I’d like to say that I don’t have a problem with technology, that it doesn’t affect my life enough for me to care about its effect on me. I’d be lying, though. Most days are not as tech abundant as the 12 hours of media observed from Figure 1. It usually floats around 9-10 hours. However, that is more than 50% of my waking hours. Not to mention that for at least an hour a day I am collectively in transit. That leaves around 6 hours for time off from tech and 7 hours of sleep. Don’t let the chart fool you, although it says I was working on finance and productivity this observation is the exception and not the rule. Instead, I typically stay up late watching modern media sources trying to cope with my stress and wellbeing imbalances.

Figure 1 shows screen time usage for the author on January 23, 2023 in which they used technology for 11 hours and 52 minutes.

I recognize this as a negative feedback loop, a pattern of self-defeating behavior. This loop is a daily give and take of feeling my neglect of sleep and health drag me down, then paired with my efforts to cope from the symptoms causing me to neglect my sleep and health. Do I blame media sources like Netflix, YouTube, and Crunchyroll? Maybe a little bit. But they don’t have the ultimate desire or the power to make things better for me and I have had that option for so very long. Not only that but media sources rarely consider their audience as more than a means to an end, promoting user retention on their services. Cyclical behavior is good for business when it involves these companies. As for me, it is not an easy decision to simply change; if it was I would have done it already. But I know I am not acting in my best interests either. Often in bed when I try to sleep, I am barraged by many distractions, one of which is thinking about how I can better my life. I am overweight and could have better oral hygiene, often I scheme ways to improve these in my head without ever following through. That is because in planning out how to better myself I consult the internet and lose my steam for fixing what is going on from all of the information and lack of holistic and true sources on the web. Instead, I get lost in the whole of the internet, losing energy to get started on my goals. 

I can’t shake feeling stuck. Think of quiet quitting but instead of consciously deciding to do low work for a low wage, I do low work for low experiences. The vibrant would haves sink behind the muttering maybes of my life. I know I have a heartbeat, but I can’t feel it anymore. That is what is most scary to me, that all the things that used to tell me “you are alive” have faded and although I wouldn’t be living without their ongoing support I can’t feel them anymore. The visceral connection is gone. As an off brand Rene Descartes I say “I feel therefore I am more,” and yet I feel less and less every day. Technology reinforces the dulling of my life, and yet its usefulness has no prior parallels. It will be progressively harder for humanity to not be pulled down by the prolonged use of the internet it has been enduring and will continue to endure, which I will have to endure.

I would just as much like to blame my tendencies on the covid-19 pandemic than on the advantageous media of that time, but in reality, I have been swimming in the world of content for a while. It started in 2013 from Minecraft “lets plays”, recorded videos showing people playing Minecraft, a game that mimics real life simulating cubed dirt and trees and animals. I loved watching all of the goofy stories that creators would weave to entertain their audience. A common trope was to find a non-playable animal or enemy and give them a name, and then that entity would be personalized and become just as valuable to the story as the player. I fondly remember Minecraft content creator Vikkstar obsessing over a baby zombie that was riding a chicken (figure 2), excited because the odds for finding an entity like this were very low, and then proceeding to call over all other creators playing with him to welcome the new friend they now had. That baby zombie atop a chicken proceeded to have lively reactions from players afterwards, giving me joy by watching the wholesome care they had for it. Oftentimes the most common companions were pets like dogs or horses, as they were more amenable and real-life companions to humanity. Later as I got older, I began to watch YouTube videos from popular Twitch streamers like the OfflineTV group and later as the pandemic raged, Ludwig Ahgren. Streaming personalities or streamers often play video games and broadcast it to a digital audience in real time, the audience has the ability to message in a chat that the streamer looks at. You can probably imagine the mix of opinions and engagement in the chat, often the audience finds connection through this medium. As much as I would have enjoyed watching these entertainers, they often collaborated with a host of other creators, exposing me to new ideas of content. 

Figure 2 shows a Minecraft baby zombie riding a chicken, a rarely observed event in this game.

A community I am a bit embarrassed to mention is vtubers. Vtubers are content creators that use face-tracking software linked with a computer-modeled avatar that is designed in the style of anime and manga. Most often vtubers use video streaming services like YouTube or Twitch to provide content for the masses, hence the name which is an amalgamation of “virtual” and “youtuber”. Being a vtuber is advantageous to personal safety because one can create a streaming presence without revealing their face or real name, shielding them from negative or undue attention. I blame internet personality Ludwig Ahgren for introducing me vtubers, he once collaborated with a well-known vtuber known as Ironmouse (figure 3) and her vibrant and vulgar nature has me checking up on the community ever since. The rabbit hole is deep, from Ironmouse I have branched down to other content creators that do not do vtubing (nicknamed “fleshtubers” from the introduced community). The reason that following vtubers is embarrassing for me is because they are joined at the hip with anime, manga, and gaming. The usual frequenter of these spaces is generally “cringe”, socially awkward, stereotyped as never showering, and in general has severely undeveloped social skills and personal hygiene concepts. However, this type of streaming highlights more nuance through the inherent nature of vtubers to use a masked identity when cultivating an online presence. Concerns of self-acceptance is a frequently observed shared trait within the vtuber community. Ironmouse has mentioned through many interactions that she will never do a face reveal, saying that no one would be interested in that despite the fact that her stream chat continues to resurrect that topic. In studying responses from fans of vtubing More Kawaii Than a Real-Person Live Streamer found that the perceived differences from real-person streamers to vtubers was a greater acceptance of inappropriate or taboo behaviors or “being stupid”, lack of criticism of solicitation, and increased feelings of distance due to the less-human qualities of vtuber avatars (Lu 7). The sense of distance is also exacerbated by the fact that most of the time vtubers avatars are fantastical characters from different worlds and exotic backgrounds, which although captivating imagination and creative expression also closes creators off from shared humanity. This concept of fantasy is akin to feelings associated with Disneyland or college acceptance letters.

Figure 3: Screenshot of a May 10, 2022 Twitch stream with vtuber Ironmouse and variety streamer Asmongold.

The fact that vtubers can have less social consequences and are considered less human remind me of how people can be so brazen on internet spaces. Just one look at a comments section can tell you that people have little filter there, providing their unwanted scams, political ideas, and sexual musings. I’ve heard theories over why this is, that people get dumber online or that they are ignorant of social consequences when online. But these arguments also do not consider the humanity of those who make these comments. I believe that the more exciting and less tangible online spaces become, the more often people do not hold back their confrontational opinions. There is current vtuber drama, where creators are “graduating” (retiring as a vtuber) over controversy surrounding the video game Hogwarts Legacy. Author of the Harry Potter series and the source material for the game, J.K. Rowling has more than proved she has transphobic opinions and a boycott of Hogwarts Legacy had been proposed to combat these. A vtuber by the name of Silvervale stopped streaming for a couple weeks because she was playing the game and received some nasty comments, and then shortly after Amano Pikamee was canceled for suggesting playing the game and announced her retirement for March 31, 2023. New information has revealed that she was planning on retiring but this event accelerated the timeline by months. Regardless of any opinions I may have about Hogwarts Legacy, I do not think people should end their long-standing and fan-loved creations because they suggested that they play a controversial video game. It is sad to see Pikamee go. As much as people can find connections from online communities, it does not stop the outcome of seeing people leave due to toxic behavior. Fans may feel neglected when vtubers prioritize themselves and don’t make content, causing more ruptures in fan connection.

But what makes people want to be part of a fanbase? Recent research has found that fandoms create spaces of friendship, learning, self-improvement, recognition, and leisure, saying “socialization is key to fostering a sense of community… and they feel appreciated” (Baruch). Being a part of a community while getting feedback that they are wanted there is tremendous to cultivating fans. And yet, not having one of these motivations fulfilled can cause a split in a fan’s commitment. I myself have stopped engaging with online spaces when I feel I can’t grow or contribute to them. This is the reason I can’t commit to a fanbase despite cherishing my time there and checking up on the community every other month. However, one thing I have noticed was even though some places online seem buoyant or hard to pin down, there are other places that are simpler and less inflated. When online spaces are more “down to earth” or tangible, it seems like interactions are constructive rather than confrontational. One of these more material spaces is webtoons. Webtoons are comics mostly made for Korean audiences but some are translated into English, so western audiences can read them. Jeon’s Care as a Border-Crossing Language analyzes the use of webtoons as an online space and found to create community among people who have been victims of bullying. Although I haven’t read webtoons myself, they were very popular with my sisters a couple years ago and are a maturing avenue of hobby and leisure. Jeon examines the webtoon What Happened to me in Highschool Years and comments on the piece, examining the webtoons’ interactions from people who both contribute their own intimate stories of bullying and respond with encouraging words to these stories. Jeon proposes that they have developed a community of care. They share their stories of disconnection and commiserate over the cruel attributes of humanity. Unlike other spaces, users are attempting to support wellbeing in each other and address shared trauma.

Despite all of this, the real world has just as much to do with connection as the virtual world. As much as some internet hermits think, society exists in real life, and most times plugged-in society operates the same way as real world society. In Darling-Wolf’s research In the City, They Go “Pit pit pit” she talks about the perceived connection and disconnection from rural poorer communities to more technological communities. This examination of rural Japanese voices provides global context regarding perceptions of media. Darling-Wolf found that many felt connected by the sense that they could know about people from all over the world, most notably their favorite celebrities and family that lives away from them. However, Darling-Wolf also shows that this rural community and others like it are mainly populated by older people, stating “the community is aging due to youth exodus to urban centers.” In many ways this exodus reflects a disconnection by itself, but respondents have also said that they feel distanced from younger generations due to using outdated technology or having little understanding on how to use it. Some cannot afford it, but they sense a barrier between them and the ever-unfolding online world. Imaginings of the digital world had some residents believing they were left out of the digital revolution, while residents who had come from urban environments said they did not feel left behind and that their digital situation went relatively unchanged. It seems to me that imaginings of being left out of online interactions are facilitated by not previously living amidst these interactions and how they unfold in the real world. Perhaps the community’s members were trying to find the reason for why they young people have left, believing it to be the irresistible world of connectivity that is modern media.

In short, the time I use on the internet makes me feel empty and numb. Where others find community among vtubers, Youtube videos, webtoons, and other forms of media are not aimed at helping individuals grow or develop social skills but are instead maximizing viewer retention and soliciting donations for themselves. Fans, despite their willingness to commit time, money, and other resources to their fandoms are still being used as means to others’ ends. Online spaces can be created that provide the opportunity for connection, creating ties of friendship and constructive sharing that build an intimate space of humanity. However, looking at the shift from physical to virtual socialization is warranted. Wanting to create an online presence is not an invention of self, it is a side effect of lonely people moving their lives onto screens because face to face interaction is not and has not been working for them. The beginning of the story that people feel trapped and empty in online spaces does not start online, it starts with real world interaction. Though, the end of the story can and oftentimes will be online.

References

Baruch, F. (2020). Transnational fandom: Creating alternative values and new identities through Digital Labor. Television & New Media, 22(6), 687–702. https://doi.org/10.1177/1527476419898553

Darling-Wolf, F. (2020). In the city, they go “Pit pit pit”: Digital Media’s affordances and imagined (dis)connections in a rural Japanese community. New Media & Society, 23(7), 1863–1881. https://doi.org/10.1177/1461444820921175 

Jeon, A. (2021). Care as a border‐crossing language: The webtoon reader discussion forum as Mediascape. Journal of Adolescent & Adult Literacy, 64(6), 657–664. https://doi.org/10.1002/jaal.1147

 Lu, Z., Shen, C., Li, J., Shen, H., & Wigdor, D. (2021). More kawaii than a real-person live streamer: Understanding how the Otaku Community engages with and perceives virtual youtubers. Proceedings of the 2021 CHI Conference on Human Factors in Computing Systems. https://doi.org/10.1145/3411764.3445660