There were currently two types of movies available for our viewing pleasure.
The first type consisted of old archival footage that had been dubbed over with voices, while the second type was comprised of films recently shot and produced.
In terms of overall quality, the old archival records were superior.
After all, the films produced lately prioritized the whims of the creators—simply doing what they wanted to do or try out. One could say they favored the amusement of the cinematographers and actors, completely lacking the perspective of actually entertaining an audience.
Well, I supposed that would change bit by bit once they realized the true joy of visual storytelling.
That aside, watching the old archival footage naturally meant learning about the lifestyles of the past. The impact of this was particularly significant when it came to food and alcohol.
When people saw a delicious-looking dish on screen and watched the actors eat it with such gusto, it was only natural for viewers to start asking what it was called and how it was made.
It was the exact same for alcohol. People became curious about the names of the drinks and what ingredients went into them.
In the Village of the Great Tree, this curiosity struck the High Ogre maids and the Dwarfs.
The High Ogre maids took on the challenge of recreating the dishes. Fortunately, the ingredients for most of the food were easy to identify by sight, and the general flavor profile could be discerned from the actors’ reactions. This allowed the maids to produce dishes that were quite close to the originals. The maids were quite satisfied with the results.
On the other hand, the Dwarfs were struggling.
One simply couldn't identify the ingredients of alcohol just by looking at it. Even when they tried to find clues in the actors’ reactions, the characters usually said nothing more than "This is good."
It would have been much more helpful if they had commented on the aroma or how the drink packed a punch on the first sip, but there were very few scenes that allowed for such expository dialogue.
However, the Dwarfs were not the type to give up. They painstakingly gathered hints from every frame of the footage.
They estimated ingredients based on symbols, text, and designs on the labels of the barrels and bottles. They even narrowed down the flavor profiles by analyzing the atmosphere of the shops where the drinks were served, the menus, and the style of cuisine they accompanied.
I wanted to warn them that while such a method might work for documentary footage, it would likely lead to a dead end with produced films unless the prop masters were incredibly meticulous. However, I kept my mouth shut. They looked like they were having too much fun.
Wait, I did have to step in once.
Based on a scene where an actor said, "Give her this drink," the Dwarfs assumed the alcohol content was low. I had to tell them it was actually the opposite. It was likely a "lady-killer" drink—something sweet and easy to drink, but with a deceptively high alcohol content.
When I gave them that advice, they praised me, saying, "Getting a woman to drink strong liquor? What a sly guy you are."
It was a bit of a culture clash.
The next major influence was fashion.
Zabuton and her children were inspired, and they began producing clothes at an incredible pace. It was truly impressive to see how they didn't just replicate the old garments but adapted them into contemporary styles.
Though, I didn't think any of them could be worn as everyday clothes.
"Zabuton, I don't think that outfit is really meant for daily wear, is it?" I asked.
She seemed to understand, though she held her ground. "I understand. But only for today, okay?"
I noticed that hats and glasses hadn't changed much over time. Perhaps they were just designs that had been passed down without ever going out of style.
Finally, there were the magic tools.
Lu, Tia, Flora, and the Mountain Elves were all very excited by the sight of unfamiliar magical devices. Progenitor-san and Versa were able to explain the functions and manufacturing methods for the items they recognized, but there was nothing they could do for the ones they didn't.
Research was about to begin, but... wait.
Lu, Tia, and Flora weren't doing anything.
I asked them why, and they simply said they didn't really need those specific functions. They would research something if it was a feature they wanted, but they saw no point in studying things they had no use for. Furthermore, as researchers, they felt no motivation in chasing after technology that had already been completed in the past.
I see. That made sense.
However, that device used for decomposing raw garbage seemed quite convenient.
They argued it was unnecessary because we had the Slimes.
Fair enough.
In contrast, the Mountain Elves were putting all their effort into building something that had piqued their interest.
And so, what stood before me now was a Magic-powered Shaver.
They had struggled quite a bit and invested a significant amount of funds, but the Mountain Elves seemed satisfied with the finished product.
The Magic-powered Shaver was a tool designed to shave beards safely. It seemed possible to adjust the length, but essentially, a shaver wasn't a tool for grooming a beard; it was a tool for removing one.
And as it turned out, almost no one in this area actually shaved their beard.
For Dwarfs and the Giant Race, a beard was a source of pride; the more hair, the better. Beards didn't grow on the Angel Race, High Elves, Lizardmen, or the Lamia Race at all.
As for the Beastman Race, the Demon Race, humans, the Minotaur Race, the Centaur Race, and the Harpy Race, the vast majority groomed their beards rather than removing them. Since being able to maintain and groom a beard was a sign of wealth, almost no one shaved them clean.
I even heard that in one country, shaving an adult man's beard was considered a form of punishment. That was how much value they placed on them.
Even if I wanted to shave, I still didn't have any beard growth. I had children now, and I thought it might be good to grow a beard for the sake of dignity, but I really wondered what was going on with my biology. It was convenient not to have to worry about grooming every morning, though.
At any rate, there was no place for the Magic-powered Shaver to shine. I wondered if it could be used for shaving body hair, but there was no culture of grooming body hair here either.
Unless a massive cultural revolution occurred, the Magic-powered Shaver was unlikely to see any action. However, I wanted to recoup the invested funds somehow.
The Mountain Elves eventually modified—or rather, disassembled—the Magic-powered Shaver. They turned it into a "Magic-powered Hair Clipper."
In my world, it would be called an electric barikan. I called the Mountain Elves together.
"You didn't actually disassemble the Magic-powered Shaver to make this, did you?"
They had clearly made it from scratch. All they had done was make hair-cutting scissors that moved via magic power.
Well, it would certainly make shearing sheep and goats much easier.
"Fine. I'll authorize it," I told them. "However, its name won't be Magic-powered Hair Clipper. We'll call it the Magic-powered Barikan."
I also ordered them to put it into mass production so we could distribute it to the other villages.
By the way, I had to ask a fundamental question: why were the Mountain Elves so interested in the Magic-powered Shaver in the first place? There were plenty of other magic tools in the films.
They told me they were struck by the functionality of being able to shave a beard without damaging the skin. Furthermore, they loved the fact that it was small enough to fit in the palm of a hand.
I see. I could understand that.