When YouTuber Adam McIntyre hit the stage at the first leg of his Chronically Online Tour, he commanded that audience. Strutting around on the stage at Roulette Intermedium in Brooklyn, the creator who breaks down internet drama for his 440,000 subscribers had over a hundred screaming “Muckers” — a term of endearment he calls his fans — chucking friendship bracelets on stage and shouting with glee.
Chronically Online Live
For over an hour, the 22-year-old broke down the lore of his channel which he’s been posting on for nearly a decade. With a flow chart starting at his hometown in Derry, Ireland travelling through his online spats with controversial online figures like Ethan Klein and Trisha Paytas, he weaved a show that was cat nip for super fans. At one point, reporter Kat Tenbarge (whose new newsletter you should subscribe to) came on stage to share her beef with David Dobrik and Casey Neistat.
Though you did have to know quite a bit about online lore, my fiance, who is much less online than me, shared that she got about half the references and internet jokes.
I have attended YouTube shows in the past. I’ve seen Max Fosh conduct a survey of his audience in a 2,100-seat capacity theater. Watched Good Mythical Morning stream a raunchy version of their show to nine Alamo Drafthouses throughout the country. Neither of those came close to having the pure visceral energy of McIntyre’s show.
Those fans were timid and more of a general audience. They consumed videos on hatching caviar and ranking Doritos. They were not the drama-obsessed screamers that flocked to see McIntyre.
The way fans engaged felt like a Twitch stream’s comment section had been transported into the real world. Instead of typing purple hearts, a Mucker specialty, they used their voices and threw friendship bracelets.
They’d boo for controversial figures like Gabbie Hanna and Colleen Ballinger and erupt with glee for McIntyre’s mom and Mariah Carey. They would snap their fingers, shout punchlines in unison, and mouth the words to clips. When McIntyre would tell them to cheer or to put away their phones, they’d all follow suit.
It would be awful for a traditional Broadway show, but it was a perfect pairing for this crowd’s parasocial relationships.
Micro-Influencers Still Have Powerful Audiences
Fans could pay for a meet and greet after the show for an extra $20. If you wanted to splurge, a VIP ticket with an exclusive Q-and-A was available for another $90. Each was packed with teenage to adult fans who wanted to show their admiration for their favorite creator. He also sold merchandise, presumably totaling thousands of dollars.
McIntyre’s audience isn’t necessarily large when you compare it to titans like MrBeast or Logan Paul. But these fans make up for it with dedication, buying merchandise, and putting butts in the seats. That parasocial relationship can be incredibly lucrative.
Adam McIntyre still has 20 shows left to go, some of which he’s already sold out. I don’t think a decade ago a YouTuber with under a million subscribers could sell out a mid-size theater. Companies like X1 Entertainment, which put on McIntyre’s show, work directly with influencers to put on live productions for their audience.
The creator economy has shifted heavily towards micro-influencers, people with 10,000 to 500,000 followers. These creators can draw a more personal audience that’s willing to pay. Drama creators like Spill Sesh and Nicholas DeOrio may not have millions of subs, but each one of their videos pulls in tens to hundreds of thousands of views.
That personal connection is impossible to maintain with an audience of millions, but smaller creators who haven’t been seen as selling out can still make that connection. If you are a niche creator with enough subs to quit your day job, chances are you can tour.
