The corridor opens into a cavernous space designed to look like some fantasy throne room. Massive stone pillars, flickering torches that are probably LED, and a raised platform where I'm supposed to make my dramatic entrance. The ceiling disappears into artificial shadows, and speakers hidden throughout the space pump in orchestral music that builds to an appropriately ominous crescendo.
Twenty crew members scurry around the set, adjusting cameras, testing sound equipment, checking sight lines. The energy feels familiar—pre-battle preparation, when everyone knows violence is coming but nobody wants to acknowledge it directly.
"Korgan's here!" someone shouts, and the entire room freezes.
Twenty pairs of human eyes turn toward me. Some curious, some calculating, most containing various degrees of carefully controlled fear. A camera operator adjusts his grip on equipment that suddenly looks fragile. A sound technician takes an unconscious step backward.
Here we go.
"Magnificent!" Jessica appears from behind a bank of monitors, arms spread wide in theatrical welcome. "Absolutely perfect. Jussel, the wardrobe is spot-on. Korgan, you look incredible."
The midnight blue jacket feels like armor designed by someone who's never seen real combat. Sophisticated but approachable, just as promised. Several crew members relax visibly when they realize I'm not wearing traditional orc battle gear.
"Let's do a quick walk-through before the contestants arrive," Jessica continues. "Nothing complicated, just get you comfortable with the staging."
She leads me toward the platform, narrating the evening's choreography. "You'll enter from stage left, walk to the center mark, pause for the establishing shot. The contestants will be arranged in a semicircle below you. Very classical, very romantic."
Very hierarchical.I'm literally elevated above them, the monster they're supposed to compete for. The symbolism is either accidental or brilliant.
"When you're ready, step down and begin the introductions. Each woman will have approximately thirty seconds for her first impression. Keep it light, charming, let your personality shine through."
Let your personality shine through.As if personality is something I can control, package, and present for consumption.
We reach the center mark, a small piece of tape on the floor that represents my starting position. From here, I can see the entire set layout with camera positions, lighting rigs, the semicircle where the human women will stand. Everything designed to capture drama, romance, and the exotic thrill of interspecies courtship.
"Can we test the entrance music?" Jessica calls to the sound booth.
The orchestral score swells again, all dramatic brass and building tension. The kind of music that announces either heroic arrival or impending doom, depending on your perspective.
"Walk it once more, Korgan. Really feel the moment."
Feel the moment.I'm about to participate in ritualized humiliation disguised as entertainment, and she wants me tofeelit.
But I walk the entrance again, slower this time, getting a sense of the space and timing. The cameras track my movement, and I can see myself on the monitors as larger than life, intimidating, exactly the image they want to project.
Dangerous enough to be exciting, civilized enough to be trustworthy.
Halfway through the second walk-through, my shoulder clips one of the decorative torches. The prop, designed to look like heavy iron but constructed from lightweight plastic, crashes to the floor with a hollow bang that echoes through the space.
Instant chaos.
"Cut! Cut!" Jessica shouts.
Three crew members rush toward the broken prop while two others scramble to clear the debris. The camera operators lower their equipment, and everyone starts talking at once about backup torches and whether the sound was picked up on audio.
"Sorry," I say, though I'm not particularly sorry. The prop was poorly positioned and cheaply made. In a real fortress, torches are mounted securely enough to withstand accidental contact.
"Not a problem," Jessica says, with new tension. "These things happen. We'll just adjust the staging slightly."
Adjust the staging.Code forkeep the dangerous orc away from the breakable props.
Jussel appears with a measuring tape and starts calculating clearance distances. Jonah scribbles notes aboutmovement restrictionsandsafety protocols.The brief moment of chaos has reminded everyone that I'm not just an actor playing a role. I'm an actual orc, with actual orc size and strength, in a space designed for human proportions.
"We should clear the path better," someone suggests.
"Maybe adjust the entrance angle?"
"What about handholds on the platform?"
