Free Web NovelChapter 237: Chapter 204: Zog’s Variety Show Lesson, Part 2
A slide showed a diagram of the rules, including weekly, monthly, and annual competitions.
According to this plan, one season of the show could run for an entire year. After a break for the new year, season two would start immediately.
Each week, three contestants would compete in two rounds. The first round would feature only a snippet of their songs, with the worst performer getting eliminated. The second round would have them sing the full version to decide the weekly champion.
Each weekly champion would advance to the monthly competition to showcase a new song. This would continue all the way to the annual competition, where contestants would perform their songs from the weekly and monthly rounds, in addition to a new piece, to determine the grand champion.
Gordo painstakingly explained the entire plan for the show.
Zog nodded after he finished. Honestly, there were no major issues. The rules strongly resembled a show he had seen before.
Starlight Avenue.
Although the show had a reputation for being a bit tacky—the kind of thing only bored old folks would watch—he had to admit it had produced some artists who became household names.
They might even be the most famous artists to ever come out of any music competition show.
Their fame hadn’t diminished in twenty years; in fact, they only seemed to be getting more popular.
After all, who hadn’t heard a few lines of "The boundless horizon is my love"?
"The idea is excellent, especially the focus on original songs. I really like that part," Zog said. Songs created by the general public might not have the same influence or professional quality as a masterpiece, but they were certainly more accessible. "However..." His tone suddenly shifted. "...there are a few problems."
"I thought this way we could have more participants," Gordo explained.
Zog waved his claw in disagreement. "You have to guarantee the quality of the participants in advance. Where are you going to find that many people who can write songs? Even if you manage to scrape together enough for one year, the quality will inevitably drop by the second."
There were many reasons for Starlight Avenue’s decline, and a severe drop in the quality of its contestants was certainly one of them.
Even variety shows with lower demand for contestants faced this problem, which is why you see so many recycled contestants on talent shows.
"Second," Zog continued, "how are you going to rank them? Music isn’t like bladesmithing, where there are objective metrics—whoever’s blade cuts better is superior."
Watching a blade, painstakingly forged by a contestant in a bladesmithing competition, break against a block of ice, a piece of wood, a Shield, or a Dragon Turtle shell was one of the audience’s favorite parts.
It was completely intuitive who won and who lost.
But with music, you couldn’t just stick a pitch-testing device on stage, see who sang most accurately, and award a technical score.
Then you could have a pitch range test, tallying the highest and lowest notes, how many times they’re hit, along with things like wide-interval vocal runs, and then assign a difficulty score.
If you did that, the songs on this show would surely evolve in a very bizarre direction.
"Oh, I covered that here," Gordo said, flipping back a few slides. "There will be a panel of judges from professional orchestras on-site to score the contestants."
"But wasn’t the whole reason you designed this show because you dislike professional orchestras?"
"Then how about getting some Ordinary Minstrels as judges?"
"Even more direct."
"Let the audience directly choose their favorite work?" Gordo finally understood. "But technically..."
"It can be done. Not only can we let the live audience vote, we can also open up voting online so everyone watching the show can participate. And it won’t be a scoring system—just a simple ’like’ or ’dislike’."
’This whole scoring business is flawed,’ Zog thought. ’Everyone has different standards, so the final result isn’t very rigorous. It’s better to be more decisive. Everyone can just be binary about it: either you like it or you don’t.’
"But in that case, wouldn’t people who like one song just go and dislike its competitors on purpose?"
Gordo voiced his concern.
"And what’s wrong with that?"
Zog’s counter-question left Gordo at a loss for words.
"You’re right, I guess there’s nothing wrong with it. It would generate more buzz... It’s just... a little less than noble."
Gordo felt this was like deliberately inciting conflict, something the Craig Clan had also done.
As the largest manufacturer of Mechanical Armor, they were certainly among the people in this world who loved war the most.
Countless children of commoners slaughtered each other on the battlefield, while in the rear, the Craigs were mesmerized by their mountains of Gold Coins.
The Craig Clan didn’t start wars, but they were passionate about encouraging others to do so.
Gordo didn’t like this. He felt a deep sense of guilt over it, even though he had never been directly involved.
He sometimes felt that his own body was perhaps a curse brought on by his family’s countless sins.
That’s why he’d chosen to open an orphanage, to support his nephew, and to pursue business ventures that weren’t stained with blood.
"We have to make money, don’t we? Here are two piles of Gold Coins. Tell me, which one is noble, and which one is filthy?" Zog used a classic line in a bit of sophistry.
"Well..." Gordo really wanted to say that some Gold Coins were, in fact, filthy.
"Besides, fans arguing isn’t the same as going to war."
"You’re right, it’s not war." Gordo thought he was being too sensitive, which was almost funny.
"But what’s the direct link to making money? Do people have to pay for the right to vote?" he asked again.
"That’s too blatant. It would look a little crude."
"Then how..."
"Of course, each person will have a limited number of votes. To get more, they’ll have to buy designated products." Zog had just found another sales channel for the Digital Monster Machine.
’As for whether the fans buying the products to support their favorites would actually have any use for them, that was none of his business. As long as they paid, he was happy.’
Gordo’s eyes widened. ’How is that any less crude?’
"Don’t be so surprised. In the past, when nobles wanted to support a theater actor, didn’t they just throw money directly onto the stage? You’ve surely seen that before."
Gordo had to admit it was true. One of his sisters had once fallen madly in love with an actor, which became a family scandal.
Actors might seem glamorous, but in the eyes of their social class, they were little more than playthings. Any noble who genuinely fell in love with one would become a massive joke among their peers.
"I have an even better idea. For products bought to get votes, customers can choose to not take delivery. The Zog Group can then send them directly to people who can’t afford them. We can even bill it as charity. After all, it’s more of a hassle for wealthy people to deal with surplus goods themselves."
’I’m an absolute genius,’ Zog thought. This would also prevent waste.
’Send the excess Tyrannosaurus Machines and red-and-white consoles that rich folks bought to kids who can’t afford them. Cultivate their interest from a young age. That way, when they grow up and have money, they’ll surely pay to relive their childhood memories.’
’Using other people’s money to build my own user base.’
"Then could this channel also be used to promote the music players?" Gordo asked. He had originally planned to find his own promotional channels, but now it seemed there was no better option.
’It was impossible to do business with the music players without going through Zog anyway. After all, they needed to connect to the Red Middle Network. If Zog cut them off upstream, any player would become a useless brick.’
"Oh? You’ve already made the music players?"
"Yes. It’s a student project from the Repin Academy. We’re hoping to partner with your group for production."
Zog was a little surprised. ’They’re being remarkably sensible,’ he thought, ’offering up the meat and asking only for the broth.’
"It’s a pleasure to work with you." Zog extended his claw and shook the prosthetic hand, which looked faintly purple to him.
"Haha," Gordo chuckled. "So, are we canceling the judges’ panel too?"
"Of course not," Zog immediately shot back. "The judges are a crucial part of the show’s entertainment value."
"It won’t be a panel of judges, but rather a panel of mentors. They won’t be responsible for scoring, only for offering advice, re-arranging the contestants’ songs, and having them perform again.
"We’ll divide the mentors into teams and make it look like they’re competing against each other. The first round will be the mentors inviting contestants to join their teams. Of course, any contestant who isn’t chosen is automatically eliminated. I’ll give you more details in a few days."
At this, Zog suddenly asked, "Have you thought of a name for the show?"
"Not yet."
Actually, Gordo did have a name in mind, but with all the major changes, it no longer felt appropriate.
"Then let’s call it *Feilin’s Best Songs*."
