Like a lot of people, I mocked the term “friendslop” the first time that I heard it. It’s inherently funny to think of somebody getting upset about games that are made to give you an excuse to spend time with a few buddies. But as the term spread on social media, snowballing into a flurry of dunks and discourse, I started to realize that the term, said genuinely, had never actually existed at all. What does exist are platform dynamics, and the righteous dopamine hits they provide that have led to an entire cycle of people tilting at windmills.
“I call this genre of game ‘Friendslop,’” wrote Twitter user @wooosaaaahhhhh over images of Lethal Company, R.E.P.O, and Content Warning back in March, before coining another, even more deliberately nonsense term: “Its sole focus of existence is friendfarming.” In a follow up they attempted to clarify: “Ok so since this is actually getting hella traction I'll say I hope people see the word ‘friendfarming’ n realize I'm fucking joking LOL.” People did not.
The Tweet went viral, almost entirely through people taking it seriously. As it spread, the replies and quote tweets became a sea of derision: Anyone using the term “friendslop” surely had no friends to play with, people said. At first the backlash was mainly thousands of these mocking Twitter responses, but that changed after the release of Peak in June.
Having sold more than 5 million copies, Peak it also picked up a lot of interest in games media, which started to connect it to the idea of “friendslop” becoming a catch-all term for co-op indie games. While it was once primarily used for horror extraction games, the inclusion of a current popular darling expanded the discourse around the term—and made it more defensive. As the discourse spread, Bluesky also took to mocking the supposed term, and it became a trending topic among commentary YouTubers and TikTokers, who took on the same contemptuous tone.
I don’t have to call out randoms on the internet for this: In late June, a friend who I’ve been playing Peak with introduced the term to the group chat. I replied, “Me when I hate whimsy and joy and also literally ?????my friends???????” I, too, felt defensive of Peak, and it was also fun to mock the idea of the hypothetical miserable internet user who didn’t know how to find the enjoyment in playing it with good buddies.
I assumed the word, and the internet slapfights about it, would die off. I was wrong. It made me wonder if anyone was using it seriously, particularly on YouTube or Twitch, where contrarianism is lucrative. But I couldn’t find anyone responding to any specific video, or any big Twitch streamers using it. I couldn’t find a single example of someone saying “friendslop” except for as a joke or or a defense of the “genre.” Maybe they’re out there, but if they are, they’re absolutely buried under people who despise the term. Great news everybody! False alarm!
But people are still intent on dunking on the idea of someone using it, because ghost dunking is just as satisfying as real dunking. There’s no dopamine hit in quietly knowing that Peak and Lethal Company are just popular games to play with friends, safe from gamer slander. There is plenty of dopamine in saying “this guy has no friends lol” and getting 15 likes.
In a 2021 study, researchers found that “positive social feedback for outrage expressions increases the likelihood of future outrage expressions.” In other words, the success of having a popular post yelling at something makes you more likely to do it again in the future. In this case, it’s a very low stakes situation, made up of the combination of people wanting to laugh at a silly term and to defend the honor of games without AAA polish that are mainly about collaboration and just hanging out, rather than the intense competition of some other multiplayer games. It’s also a collective outrage that people can participate in without having to think about the horror of the world like so many other collective outrages, and instead just reminisce on good times with good pals. But it’s still an example of the dopamine of discourse cycles making people get wildly carried away, sometimes based on absolutely nothing.
When we’re having an entire conversation that’s just barking at ghosts, it’s a good time to think about how these platforms impact more important discussions. To pick a recent example, it’s easy to post something popular about Microsoft’s recent layoffs. It’s more difficult to avoid covering their games as a gesture of solidarity towards the BDS boycott. To avoid talking about something by definition lacks engagement, so many people keep implicitly supporting Microsoft products. In short, posting about layoffs generates likes, and so does posting about how cool DOOM is. Therefore many people do both.
Online discussion is all spurred by what does generate engagement, whether or not it's helpful or even true. For example, how we talk about generative AI. To be clear, among other issues, genAI broadly doesn’t work. But when a (not yet peer reviewed) paper looked at the cognitive impacts, their FAQ asked people to avoid saying that it causes “brain damage” or makes people “stupid.” Nevertheless, that paper has been passed around by people claiming it shows “ChatGPT is DESTROYING our brains,” and causing “cognitive bankruptcy,” because it is an easy way to generate views, likes, and retweets.
In a 4000 word breakdown of what the study actually indicates, educator and writer Devon Price laments how it’s been misused, citing another study that shows that false news travels more quickly than truth on Twitter.
“It is foolish, and defeatist, to say that today’s students have brain damage from using ChatGPT,” says Price, and it undermines the idea that “we can set things right at any time.” There’s plenty of genuine reasons not to use genAI without spreading falsehoods.
The fact that so much of social media is outrage, towards real or imagined slights, contributes to the everyday, grinding unpleasantness of how we use it; discourse cycles along with pile ons, doomposting, and so on aren’t the fault of individuals but instead symptoms of the same engagement-chasing platform designs that led to the defensive discourse around “friendslop.” They simply feel good—at least in the short term. But stewing in frustration, whether it be about a major news event or a made up genre term, only leads to a more negative experience in the long run. Even though platforms hook us in with the dopamine of easy outrage, taking a step back to double check whether something is entirely shadowboxing is still an option. So is just kicking back and enjoying a game of Peak with your friends.
