Life of a Marathon Streamer: Online for Three Years, Facing Isolation and Burnout (washingtonpost.com) 27
Back in 2000, Slashdot founder CmdrTaco marked the 4th anniversary of Jennifer Ringley's pioneering "JenniCam" livestream (saying "It sure beats the Netscape FishCam. It's nuts how Jenni's little cam became such a fixture on The Internet...")
But a new article in the Washington Post remembers how "Once, Ringley looked directly into the camera and held a note in front of her eye. It read: 'I FEEL SO LONELY.'" By 2003, Ringley had shut down the site and disappeared. She began declining interview requests, saying she was enjoying her privacy; her absence on social media continues to this day.
"But by then, the human zoo was everywhere," they write including "social media, where everyone could become a character in their own show." In 2007 Justin Kan launched Justin.TV, which eventually became Twitch, "a thrumming online city for anyone wanting to, as its slogan said, 'waste time watching other people waste time.'"
But the article also notes 2023 stats from the Bureau of Labor Statistics survey that found Americans"were spending far less time socializing than they had 20 years ago — especially 18-to-29-year-olds, who were spending two more hours a day alone." So how did this play out for the next generation of livestreaming influencers? Here's the origin story of "a lonely young woman in Texas" who's "streamed every second of her life for three years and counting." One afternoon, her boyfriend told her to try Twitch, saying, as she recalled: "Your life sucks, you work at CVS, you have no friends. ... This could be helpful." In her first stream, on a Friday night, she played 3½ hours of "World of Warcraft" for her zero followers.
Eight years later... Six hundred and forty-two people are watching when Emily tugs off her sleep mask to begin day No. 1,137 of broadcasting every hour of her life... On the live-streaming service Twitch, one of the world's most popular platforms, Emily is a legendary figure. For three years, she has ceaselessly broadcast her life — every birthday and holiday, every sickness and sleepless night, almost all of it alone. Her commitment has made her a model for success in the new internet economy, where authenticity and endurance are highly prized. It's also made her a good amount of money: $5.99 a month from thousands of subscribers each, plus donations and tips — minus Twitch's 30-to-40 percent cut.
But to get there, Emily, who agreed to be interviewed on the condition that her last name be withheld due to concerns of harassment, has devoted herself to a solitary life of almost constant stimulation. For three years, she has taken no sick days, gone on no vacations, declined every wedding invitation, had no sex. She has broadcast and self-narrated a thousand days of sleeping, driving and crying, lugging her camera backpack through the grocery store, talking through a screen to strangers she'll never meet. Her goal is to buy a house and get married by the age of 30, but she's 28 and says she's too busy to have a boyfriend. Her last date was seven years ago... But no one tells streamers when to record or when to stop. There are no labor codes, performance limits or regulations to keep the platforms from setting incentives impossibly high. Many streamers figure out the optimal strategy themselves: The more you share, the more successful you can be....
Though some Twitch stars are millionaires, most scramble to get by, buffeted by the vagaries of audience attention. Emily's paid-subscription count, which peaked last year at 22,000, has since slumped to around 6,000, dropping her base income to about $5,000 a month, according to estimates from the analytics firm Streams Charts... Sometimes Emily dreads waking up and clocking into the reality show that is her life. She knows staring at screens all night is unhealthy, and when she feels too depressed to stream, she'll stay in bed for hours while her viewers watch. But she worries that taking a break would be "career suicide," as she called it. Some viewers already complain that she showers too long, sleeps in too late, doesn't have enough fun...
She said she "used to show true sadness on stream" but doesn't anymore because it makes viewers uncomfortable. When she hits a breaking point now, she said, she closes herself in the bathroom.
But a new article in the Washington Post remembers how "Once, Ringley looked directly into the camera and held a note in front of her eye. It read: 'I FEEL SO LONELY.'" By 2003, Ringley had shut down the site and disappeared. She began declining interview requests, saying she was enjoying her privacy; her absence on social media continues to this day.
"But by then, the human zoo was everywhere," they write including "social media, where everyone could become a character in their own show." In 2007 Justin Kan launched Justin.TV, which eventually became Twitch, "a thrumming online city for anyone wanting to, as its slogan said, 'waste time watching other people waste time.'"
But the article also notes 2023 stats from the Bureau of Labor Statistics survey that found Americans"were spending far less time socializing than they had 20 years ago — especially 18-to-29-year-olds, who were spending two more hours a day alone." So how did this play out for the next generation of livestreaming influencers? Here's the origin story of "a lonely young woman in Texas" who's "streamed every second of her life for three years and counting." One afternoon, her boyfriend told her to try Twitch, saying, as she recalled: "Your life sucks, you work at CVS, you have no friends. ... This could be helpful." In her first stream, on a Friday night, she played 3½ hours of "World of Warcraft" for her zero followers.
Eight years later... Six hundred and forty-two people are watching when Emily tugs off her sleep mask to begin day No. 1,137 of broadcasting every hour of her life... On the live-streaming service Twitch, one of the world's most popular platforms, Emily is a legendary figure. For three years, she has ceaselessly broadcast her life — every birthday and holiday, every sickness and sleepless night, almost all of it alone. Her commitment has made her a model for success in the new internet economy, where authenticity and endurance are highly prized. It's also made her a good amount of money: $5.99 a month from thousands of subscribers each, plus donations and tips — minus Twitch's 30-to-40 percent cut.
But to get there, Emily, who agreed to be interviewed on the condition that her last name be withheld due to concerns of harassment, has devoted herself to a solitary life of almost constant stimulation. For three years, she has taken no sick days, gone on no vacations, declined every wedding invitation, had no sex. She has broadcast and self-narrated a thousand days of sleeping, driving and crying, lugging her camera backpack through the grocery store, talking through a screen to strangers she'll never meet. Her goal is to buy a house and get married by the age of 30, but she's 28 and says she's too busy to have a boyfriend. Her last date was seven years ago... But no one tells streamers when to record or when to stop. There are no labor codes, performance limits or regulations to keep the platforms from setting incentives impossibly high. Many streamers figure out the optimal strategy themselves: The more you share, the more successful you can be....
Though some Twitch stars are millionaires, most scramble to get by, buffeted by the vagaries of audience attention. Emily's paid-subscription count, which peaked last year at 22,000, has since slumped to around 6,000, dropping her base income to about $5,000 a month, according to estimates from the analytics firm Streams Charts... Sometimes Emily dreads waking up and clocking into the reality show that is her life. She knows staring at screens all night is unhealthy, and when she feels too depressed to stream, she'll stay in bed for hours while her viewers watch. But she worries that taking a break would be "career suicide," as she called it. Some viewers already complain that she showers too long, sleeps in too late, doesn't have enough fun...
She said she "used to show true sadness on stream" but doesn't anymore because it makes viewers uncomfortable. When she hits a breaking point now, she said, she closes herself in the bathroom.
Sometimes, it's easier to just.... (Score:5, Insightful)
Re:Sometimes, it's easier to just.... (Score:5, Insightful)
Get a real job.
Pretty much this. Every so often we get a "heavy is the head that wears the crown" story about someone finding their internet fame to be too stressful and I really have a hard time feeling any sympathy over it. The option to step back and just let someone else have the limelight was always there.
Re: (Score:2)
That doesn't make any sense in context of this conversation. "The rich" already have jobs if they want them, and seem quite content with their lot in life. Unlike this perpetual streamer.
Re:Sometimes, it's easier to just.... (Score:4, Insightful)
Fame is a difficult thing no matter where it comes from.
It also exposes mental illness which may lie dormant until stressed appropriately.
Re: (Score:2, Troll)
Most people don't subscribe so unless you're continuously cranking out new videos YouTube will decide you're dead in the water and stop recommending your content to your viewers and you just disappear. The algorithm giveth and the algorithm taketh away.
Innuendo studios is a pretty big left wing YouTube channel that covered a whole slew of interesting talking
Re:Sometimes, it's easier to just.... (Score:4, Insightful)
I think something just gets lost when a YouTube content creator stops doing it for the love of what they're doing and turns their channel into a content mill money machine. My favorite creators I follow might put out a new video every month or so, if even that, in their spare time. They don't care about subscriber numbers, engagement, or the algorithm. If I want to watch heavily funded crap intended to turn a profit, that's what Hollywood is for.
I certainly do realize that I'm probably the odd one out here. Some folks clearly do love their internet celebs, otherwise MrBeast and his ilk would be flipping burgers. At any rate, YouTube is entirely what you make of it. You absolutely still can have a completely DGAF attitude if you make your content on a shoestring budget and have the self-discipline to not let content creation consume your life. You're just not going to make any money at it.
Re: (Score:2)
Could be the guy's viewership fell off because he was riding a dying horse. Sucks that he had back problems, but if you found his videos interesting, odds are good they were pretty awful (or just horribly biased, or both).
Probably not easy, but it is obvious (Score:3)
There's a big psychological barrier to your very rational suggestion. People who are creating their own business and brand can get a lot of their own self-worth tied up into the endeavor. Being successful at creating media and selling your brand and investing pretty much all your free time into your business is quite a head trip. And when that doesn't pan out the way you imagined, or your run out of the will to sustain it, then everything hits like a ton of bricks. It's very de-motivating to have to walk aw
Lousy boyfriend (Score:3)
N/t
Re: (Score:3)
Re: (Score:2)
Maybe.
But honestly if I had a gf who was wasting away at CVS doing nothing with her life, I'd take her out on dates or shag her rotten at home instead of trying to push her onto Twitch. Dude is 99.999% likely not to be in the picture anymore since big Twitch streamers are only rarely allowed to have boyfriends if they're women. The armies of simps won't allow it.
Who knows who the guy really was or if the statement is completely true, but if he's like any number of other dudes aged 20-30 these days, he was
Re: (Score:1)
Oh please, she chooses to do this. Her income easily covers the bills (assuming the numbers are real).
$5,000 a month before taxes easily covers the bills?
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6000 subscribers at $5.99 per month minus 40% = $21,564. Gross, per month. Is the subscription fee now less than $5.99? Or is Streams Charts
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The value of a sub depedn where they are from. Different regions are charged different price for a sub. And whatever price they charge, the streamer gets a cut of that. At this point, I think the streamer the article is about should get 70% of the sub.
Subs are $5.99 in the US; but they are $1.49 in Pakistan, and about $3 in Mexico for instance. So depending wher ethe people are from, the payouts would be different.
Also, Twitch is an Amazon business and they give Prime subscribers a free Twitch sub. I am pre
Re: (Score:3)
You do realize the subject is someone who dug themselves into some internet fame hole due to likely suffering from some sort of psychological issues, not "late stage capitalism".
There's a remote possibility that this was a result of our miserably bad for-profit healthcare industry, but it's a real stretch to say the economy has gotten bad to the point that the only thing left for people to do is broadcasting their lives online. Plus, that's actually not even a particularly profitable activity. The market i
Going all in (Score:3)
Betting everything on one plan means you become dependent on everyone else involved in keeping that plan going. Not all of them have your best interests in mind, and others are actively looking to exploit anyone and everyone.
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And I have to imagine it's not just ab
And that's they didn't released marathon yet (Score:2)
Imagine when they do
I'll let you watch me scratch my ass and fart (Score:2)
I have a question (Score:2)
Who are these people? I have never heard of any of them so I am presuming they aren't important.
JenniCam (Score:3)
I presume that the website from the article ( https://www.jennicam.org/ [jennicam.org] ) used to be different back in the year 2000?
Never heard of her. (Score:2)
Watched Twitch since the early days.
Also, Twitch has a 48 hour limit, so their is time not streamed.
Marathon (Score:2)
So I'm reading this and thinking: "Somebody is streaming Marathon [wikipedia.org]?" I might watch a bit of that...