Talking about Twitch: Dropped Frames and a normative theory of new media production

Abstract

Twitch is an online video distribution platform that allows users to broadcast live video of themselves playing videogames. This distribution infrastructure includes features that allow viewers to financially support their favorite Twitch streamers, creating a new type of media professional: the entrepreneurial Twitch streamer. Like other professionals, Twitch streamers meet regularly to discuss the profession and business of live streaming. This article applies critical discourse analysis to one such venue for insider dialogue on professional Twitch streaming: the weekly talk show, Dropped Frames. On this program, professional broadcasters discuss many aspects of their career, such as Twitch’s corporate presence, production technology, the time and effort required to stream, precarity, their relationship to their community, the data they use to run their channels, the games they play, and their relationship to game developers. Speech within these empirically present categories demonstrates an underlying set of common assumptions about how the streaming industry should function. In other words, professional Twitch broadcasters develop a normative theory of streaming practice that is expressed in their speech. I argue that through their speech, professional Twitch streamers demonstrate a theoretical understanding of professional streaming that is based on their ability to negotiate uncertainty and the responsibility they feel for their communities.

Keywords

Critical discourse analysis live streaming normative theory professionalism production Twitch user-generated content videogames

Introduction

Historically, videogames have been seen as a form of leisure, an enjoyable way to spend some time. However, the web-broadcasting platform Twitch not only allows creative individuals to broadcast live video of their gameplay online but also adds a revenue stream so they can financially support themselves in the process. Enterprising streamers create channels where audience members can view the broadcaster’s gameplay in real time while listening to her speech and interacting with others through a chat window.¹ Audience members have the option of subscribing or donating to their favorite channels, which monetarily supports the broadcaster. By running a Twitch channel, streamers transform their leisure into labor, play into profession. Despite these revenue streams, scholarship on online video distribution platforms such as Twitch and YouTube often describes the content found within as ‘user-generated’ or ‘amateur’. In this article, I add to the scholarly conversation on media professionalism by demonstrating that Twitch broadcasters are professionals, not only because they earn a living income from their broadcasts but also (and importantly) because they actively negotiate a shared normative theory about how Twitch broadcasting should function as a career.

In this article, I examine the nature of professionalism within Twitch broadcasting through a critical discourse analysis (CDA) of the industry-specific, weekly talk show Dropped Frames (DF). In this show, professional Twitch streamers meet to discuss the business and profession of live streaming. It therefore serves as a forum for Twitch broadcasters to interact with other industry insiders on a regular basis to discuss their working life, and how to become better at it. By carefully attending to the ways that professional streamers discuss different aspects of their careers, we can begin to see how professional streamers make sense of their role relative to the larger industry. This article examines the ways that professional streamers talk about: (1) the Twitch corporation, (2) production technology, (3) the time and effort that streaming requires, (4) the precarity² of the profession, (5) the streamer/viewer relationship, (6) the importance of data analytics, (7) games they play on stream, and (8) their relationship with game developers. Through these eight topics, streamers illuminate four underlying considerations that they must continually account for as they engage in professional practices: (1) the uncertainty present in this career, (2) the maintenance of excitement for the future, (3) potential processes for monetization, and (4) ethics expressed as responsibility to their audience. These considerations demonstrate that, on an experiential level, streamers feel the tensions between certainty and uncertainty, and between economics and friendship. Such tensions are part and parcel of negotiating neoliberal media entrepreneurship.

In sum, I argue that these considerations, revealed through the industry talk show DF, constitute a normative theory of professional dispositions native to live streaming. In this article, I borrow the phrase normative theory from telecommunications scholarship, since it refers to those theories that connect theoretical understandings of an industry with the empirical practices of professionals. Traditionally, media professionals have negotiated their actions relative to concerns about the journalistic integrity of the press that preserve democracy. Similarly, Twitch professionals must negotiate their actions based on a sense of responsibility to the community they have grown. Specifically, streamer speech highlights the considerations they must have while going about their career; considerations which illuminate underlying tensions that arise from having a theoretical knowledge of how the entire industry should function. For Twitch broadcasters, being a professional means coping with uncertainty, building a relationship with the community, enthusiastically anticipating the future of the industry, and negotiating the monetization of their play. Furthermore, developing a normative theory of live streaming is essential to understanding how participants in this relatively young media industry actively establish themselves as professionals.

Normative theory in broadcast media

Most of us approach our jobs with a theoretical understanding of how our chosen profession works, and this understanding partially determines how we go about fulfilling the requirements of our jobs. Production is no different. Within mass communication, there is a robust literature on the working life of media professionals, with notable contributions from media management and normative theory. Scholarship on media management has traditionally focused on the ways that media organizations structure their processes and employees in order to achieve maximum efficiency in decision-making (Albarran, 2006; Deuze and Steward, 2011; Sylvie et al., 2008). Even though streamers do not work alone (most are assisted by chat moderators, artists, and talent managers), their enterprises lack the formal structures of a traditional media firm. Additionally, while media management approaches certainly argue for different ways that the industry should be run, they focus mostly on the relationship between work practices and economic capital³ (Albarran, 2010; Phalen, 2006). On the other hand, within journalism scholarship, normative theories are instead founded on societal value structures, such as democracy and responsibility. While either literature could be applied to professional streaming, the emphasis streamers place on their community suggests that a normative approach will more comprehensively address the complexity of streaming practice, which carries social and moral considerations, in addition to the monetary ones.

McQuail defines normative theories as those ‘concerned with examining or prescribing how media ought to operate if certain social values are to be observed or attained’ (2010: 14). However, these normative media theories typically focus on traditional print and television news journalism. Normative theory in American journalism stems from the idea that the press is an important part of civic decision-making, ensuring the public is ‘capable of self-government’ (Siebert et al., 1956: 74). The press has influence over governmental policy in that it can control the amount and type of information that citizens receive and can therefore influence public support for (or resistance against) policy decisions. Ownership of the press by the state brings into question the ability of the state to use the press to enforce and coerce social control. Therefore, the idea of a free press has been historically tied to private ownership and the free market (McQuail, 2010). However, private ownership in an increasingly corporate world is called into question when considering whether a press would be overly friendly with other corporations with whom it does business. Therefore, the discourse surrounding journalistic normative theory in the United States has focused on the tension between libertarian assumptions of the media market and the social responsibility assumed of the industry (cf., Siebert, et al., 1956; and McQuail’s discussion thereof, 2010). Such discussions inform journalist ethics, which suggests that practitioners be objective, unbiased, and thorough in their reporting (Lichtenberg, 2010). These goals are increasingly difficult in a world where profits are dwindling, resulting in smaller staffs (Deuze, 2007), and where advertising is intricately connected with news production (Boorstin, 1971; Grensing-Pophal, 2014; Herman and Chomsky, 2006; Williams, 2014).

While the underlying assumptions of journalism are concerned with the role of the press in a democracy, the relevant aspect of a normative theory is that these theoretical assumptions inform the actual practices of journalists. Similarly, through the ways that Twitch streamers run their channels, one can see that their decisions are informed by an underlying theory of how their profession ought to work. This article attempts to answer the question: ‘What does this underlying theory look like?’ While the preservation of democracy may not be central to live-streaming practice, by exploring the underlying theoretical assumptions that inform the profession, we can map the social values that are important within this industry, and the cultural sphere it inhabits. To outline a normative theory of Twitch streaming is to better understand how entrepreneurial new media ventures function.

Dropped Frames and the profession of streaming

First broadcast in January 2015, DF is a weekly talk show, distributed through Twitch, that provides professional streamers with a public forum for discussing and debating topics relevant to Twitch streaming as a career. As such, DF provides a detailed look into the profession of live streaming. DF is broadcast on Twitch every Wednesday afternoon (and occasionally at other times, such as in response to specific events, like E3, TwitchCon, etc.). In addition to the initial live broadcast, each episode is archived on YouTube in its entirety.

DF is hosted by three popular professional streamers: ItmeJP, CohhCarnage, and Ezekiel_III. The hosts (and many of the guests) are variety streamers – broadcasters whose channels accumulate viewers based on community interaction and the personality of the streamer. Variety streamers differ from other Twitch channels – such as eSports competitors and speed-runners – that accrue viewers by documenting highly skilled gameplay. Most episodes of DF include a special guest, often another streamer or member of the streaming community. While some segments occur every week (such as asking the question: ‘What have you been playing lately?’), each episode focuses on a different topic related to the profession and business of streaming. Weekly topics include transitioning from YouTube to Twitch, the ethics of G2A (a game vendor that sponsors streamers), and how to work with charities. Often, the chosen guest will be an expert on that week’s stated topic. For example, during the week that successful YouTube broadcaster CinnamonToastKen was the guest, the discussion focused on the differences in how income is determined between the competing venues of YouTube and Twitch.

DF reaches thousands of viewers. The 20 July 2016 broadcast had over 10,000 viewers at one point during its live broadcast. Within a month of being posted on YouTube that same episode had amassed a further 16,000 views. By exploring the content of DF, we can examine how streamers define, describe, and delimit their profession. In other words, through this study we can see how professional Twitch broadcasters have negotiated a normative theory of streaming.

Methods

For this study, I examined a sample of 20 DF episodes archived on YouTube to explore how streamers approach the idea of professionalism. As of July 2017, 111 episodes were available in the archive, spread over 230 separate videos. I chose 20 episodes specifically based on the importance of their stated weekly topics to the profession of live streaming. For these 20 episodes, I time indexed a total of 29 video files (over 43 hours of video content), averaging 89 min in length each.

Time indexing, rather than straight transcription, allows me to excise extraneous data (such as prolonged discussions of a specific game) during collection. The time-index files describe instances of conversation when streamers discuss the aspects of streaming most relevant to professionalism, the activities required to be financially successful, and knowledge gained about how the industry functions. In short, any discussion that addresses the question ‘How does streaming function as a profession?’ is described in the time-index file. The data contained within the time-index files paraphrase the individual streamer’s speech and contain remarks about the tenor of how each specific topic is discussed, as well as a time code to facilitate later transcription.

These time indexes were loaded into NVivo qualitative data analysis software to map trends within the speech of streamers relevant to professional development. Geertz’s (1973) version of thick description and CDA (Fairclough, 2010; Locke, 2004) facilitated analysis of the data. The first pass through the data provided a detailed examination of the different topics commonly discussed on the program, while a second pass mapped the underlying considerations. In other words, I use the speech of professional streamers to determine what types of unstated considerations they should have when running a live stream. This process was guided by Locke’s (2004) articulation of CDA, which – based on Althusser’s (2006) interpellation – asks how a text hails the reader, turning them into a specifically defined subject. Finally, these considerations highlight important tensions that streamers must contend with as part of their working lives.

My analysis begins with an empirical examination of the speech of professional streamers on topics relevant to the profession of streaming. Based on their recurring nature, these topics answer the question ‘How do professional streamers talk about…’ each topic. By examining the ways that streamers talk about each topic, the considerations streamers experience emerge. In short, DF will tell us much about the considerations that Twitch streamers experience in their professional lives, as well as the underlying tensions that inform them. While these issues are not in response to direct questions from the researcher (i.e. DF is not a scholarly interview), this study does rely on the self-report of individuals, and the emic data presented within should be taken with both the benefits and the potential drawbacks of self-report in mind. Additionally, Caldwell (2008) notes that media professionals (especially the ‘higher-ups’ like studio bosses) see most communication situations as opportunities to market themselves, and as such provide tailored, rather than candid, views of the industry. Streamers occupy an odd space here – they are the celebrity of their channel, but also toil the trenches of production. Their speech on DF is a mixture of candid, tailored, and candidly tailored perspectives on their own labor. While certainly a limitation, the ways that streamers tailor their speech should illustrate how they understand the streaming industry to function.

How do streamers talk about…

Listed below are eight topics that occur repeatedly on DF, paired with examples of professional streamer speech on each topic. Many of these topics will also feature explanation (when necessary) to reinforce the importance of the topic to professional streaming or to differentiate it from other topics that seem similar but are conceptually distinct.

Twitch corporate

While broadcasting on Twitch is the central focus of their day-to-day working life, the vast majority of streamers do not work for Twitch. Ezekiel_III states ‘We’re not employees of Twitch, we are performers on the platform of Twitch’ (12 December 2015). Most professional Twitch streamers are ‘partners’, not employees. CohhCarnage elaborates: ‘We’re doing our own thing, and Twitch is facilitating that. So it’s like at any point that could become unfeasible, for any myriad of reasons’ (12 December 2015). This quote is indicative of the experience of many professional streamers, highlighting the peripheral and precarious nature of their position relative to Twitch’s corporate presence. On one hand, Twitch’s very existence relies on the continued participation of its streamers. On the other, as semi-outsiders, professional streamers are particularly vulnerable to any decision that Twitch (the corporation) makes. Streamers’ anxiety over this relationship is evident in CohhCarnage’s utterance above. On another episode, professional streamer Ellohime emphatically states ‘If there’s any Twitch people [watching]…if you want to invite me to anything, you go right ahead, OK? I will do anything!’ (28 January 2015). This further demonstrates that for many professional streamers, Twitch corporate is something separate from them – a black box, in that one can see its output, but not what occurs inside.

A simple dichotomy emerges in the ways that professional streamers use the word ‘Twitch’ on DF. Often, when paired with a preposition (‘on Twitch’, ‘with Twitch’, ‘through Twitch’ etc.), Twitch refers to a venue, a social space that leads to a certain species of interpersonal interactions and relationships, and the technological infrastructure that sustains the entire system. Without a preposition, Twitch refers to the corporation. The importance of Twitch corporate to each individual streamer is highlighted by how they speak about it. Behind its opaque walls lies a number of decisions, on matters both known and unknown, the outcome of which could have drastic and immediate consequences for professional streamers. When discussing the decision to allow only game-related content, CohhCarnage explains: ‘This is all up to Twitch…At some point Twitch has to decide…’ (8 January 2015). ItmeJP reminds us that ‘I’m not in those boardrooms, hearing those decisions’ (8 January 2015) about what rules Twitch may implement in the future. Even though they are both successful Twitch broadcasters, they speak about Twitch corporate from the position of outsiders.

Production technology

Participants on DF often talk about the technology required for streaming, focusing on the technical (rather than artistic) skills needed to create and maintain a successful channel. ItmeJP states:

I’ve been building PCs for the better part of my life so I…know about that. But if you don’t know…Build it [the computer] yourself. You’ll save a lot of money. You’ll also learn a lot about everything, so when it breaks you’ll know how to fix it…It’s hard to buy a full-on [already built] PC and repair it yourself. (ItmeJP, 7 October 2015)

However, while technological expertise is important, it is viewed as an area for enhancement, rather than a requirement. During a discussion about the ways that the hosts have accumulated better equipment over time, guest Strippin suggests, ‘I think solid and simple is a good strategy…to start with’ (October 7, 2015), meaning that cheap, easy-to-use cameras and microphones are more than sufficient for the beginner. To which, CohhCarnage adds,

My initial success on Twitch…I didn’t have a webcam until month three. And by that time I had passed ten thousand followers…I had gotten over the initial hump…You don’t need any of this stuff to get started. (7 October 2015)

While DF’s Hosts state that someone wanting to start streaming should not wait for the best hardware, they also demonstrate the importance of technical knowledge by continually referencing it in conversation.

The importance of technical know-how is reinforced through stories about the ever-present menace of technical difficulties. The 24 June 2015 episode begins with CohhCarnage’s camera not functioning, and the other hosts joke about it while the problem is fixed. Ezekiel_III laments a time when his cooling fan broke:

My computer started using 100% of its CPU. We looked all over for the problem, found out that my cooling fan, or my cooling system had completely just conked out. So I’ve been down. And I tried to get my one-PC setup back up and going. I did that yesterday, just in case. It was basically just a test-cast to see if I could do the one-PC again. I can. It’s not exactly what I want. (Ezekiel_III, 4 February 2015)

This discussion highlights the importance of technical know-how coupled with being prepared to stream with less-than-optimal equipment. Expensive and redundant computer hardware is suggested, but not essential to being a successful streamer.

While the discussion of fixing hardware issues is not itself an instance of normative theory, it does provide a space for DF’s hosts to demonstrate the underlying assumptions of their working lives. Arguing that one must be prepared to steam without optimal equipment says something about the priorities of the job. Just as journalists need to weigh source credibility versus the importance of a story, so too must streamers weigh the value of on-stream and off-stream tasks.

Time and effort

The time and effort that go into a channel are often referenced when streamers discuss two major topics: (1) the back end/behind the scenes aspects of production and (2) work ethic. Ezekiel_III states: ‘For me this is full time, forty plus hours a week’ (18 February 2016). ItmeJP highlights the connection between technical knowledge and time:

You have to be the type of person who can sit down and learn something by yourself or go out and find the resources to do it. Because there’s a lot of stuff in streaming, especially when it comes to…getting the video stuff right, getting in the software, getting all that crap right, getting the audio stuff right, where either you need to have people that know what they’re doing, you need to be able to find guides, or you need to be able to do it yourself. And it can be pretty daunting as you start taking those steps yourself. (ItmeJP, 7 October 2015)

To which CohhCarnage replies: ‘That’s one of those parts about putting in the work that you need to get what you want out of your stream’ (18 February 2016).

While these examples discuss activities outside of broadcasting that are essential to maintaining a channel, they also highlight the importance of time spent working on the stream that is not seen by the audience. Streamer GassyMexican posits that the energy required to run a channel is ‘something that people still don’t realize’ (1 April 2015). Additionally, these statements function as both advice and a warning for the aspiring streamers in the audience – a clear statement about how busy one should be when trying to grow a channel.

Precarity

The hosts of DF often express uncertainty about the whole milieu of professional Twitch streaming by reinforcing the idea that the system has no real rules, and as an outcome, no guarantees – highlighting the precarity of the career. Even though the hosts may offer the aspiring streamer helpful tips and guidelines to streaming, they also emphasize the idea that there is no right way to grow a stream. Professional streamer LolRenaynay states that there is no ‘special recipe’ for being successful on Twitch (20 March 2015). This unpredictability means that no matter how hard an individual works, there is no guarantee of success in live streaming. CohhCarnage states, ‘Anyone who could be an authority would say that there’s no right way to do it’ (17 February 2016). To which ItmeJP adds, ‘There’s definitely data driven things that you can do.…But at the end of the day, a lot of it is luck’ (17 February 2016). Accordingly, with no guarantee of success, one should not jump blindly into the business. Kaceytron adds, ‘I hate seeing the entitlement of some people who come into streaming and they’re like “I quit my job to do this”’ (20 March 2015) expecting instant success.

The tenuous and unpredictable nature of streaming as a profession is reinforced when addressing a specific question that the hosts often bring up on DF: ‘What would you do if this all goes away?’ This question is posed during three of the sampled episodes. This discussion is common because it stems from two constant concerns: (1) something could change at Twitch corporate, that changes (i.e. damages) how streamers make money and (2) one can accidentally do or say something on stream that gets one permanently banned from Twitch. ItmeJP explains: ‘Even if you’re established, none of this is solidified. It could just stop tomorrow’ (12 December 2015). Ezekiel_III adds: ‘If the Twitch boat sinks, man, we’re kind of fucked, a little bit’ (12 December 2015). The idea that it is not just the individual channel, but the entire platform and industry that lacks stability seems to be ever-present in DF discourse.

Constant concern for the future influences the way that a normative theory of Twitch streaming should be articulated, by defining one of its foundational concerns. Economic solvency is a concern because it can be threated from several different angles.

The streamer/viewer relationship

What product or service does the streamer provide to the audience? In answer to this, Twitch broadcasters often reinforce the importance of community and how it functions in the chat window. CohhCarnage states that one of the most important parts of streaming is ‘managing community expectations’ (17 February 2016). ProfessorBroman elaborates: ‘When I was building my channel I wanted to emulate that [helpful] attitude for myself, and always be kind and always give the right answers, and foster a community that did that’ (9 March 2015). Interacting with one’s community beyond the chat window is also important. Ezekiel_III described a broadcast in which he named in-game characters and monsters after his subscribers and moderators (11 February 2015). CohhCarnage highlighted the interactive aspect of the practice by stating ‘the fun part is…holding them [subscribers] personally accountable for every negative thing that character does’ (11 February 2015). In this scenario, professional streamers increase audience interaction by imaginatively bringing the viewers into the game, rather than simply using the game as a topic to discuss in chat. Clearly, successful streamers have learned the lesson posited in Spreadable Media (Jenkins et al., 2013) – that content creators need to listen to their viewers – long ago, and have implemented much more innovative forms of community interaction. Ultimately, the ways that professional streamers talk about the importance of community and its development highlight and further support the assertion that the community, much more so than the video, is the marketable commodity for a Twitch channel.

This is where the normative theory of Twitch streaming becomes most visible. Any such underlying theory must be built on the assumption that the relationship between the streamer and their community is foundationally important to the work of streaming. While journalism’s normative theory is built on the processes of democracy, Twitch’s is built on the affective experience of community.

Data analytics

If the number of viewers and subscribers indicates the success of a streamer, how does an individual streamer work toward increasing those numbers? Followers and subscriptions⁴ are important because their amount directly and indirectly determine a streamer’s income. Subscriptions directly influence a streamer’s income in that each streamer receives a percentage of every subscription to their channel. Followers indirectly influence income, in that they become a statistic that attracts business opportunities, such as advertising and sponsorships. According to DF, the number of followers and subscribers a channel has is never far from a streamer’s thoughts. ItmeJP discusses the exception that demonstrates the rule:

I talked to someone about it [watching follower numbers], and they were like ‘I don’t really know how many Twitch followers I have. I think I’m at like 150k, or something. I don’t know.’ I was just like ‘How the fuck do you do that? Like…how do you do that, you idiot?’ He was just like ‘I just stopped caring about it and I’m a much happier person.’ I’m so fucking jealous of that. (ItmeJP, 1 April 2015)

To which Ezekiel_III adds:

Anyone who has like 3,000 or less subs I bet they know within ten how many exact subs they have at any given time, 24 hours a day. If you came to me tomorrow and asked me how many subs I have, a week from now, a month from now, I could tell you exactly within…I could probably, within like three numbers. (Ezekiel_III, 1 April 2015)

In another episode, ItmeJP explains: ‘Once you get into, like the 5k plus range, that number [subscriptions] is changing on almost an hour-by-hour basis’ (24 June 2015). To which CohhCarnage responds, ‘Just for reference, I’ve lost 395 subs in a day’ (24 June 2015). These numbers are closely watched and fretted over.

On Twitch subscriptions carry both social and economic implications. Through their speech, DF hosts and guests demonstrate that, for professional streamers, audience-based data analytics carry meanings that are financially, socially, and affectively interpreted. If community serves as the foundation for a normative theory of streaming, then these analytics are an important tool for streamers to assess their community.

Games

Large portions of DF are devoted to discussing videogames directly. Nearly every episode contains a lengthy discussion where each participant answers the question: ‘What have you been playing lately?’ While much of this conversation focuses on the subjective individual preferences of the streamer, there are specific ways that hosts talk about games that are immediately applicable to the profession of streaming.

Specifically, when discussing the quality of a game, evaluations focus on aspects of the game relevant to streaming on Twitch. These evaluations are supported by connecting the game (through its playstyle and features) to the aspects of Twitch streaming that are helpful for maintaining audience engagement. When discussing Warhammer: Vermintide, CohhCarnage states:

For streamers, one of the things I really like about this game, which unfortunately isn’t the norm, is it’s very easy for people to join in on you [i.e. to join the streamer’s multiplayer game], without being on your friends list…So you can just jump in the chat room and your subs can just join in on you. (CohhCarnage, 30 September 2015)

This passage highlights an aspect of the game that not only makes it fun and convenient, but useful to a specific practice that a streamer might want to do in the process of broadcasting. Therefore, these discussions are not just about games, but how to stream them. After an excited and enthusiastically positive review of augmented reality goggles, ItmeJP adds, ‘I don’t think it can be streamed at all’ (24 June 2015). As fun as innovative technology can be, one must always come back to the central issue: Is it feasible for Twitch broadcasting? Discussing games based on their broadcasting potential demonstrates that streamers have a theory-driven knowledge of what aspects make games good for streaming – in other words, a normative theory. Furthermore, these evaluations can be used to map the assumptions that streamers hold about the desires of their audience. The importance of maintaining a positive relationship with their audience reinforces the foundational nature of community to the normative theory of Twitch streaming.

Game developers

The ways that streamers discuss game developers demonstrate an underlying theory of how this relationship should function. Successful streamers regularly maintain fairly close relationships with individual game developers. DF highlights the importance of these relationships when streamers evaluate the quality of game developers, not solely on the quality of their work (i.e. their games) but also on how the developers conduct business and interact with the streaming community. CohhCarnage applauds one game developer when:

The CEO of the company went around personally to everyone [streamers] on Skype and offered a chance to like, ‘Do you want to talk about the patch changes?’…And I ended up having like a twenty minute Skype conversation with him where he went over everything. (CohhCarnage, 9 March 2016).

Later in the same episode, ItmeJP chastises a developer for releasing a game that was poorly supported on its day of release, stating: ‘We’re helping you guys promote your game! Work with us!’ (9 March 2015).

At stake in these statements is not the review of an outsider evaluating the quality of an artist’s work. These statements, uttered from a professional streamer’s position, imply that the streamer and the developer share a common professional space and that their job responsibilities are interdependent. The streamer, in some small way, contributes to selling the game (marketing for the developer), while the good developer will make the game more amenable to streamers (helping broadcasters stream). Therefore, streamer speech indicates a well-defined normative theory of streaming practice when discussing the nature of their relationship to game developers because it illuminates the purposeful connections between the two industries.

Professional considerations

Now that I have discussed the ways that presenters on DF talk about different aspects of streaming, I posit a list of general considerations from which streamers make professional decisions. While the previous section dealt with strictly empirical concerns (instances of speech uttered by professional streamers in the format of a talk show), this section will use CDA to explicate the normative theory underlying streaming practice. In other words, entrepreneurial streamers make professional decisions based on the considerations presented below – considerations that determine how they speak about certain topics, as demonstrated above. This section follows Locke’s (2004, see also Althusser, 2006) suggestions that CDA should seek the underlying assumptions concerning a topic that are indicated by the ways that people discuss it.

Uncertainty

Uncertainty is a recurring theme on DF. Uncertainty is directly referenced when streamers express concern over the decisions of Twitch corporate, or worry about what happens if it ‘all goes away’; both of which emphasize the precarity of the profession. Additionally, uncertainty is indirectly implied in other interactions. For example, when discussing how Amazon bought Twitch (cf. Wawro, 2014), Ezekiel_III reminisces, ‘Remember when we were all shitting our pants over that? I know I was’ (28 January 2015). DF presenters also use uncertainty to warn aspiring streamers about the precarity inherent in this line of work. By focusing on professional uncertainty, streamers attempt to communicate responsibly about streaming as a career – which is seen as a fun and sought-after vocation – in front of an audience who may want to take up the work, regardless of its precarious nature. DF’ hosts do not want excited viewers to quit their jobs to be become streamers, only to have their quality of life suffer as they go into debt waiting for the stream to pay off.

Excitement for the future

One recurring conversation on DF concerns what Twitch will do next. While the present and the future are described as filled with uncertainty, there is near-constant excitement about what features Twitch is about to unveil. To demonstrate Twitch’s potential, ItmeJP shows the current list of jobs for which Twitch is hiring and describes the list as ‘gigantic’, expressing excitement for the fact that Twitch is growing (24 June 2015). CohhCarnage quips: ‘We are looking at the initiative of competing with YouTube right there’ (24 June 2015). In addition to a general enthusiasm, hosts also express excitement about specific features that they hope or expect Twitch to implement. Competition with YouTube is a common concern as the hosts suggest that Twitch should have a better video on demand (VOD) system, with CohhCarnage stating: ‘Right now the VOD system is a poor man’s YouTube’ (24 June 2015). When asked if the VOD system should be fixed first, CohhCarnage adds: ‘For me it’s the subscription system. Allow us to monetize our professional life’ (24 June 2015). Streamers are always looking forward to the next development that will make Twitch better. In short, through their theory-driven understanding of how the industry works, streamers express opinions about the relative usefulness of potential changes to Twitch.

Speech about the future, and in anticipation of what features Twitch will roll out next, does more than simply demonstrate that the hosts and guests of DF are knowledgeable professionals with an eye on the future of their industry. These statements are indicative of the speaker’s awkward professional position as both an insider and an outsider to Twitch. One must not forget that streamers are not employees of Twitch and they acknowledge that they are not a part of Twitch corporate. They want Twitch to do right by them, and implement decisions that help them as streamers, while ensuring the longevity of the site, and the corporation as a whole. Professional streamers mitigate the uncertainty they experience by maintaining a level of excitement for the future of Twitch.

Monetization

The subject of monetization was often referenced during discussions that explored the differences between live streaming on Twitch and video posting on YouTube. For Twitch streamers, subscriptions account for much of their income. On several occasions, Ezekiel_III described subscription revenue as the ‘lion’s share’ of a streamer’s income (1 April 2015; 17 February 2016). ItmeJP explains ‘In terms of revenue it’s probably like 95% to 5%, sub to ad revenue in terms of what’s actually being gained on the stream’ (8 January 2015). Discussions on growing viewership may implicitly be about income generation, even if the direct financial benefit of viewership is rarely mentioned. In this sample, direct discussions about the specific processes of income generation only occur when DF’s hosts spoke with YouTube content creators. These discussions are especially important for this study because they highlight the behaviors that streamers perform to track their income with the purpose of enhancing it. This consideration is highlighted when streamers discuss data analytics and the time and effort put into streaming.

The importance of subscription-based income cannot be overstated. Ezekiel_III tells the story of a friend who could not make money on Twitch until ‘When the subscriber program came around, it was like overnight [that he could make money]’ (17 February 2016). To which, ItmeJP replied ‘The subscriber program saved Twitch. It made Twitch what it is’ (17 February 2016). These statements highlight the importance of subscription revenue to the macro-level understanding of how Twitch streaming functions economically. I argue that Twitch streamers are professionals not because they make money from streaming, but because they have a theoretical understanding of how the business works, and they apply that theory to their daily activities. Working from this assertion, we cannot forget that the ability to make money from the process is a necessary antecedent to this entire endeavor. For professional streamers, Twitch’s role as communication broadcasting infrastructure is an amazing feat, but it is not the aspect that makes Twitch successful. The ability to monetize the experience – to provide content creators with an avenue to income in a way that makes sense for everyone involved (for Twitch, for the streamer, and for viewers) – is what makes Twitch work.

Ethics and responsibility to the community

Professional streamers consider the ethical dimensions of their work just as journalists negotiate media ethics. Most media schools offer classes on journalistic ethics and the debates surrounding their nature, importance, and antecedent concerns. Similarly, professional streamers express their responsibility to their viewers, which manifests as a code of professional ethics. Additionally, this code influences the nature of streaming practice by limiting the behaviors of streamers to not include those actions deemed unethical. One must understand that each streamer approaches such ethical decisions as an individual, and two streamers may have extremely different views on what types of behaviors are considered unethical. However, while each streamer must decide for her-self where her ethical boundary lies, there are definite trends espoused by DF participants. Ezekiel_III states ‘It’s a moral line that each streamer draws for themselves’ (21 January 2015). These discussions occur when streamers talk about game developers and the streamer/viewer relationship.

Professional streamers value the community they cultivate and express a responsibility to its members.⁵ One recurring discussion on DF focused on professional streamers responding to skeptical community members who were concerned that streamers’ evaluation of games would be positively influenced when the games were provided for free or when the game developer sponsors the stream.⁶ ItmeJP states:

Streamers are actually getting a lot of shit for, I think I’ve seen the term ‘selling out’ being thrown around, ‘shill’, yeah…I think a lot of people are under the impression that streamers are getting paid [for positive game reviews]. (21 January 2015)

CohhCarnage adds: ‘[viewers say] “This is a Sony sponsored stream”. I get that all the time. “Don’t listen to what this guy says, it’s a Sony sponsored stream”. No, it’s not’ (21 January 2015). The streamers were quick to (1) deny the idea that free games or sponsored streams would influence their evaluations, (2) explain that receiving free games and sponsorships are simply part and parcel of how this industry works, and (3) suggest that they would not, indeed could not falsely praise a game even if they wanted to.

First, the hosts engage in damage control by stating that free games and other benefits offered by developers would not make them evaluate a game more favorably. Some even go so far as to tell stories about unfavorable reviews that they have given to games they received for free. ItmeJP recounts: ‘I’ve been hyper-critical of Stardew Valley and I’ve been given a free key to that’ (9 March 2015). Second, they reiterate that this is simply how the industry works. ItmeJP explains:

Streamers are a part of the gaming sphere. We’re not paying customers. Which is a good and bad thing. We’ve been roped in to this developmental cycle. We’re part of the game industry as, like another facet. ‘Digital influencers’ is the stupid buzzword that we are now. But, like, we’re not the same as a normal customer. We’re the people that have the ability to reach out to people that the company might not be able to because our communities and our viewers trust us to give an unbiased opinion on this particular game. And we can sell units because of that.…You guys, as normal people don’t have that because you don’t have that reach. That’s something that I think is starting to become the norm and people are understanding that. (ItmeJP, 9 March 2016)

At this point, the hosts seem almost defensive in their explanation of the normalcy of receiving free games. The underlying assumption is that since this is a standard feature of the industry that means nothing untoward is occurring. While this may be a non-sequitur logical fallacy, it serves the purpose of defending a whole set of industry processes, not simply an individual accusation. While ItmeJP expresses his unease for the term ‘digital influencer’ (as in the quote above), the repeated message is that free games and sponsored streams are not bribes and are not provided as quid pro quo for favorable reviews.

Finally, the hosts explain why they couldn’t lie about the quality of a game even if they wanted to: their audience would know better. ItmeJP recounts his own experience with sponsored streams, explaining that he was fairly certain that he would like the game before he agreed to the sponsorship. He explains:

I will think that most streamers would do that. They’re not going to sign something because the monetary value is so large that they’re like: ‘Yeah! Fuckin’ Pony Brigade 2015 is the best game I’ve ever played! Thumbs up!’ No streamer’s actually going to do that. Because the second that you do, your audience will know that you sold out. Your audience will immediately pick up on that you are completely lying, because these audiences know every one of these streamers. That’s what a community is. (ItmeJP, 21 January 2015)

Explaining that a streamer’s community would know if a streamer was falsely praising a game is centrally important to understanding the nature of streamer responsibilities and ethics. Additionally, this version of streamer ethics highlights the way that the normative theory of streaming is built upon assumptions concerning the streamer’s relationship to her community.

Streamers feel a responsibility to their communities. Professional streamers also understand that a portion of what they are expected to do is to comment on games in ways that are helpful to viewers who may consider purchasing them. In other words, streamers evaluate videogames similar to games journalists and online game review media outlets such as IGN. Therefore, it is incumbent on the streamer to be honest when evaluating games, because members of their community may base purchasing decisions on what the streamer says about the game. From the perspective of game developers, professional streamers with large audiences are attractive venues for promotion. The relationship between game developer and Twitch streamer was discussed above as a mutually beneficial agreement in the process of marketing games. However, for streamers, it also represents a tension that must be dealt with, considering the skepticism of some audience members. A portion of the streamer’s work is often to provide an evaluation of the game, and the community is a group of people to which the ethical streamer feels responsible. Throughout the discussion on whether streamers’ evaluations are influenced by free games and sponsorships, DF participants continually reassure the audience that their personal and professional loyalties lie with the community more than the developer.

The argument that a community would know when a streamer is insincerely praising a game is another important aspect. Developers often provide games to streamers for free, without them having to ask. Additionally, developers have been known to quickly offer a free version of a game when streamers express interest in playing it. Sponsored streams allow developers to pay popular streamers to spend a specific amount of time playing their game in order to get exposure in the marketplace. Streamers become attractive to developers and marketers when they have a large audience, but this progression is unidirectional. Having a large audience attracts the attention of developers, not the other way around. Additionally, losing a large portion of your audience will turn developers away. Since lying to one’s audience by falsely evaluating bad games can cause viewers to leave, it makes good financial sense for the streamer to be honest about game evaluations. The long-term support of an engaged community is worth more to the professional streamer than the short-term gain of a one-time promotional deal. The speech of DF participants supports this mapping of values and relative responsibility, which is partially enforced financially.

As expressed in streamer speech on DF, the normative theory of professional streaming practice concerns the relationship a streamer cultivates with a community of viewers. This relationship is enforced through economic practices, wherein the flow of money (from audience to streamer) influences how the streamer goes about her working life. Finally, while other revenue sources are sometimes available (such as sponsors and advertisers from the game industry), these are subordinate to the streamer’s responsibility to her community, since the longevity of the community as an audience commodity (Alasuutari, 2010; Ang, 2006; Smythe, 2006) is what makes such promotional opportunities possible in the first place. In the normative theory of professional Twitch streaming, community comes first.

Discussion

In this article, I examined the speech of professional streamers as they appeared on DF, a talk show dedicated to exploring the profession and business of live streaming on Twitch. After listing the types of discussions empirically present on DF, I examined beneath their surface to document the types of professional considerations that inform how broadcasters speak about each topic. Finally, I conclude this discussion by summarizing two of the most important tensions experienced by professional streamers, as indicated by their speech on DF. First, streamers must manage the tension between certainty and uncertainty in an industry at the will of the latter. Second, streamers must manage the tension between economics and friendship, in an industry that places expectations on both.

Certainty and uncertainty

The fact that streaming is a career that holds no guarantees, and that many aspiring streamers will not find adequate professional success, has been made clear time and again in the speech examined in this article. An ever-present theme on DF is the search for certainty when it seems in short supply. The recurring echo that ‘this could all go away tomorrow’ indicates that uncertainty for the future is experienced by even the most established live streamers. In short, through their speech, professional live streamers continually search for, if not certainty, then the concrete data points that would indicate that forward progress is viable, even in the face of irreducible uncertainty. Therefore, streamers put their faith into these data points, such as analytics that track viewership numbers, technical know-how and troubleshooting skills, and knowing which games are good for broadcasting. Furthermore, dealing with uncertainty is integral to the streaming profession and informs the professional considerations looming over the worldview of Twitch broadcasters.

The certainty/uncertainty dialectic present in streamer speech on DF demonstrates the presence of precarity in the career path. The term precarity indicates the level to which employees in an industry experience a lack of job security, which in turn controls their professional practices. Streamers deal with precarity by working from a normative theory of streaming that places responsibility to the community as a primary concern. The presence of precarity connects live-streaming to other traditional media industries. According to Deuze (2007, 2009), many media professionals have lived with precarity for well over a decade. The ability to live with and work from a place of precarity is increasingly common for workers from many different industries. Julian Reid alludes to precarity when describing neoliberal subjectivity as one ‘that proclaims its own superior capacity to seek not security from the sources of its vulnerability, but to live in open relation with them, prospering and growing from them through the continual practice of an entrepreneurial resilience’ (Chandler and Reid, 2016: 152). The ability to thrive in uncertainty and adapt to changing markets is standard practice for the contemporary neoliberal subject. It is also foundational to the normative theory of Twitch streaming. The above quote demonstrates the importance of this research: that trends in new media entrepreneurial professionalism highlight broader cultural changes that occur in response to living in a neoliberal world.

Economics and friendship

The fact that each broadcaster gathers and maintains, not merely an audience, but a community of viewers, is foundationally important to how the whole Twitch phenomenon functions. Twitch’s focus on community echoes Burgess and Green’s (2009) argument that any examination of YouTube (a comparable video distribution platform) that ignores its social networking aspects would lead to incomplete, even invalid conclusions. The relationship between community member and streamer is more akin to a type of friendship, rather than simply a spectator or fan. Obviously, this assertion raises questions regarding the applicability of parasocial relationship theories (cf. Auter, 1991; Horton and Wohl, 1956) to the act of Twitch spectatorship. If professional streamers treat their community members like friends, does that make them friends? Whether it is saying ‘good morning’ to them individually like CohhCarnage does or by Ezekiel_III inviting viewers into multiplayer games, professional streamers reinforce the notion that the streamer/viewer relationship is a type of friendship. Additionally, this friendship cannot be forced or faked. Professional streamers assume that their communities know when they are not genuine.

Often the competing aspects of friendship and economics do nothing to preclude one another in streaming. However, when discussions turn toward the benefits of streaming (receiving free games and other gifts from developers), streamers must address the tension inherent in this apparent conflict of interests. When these discussions occur on DF, streamers do demonstrate a level of thoughtfulness. It becomes obvious to the attentive viewer that individual professional streamers have grappled with the nature of this tension and each has arrived at some conclusion about where they stand. As they come to their own decisions about what constitutes proper and improper behavior, many have created something approaching a code of professional ethics. One approach to professional ethics is to only advertise products that you had been using prior to being offered a sponsorship for them (or those that you could not previously afford). CohhCarnage described this practice as ‘the golden rule of sponsorships, only sponsoring things that you use, or would use but you don’t have already. And if you stick to that, it’s beautiful, you’re never selling out’ (17 February 2016). Selling out is bad for your reputation, and therefore bad for business. This adds a certain texture to the normative theory of Twitch streaming: While journalistic normative theory is built upon democratic ideals, streaming is built upon friendship.

Using friendly relations as the basis for a professional orientation has two important outcomes. First, Twitch streaming professionalism must focus on a broadcaster’s responsibility to her community. Second, as a friendly relationship, the economic support is encouraged rather than required. Since viewers are not forced to subscribe, the revenue that streamers count on is never guaranteed, normalizing occupational precarity.

Conclusion

This article on DF provides more than simply a list of topics empirically present in professional streamer discourse. Informing the ways that streamers talk about each topic are specific considerations that one should have to function as a professional Twitch broadcaster. These considerations span many different aspects, including those that are based in economics and those that relate to how one should interact with a community of friends. By mapping the underlying motivations and relationships of Twitch streamers, I have demonstrated that professional streamers develop a normative theory of streaming: a theoretical knowledge of how streaming should work that informs their professional practices. This normative theory includes assumptions about the audience as a community of friends and the presence of occupational precarity. Beyond these assumptions, streamers also experience, think through, and overcome tensions between constituent aspects of the job. They also engage in public forums where they openly discuss their own conclusions about the limits of ethical behavior in response to tensions between the economic and social realities of their work. The dearth of scholarly literature on streamer ethics does not limit in any way the ability of professional streamers to contemplate the ethical dimensions of their career. If anything, streamer conversation on DF demonstrates that live streamers take ethics seriously and supports the necessity for continuing scholarly inquiry into modes of new media professionalism.

Footnotes

Supplemental material

The data for this study were collected from the YouTube webpage where the text in question (Dropped Frames) is archived. These videos can be accessed using the following URL: .

Notes

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