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Activity 7: Playing Online: Let’s Twitch

March 22, 2020 / 7:17-8:00pm / https://www.twitch.tv/elspeth

 

I observed the streamer, Elspeth, playing Doom Eternal for 43 minutes.

 

I was apprehensive about Twitch. I imagined a platform full of sexist jokes, “cutie-pie” stereotypes, and mobs of trolls lurking in the chat. I did not even choose my channel— I had my partner do it for me. Yet, I was very relieved to see Elspeth sitting in the lower-left corner of the screen. She looked normal. Brown hair, black t-shirt, an intense expression as she fought hordes of demons. She likely values her privacy, using a green-screen to superimpose herself directly onto the game, while also hiding her studio space (Taylor, 2018). She was a woman here to only share her love of play.

screenshotOfElspeth

I wanted to focus on the interactions between the streamer and the audience, something which does not exist in pre-recorded Lets Plays. Elspeth's running dialogue is reminiscent of Ashly Burch. Most of this is her response to the game, from discussing her thinking to panicked singsong. Occasionally, a text overlay appears across the screen declaring a new or renewed subscriber. Elspeth always enthusiastically thanks them, even when embroiled in combat. She also has a “SpethBot” in the chat to thank these people. I wonder if she also has some sort of notification pop up on another screen when this happens, such as the one Taylor described at the start of Chapter 3. She had very little dialogue with her audience while I watched. Yet, when the pace of the game slowed down she took the time to answer the more recent questions and comments.

 

The chatbox on the right of the screen was blank when I first arrived but quickly populated. Someone was apologizing for being offensive. Others were responding to them, saying that the first step to not being a jerk was to recognize it when they were. One had a distinctive icon next to their name, a sword in a green square. According to Twitch’s help page, this marks them as a chat moderator. The streamer selects these often-volunteers to help maintain a positive community (Taylor).

 

The chat hosted lively conversations among the audience. People joked about the game and Elspeth’s antics. They discussed what they would do if they were playing. One person messaged “Hi Elspeth! Hope you’re doing well and keeping safe!”. This remark, heartwarming in this troubling time, was a sign that Elspeth had built a supportive community, if not a family, around her (Taylor).

 

When Elspeth struggled with a jump-puzzle, the chat grew quiet. It was not until she said "brain's too tired” that people started giving her helpful directions. Later, she succeeded through a particularly difficult timed puzzle. One commentator sent a “First Try” emoticon. Another sent “god gamer” followed by five sparkly-eyed gasping emojis. Whenever Elspeth succeeded at something challenging, both she and the audience celebrated together.

 

Elspeth is both an entertainer and a businessperson. A purple banner above the chatbox declared a "HYPE TRAIN IS COMING", and related emojis frequently appear in the feed (Taylor). SpethBot also reminds the audience that they can buy her favourite games through her store.

 

I also witnessed a raid. Taylor describes this as a way for one streamer to share their viewers with another when they finish. The newcomers were warmly welcomed by both the audience and Elspeth. She also asked her viewers to share the love and go give the raiding streamer a follow.

 

After forty-five minutes, I left Elspeth’s channel. She had 855 people to keep her company while she took on the hordes from Hell.

Citations:

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Taylor, T. L. (2018). Watch me play: Twitch and the Rise of Game Live Streaming. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Chapters 1 and 3. http://tinyurl.com/uk7zxoj

© 2020 by Laura Ulrich.
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