My YouTube homepage is populated with videos that eclipse the runtime of feature length films about topics I have never heard of before. The lore of indie horror ARGs, tragic tales of naval disasters, dissections of influencer drama, and multi-hour videos about a show I watched when I was twelve. These videos are popular; many have millions of views despite only having been uploaded in the last year or so. In an age of TikToks edited with Subway Surfer gameplay beneath them to retain attention and YouTube Shorts being pushed as the future of video, these long videos are, seemingly, out of place. For this article, I spoke to a range of fellow longform video consumers to work out why, exactly, these videos exist the way that they do.
Intuitively, the longer content is, the more effort it takes to create. A gaming stream that lasts for an hour is twice as much work as one which lasts for thirty minutes. A longer form video essay requires many more hours researching, recording, and editing. Some longform video makers like The Right Opinion employ multiple editors per video, with a recent 90 minute video comprising fourteen sections, each edited by a different person. This increased investment of resources, time, and energy makes it hard to maintain a consistent upload schedule between long projects. Quinton Reviews, who creates 4+ hour videos about Nickelodeon shows from the 2010s, regularly has intervals of 6 months between projects. Why, then, do creators put in this time and effort?
My first theory is that, as the YouTube algorithm improves, it becomes much more likely that your content, no matter how niche, will find its way to an audience who will consume it. 70% of the content that users consume on the platform is fed to them by its algorithm, which has shifted from being focused on promoting videos with broad appeal in 2012 to a much more personalised model in the late 2010s. An algorithm cannot watch a video to understand its appeal, and thus relies on metadata like average video length to understand if a user will or won’t like a video. If I have historically shown a preference for longer videos, it is more likely I will get recommended longer videos. Creators can now find audiences to occupy their niches.
Secondly, the way that ads and monetisation work has changed dramatically in the last decade. Nat, a respondent to my questions, highlighted the dramatic changes to YouTuber’s advertising policies within the last few years. In its early days, the most accessible way to make money from YouTube was through the inbuilt mechanisms the platform had for putting ads before and during videos. You could earn more money by creating videos that better fit the YouTube cookie-cutter: an optimised length with a clickbait-y title. This, however, was volatile. Wikitubia, a wiki about YouTube, lists four separate events as “adpocalypses”, a portmanteau referring to seismic shifts in the ad landscape on YouTube. More creators found themselves able to support their own channel through brand deals, patronage (through platforms like Patreon), and external services. Considerations like how one can optimise revenue through the platform itself are much less relevant now.
It’s worth noting, as Nat explained to me, that longform creators have always been on the website, and aren’t just generating content based on what is and isn’t profitable. “That shift [in monetisation] kinda brought back a shadow of the early internet, where in-depth investigation of niche topics was more common,” he explained. Many creators are just passionate, and have a lot to say. The platform is better at accommodating that now.
Why, then, do people watch such long videos? Across all the people I spoke to, two main motivations arose. The first, which accords with my own preference, is that longform videos are good background noise. Personally, I like having a video playing while I cook, paint, or clean; others like having them on in the bath, while exercising, or while doing work. Longer videos are better suited for this mindless consumption. “I don’t like switching from one video to another while I’m having food,” Jacinta explains, “but if the entertainment is encased in an hour-long video it’s enough to take a break and eat with.” This speaks to something that I’m not quite sure how to put a finger on. A discomfort with silence, perhaps, or a desire for a constant level of stimulation higher than what a single task — knitting, stretching, doing the dishes — affords. Reported rates of loneliness and social isolation in young people have steadily risen since 2015, only being exacerbated by the pandemic; maybe there is comfort in having another voice to keep you company in your downtime.
In contrast, many people told me their consumption of long videos was anything but mindless. When I mentioned my idea for this article to my housemate, Ira, she told me that she regularly and attentively watches 90 minute videos of people solving sudokus, which I was shocked to learn was not as background noise, but instead as something to fixate on for that length of time. Having something long and detailed to focus on can be really enjoyable, and the level of detail that some users appreciate is only achievable with more runtime. Nat says he likes deep dives about video games and engineering, Trinity loves long videos about sharks — her “special interest” — and Jack watches lectures about the CIA and music theory. I particularly enjoyed a two hour “linguistics iceberg” video that the algorithm sent my way. The internet has always been a place to facilitate learning, and longer videos are able to reach a level of depth that shorter content or different formats simply cannot. The increased democratisation of producing such detailed content can have its downsides — Liv explained to me that choosing which long video to invest time into can be tricky, due to how niche an intended audience may be — but for those who find creators whose work they enjoy, the more content there is, the better.
Underpinning this, though, are a few features of these videos that aren’t strictly tied to the runtime. There is a comfort to watching hours on end analysing every episode of a show you loved or are nostalgic for. Feature-length YouTube documentaries about ships and true crime and influencer drama often take the time to wander through narrative arcs, complete with beginnings, middles, and ends. Over a multi-hour stream, you start to feel like you know the Minecraft YouTuber better than if you just see short clips of their gameplay. I do not think it is a coincidence that the emergence of such long videos occurred during a pandemic, when many were at their most lonely, uncertain, and afraid. There is something deeply human to sitting down and listening to a story, and that comfort and connection just can’t be achieved when content is crammed or split into ten-minute blocks.
These long videos and their popularity speak to our desire to learn, to hear stories, and to find consistency in chaos. Perhaps, as a generation of iPad kids grow up, the average video length of platforms like YouTube will dwindle again in an attempt to capture these new audiences. My hope, though, is that those who want this content and those who want to produce it are able to find each other again, and can keep supporting each other. Art and creatives are so important to the way that we live — these videos are resounding proof of that.
