“Hey, everyone,” Titan said into his microphone, trying to sound casual. “Didn’t expect to see so many people here today. Welcome to the climb.”
The chat scrolled faster than he was used to:
GTB FANS HERE
Titan for the win!
Bro, that Kassadin play was insane!
Can you play Zilean today? Loved your lane swap call!
Titan couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face. This was what he’d wanted—validation for the effort they’d put in, proof that Green Tipped Bananas was more than just a meme team. But as he glanced at his Discord overlay, he noticed something odd. BladeSong, Balls, and Hai were all live too, and they were pulling impressive numbers as well.
“Guys,” Titan called out in their team Discord. “How’s your stream going?”
Balls’s voice crackled in. “Crazy, man. I’ve got 60 viewers. That’s, like, double my usual.”
“Same here,” Hai added. “People keep asking about our Evelynn jungle plays. I should’ve started streaming years ago.”
Titan smirked. “I told you it’d pay off. Audience growth is part of the grind.”
The team’s energy was electric as they each juggled streams, ranked games, and interacting with their growing communities. But amid all the hustle, something strange kept popping up in the Discord chat.
Nior has 200 viewers rn.
Why does Nior have more viewers than Titan?
Nior’s stream is just lofi music and no mic. Wut.
Titan blinked, pulling up Nior’s stream on his second monitor. Sure enough, her stream displayed a muted screen with a simple overlay: her champion, her rank, and a small corner webcam showing nothing but her hands resting on her keyboard. Soft lofi music played in the background, and the viewer count hovered at 200, far surpassing the rest of the team.
“What the…?” Titan muttered.
“Yo, Nior,” Hai said in Discord, his tone half incredulous, half amused. “How do you have 200 viewers? You don’t even talk on stream.”
Nior’s reply came instantly but in her typical blunt, monotone way.
"People like the vibe."
“Yeah, but you’re not doing anything. It’s just… chill music and gameplay,” BladeSong added. “You’re beating all of us in viewers. What’s your secret?”
There was a brief pause before Nior responded.
"I play good."
Balls burst out laughing. “That’s it? ‘I play good’? That’s your whole strategy?”
"Yes"
Titan couldn’t help but chuckle. “Nior, we’re over here grinding interactions, hyping up the chat, building narratives—and you’re just vibing your way to twice our viewership?”
"Yes"
The team dissolved into laughter, the absurdity of it all cutting through the tension of their usual grind. Even BladeSong, who’d been competitive about their stream numbers, couldn’t help but laugh. “Man, we’re doing it all wrong.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
The next few days were filled with the team’s streaming routines, with Nior’s mysterious popularity becoming an ongoing joke.
“Alright, stream,” Balls said during a match. “Here’s the plan. I’m going to queue with Nior and put on lofi music. Maybe I’ll hit 200 viewers too.”
“Good luck,” Nior replied flatly.
Despite the humor, there was progress. Each member of Green Tipped Bananas began carving out their niche. Titan found his audience growing steadily as he leaned into his analytical style, explaining key decisions mid-game and breaking down strategies from their matches. His chat loved the insight.
“Titan, why did you call for the lane swap in Game 3?”
“How do you decide when to roam as Kassadin?”
“What’s your thought process when you pick Morgana?”
Titan answered every question, his focus on education paying off. The same viewers started returning day after day, and Titan noticed a familiar rhythm to their names in chat.
Meanwhile, BladeSong leaned into his personality, becoming the team’s unofficial “trash talker.” His chat was a flurry of banter, with viewers teasing him about his “Travis” tag and random copy-pastas about how Balls was better than him.
“Alright, chat,” BladeSong said, grinning into his webcam. “Next time Balls ints my lane, we’re clipping it for the highlight reel.”
“You wish,” Balls shot back, his voice filtering through Discord.
Even Hai found his groove, his calm and collected demeanor drawing in viewers who appreciated his calculated jungle play and dry humor.
“You’re all here for jungle tips?” Hai said during one stream. “Step one: don’t be the guy who invades and dies level two. Step two: if your mid-laner ints, mute them.”
But no one’s rise was more baffling, or entertaining, than Nior’s. Her stream, unchanged from its minimalist setup, continued to attract hundreds of viewers. The lofi music never stopped, the chat was never acknowledged, and yet the stream grew.
One night, Titan finally asked. “Alright, Nior. Seriously. What’s your secret? How are you pulling 350 viewers now?”
"They like it chill"
The team erupted into laughter again, and Hai summed it up best. “Nior, you’re an enigma.”
As their streams grew, so did their influence. Clips from their matches and scrims began circulating on social media, drawing in even more fans. A short highlight reel of Titan’s clutch Zilean plays hit the front page of Reddit, titled: “Chronoshift King.” Another clip featured BladeSong landing a clean Tristana Rocket Jump into a Pentakill, with the title “BladeBomber.”
Even Nior wasn’t immune to the spotlight. One viral clip simply showed her flawlessly kiting as Janna over lofi music, simply called: “Janna Main Vibes”
The team’s growth wasn’t just individual—it was collective. Fans started recognizing them as a unit, spamming their team name in Twitch chats and social media. Slowly but surely, Green Tipped Bananas was becoming a brand.
One evening, Titan ended his stream and leaned back in his chair, exhausted but satisfied. The viewer count had peaked at 120, and the chat was full of regulars who now seemed like a small but loyal community. He switched over to Discord, where the team was still hanging out.
The team laughed, their camaraderie stronger than ever. The excitement was palpable as they joked about Nior's growing follower count and planned for scrims, the buzz of their growing streams a tangible reminder of how far they’d come. But as the Discord call began to wind down, Titan found himself lingering in his chair, staring at his now-dark monitor.
For a moment, the laughter and positivity faded, replaced by a memory that had been nagging at the back of his mind. He thought of his parents, sitting at the kitchen table, their concerned expressions etched into his thoughts.
“We just don’t want you to regret this,” his mom had said, her voice soft but firm. “College is a sure thing. This? It’s not.”
His dad’s words followed, sharper and more direct: “What happens when this doesn’t work out? What will you have to show for it?”
Titan ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply. Back then, he hadn’t had the words to convince them. He’d relied on his gut, on the hope that his second chance would mean something. But now? Now, things were starting to take shape. The viewer numbers, the team’s win at Go4LoL, the small but growing recognition—they were all steps forward, proof that this wasn’t just a hobby anymore.
“This is just the beginning,” Titan murmured to himself. “They’ll see.”
He didn’t need to prove them wrong; he wanted to prove himself right. That gaming could be more than just a pipe dream. That with enough hard work, he could build something real.
The Discord call pinged softly as the others logged off one by one. Titan lingered for a moment longer, his thoughts racing ahead to the next stream, the next scrim, the next tournament.
With a renewed sense of purpose, Titan shut down his PC, the faint glow of the monitor fading to black. The journey ahead was daunting, but for the first time, he felt like he wasn’t just chasing a dream—he was building a reality.