Showman Vyacheslav Makarov, known for hosting the music programs “Mask” and “Avatar Show” on NTV, opened up about the challenges that come with using digital avatars on television. When discussing his collaboration with Pavel Volya, the entertainer described the behind-the-scenes process of bringing these virtual personas to life, noting that the audience only glimpses the polished final product on stage, while much of the work happens in a hidden, sensor-filled space. The performers’ movements are tracked, and with a suite of specialized equipment, a technological character emerges on the stage as a preliminary, evolving version of the avatar before it reaches its fully finished state.
He candidly shared a personal moment, saying, “I have mild schizophrenia. At times I turn to the void and start talking to it.” The remark highlighted a deeper conversation about the pressures and oddities that can accompany high-tech entertainment, especially when the line between human presence and digital illusion blurs. Makarov also added a touch of humor to the disclosure, mentioning that he has been seeing a psychologist to work through the emotional tensions that accompany this kind of work.
In his view, the host explained that there are occasions when he can perform a show even without guests. He joked that he could set the cardboard stand-in aside and simply converse with the avatar, turning what might feel like a solo performance into a dialogue with a virtual partner on stage. This remark underscored the evolving dynamic between living hosts and autonomous digital characters in modern variety programming.
Meanwhile, the audience in the hall, including guests and jury members, observed a different experience. They watched screens that displayed the avatars, while viewers at home eventually saw the same characters on their own screens, creating a synchronized view that blends live action with digital representation. The dual perspective—seeing the avatars in real time and later witnessing them through broadcast images—illustrates how technology shapes the perception of a live performance in contemporary television.
On reflection, Makarov admitted that there is an emotional strain involved in this creative process. He described feeling unsettled at times, acknowledging that the intensities of producing a show around digital personas can evoke strong, almost personal reactions. Yet he also spoke of resilience, noting that the experience pushes him to adapt, improvise, and explore new forms of stage presence that harmonize human expression with artificial animation.
The conversation touched on broader questions about what it takes to add a digital layer to traditional entertainment. The use of sensors, manual tracking, and projection technology is transforming how performances are choreographed and presented. It is a reminder that the appeal of avatar-driven segments lies partly in their uncanny blend of familiarity and novelty, where audiences recognize a familiar face while marveling at the possibilities of machine-assisted storytelling.
In related interest, speculation surrounds the sacrifices and considerations involved in joining a project like Avatar Show. The commitment spans creative timing, rehearsal routines, and the mental stamina required to maintain the illusion of a fully fledged digital presence on screen. And while this particular program has made waves for its box office impact and audience engagement, it also highlights the broader trend in Russian television toward integrating cutting-edge technology with traditional formats, redefining what viewers can expect from a contemporary music and variety show.