Recently I navigated my interweb browser over to Twitch in an effort to see what the big names in the Legends community were up to and was shocked to discover that there were only a handful of people streaming, including one who appeared to be a robot. When I went to reddit to complain about my lack of options, I found several threads already addressing this issue. These threads all, however, miss the actual problem and I will now fix that.
In the late 11th century I was a poor muck farmer in the asshole of what is now Southern France. My bride to be, Esmerelda, lived a few miles away in a hovel with her parents, who raised chickens. I was working for a dowry, fourteen hours a day in the fields. Day in and day out, I shoveled muck and watered muck and harvested muck.
Muck farming isn’t just slop here and slop there and then you drink yourself into a coma until the next day, of course. It requires finesse. Esmerelda’s brother, Peter, came to see me one day, eager to make a name for himself so that he could one day find a wife himself.
“Offender, I just don’t get it,” he said, hands on his hips, a blade of grass between his lips, “I water the fields every day, and nothing’s growing!”
I nodded sympathetically. “And the soil, have you put manure in the soil? Plants need fertilizer to grow, Peter,”
He shrugged his shoulders in exasperation. “I take the freshest cow turds I can find each morning and spread them over the field!”
I thought for another minute. “Do you dig deep, deep holes? Too shallow and everything will erode as you water.”
“I just don’t know what else to do, Offender. Can you please come take a look?”
“Absolutely, my brother.”
We hiked to his field and sure enough, I saw countless perfectly manicured rows, a brand new irrigation system, and fresh manure piled atop it all.
Peter pointed off towards his barn. “And look at this! I even have a brand new cart and donkey to take my crops to town when they grow!”
Sure enough, he had a fine ass tied to a post near the Cadillac of 11th century carts.
I knelt to the ground and pushed my hand into the dirt. I felt deep into a hole, wriggling my fingers about, until I realized what the problem was.
“Peter!” I rose quickly and slapped the fool across the face, “Peter, there’s no plants in these holes!”
His eyes widened.
“You need to plant seeds in order to grow plants!”
In short, if no one is watching anyone stream, maybe it’s because no one is streaming.
PS: I stream on Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays at 7pm mountain time.