>>102929225I ordered a burger and specifically asked for no tomato. Simple instruction. Nothing fancy, nothing complicated. Just a personal preference: hold the tomato. When the food arrived, I unwrapped it and was greeted by not one, not two, but three thick slices of tomato stacked right in the middle. A complete disregard of the order. It wasn’t just an oversight. It felt intentional, like someone somewhere decided they knew better than I did about what should be on my burger.
That moment, strangely enough, reminded me of watching Veibae.
Once upon a time, Veibae was one of the most interesting VTubers on the internet. Her streams were chaotic, weird, borderline feral, and completely unpredictable. She had a unique energy, unfiltered and unpolished in a way that felt genuine. It wasn’t high-production content, but it was hers. Watching Vei back then was like eating a burger made by a greasy, questionable diner at 2 a.m. Maybe not healthy, maybe not always consistent, but undeniably real.
Then the changes started. The face reveal. The VShojo contract. A cleaner brand image. Merch drops. High-profile collabs. Sponsorships. And, of course, her now-public relationship with Sodapoppin. Over time, the old Vei became harder to find. What used to feel raw and impulsive started to feel more polished, more predictable. Just like that burger, the core of what I wanted was still technically there, but it was buried under layers I never asked for.
One of those layers is her relationship with Soda. There’s nothing inherently wrong with couples streaming together. But a lot of their content feels like watching someone else's inside joke, not a shared experience with the audience. Vei used to thrive on randomness and chaos. Now, with Soda in the mix, things are more restrained. More filtered. Sometimes it feels like we’re eavesdropping on a couple’s private FaceTime while Twitch chat tries to stay relevant.
Then there’s Skippy, her dog. He’s cute, and his occasional appearances are wholesome. But even he feels like part of the brand now. At times, the stream shifts focus to family-style updates, turning what used to be chaotic entertainment into something closer to influencer lifestyle content. It’s not inherently bad, but it’s not what I came for either.
It’s not about Vei “selling out.” That phrase is lazy. Streamers change, and they should be allowed to grow, build careers, and make money. The problem is that in the middle of that growth, something essential got lost. The authenticity, the unpredictability, the late-night energy that made her feel different — it’s been replaced by a more calculated presence. More brand-safe. Less honest. Less her.
And yet, I still ate the burger. I still tune in to the stream. That’s probably the part that stings the most. I didn’t want the tomatoes, but I tolerated them. I kept coming back, and now they’re baked into the recipe. Maybe I changed. Or maybe I just didn’t notice when the thing I loved got redesigned for someone else.
