The Entire Internet Is a UGC Reaction Video Now

I keep a folder in Apple Notes called “cursed websites,” where I save various artefacts that make me feel like the social contract has dissolved. Call it an act of self-loathing. Call it collecting evidence of the fall. Dansugc.com went straight into the folder this morning.

It’s a site where marketers // entrepreneurs (and I find the line between those two groups has become blurred to the point of being illegible) can buy pre-recorded “Reaction” videos for $3 apiece. You browse a library of 2k clips, sorted by emotion (shocked! Happy! Crying! Excitement!), pick a face you find particularly appealing, download a 5-10 second clip of a stranger performing surprise // delight at nothing in particular, and splice it into your own content. The idea is to make it look like an actual someone had an actual emotional response to your app on TikTok. Custom orders run to $8 and let you specify outfits, emotional arcs etc.

The tagline reads: “100% Real Humans. Zero AI.”

And I think that tells you almost everything you need to know about where we are. And where we are is a place where “at least the fake fuckery was produced by a biological organism” counts as a premium feature. The pitch for selling manufactured authenticity at scale is that at least the people in the factory are still real people. That’s the floor. That’s what passes for premium. We are drowning in content that is functionally the same as so many designer handbags stitched up alongside so many dupes.

The internet is the most powerful communication technology in human history, and we’re using it to sell each other $3 clips of faked surprise.

I don’t blame Dan, if that’s even his real name. He’s running a business filling a niche. He’s recognised that the entire internet advertising “ecosystem” now runs on simulated, casual, spontaneous “cool girl” energy. He’s simply the shovel-seller in an authenticity gold rush; except the gold is parasocial trust, and the shovels are clips of various women pretending to have their minds blown by your calorie-counting app.

100, ready to post UGC videos per month costs $800. A fully managed campaign for 500 videos goes for $10k. Dan claims over 5 billion total views generated, and I don’t doubt his numbers at all. But if this stuff doesn’t set off your alarms, even a little, you’ve probably been marinating in it so long you’ve lost the ability to smell it.

What Dan’s business lays bare - if you actually sit with it - is that the internet, as a social and cultural space is almost entirely performance. The whole apparatus has been hollowed into a content mill that grinds human attention into micro-conversions. I’m aware that I’m not the first person to make the complaint that the internet sucks - but every point of suck has now compounded into the final boss of shitty experiences. The algorithmic timelines, the social media homogeneity, the death of truth, the proliferation of monetisation strategies and side hustles etc have all contributed to this moment: a growth hacked, engagement optimised, brand-building logic that has destroyed our ability to distinguish between a person sharing something they give a shit about, and a person executing a “content” strategy.

Open TikTok right now and ~try to find a video that isn’t, at some level, attempting to sell you something - a political identity, a digital product, a lifestyle, a personal brand. It's next to impossible. Every piece of content carries this faint whiff of ~strategy behind it. The girl doing a “Get Ready With Me” video has an affiliate link in her bio, and the asshole ranting about immigration has a Substack he can’t wait to funnel you to. The therapist explaining attachment styles is, naturally, building a course she’ll launch next month, and the couple doing a “day in our van-life” vlog is negotiating a brand deal in their DMs. There is always a funnel, always a CTA, and the output, no matter how “down to earth” it’s designed to feel, is always doubling as a mechanism to convert your attention into revenue.

Jean Baudrillard (read Simulacra and Simulation) identified how modern society replaces reality with the symbols and signs of reality. He mapped the process in four stages: first the image reflects reality, then it masks reality, then it masks the absence of reality, and finally it has no relation to reality whatsoever. A UGC reaction video purchased for $3 and spliced into a TikTok ad is operating at that fourth stage, because the reaction doesn't reference a real reaction, there was never a real reaction, and the whole thing is a sign pointing at nothing, wearing the costume of spontaneity.

You might say who cares, advertising has always been manipulative, and sure, that's true. When Grigory Potemkin allegedly erected fake village facades along the Dnieper River in 1787 to impress Empress Catherine II during her tour of Crimea, he was doing UGC marketing for the Russian Empire (the historical consensus is that the villages were probably real settlements that had been tidied up rather than total fabrications, but the legend stuck because the concept is so useful as shorthand). The instinct to manufacture the appearance of prosperity for the benefit of powerful onlookers is old as dirt. What's different now is the scale and the fact that regular people are doing it to each other all day long, voluntarily, for free or for pennies.

There's a phrase you hear in marketing: "everyone is a creator now." It sounds democratizing, hopeful even, like the whole internet has become a Renaissance workshop where artisans and thinkers reach audiences directly. In practice, everyone is a marketer now. The "creator economy" turned out to be an economy where the thing being created, more and more, is demand for more of yourself. Your aesthetic, your opinions, your morning routine, your trauma, your fitness journey, your face: all raw material for the content machine, all measured against growth metrics that would make a mid-career product manager feel right at home.

The result is an internet that feels, to use a technical term, like shit. Scroll any platform and you're wading through a river of optimized slop, and what makes it depressing is how same-y it all is despite the theoretically infinite diversity of human expression available online.

Political content looks like beauty content and beauty content looks like finance content and finance content looks like fitness content, because they’re all using the same hooks and they’re all built on the same emotional beats. The provocative claim in the first 2 seconds, the false tension, the extreme language, comment if you agree, like and subscribe and so on and on. Don’t forget to share this with someone who ~needs to hear this. Make sure you follow for part 2. The playbook is identical, whether someone’s raving about the best skin serum, or about their least favourite ethnic groups...

AI makes all of this both worse and darkly funny at the same time. AI slop and human slop have now converged to the point that Dan can credibly market “zero AI” as a premium feature, while his customers’ output offers no real elevation from the realm of deepfakes. And as much as Real Humans is a selling point for the internet today, the AI is getting better, too. It can produce damn-near the same hooks, the same engagement-bait captains, the same dead-eyed reaction that a human can churn out today. AI content creators aren’t even poisoning the well; not really. They’re simply drawing from a well we already puked in years ago.

AI slop is human slop with the labor costs removed, and that's why nobody can tell the difference, and that's why Dan has to specify that his product is made by real humans, like a carton of eggs stamped "cage-free."

There's a moment in Don DeLillo's White Noise where a character visits "The Most Photographed Barn in America" and realizes that nobody can actually see the barn anymore because the barn has been completely replaced by the aura of the photographs of the barn. Once you've seen the signs about the barn, he says, it becomes impossible to see the barn. The internet has done this to basically everything. You scroll past enough UGC reaction videos and you can't encounter a real reaction without wondering if it's bought, you read enough performative vulnerability posts and you can't encounter real vulnerability without suspecting it's a hook. The constant presence of the fake thing corrodes your ability to trust the real thing, and the really vicious part is that a lot of the "real things" were fake too, which means the thing you're mourning the loss of may never have existed in the form you remember it.

This is, I suspect, why nostalgia for "the old internet" has become its own genre of content (which is, of course, itself being optimized for engagement, because there's no exit door). People remember a time when someone's blog was their blog and nothing more, when a forum post was written because a person had a thing to say and they said it and moved on. Whether that era was actually as good as we remember is debatable, and I think there's a strong case that we're romanticizing it. Sturgeon's Law applied then too: 90% of everything was crap. But the crap was sincere crap. The crap was some guy with a Blogspot writing 3,000 words about his favorite Star Trek episodes because he liked Star Trek and had opinions about the Borg, with zero intention of building an audience or selling a course called "How I Built a 6-Figure Blog About Star Trek."