. Their coordination was seamless.
"Restart! Restart!"
"I'm speechless. Why are you even debating? Just restart."
"Continue? Are you guys out of your minds? Is that fair to the goddess?"
"Heh, it’s the organizers' mistake; why should the participants suffer the consequences?"
"The game hasn't even officially started yet. Just restart; it won't change anything."
Once the reason was known, the viewers stopped making such a fuss. Since the match hadn't truly begun, a restart wouldn't impact the results of the qualifiers, so the majority of the audience reached a consensus: restart the match.
If Lin Ziqin couldn't participate, what would be the point? Without her, the viewership would likely plummet. Everyone knew exactly how many people had tuned in specifically for her.
At the same time, the news reached the other streamers. When they heard that the majority wanted a restart, many were disgruntled.
"Are you serious? A restart?"
"On what grounds? Even if Lin Ziqin is good, they can't just do this, right?"
"Heh, are they going to restart the whole match just because of her? Is that fair to us?"
"What can you do? That’s what happens when you’re talented."
"Regardless, if they restart, I’m not going to be happy about it!"