Finding My Way Back to Streaming

It's 2026. I'm looking at my Twitch profile, and it reminds me that I haven't streamed in January. 35 followers, all real people.

The statistics remind me of what I have neglected. It means I have to look beyond the dashboard and ask myself a few questions.

Truth be told, I haven't streamed in months, not since August. I told myself that I would, with all the new games coming out in 2025 and ready to test. Heck, I've even managed to avoid spoilers for Deltarune's third and fourth installments. And yet, with all the chaos that ensued in 2025 from the real world, gaming, and the speculative fiction industry, setting up the area where I stream has become harder.

It's not because that area is in our guest room. No, the reason is more emotional: I streamed for myself and other people. Now I need to stream for myself again this year and have fun regardless of who comes to watch.

Why Do I Like Streaming?

I enjoy streaming on Twitch because it allows me to connect with my friends. Part of the reason I streamed Spelunky for so long, despite taking several years to beat the game, was that more than a few people who had heard me on voice chats were surprised to hear me swear. My online bestie even started a "fuck" counter after I ran into multiple hazards. Geometry Dash went even worse, as I immediately switched back to Spelunky after a few minutes of navigating a colorful shape through an obstacle course.

Sharing a gaming experience means going on a journey through story-rich games. I've struggled with Celeste as mentioned, but also gave therapy to a robot and used a friendship to save a girl and her monster. The iffy games allow me to commiserate with the viewers who are similarly disappointed with the payoff.

Sharing a gaming experience with others also allows me to measure my amateur skills against professionals who can remain charming and hilarious. I like finding the underdogs, the games that an average Steam customer may not see on a first perusal.

What Happened in 2025?

Thanks to real-life events kicking me in the teeth and the heart at the same time, I left a friend group that I had joined nearly ten years ago. I won't go into the details, but it wasn't fun. Mainly I'd stream, and people from that group tended to join. They're the ones that helped inspire how I would stream because some had the know-how and others had the spark. One iconic moment had us trying to guess how to find a star in one of the Deponia games; the answer left everyone, including the player and us viewers, baffled. (In hindsight, Deponia always goes for the absurd answer, but at the time I was saying "What?!" a lot when we got to that moment.)  

I'm still friends with some of those individuals, and others I have held at arm's length. Since then, however, preparing a stream has taken more physical and emotional effort. When you lose that many people after realizing you both have changed too much, it leaves you feeling empty. The void didn't register until halfway through the year, as I had games I wanted to stream but lacked the energy for setup and timing. I was sad and upset, letting the pain weigh on me. But I didn’t realize the consequences of sadness until the very end of December. 

Back to Streaming for Myself

If I were to stream for myself again and not worry about the emptiness, I would find a balance between troubleshooting the lag issues and enjoying the ride. Instead of worrying that I get boring when I get serious, as I stop talking and completely focus on the screen, I'd be me. That means accepting all the flaws.

In February, I hope to carve out that time and find the fun in streaming again. That means diving into Deltarune as well as new Steam arrivals. So many new creators want to show their games, and I want to give them a fair shake and an audience, even if it's a small one. First, though, I have to recover from this head cold. It's harder to say "fuck" when your voice comes out as a groaning squeak.