Dividing "Posters" and "Creators" Could Define Hollywood's AI Fight

Posters aren't a threat to Hollywood, but the future of creators could be

Some film critic friends of mine once got into a heated debate at a local Brooklyn pub over etymology. Beer foam sloshed over pint glasses as their wild gestures grew to match their growing shouts. I distinctly remember thinking “god, who the fuck cares if someone calls it a movie or someone calls it a film?” I think I actually said it because I also distinctly remember my friend biting back, “Film is the literal definition of how pictures are made; movies are a product that people pay to watch.”

I still think it’s a dumb debate, but I found myself thinking about it the other day because I was reflecting on the difference between creator and poster. Theoretically they are one in the same. Creators post on the internet; posters are creating something that others come across. Where’s the line? Fundamentally, it is in the person’s endgame. Both creators and posters want attention for their content. Both creators and posters are incentivized by some form of monetization. So what’s it all come down to, really? Not to invoke Justice Potter Stewart’s oft overly referenced “I know it when I see it line” from the infamous ruling on obscenity, but we do all know the difference between a post and content. It doesn’t have to be high brow, but there is a difference between a MrBeast video and a MrBeast Instagram post. Here’s how I define the difference:

Creators produce content that entertains, engages, and explains; posters specialize in distraction, disposal, and dealing.

By having this distinction, you can also see the outline of creators in someone who strictly posts, like Dril. And you can see the outline of a poster in someone who operates on platforms typically associated with creators, like channels on YouTube that just reupload others’ work or run, like, stopwatch timers. Vitally, and I’ll repeat this a few times without this piece, I am not trying to decry the work that people upload to Instagram or TikTok. I spent too much time on those apps myself, watching video after video. But the very designs of the apps — scroll quickly to the next video, tap on a product link, and encounter advertisement after advertisement — encapsulates the problem with distraction, disposal, and dealing. Distract yourself with disposable videos that are often designed to sell you things, or are sandwiched between highly targeted ads.

Understanding these slight but crucial differences will become even more important in the years ahead as generative AI technology gets better, and both posters as well as creators will be incentivized by both their interests and the interests of the platforms to engage more frequently with AI productions. Let me say upfront that genAI video tools aren’t particularly exciting right now, but like tools and technology before it, the level of investment in these apparati means we have to take even the theory of them somewhat seriously. 

Posting or Creating?

Three examples stuck out to me over the last couple of weeks. The first was a deepfake of different celebrities wearing “Fuck Ye” shirts with a cross through a swastika (a response to Kanye West selling a white t-shirt with a swastika emboldened on the front) started appearing on Instagram and X. As designed, it went viral, and prompted some of the celebrities depicted in the video, including Scarlett Johansson, to issue a public statement. Johannson, who has also faced AI controversies in the past after it was alleged that OpenAI used an authorized version of her voice for one of its products, vehemently condoned West’s actions, but argued that she “firmly believes the potential for hate speech multiplied by A.I. is a far greater threat than any one person who takes accountability for it,” according to a statement published by People. 

“We must call out the misuse of A.I., no matter its messaging, or we risk losing a hold on reality.” 

It was one of the first viral examples where the incentive for the poster — to do it fast, to go viral, and use readily available tools — matched the incentive for the platforms. And, as such, we got a shit storm. The lesson wasn’t even that celebrities condemned the video (even if they agreed with the sentiment); no, the lesson was these types of videos using readily available technology is another way to capture increasingly fragmented attention. 

Wading through the amount of AI slop on the internet is a full-time job, which brings us to the second example. Roughly two dozen accounts on TikTok perpetuate generative AI videos focused on Donald Trump and Elon Musk, raking in more than 700 million views since their launch, according to Faked Up and 404 Media. The team at 404 has produced some of the finest AI reporting, and as Jason Koebler consistently points out, the main incentive for these accounts is monetization. Higher views theoretically leads to higher engagement, which on platforms like YouTube, directly results in more advertising revenue. On a platform like TikTok, all opportunities are through TikTok Shop. As 404 reports:

“For example, an account called @trumpsaying, which has 57,000 followers and some videos with millions of views, posted more than a dozen videos with an AI-generated Trump voice before pivoting to videos promoting Trump-themed or vaguely patriotic t-shirts. The videos lead viewers directly to the TikTok Shop, where they can purchase the shirt. The videos are also marked as eligible for commission, meaning other creators can get paid for promoting them as well.”

How people who post on the internet — different from creators — are incentivized to use artificial intelligence to increase their own output, reach, and potential monetization is where I tend to hyper obsess over in this conversation. Those Trump and Elon videos are the end result. It’s different for creators. Instead of AI slop being the ultimate goal, like the Trump and Elon videos, genAI becomes a tool to produce at faster rates and enable a new generation of creatives who may have wanted to participate via creation, but didn’t have a certain skill set, time, or funds. 

Hence our final example. Last week, I came across an 11-minute short film set within the Star Wars universe. It doesn’t look perfect. By today’s standards, it’s pretty sub-optimal. For anyone who grew up with early gaming consoles and 2000s graphics, however, it’s almost nostalgic. And, like the increase in graphics we’ve seen over the last 30 years, I’m often reminded that this is the worst the technology will ever be. 

None of this really matters. The only important detail is that it took Kavan the Kid two weeks and $120. 

Consider the relative pros. Storytelling within the video itself is adequate and, for Star Wars fans, it may scratch an itch as they wait for new content. Not to mention that it’s absolutely free to watch. While it’s highly unlikely that the film’s creator, Kavan the Kid, can earn advertising revenue off of this project when uploading to YouTube or X, they could generate more Patreon members and release private screenings of these films to a sizable audience. Even as the internet becomes more centralized, there are always opportunities for content to travel and audiences to consume outside of the easily accessible bubbles. 

Far more interesting than getting into the debate about whether access to this new type of tool making will result in stronger copyright takedowns on platforms like YouTube and TikTok is where the entertainment companies themselves come to see their roles. Another way to approach the question is knowing what we do now about how YouTube evolved from a relatively non-threatening platform, where kids uploaded videos of themselves skateboarding and cats falling, to being the most dominant streamer in the United States (and likely globally), how would strategies be rewritten if given the option to go back to 2006? Do you inhale or extinguish? 

The Incentives for Posters

The success of those Trump/Musk videos on TikTok, including the speed of garnering attention, unequivocally fall into the posting camp. They do not necessarily entertain the way we think about a strong YouTube video from someone like MrBeast or a more traditional movie (please don’t come for me, etymology friends) does. They don’t engage and they don’t really explain. Instead they are designed to distract and deliver. They’re designed to camouflage into the greater platform, drawing attention to the ecosystem, instead of trying to create a new hub. 

Just as important, they are designed to go viral — they are designed to bring attention to the apps themselves. And as companies like Meta, YouTube, and TikTok start to play around with their own genAI tools even more, these are the types of videos — and the type of attention — they can learn from. 

Unlike our aspiring Star Wars director, who is disincentivized to post because of current copyright restrictions, they are incentivized to post in expectation of nearly instantaneous reward for their posting. Posters have always benefitted the platforms. Continuous activity juices DAUs, which allows for stronger advertising rates and invites more small businesses to spend their ad dollars on specific platforms, with the promise that attention from the posters will translate to products being sold.

You can see this on TikTok and Instagram all the time. Unlike YouTube, where creators are incentivized to produce longer fare for audiences to watch on TV sets, and therefore create more qualitative content rather than just publishing six or seven times a day, Instagram influencers convert their on-platform popularity to off-platform brand deals while TikTok influencers and wannabes are encouraged to direct people toward TikTok Shop. 

Creation in the name of distraction, deal, and deliver on behalf of the real clients — advertisers — rather than engaging, entertaining, and explaining to actual audiences. 

Since short form video platforms want its active participants to continue posting, and having more followers increases the number of brand deals or partnerships, thereby encouraging mid-tier and upcoming creators to post more often in order to hock products, there’s an entire group of influencers incentivized to never stop posting. If posters are encouraged to do nothing but post, it’s much harder to create something of quality — something that engages, entertains, or explains. Now, again, that does not suggest all successful influencers are pimping out snake oils for a quick buck. To develop the followings they do, there must be something that audiences are drawn to; but it’s that all too familiar power laws chart that reiterates those influencers aren’t the backbone of the apps. It’s everyone else clamoring to get to the same level of success. 

So long as the creators from the middle to the right are incentivized to continue posting by minimal, but growing rewards like followers and ad revenue, the more that Instagram and TikTok can appeal to large, blue chip advertisers (DAUs) and small businesses (influencer marketing). Creating generative AI tools to help make a baseline quality — even reduced compared to what we consider quality today — while speeding up the level of output only helps the Instagrams and the TikToks of the world by encouraging more posting from people who grow from posters into influencers. 

It’s a beautiful (and by beautiful, yes, I do mean atrocious) cycle. Meta, TikTok, Google, and all the others are investing in their own genAI or …whatever AI tools. They need to train their models. And they need to show the various advertisers they work with that their genAI tools can be harnessed for their own businesses to better work on a platform like Instagram. Influencers on these platforms are incentivized to use new editing technologies that allow them to pump out more videos to attract more followers and secure more brand deals or sell more goods through an eCommerce front like TikTok Shop.

A company like Instagram learns what works and what doesn’t, perfects that technology for its own B2B business with the advertisers, and encourages more posting all around. 

This isn’t just the future that we’re coming into. It’s the one we’re currently watching be constructed around us. But what about the Star Wars editors and wannabe directors of the world? The creators. Is there a role for them on platforms like YouTube — or is there something else entirely? 

The Incentives for Creators

Drawing the line between creators and posters (or influencers) is tricky, but I believe it’s important as more content worlds start to mold. Like influencers, creators also upload to UGC platforms. They also want to monetize their content, and they want to build audiences. Unlike influencers, however, their work typically takes more time, they’re more inclined to work within traditional TV formats, or they’ve built a following off of playing in other sandboxes. One of the old web series, Red vs Blue, is a TV show set within Halo. Cocomelon is a relatively traditional children’s series. David Dobrik’s vlogs use classic sitcom beats, and even MrBeast takes his cues from reality TV. 

Although the distribution channel and visual styles for these creators feel different from past television formats, the approach hasn’t stretched too far. All of which brings us back to our Star Wars creator, who illustrates an entirely new class of potential artists who may be open to having their videos appear in a new forum — like a streaming service.

Copyright rules all but dictate that a 11-minute Star Wars video theoretically could be removed from YouTube. We could sit here and argue Fair Use all day like it’s 2007, but the fact remains that Star Wars is a copyrighted property that Disney owns the full rights to regardless of how it’s used. Therefore, Disney could allow its copyrighted material to be used by others (for example, merchandise from third-party companies that helps to satisfy fans looking for ways to showcase their love of a certain character or franchise), but Disney also could not. 

Star Wars is just one example of just one IP, but I’m not surprised that some of the earliest contributions to an established world has come from a Star Wars fan. For nearly 50 years, fans have written fanfiction, sold fanzines, created fan games, made short films, and created themed bars around their favorite space opera. As I’ve noted already, the difference this time around is speed and quality. Technological precedent suggests that genAI is going to continue getting better if the investment is there. (Now, whether the investment or businesses remain solvent is a whole other conversation.)

I made a comparison earlier to early ‘00s video game graphics. Similar to that industry where investment from large corporations and human training helped to better those machinations, genAI will be adequate enough as our baseline for everyday quality continues to diminish thanks to our increased attention on short form content. An entirely new generation will be fine with the visuals they come across and, perhaps most importantly, through further democratization of technology, enable a group of new creatives to emerge. We’ll effectively train these tools to offer that bare minimum quality that kind of-sort of works.

Our future “copyright dumpster fire,” as former Adobe Chief Strategy Officer and current Chief Technologist at A24, Scott Belsky, told Ben Thompson two years ago, suggests that it’s impossible for these creators to monetize their fan work (as has always been the case) on platforms where copyright holders demand protection. Belsky told Thompson:

“...I’m basically going to make an unauthorized episode using the exact actors, their likeness, their voices, and everything. I seriously believe this will all be achievable very soon and it’s just going to be a copyright dumpster fire. What is going to happen? There’s no way they’re going to be able to commercially monetize that content, there’s just no way, you’re using Spider-Man, you’re using The Matrix, you’re using whatever. 

“If you believe that that’s an inevitability, which I do, then I think that there will have to be clean models that you can rely on commercially. Sure, you’ll make fun memes and unauthorized things that will creep around the internet, but from a commercial perspective, I don’t think it’s just a big company party line, I actually believe this is going to be a requirement for this technology to work commercially.” 

And here is the 2006 moment arriving again. New technologies that allow creators to, well, create and possibly take attention away from other services may be right around the corner. These creators aren’t incentivized to hawk off-brand Ozempic. They want to contribute to the worlds they love; they want to connect with fans; and they want to be included in the communities and fandoms they hold dear.

Is there a way to bridge the high quality, prestigious fare that audiences still clearly want based on engagement from Netflix to Disney+ to Max and Peacock with the more genAI fan work that audiences also seek out? Certainly there is so much to consider and to iron out, but consolidation of competition and consolidation of attention doesn’t necessarily mean ignoring UGC forever as a separate world. Nor, however, does it mean that every company must become a UGC platform. But that’s a thesis for a different time. 

Ultimately, the more we can differentiate between posters and creators, and the more we can understand the incentive structures for both — as well as the incentive structures in place for the various distributors of content — the more honest conversations we can have about how genAI might be used. Look, there’s a good chance that none of this goes anywhere. And there’s also a good chance, again, based on the level of investment in a tool that something develops. 

Recognizing why posters may start to post a certain way and how that benefits the platforms they’re tempted by versus understanding how creators may start to use the tool to continue participating in community activities that have existed long before the advent of genAI technology will help to separate how to approach each group and the looming concerns hovering over both. Some version of this world is here. A theorized version of this world may never appear. But I remember when YouTube wasn’t a concern (beyond piracy) for the largest media companies in the world, and I remember when influencers were seen as harmless. 

Look, it may be as simple as AI slop will reign supreme on apps where AI slop is already finding some kind of ghost audience. On Instagram where posters are encouraged to become celebrated influencers to, basically, just sell people stuff while they’re sitting on the toilet or lying down in bed?

But there are also creatives who will flock to genAI tools from editing powerhouse companies like Adobe to figure out how to make 11-minute Star Wars — or Stranger Things, Harry Potter, Jurassic Park, Mission Impossible, or whatever other fandoms that form deep communities — video for less than $500 and in the span of a couple of weeks. Building a world for the creators, who will co-exist but certainly not supplant traditional Hollywood, and allowing AI slop to siphon off on apps already designed to provide dopamine distractions instead of fantastical escapism, might be one solution for our attention riddled world. 

Sometimes the best way to tackle the “enshittification” of a company is to let itself shit itself to death.