This article first appeared in Digital Edge, The Edge Malaysia Weekly on December 27, 2021 - January 2, 2022
Social media giants such as Facebook, Instagram and YouTube have long occupied the livestreaming space, catering to the general public with content ranging from mukbang (where the host broadcasts his or her binge eating) to business webinars. A large segment of internet dwellers may, however, find Twitch synonymous with livestreaming.
Launched in 2011, Twitch had always been a livestreaming service focusing on video games, becoming the go-to platform for major e-Sports competition broadcasts. Viewership figures exploded during the pandemic, with concurrent viewers more than doubling from 1.26 million in 2019 to 2.84 million in 2021, according to Twitchtracker.
After it was acquired by Amazon in 2014, Twitch gradually branched out into other forms of content, such as tapping into artwork, music or in-real-life (IRL) broadcasts. In fact, Twitch launched 350 new tags in May this year, allowing users to search for local streamers under the “Malaysian” tag.
Despite the explosive growth of Twitch, the local Twitch streaming community is a little bit left behind. While local celebrity YouTube videos can easily reach millions of views, local Twitch streamers may find it hard to garner more than 100 concurrent viewers at any given time.
Who are these diligent streamers producing content regularly, and why do they like Twitch so much? Digital Edge spoke to several local Twitch streamers for answers.
The cosplaying streamer
Livestreaming is part of the gig economy — a career option for those who appreciate not having to work for someone or having a fixed work schedule. This is exactly why Izzat Asyraf got into the livestreaming scene in 2014.
Izzat was studying computer science but could not complete his degree after he was diagnosed with clinical insomnia. Because of this, he found it difficult to land a job in either the public or private sector and, while there were several job openings available, most of them were for contract work.
“I couldn’t finish my studies because the doctor said my insomnia was serious — I did not sleep for three days in a row. The doctor suggested that I put my semester on hold, which is why I have only a diploma now,” says Izzat.
“I then went into streaming because I already had an online community of my own, from Discord and Facebook, so promoting my channel was easy. Going into livestreaming seemed obvious at that point in time.”
These days, Izzat focuses on making gaming content while cosplaying as Zhongli, a video game character from Genshin Impact. He explains that cosplaying while streaming is still a niche category, as many others have opted to create virtual avatars instead — also known as Vtubers.
In the streaming space, there are still many creators that stream for fun without turning on their webcams or providing commentary, he says. To further differentiate himself, Izzat provides commentary in a mix of English, Malay and, sometimes, Japanese, which he picked up while attending language classes at university.
Although YouTube has a significantly larger audience base, Izzat finds it easier to garner viewership via streaming instead. There is a lot more work that goes into becoming successful on platforms such as YouTube, including designing video thumbnails and coming up with the correct tags. On Twitch, subscribers would always receive a notification when a creator goes live, making it easier to grow a fan base and attract repeat viewers.
“One of the most life-changing events I had was obtaining a sponsorship. If streamers keep making good content, sponsors will reach out via e-mail and WhatsApp, and they offer different kinds of deals. I get paid for playing a particular game three days in a row or playing a game consistently for a few months. But they will sponsor you based only on how much marketing potential you have,” he says.
Izzat has no regrets over going down the path of livestreaming, explaining that he currently earns more than he would have a full-time job. The ability to determine his own streaming schedule or go on hiatus whenever he pleases is what made him stick to the platform for so long.
Sharing is caring
Elise Wong is perhaps one of the more active participants in the local Twitch art community, with several streamers interviewed for this story speaking fondly of her content. Wong started streaming in 2017 and produces primarily art content, with some gaming streams sprinkled in now and then.
She started streaming as a full-time career only in June. Before that, she worked in her family business, running an insurance company. She always had a deep passion for the arts, and it was difficult to tell her family she did not plan to take over the business.
“They were sad but very supportive, for which I am truly grateful. I even had to teach my boomer parents what livestreaming is. It was kind of cute because my brother taught them how to browse Twitch, and they actually watch my stream and contribute to the views as well,” she tells Digital Edge.
Anybody with a laptop can easily set up a livestream, she says, but getting viewers on Twitch can be quite difficult. A beginner streamer on Facebook could easily garner the same viewership figures that took years to cultivate on Twitch. There is a unique charm to Twitch, however, that is hard to replicate.
While Facebook and other platforms are populated by mass corporations and business entities, Twitch is still centred on individual creators. On Twitch, creators base their worth on the quality and number of interactions with viewers, rather than the number of likes and followers. For Wong, it is much easier to build more personal and meaningful relationships on Twitch, and she views YouTube and Instagram simply as platforms to archive her portfolio and art content.
“I have tried livestreaming on Instagram and YouTube, but one thing great about Twitch is how streamer-friendly it is. Twitch is like your favourite TV show, but you get to chat with the creator. You can support their content through subscriptions and donations, making it possible for them to continue creating content,” she says.
When Wong started streaming in 2017, it was difficult for local streamers to meet each other unless they produced similar content and played the same video games. Each content creator was like a tiny island dotting the vast ocean of the Twitch universe.
As such, it was hard to determine what exactly Twitch culture was, because it depended on who the viewer was watching. She explains that professional e-Sports players with more than 1,000 concurrent viewers may find it hard to interact with their audience, owing to the sheer amount of activity going on in the chat.
Being a female gaming streamer also tends to attract the more toxic segments of the Twitch audience base. Wong finds smaller streamers have an easier time shaping a much more wholesome and supportive viewership base than larger ones. Fortunately, the art community on Twitch tends to be more wholesome regardless of audience size, with the chat often offering words of encouragement to artists who are less confident about their work.
“It was really difficult to build communities back then. There was a category called Malaysian Streamers, but if you clicked on it, there were hardly any Malaysians on it. For some reason, Twitch decided to remove the category, so we could not even find any Malaysian streamers at all,” says Wong.
“Only recently did Twitch launch the Malaysian tag. Because of that, I found a whole lot more Malaysians, and more Malaysians found my channel as well. It was interesting because I always knew Malaysia had the talent [to stream and entertain], but it was hard to find them because we are not known to advertise ourselves. I am still shocked at how much great content we can produce.”
The streaming entrepreneur
Creators do not necessarily need to stream full-time to find success on the platform. Jeevan Raj Menon streams gaming content only a few hours a day but is currently the most viewed creator on Twitch for the zombie game World War Z. For the rest of his day, Jeevan focuses on running Cove eSports, an agency he founded upon returning to Malaysia after a long stint in the US.
“My life’s trajectory was very different. I did my music degree in Berklee [College of Music] and was in the music industry for about 10 years. Prior to e-Sports, I was a professional music composer and producer, based in both the US and India,” he tells Digital Edge.
“I was really into gaming since I was 16 or 17, but I had other passions as well. When I went into music, I completely gave up gaming and did not play much for about a decade. Gaming was not something that I ever saw myself coming back to at all.
“I returned to Malaysia in 2017 for a particular music project, which required me to stay here for about half a year. While I was here, I still had friends in the gaming scene. We started talking about opportunities in this space. One thing led to another, and here we are at Cove.”
It was challenging to make the transition, especially obtaining the buy-in from his family. Jeevan’s mother was worried that all the years, resources and effort that went into music education would go down the drain. Jeevan felt, however, that music was not a sustainable avenue, as the industry required a lot of luck and hustle to succeed.
Jeevan, who is in his mid-30s, found more freedom in the e-Sports and streaming space. His journey as a music composer was a lone venture, whereas he has more control over his life’s direction via Cove. Today, the company operates a cybercafé in Subang Jaya with an emphasis on simulator racing and helps companies run e-Sports campaigns.
With Jeevan’s handle on the e-Sports industry and passion for gaming, livestreaming on Twitch is a natural progression. He tends to avoid playing competitive games, where players tend to be toxic because of the nature of these games. He finds it easier to destress by playing zombie games that promote player collaboration instead.
“What I came to realise after studying my streams is that I could now meet and interact with people not only from Malaysia but also from countries around the world. As a non-professional player, gaming without an impactful cause was something that I could not afford to do, especially as a working adult,” he says.
“But, now, I look at streaming very differently from when I started out. Say, I meet someone from Pakistan. I have often Googled and looked at the images of the places they are from and imagined what it would be like to be in their shoes. Now, I can interact with them; streaming has allowed me to live vicariously through other people.”
While the definition of success may vary from streamer to streamer, Jeevan says building an extensive following requires tireless effort and business acumen. Being the most watched streamer for World War Z pales in comparison to the viewership numbers of top streamers from popular games such as Valorant or Counter-Strike.
Reaching a large number of followers requires analysing the market and making calculated moves, says Jeevan, such as going for newly launched games that have the potential to gather a high number of viewers. Streamers may also need to leverage other platforms apart from Twitch, for instance, by sharing gameplay footage on YouTube and Facebook.
He finds it difficult, however, to allocate the time and effort needed to grow the business aspects of livestreaming as he has a company to run. However, Jeevan firmly believes that as long as streamers take the initiative and treat streaming seriously, success will come naturally.
Discovering oneself through streaming
Tan Kang Meng, a local art streamer who goes by the online persona Zeonz, started streaming because of circumstances brought about by the pandemic. Tan has a background in applied engineering and had worked as a machinist for more than a decade, operating advanced computer numerical controls — machines that process materials by following programmed instructions.
The pandemic hit when he had just resigned and it was difficult to secure a new job in a lockdown. Tan was also a self-taught artist and photographer, so he turned to streaming as a stop-gap measure. What started out as something temporary has gradually become more permanent, as he finds that the more he streams, the less he misses his old life as a machinist.
“The STEM (science, technology, engineering and mathematics) industry does pay well. But companies are always looking for ways to reduce costs and often skim the top off the labour department. Working with heavy machinery, there are many aspects that you have to take care of. With a small team, each member is bound to have an increased workload,” says Tan.
In addition to the added work stress, he found the work to be routine without much to look forward to in terms of prospects. He has worked with three companies throughout his career and developed trust issues along the way, owing poor communications and company politics.
“I worked for one of the companies for three years, hoping to get the position that I wanted — as a drafter, who basically creates the technical drawing and blueprints. Because I did not have experience in those aspects, my boss put me under administrative training, where my role was purely to carry out my boss’ instructions.
“My boss kept cycling me through many departments and positions, but didn’t put me in the engineer draft position until the fifth year. I was disappointed because I had expected to have the position by the third year. A new colleague with only a diploma managed to get the position despite having no background in engineering design, and I was a little bit upset.”
Streaming became Tan’s way of reinventing himself and gaining more control over his life. While browsing Twitch one day, he learnt that very few people actually edit photos while livestreaming. Since he took photographs as a hobby, he started out livestreaming his photo editing process. His rig could not cope with the intense computing requirements, however, so he turned to drawing instead.
He had always had an interest in drawing but stopped doing it the moment he entered the workforce. His drawing tablet sat hidden in a box for almost a decade. After blowing off the layers of dust, he started offering free art commissions to new subscribers. His channel slowly grew and he gradually pushed himself into taking increasingly difficult art projects to catch up on years of neglected practice.
Tan admits that it is difficult to stream full-time without tapping alternate sources of income, such as art commissions, YouTube AdSense and Patreon subscriptions. After having streamed for more than a year, Tan describes his income as not loss-making, but stagnant.
“I am still thinking very hard about my options and future. Part of me thinks that I am very content with just streaming for a living. One way or another, I need to think of ways to outperform what I have built over the past year,” he says.
“But I also do not want my parents to be worried about me. They are unsure about streaming as a career, and would rather I get a job. But I also know that if I were to return to that life, it might also affect my self-respect, because this is the choice I have made for myself.”
Nevertheless, Tan has benefitted a lot from being on the platform. He says Twitch is a unique entity on the internet, which made him realise that there are millions of people in the world looking to improve themselves and their circumstances. It also reminded him that the process could be fun.
Shaping communities
Anne-Marie Choon is a fresh graduate who majored in history. Although she enjoyed studying the subject in theory, applying it as a career was a different matter. She has a knack for entertaining people and, today, she regularly streams on Twitch as a singer and voice actress.
“I have been singing my whole life and started a YouTube channel in 2015 uploading covers, which has been going on for six years now. I got into voice acting only last year,” she explains.
“Voice acting was something I am interested in, and there was a casting call for a local game production. I auditioned for that and landed the job and, since then, I have been taking voice acting lessons and auditioning for similar roles.
“I got into livestreaming because it was hard to land a job during the pandemic. I wanted to try something different and I like the interactive aspect of livestreaming on Twitch that you don’t really get on YouTube.”
Choon started her Twitch Channel in February this year. Although she has close to 100,000 subscribers on YouTube, she made a conscious effort to keep both platforms separate. While YouTube is dedicated to music, she focuses on gaming and art content on Twitch.
Although Choon does receive requests to sing on stream now and then, she is still not comfortable doing so spontaneously, but she has cultivated a community supportive of her goal. She now focuses on streaming gameplays of indie games such as Oxen Free and Kingdom Hearts.
For now, Choon streams five days a week between 10am and 2pm, catering for overseas audiences who view her stream in the evenings. Although she is growing as a content creator and professional voice actress, she is still unsure about whether she should pursue this path full-time.
None of these individual avenues are enough to support her financially, and she hopes combining these sources of income will be able to keep her going. As a matter of fact, she started streaming to build her own community, and not for the money.
“Finding social interaction during the pandemic and creating a sense of community in real life is difficult, but Twitch allows me to do that. I enjoy doing the things on stream, which started out as a hobby. But now I also have a community that enjoys it as well, and I wanted to share the things I love doing,” she says.
“It is like creating your own little space on the internet for people you know and who are like you. You make your own rules on your channel, create a little corner for yourself and welcome people in. “
Some of Choon’s best interactions on the platform come from running charity streams, and she finds satisfaction in bringing people together to support a cause. One of her first charity streams was for the International Bipolar Foundation, as she is bipolar herself. It provides a safe space for her to meet and share experiences with people who are struggling with similar issues, as it is difficult to open up such discussions on other sites such as YouTube, owing to the lack of immediate feedback and response.
Choon highlights the struggles of being a female streamer on the platform. There are always anonymous viewers sexualising women and making uncomfortable comments about their physical appearance. She says most of them are empty threats by online trolls looking to get a reaction out of people.
“If someone is harassing you, you can call them out or just ban them. It’s a great thing that the ban button exists, because you don’t want to encourage or foster that sort of toxic behaviour in your own community. If you are lenient, it will compound further,” Choon says.
“What makes a successful streamer is the ability to build a community. I watch Twitch streamers not just for the content and personalities, but also the communities that surround them. Twitch streamers who cultivate a healthy community probably have to go through a lot of harassment, and slowly filter out the bad ones and find the ones who are supportive.”
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