Starting as a Manga Editor

Chapter 121: Debut! (2)

The more Tang Yao thought about it, the more she felt this idea was actually doable.

Because virtual idols—

Weren’t really a thing in this world yet.So they’d definitely feel fresh and novel!

And having been a hardcore shut-in in her past life, Tang Yao knew full well: voice actors and characters are two different things. Sure, some people followed voice actors, but most ordinary anime fans didn’t care much about who voiced the characters they liked.

In fact, relying too heavily on voice actors for promotion might actually make some fans uncomfortable—it could even shatter their mental image of certain characters.

Because fans didn’t necessarily want a real person tied to a character they liked.Worse, if the voice actor ever got caught in a scandal, it could taint the character too.

But with virtual idols?

Totally different.

So why did it have to be a VA showing their real face?

Why not use a virtual idol? No—wait.

Calling it a “virtual idol” wasn’t quite right.Virtual idols existed to be adored—and to generate profit.

But what Tang Yao was trying to do wasn’t exactly that…

What she wanted was for a voice actor to perform using a character’s identity, then play the game while staying in-character.

It wasn’t about making money—it was still technically a virtual idol on the surface, but the real purpose was to promote the character.

More like character roleplay than a proper virtual idol.

And there were a lot of upsides.

It wouldn’t overly rely on the VA’s personal image, and it could even strengthen the character’s appeal. It would prevent the disconnection between voice actor and character that often occurred.

If a real-life person posted a promo video playing the new FGO update, players would definitely focus—at least partially—on the VA themselves.

But if they were performing as the character?

Completely different.

And most importantly—

The main risk with virtual idols was the “person behind the mask.”

But in this case, Tang Yao didn’t plan for the virtual idol to do live streams or ongoing content—just a single promo video.

The VA wouldn’t need a personality, or a public image.

They’d just act like Rin Tohsaka for a few minutes.Stay in-character.Say the lines.That’s it.

This was old-school, purist-style virtual VTubing.

“This might actually work…”“Way better than having the voice actor show up and say ‘I’m playing myself.’”“Virtual idols are new here—if the site banners a video where a Fate universe character is playing FGO, with proper promo support… the results could be amazing.”

The more she thought about it, the better it sounded.It felt way more compelling than the VA themselves just playing the game on video.

But—

Her excitement only lasted a moment.

Then her face dimmed a little.

Right.

The characters from Fate/stay night—including Rin Tohsaka—hadn’t even been properly voiced. To save money, Tang Yao had done a few “ah, mmhmm” sound effects herself.

That made it tricky now—She didn’t even have a VA lined up for Rin.

Time was also tight.

December was almost here.

If she really wanted to do this, she’d have to:

Design the virtual model

Cast a voice actor

Write the video script

Train the “actor behind the mask”

Not to mention—Fate/stay night’s in-game content wasn’t even fully released yet.

Whoever played Rin would need to understand her character at least decently well.

Just thinking about it was already exhausting.

And while this promotion was important to Avalon Studio—it was, after all, about pushing FGO—for most VAs, even lesser-known ones, this would be a very weird job.

It wasn’t voice acting for an anime. There was no real script. Just:“Put on the mask of this character, and play the game. Stay in-character the whole time. Hide your real personality.”

Huh? That’s kinda… sketchy?

For VAs, roles were a stepping stone to boost their own fame.Their whole career strategy was to gain visibility by voicing popular characters, then transition into singing, acting, or becoming a full-on celebrity.

You’re asking them to do a promo that intentionally hides who they are?

Yeah… good luck with that.

That’s why many VAs refused to do VTubing-style gigs—because their goals clashed with the company’s. Companies wanted to keep the “person behind the mask” invisible.But the VAs wanted the opposite—to be seen.

Sure, money could make most things happen…

But if this thing really caught on—if the video blew up—Even with an NDA, what if the VA dropped subtle hints?

Once FGO’s Rin appeared on camera playing the game, breaking the fourth wall—fans were guaranteed to flip.

Could an unknown VA really resist the temptation of that level of fame?

And Rin’s VA wouldn’t just be doing this once.She’d need to voice Ishtar later on too.

What if she broke the rules?

What if fans got attached to this mysterious “virtual Rin,” and then something happened? What if they had to change the actor?

Would they risk replacing her?Wouldn’t that be a total mess?

High termination fees?

Sure—but “hinting” or “teasing” one’s identity isn’t exactly easy to enforce.And if you do enforce it, would an unknown VA even sign the contract?

But if you went with a big-name VA…

Fans would figure it out in no time.

So maybe the solution was…

Find a talented amateur?

Tang Yao tried to mentally map out a recruitment plan—

And instantly got a headache.

Where was she going to find someone who was just right?

You know what?Maybe forget it.

Just stick with regular VA video content.

It was only a supplementary piece of the marketing campaign anyway—not a critical element.

But…

Tang Yao was unwilling to let go.

Because she knew—this idea, this little spark of creativity she’d just had…

Had a massive edge.

No voice actor could compete with the charisma of the actual in-game character.

When had fans ever seen something like this?

A beloved game character breaking the fourth wall—appearing in video to play the game they came from?

In this world, where virtual idols weren’t a thing yet?

Wouldn’t this be way more exciting than watching some VA on camera?

And Avalon’s skeletal animation tech was already top-tier.

If they executed this right, the final product could stun players.

Tang Yao really didn’t want to give up.

Hmm…

You know what?

Why not do it herself!?

The bold thought popped into her mind.

“…This could actually work.”

Tang Yao stared at the screen, deep in thought—and began seriously considering it.

After all, she’d just be hiding behind a character.No big deal.

No one would be looking at her.No one would know it was her.What they’d love was the character, not the person behind it.

No matter what the players said—it wouldn’t affect her.

And conveniently—

She’d voiced all the interjections herself anyway.Her voice would match perfectly.

Most importantly—

If she were the one doing it, the “person behind the character” would remain completely invisible.

There would be no leaks.No “hints.”

The audience would only ever see the character.The character would always be safe.

Yeah, this could totally work.

The only real concern was professionalism.

She wasn’t a trained VA.

Sure, doing reaction sounds was fine—but actually performing in-character for a full video?

Hmm…

Forget it.

She’d just try it out tonight.

Let Xun listen and give feedback.

With that thought, Tang Yao made up her mind.

She pulled up a document on her computer and jotted down this half-formed but promising idea.