Twitch & Youtube is about what you put into it, not what you get from it

Turning 30 has made me reflective, especially when it comes to the digital platforms that have shaped so much of our cultural landscape over the last decade or so. I'm talking about giants like YouTube and Twitch. I'm old enough to remember the early days of these platforms, back when they felt more like community-driven projects than the sprawling commercial behemoths they've become. It's not that I'm opposed to progress, but there's something about the original spirit of these platforms that seems to have been diluted over time.

Back then, it wasn't about what you could get out of YouTube or Twitch; it was about what you could contribute. The absence of a direct monetization path meant that creators were there because they had something they wanted to share with the world, not because they were chasing fame or fortune. There was a genuine sense of community and creativity that made browsing these sites an adventure. You never knew what gem you might stumble upon next.

But as these platforms grew, so did their potential for profitability. Suddenly, being a YouTuber or a Twitch streamer became viable career paths. This shift wasn't inherently negative; it's wonderful that creators can now earn a living doing what they love. However, this change also attracted a wave of individuals more focused on what the platform could do for them rather than what they could bring to it.

This pursuit of personal gain over genuine contribution has, in many ways, changed the landscape of these platforms. Content often feels more polished but less personal, more formulaic but less fascinating. The charm of stumbling upon a video created out of pure passion, with little regard for views or likes, has become rarer.

The situation reminds me of the teachers we all had growing up—the ones who were clearly there just to collect a paycheck versus those who were deeply passionate about their subjects. The difference in engagement and inspiration they could provide was night and day. Similarly, on platforms like YouTube and Twitch, it's the creators who pour their heart and soul into their content, who view their work as a contribution rather than a means to an end, who truly stand out.

It's not about pouring scorn on those trying to make it; ambition is not a crime. But there's a certain magic in contributing something unique, in creating for the sake of creation. The platforms were initially built on this principle, and it's something I find myself missing more as the digital landscape continues to evolve.

In a way, this shift towards monetization and fame is reflective of broader societal changes, where value is often measured in likes, views, and follower counts. But it's worth remembering the roots of these platforms and the incredible diversity and creativity they fostered when the primary goal was simply to share something you loved with the world, regardless of the reward.

As someone navigating the complexities of being a '30-something' in this digital age, I find myself yearning for a return to that original spirit. Perhaps it's a bit naive, a touch of nostalgia tinting my view. Yet, I can't help but feel that if more creators approached their work with the mindset of contributing something meaningful, of adding to the tapestry of digital content without a primary focus on what they can extract from it, we might rediscover some of that early magic. After all, the true value of platforms like YouTube and Twitch lies not in the fame or fortune they can bestow upon a select few, but in the rich, diverse, and often unexpected content they can offer to all of us.