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- Back in high school I got involved in theatre. I did a couple shows where I acted and sang, even danced a bit (nothing overly choreographed, just some waltzing for Meet Me In St Louis). But the only reason I ever got involved in that was doing audio work for them as a favor to a friend. I did film editing in a class that shared many of the same students as the theatre group. They needed someone to run audio so I said I would. I don't remember the first show I worked on but the one that stands out in particular was Xanadu. Then for The first show I acted in, Diary of Anne Frank, I even did a decent amount of the audio work for that, despite being one of the actors. I ran the pre show and intermission music and deliberated all instruction on specifics to someone who would do things while I was on stage.
- But as much as I enjoyed being on stage performing for all those people, I always felt more pride in making everything sound right when I was doing audio work. I enjoyed performing in the moment, but making the audio stuff work properly gave me a lasting pride. The same thing happened with things like memeathon, and to a much greater extent, Californithon. Sure, I enjoyed being on that couch with BLK, igb, and Cujo, with the light in my face, the microphone perched in front of me, and the controller in my hand. But the fact that the entire marathon, for the most part, looked and sounded just right? Magical. Absolutely incredible. I could care less about the run I fucked up, but the show I put on? That's what made me feel good. That someone could tune in and see something that looked and sounded good.
- The same thing occurred to me tonight, at the melee tournament. My gameplay is bad. My commentary is hit/miss (but definitely something I feel the same passion for, much like the radio work I did. Don't read into the similarities and seemingly contractictory aspects here, I can't explain it. Not the point). Don't get me wrong. I enjoy playing, and I want to try to be better at commentating matches. It's hard keeping track of everything that's happening in a game where its strengths are blinding speed and mind games. But that's something that can be honed over time. I don't intend on giving up on either ambition, though I may shift focus over time. But all Thais things aside, little has made me happier than the moments tonight where two people were on the mic, getting excited. The crowd was audibly invested in the match, screaming so loud that the mic heard them from over twenty feet away. The players on camera, the gameplay looking crisp, and the gorgeous overlay tying it all together. I wasn't even present for that moment (I mean I was there but not directly involved). I wasn't on camera. I wasn't playing. I wasn't commentating. But I made that moment happen. I advertised the event. I put together the stream area. I got it live. Every element of that moment, I played a part in. This isn't to sound boastful or egotistical, but rather to express how invigorating it felt that I made something... Watchable. Entertaining. Something that people could turn on, and enjoy watching.
- I wasn't on the mic. I wasn't playing the game. I didn't make the layout, I didn't supply the equipment (aside from a camera that wouldn't work, and my microphone). I didn't make the layouts. But I felt just as amazing in that moment as everyone directly involved did. Because I put it together. I wasn't being presented. I presented it. And I only want this feeling to continue. I've never felt more proud than the moments where I realize that I could make a damn good show that people can watch and enjoy.
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