#hslmichael — Public Fediverse posts

INSIDE THE SMALLEST TV STUDIO IN THE WORLD
May 18, 2025

My YouTube studio is just 21.5 m². No depth of field. No room to move. But enough to frame a shot and stay credible. We spent a full year designing this setup — not for style, but for survival. Because when you're on welfare, you can’t afford a real set. You have to build one. It’s probably the smallest WebTV studio ever. And I pay for it alone.
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WHEN YOUR YOUTUBE SET HAS LESS SPACE THAN A STUDENT ROOM — BUT COSTS MORE

If I rent a space, it’s not for comfort. It’s because, in 2025, you can’t run a video channel from a bed. You need a fixed lighting setup. A non-changing background. A framing area that doesn’t shift every time someone opens a door. But when you’re on welfare, every square meter is a luxury.
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21.5 M² — AND THAT’S ALL

My studio — which also doubles as my office, sound booth, set, and storage — is just 21.5 square meters. There’s barely enough room to walk around a desk. No real space to pull back the camera. No proper depth of field. And yet, this space is the bare minimum to install a tripod, a softbox, a table, and sit in frame. Based on my research, this might be the smallest WebTV studio in the world. And it wasn’t improvised.
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ONE YEAR OF SKETCHING, JUST TO SAVE MONEY

This setup took over a year of planning. I made floor plans. I calculated camera angles. I tested lighting placement with tape on the floor. I optimized furniture depth, desk alignment, and sound bounce — all just to squeeze a functional broadcast space into 21.5 m², without losing credibility on screen. We weren’t designing for comfort. We were designing for output — on €0 of income.
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RENT IN MARSEILLE

Even a small space like this costs real money in a city like Marseille. Not because you live in it — but because you shoot in it. There’s no sofa. No TV. No storage. Just walls, gear, and a hope that the framing looks professional enough to convince someone you’re worth watching. We’re not selling views. We’re selling credibility.
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FINAL WORDS

In 2025, even after cutting every non-essential tool, my business expenses still exceed €2,600 per year. In 2024, before trimming everything, I was spending over €4,300 a year — for €0 revenue. All while living on €500/month in welfare. That’s €6,000/year just to survive — and €4,000+ out of pocket just to try and exist online. This isn’t a hobby. It’s not a whim. It’s not even a gamble. It’s simply the cost of existing as an independent creator — in a world where every tool is privatized, every pixel monetized, and every outsider is treated as a glitch to be corrected.
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||#HSLdiary #HSLmichael

#SmallStudio #DIYSetup #LowBudget #VideoProduction #IndieVideo

THE HIDDEN COSTS OF RUNNING A MICROBUSINESS ON WELFARE
May 18, 2025

Creating content online is not free. In 2024, I spent over €4,300 just to stay visible — while living on welfare and earning nothing. Domains, hosting, tools... Every cent went into surviving the algorithm. And even in 2025, after cutting everything, I’m still paying over €2,600 a year — with no revenue. This isn’t growth. This is the price of existing as an independent creator.
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WHY €0 REVENUE STILL COMES WITH A €4,300 BILL

People say creating content online is free. All you need is a computer, a phone, and a spark of inspiration. In reality, when you’re running a microbusiness with zero revenue while living on welfare, every tool, every hosting plan, every service becomes a loss-making investment — but one that’s necessary just to exist in the digital ecosystem. This isn’t about comfort or startup luxuries. It’s about the bare minimum required to appear professional: a website, a storefront, basic tools to publish content, and a presence convincing enough to answer the inevitable question from a potential sponsor: “Where can we find you?”
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THE RECURRING BASELINE

Here’s a realistic breakdown of my annual fixed costs:
– 7 domain names: €400/year
– WordPress hosting: €100/year
– Online store: €600/year
– Booking system: €250/year
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“SECONDARY” SERVICES (THAT ARE ANYTHING BUT)

What people often call “extras” are, in truth, just as essential for building a professional brand, creating content, and distributing it effectively:
– Brave VPN: €10/month
– Shutterstock (stock images): €50/year
– RadioBoss Cloud (self-hosted radio): €6/month (lifetime discounted rate)
– Internet: €35/month (€400/year — nearly a full month of welfare)
– ChatGPT (paid plan): €25/month
– Colorcinch (thumbnail design effects): €8/month
That doesn’t even include electricity (~€300/month) or rent — because they’re considered “vital” and don’t appear in business accounting, even if they’re non-negotiable.
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WHAT WE HAD TO CUT

Even with an already minimal setup, survival meant sacrificing tools:
– YouTube Premium: €25/month
– Weebly: €20/month (replaced with WordPress)
– Mobile app project: scrapped (licenses + updates + devs = unsustainable)
– Two domains dropped: hsl.show and housestation.live (saving €70/year)
– Fathom Analytics: €20/month → lost all stats from 2022 to 2024
– Captivate podcast hosting: €20/month
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WHAT WE REPLACED

YouTube was replaced by Infomaniak VOD, a Swiss-based platform costing €20/month. It wasn’t some anti-corporate stance. It was survival logic. We paid YouTube to boost our content — and then got buried by the algorithm just after. If paying doesn’t buy long-term visibility, what’s the point?
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FINAL THOUGHT

Even with no revenue and a completely stripped-down toolset, my business expenses still exceed €2,600 a year. Before cuts, that figure was over €4,300. And I’m living on welfare. This isn’t growth. This isn’t scaling. This is the cost of simply staying visible.
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||#HSLdiary #HSLmichael

#IndieCreator #Welfare #PlatformBias #YouTube #DigitalWork

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU WORK FOR TWELVE YEARS ACROSS FOUR DIGITAL PLATFORMS AND EARN ZERO EUROS?
May 8, 2025

No salary. No contract. No human contact. Just algorithms, silence, and legal dead ends. From Uber Eats to YouTube, from Drivy to Twitch, this is the story of a worker who never stopped — and was never paid. Behind the illusion of flexibility lies a system designed to erase, isolate, and discard. There are no managers to talk to. No offices to visit. No recourse when you’re erased. Don’t Contact YouTube isn’t a cry for help. It’s an appeal to the law. Because recognition won’t come from platforms — it will come from court rulings. Read the full story now.
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DON’T CONTACT YOUTUBE

Having an online activity means relying on partners… who are also online. We depend on social networks that index our content arbitrarily, on software we no longer own but rent monthly, on freelancers scattered across the globe and connected through platforms headquartered abroad. This model, often praised as “modern” or “flexible,” is in reality a legal nightmare. You can’t just grab your coat and go talk to these partners. You can’t write to them. You can’t call them. You can’t even appoint a lawyer: their offices are located outside France, and even when local jurisdiction would be required by law, platforms contractually enforce the jurisdiction of their own country — which already constitutes a violation, notably under Articles L.111-1 and L.221-1 of the French Consumer Code, or European Directive 2011/83/EU.
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JOURNALISTS ALREADY SPOKE OUT

French journalist Sébastien-Abdelhamid turned it into a running gag on the show On n’est pas des pigeons (France 4). He flew to the United States, spent hours on a plane, just to film himself standing in front of the Facebook or Google headquarters… and being told by a security guard: “You’re not getting in.” Those sequences are a goldmine to understand the problem. These companies behave like mafias: physical gatekeeping, security guards instead of reception staff, no way to access the offices — not even to drop off a resume.
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A PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE KIND OF VIOLENCE

Online, this power dynamic becomes invisible. It manifests as a more subtle, insidious form of violence: bots, FAQ pages, contact forms that never get a reply. You don’t give up because you’re lazy, or because you didn’t try. You give up because it is factually impossible to speak to a human being at these companies.
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THE FRENCH STATE IS COMPLICIT

In this age of normalized brutality, governments turn a blind eye.
I filed a complaint against the French State. Article 223-6 of the French Penal Code states that the failure to assist a person in danger can apply to anyone — including the State — when aware of an ongoing threat. The lack of action in the face of GAFAM dominance is a failure of duty. These giants rule unchallenged, while everyone else either submits to them… or silently collapses.
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THE LAW REQUIRES CUSTOMER SUPPORT

Let’s be clear: every company is legally required to provide customer service. This is a legal obligation under French law. And in professional contexts involving payments or partnerships, the penalties can be even more severe. When your ability to eat depends on an algorithm — and you have no way to appeal — the very notion of “business” becomes a farce.
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||#HSLdiary #HSLmichael

#DigitalLabour #PlatformExploitation #InvisibleWork #JusticeForFreelancers

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU WORK FOR TWELVE YEARS ACROSS FOUR DIGITAL PLATFORMS AND EARN ZERO EUROS?
May 8, 2025

No salary. No contract. No human contact. Just algorithms, silence, and legal dead ends. From Uber Eats to YouTube, from Drivy to Twitch, this is the story of a worker who never stopped — and was never paid. Behind the illusion of flexibility lies a system designed to erase, isolate, and discard. There are no managers to talk to. No offices to visit. No recourse when you’re erased. Don’t Contact YouTube isn’t a cry for help. It’s an appeal to the law. Because recognition won’t come from platforms — it will come from court rulings. Read the full story now.
¯

_
DON’T CONTACT YOUTUBE

Having an online activity means relying on partners… who are also online. We depend on social networks that index our content arbitrarily, on software we no longer own but rent monthly, on freelancers scattered across the globe and connected through platforms headquartered abroad. This model, often praised as “modern” or “flexible,” is in reality a legal nightmare. You can’t just grab your coat and go talk to these partners. You can’t write to them. You can’t call them. You can’t even appoint a lawyer: their offices are located outside France, and even when local jurisdiction would be required by law, platforms contractually enforce the jurisdiction of their own country — which already constitutes a violation, notably under Articles L.111-1 and L.221-1 of the French Consumer Code, or European Directive 2011/83/EU.
¯

_
JOURNALISTS ALREADY SPOKE OUT

French journalist Sébastien-Abdelhamid turned it into a running gag on the show On n’est pas des pigeons (France 4). He flew to the United States, spent hours on a plane, just to film himself standing in front of the Facebook or Google headquarters… and being told by a security guard: “You’re not getting in.” Those sequences are a goldmine to understand the problem. These companies behave like mafias: physical gatekeeping, security guards instead of reception staff, no way to access the offices — not even to drop off a resume.
¯

_
A PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE KIND OF VIOLENCE

Online, this power dynamic becomes invisible. It manifests as a more subtle, insidious form of violence: bots, FAQ pages, contact forms that never get a reply. You don’t give up because you’re lazy, or because you didn’t try. You give up because it is factually impossible to speak to a human being at these companies.
¯

_
THE FRENCH STATE IS COMPLICIT

In this age of normalized brutality, governments turn a blind eye.
I filed a complaint against the French State. Article 223-6 of the French Penal Code states that the failure to assist a person in danger can apply to anyone — including the State — when aware of an ongoing threat. The lack of action in the face of GAFAM dominance is a failure of duty. These giants rule unchallenged, while everyone else either submits to them… or silently collapses.
¯

_
THE LAW REQUIRES CUSTOMER SUPPORT

Let’s be clear: every company is legally required to provide customer service. This is a legal obligation under French law. And in professional contexts involving payments or partnerships, the penalties can be even more severe. When your ability to eat depends on an algorithm — and you have no way to appeal — the very notion of “business” becomes a farce.
¯

_
||#HSLdiary #HSLmichael

#DigitalLabour #PlatformExploitation #InvisibleWork #JusticeForFreelancers

THE ALGORITHM VS. THE HUMAN MIND: A LOSING BATTLE
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NO RECOGNITION FOR THE AUTHOR

YouTube does not reward consistency, insight, or author reputation. A comment may become a “top comment” for a day, only to vanish the next. There’s no memory, no history of editorial value. The platform doesn’t surface authors who contribute regularly with structured, relevant input. There's no path for authorship to emerge or be noticed. The “like” system favors early commenters — the infamous firsts — who write “first,” “early,” or “30 seconds in” just after a video drops. These are the comments that rise to the top. Readers interact with the text, not the person behind it. This is by design. YouTube wants engagement to stay contained within the content creator’s channel, not spread toward the audience. A well-written comment should not amplify a small creator’s reach — that would disrupt the platform’s control over audience flow.
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USERS WHO’VE STOPPED THINKING

The algorithm trains people to wait for suggestions. Most users no longer take the initiative to explore or support anyone unless pushed by the system. Even when someone says something exceptional, the response remains cold. The author is just a font — not a presence. A familiar avatar doesn’t trigger curiosity. On these platforms, people follow only the already-famous. Anonymity is devalued by default. Most users would rather post their own comment (that no one will ever read) than reply to others. Interaction is solitary. YouTube, by design, encourages people to think only about themselves.
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ZERO MODERATION FOR SMALL CREATORS

Small creators have no support when it comes to moderation. In low-traffic streams, there's no way to filter harassment or mockery. Trolls can show up just to enjoy someone else's failure — and nothing stops them. Unlike big streamers who can appoint moderators, smaller channels lack both the tools and the visibility to protect themselves. YouTube provides no built-in safety net, even though these creators are often the most exposed.
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EXTERNAL LINKS ARE SABOTAGED

Trying to drive traffic to your own website? In the “About” section, YouTube adds a warning label to every external link: “You’re about to leave YouTube. This site may be unsafe.” It looks like an antivirus alert — not a routine redirect. It scares away casual users. And even if someone knows better, they still have to click again to confirm. That’s not protection — it’s manufactured discouragement. This cheap shot, disguised as safety, serves a single purpose: preventing viewers from leaving the ecosystem. YouTube has no authority to determine what is or isn’t a “safe” site beyond its own platform.
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HUMANS CAN’T OUTPERFORM THE MACHINE

At every level, the human loses. You can’t outsmart an algorithm that filters, sorts, buries. You can’t even decide who you want to support: the system always intervenes. Talent alone isn’t enough. Courage isn’t enough. You need to break through a machine built to elevate the dominant and bury the rest. YouTube claims to be a platform for expression. But what it really offers is a simulated discovery engine — locked down and heavily policed.
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||#HSLdiary #HSLmichael

#YouTubeCritique #AlgorithmicBias #DigitalLabour #IndieCreators #Shadowbanning #ContentModeration #PlatformJustice #AudienceManipulation

THE ALGORITHM VS. THE HUMAN MIND: A LOSING BATTLE
¯

_
NO RECOGNITION FOR THE AUTHOR

YouTube does not reward consistency, insight, or author reputation. A comment may become a “top comment” for a day, only to vanish the next. There’s no memory, no history of editorial value. The platform doesn’t surface authors who contribute regularly with structured, relevant input. There's no path for authorship to emerge or be noticed. The “like” system favors early commenters — the infamous firsts — who write “first,” “early,” or “30 seconds in” just after a video drops. These are the comments that rise to the top. Readers interact with the text, not the person behind it. This is by design. YouTube wants engagement to stay contained within the content creator’s channel, not spread toward the audience. A well-written comment should not amplify a small creator’s reach — that would disrupt the platform’s control over audience flow.
¯

_
USERS WHO’VE STOPPED THINKING

The algorithm trains people to wait for suggestions. Most users no longer take the initiative to explore or support anyone unless pushed by the system. Even when someone says something exceptional, the response remains cold. The author is just a font — not a presence. A familiar avatar doesn’t trigger curiosity. On these platforms, people follow only the already-famous. Anonymity is devalued by default. Most users would rather post their own comment (that no one will ever read) than reply to others. Interaction is solitary. YouTube, by design, encourages people to think only about themselves.
¯

_
ZERO MODERATION FOR SMALL CREATORS

Small creators have no support when it comes to moderation. In low-traffic streams, there's no way to filter harassment or mockery. Trolls can show up just to enjoy someone else's failure — and nothing stops them. Unlike big streamers who can appoint moderators, smaller channels lack both the tools and the visibility to protect themselves. YouTube provides no built-in safety net, even though these creators are often the most exposed.
¯

_
EXTERNAL LINKS ARE SABOTAGED

Trying to drive traffic to your own website? In the “About” section, YouTube adds a warning label to every external link: “You’re about to leave YouTube. This site may be unsafe.” It looks like an antivirus alert — not a routine redirect. It scares away casual users. And even if someone knows better, they still have to click again to confirm. That’s not protection — it’s manufactured discouragement. This cheap shot, disguised as safety, serves a single purpose: preventing viewers from leaving the ecosystem. YouTube has no authority to determine what is or isn’t a “safe” site beyond its own platform.
¯

_
HUMANS CAN’T OUTPERFORM THE MACHINE

At every level, the human loses. You can’t outsmart an algorithm that filters, sorts, buries. You can’t even decide who you want to support: the system always intervenes. Talent alone isn’t enough. Courage isn’t enough. You need to break through a machine built to elevate the dominant and bury the rest. YouTube claims to be a platform for expression. But what it really offers is a simulated discovery engine — locked down and heavily policed.
¯

_
||#HSLdiary #HSLmichael

#YouTubeCritique #AlgorithmicBias #DigitalLabour #IndieCreators #Shadowbanning #ContentModeration #PlatformJustice #AudienceManipulation

€50,000 FOR AN INVISIBLE SET

In the Friday Formula 01x02 episode, you can finally glimpse what I’ve been building for years. That set is my greatest pride. A meticulous, ambitious production, designed down to the last detail. A childhood dream made real. Works of art. A central screen where the host uses visuals to support their points. An aquarium. Porcelain dogs. Mugs. A Michael Jackson clock carved from a vinyl record. Friday Formula 01x02 was supposed to be a hundred times better—with a finished set, more competent and motivated hosts, and better production. With more resources. But to pull that off, under the conditions I faced, is already a victory. A testament to determination. To willpower. With no money. No funding. No audience.
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THE SET IS TANGIBLE

What few people realize is that building a TV set isn’t like decorating a bedroom. It’s about:

- Ordering hand-engraved vinyls from Ukraine

- Importing Bazalto chairs from Poland

- A 3D Ayrton Senna frame signed by Retro Game Craft

- A custom neon light made in Singapore

Every item costs:

- In product price

- In shipping

- In taxes

- In customs

- In stress (lost parcels, defective goods)

And there were mishaps: furniture delivered broken, a brand-new fridge that didn’t work (last one in stock), having to call in a repairman. Thankfully, the store refunded me with the invoice. But the mental toll is real. The logistics are crushing.
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A HALF-COMPLETED INVESTMENT

Over three years, I spent €50,000. For a project that’s only 50% finished. Progressing slowly. Through patience, effort, rational micro-decisions, and a few gambles. And yet, that set has never been seen. Or almost never. Because YouTube buried my videos—like it buries thousands of others.
¯

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THE DREAM OF AN AUTONOMOUS WEBTV

This project goes beyond YouTube. It always aimed at an independent website, a self-hosted media hub, a 24/7 WebTV. But to make that viable, we needed an audience. The idea was simple: finish the set, then start broadcasting publicly. In the meantime, YouTube would be our window. Our springboard. But YouTube said no. Not with an official rejection—but through systematic invisibility. Like a Tinder match that gets swiped left into oblivion.
¯

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TOTAL DETACHMENT

YouTube’s detachment is both structural and emotional. If the platform had even the slightest symbolic involvement in video production, it would have a reason to showcase them. But YouTube contributes nothing. It respects nothing. And it can destroy an entire project—effortlessly. Without remorse. Without loss.
¯

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THE CINEMA PARABLE

Imagine walking into a movie theater, seeing the producer’s logo… and walking out. Then posting a review about the logo. And having that review promoted.

That’s YouTube.

People click the three dots—“Not interested in this video”—after only seeing the thumbnail. Not the video. Not even a single second of it. And YouTube pulls your work off the shelves. And it’s not just what you see: this type of negative feedback has a massive impact on the entire channel, cutting its visibility across the platform.
¯

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A COLLECTIVE INJUSTICE

This article is long. Maybe too long. But I need to go into detail so that people understand the real value of our work. This isn’t about asking for €0.03 per view. This is about repairing a sabotage. For Kévin, Dinoh, José. For the €50,000 spent on an unfinished set. For the €10,000 in TV gear hijacked for YouTube’s benefit. For the ads played on our videos, from which YouTube earns a profit, without retributing the producer — despite the legal obligation tied to authorship.
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THE TRUE COST OF AN INDEPENDENT MEDIA PROJECT

Let’s assume a minimum wage in France of €1,250/month for 18 months:
1,250 × 18 = €22,500. And even that doesn’t cover:

- The other collaborators

- Operating costs

- Business expenses

- The value of my skills

I’m the producer, director, host, author, network tech—and more. And I get paid zero.
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THE FINAL HUMILIATION

One day, I fixed a woman’s computer.
– The hard drive cost me €75
– My labor was worth €75
– A data recovery lab would’ve charged €3,000 to retrieve the files.

She handed me a €20 bill. Not even enough to cover costs. YouTube is that woman. It decides what your work is worth: a few coins, a handful of cents.
¯

_
||#HSLdiary #HSLmichael

#CreatorEconomy #InvisibleLabor #YouTubeExploitation #IndieVideo #PlatformJustice #WebTV #DIYStudio #DigitalSabotage

€50,000 FOR AN INVISIBLE SET

In the Friday Formula 01x02 episode, you can finally glimpse what I’ve been building for years. That set is my greatest pride. A meticulous, ambitious production, designed down to the last detail. A childhood dream made real. Works of art. A central screen where the host uses visuals to support their points. An aquarium. Porcelain dogs. Mugs. A Michael Jackson clock carved from a vinyl record. Friday Formula 01x02 was supposed to be a hundred times better—with a finished set, more competent and motivated hosts, and better production. With more resources. But to pull that off, under the conditions I faced, is already a victory. A testament to determination. To willpower. With no money. No funding. No audience.
¯

_
THE SET IS TANGIBLE

What few people realize is that building a TV set isn’t like decorating a bedroom. It’s about:

- Ordering hand-engraved vinyls from Ukraine

- Importing Bazalto chairs from Poland

- A 3D Ayrton Senna frame signed by Retro Game Craft

- A custom neon light made in Singapore

Every item costs:

- In product price

- In shipping

- In taxes

- In customs

- In stress (lost parcels, defective goods)

And there were mishaps: furniture delivered broken, a brand-new fridge that didn’t work (last one in stock), having to call in a repairman. Thankfully, the store refunded me with the invoice. But the mental toll is real. The logistics are crushing.
¯

_
A HALF-COMPLETED INVESTMENT

Over three years, I spent €50,000. For a project that’s only 50% finished. Progressing slowly. Through patience, effort, rational micro-decisions, and a few gambles. And yet, that set has never been seen. Or almost never. Because YouTube buried my videos—like it buries thousands of others.
¯

_
THE DREAM OF AN AUTONOMOUS WEBTV

This project goes beyond YouTube. It always aimed at an independent website, a self-hosted media hub, a 24/7 WebTV. But to make that viable, we needed an audience. The idea was simple: finish the set, then start broadcasting publicly. In the meantime, YouTube would be our window. Our springboard. But YouTube said no. Not with an official rejection—but through systematic invisibility. Like a Tinder match that gets swiped left into oblivion.
¯

_
TOTAL DETACHMENT

YouTube’s detachment is both structural and emotional. If the platform had even the slightest symbolic involvement in video production, it would have a reason to showcase them. But YouTube contributes nothing. It respects nothing. And it can destroy an entire project—effortlessly. Without remorse. Without loss.
¯

_
THE CINEMA PARABLE

Imagine walking into a movie theater, seeing the producer’s logo… and walking out. Then posting a review about the logo. And having that review promoted.

That’s YouTube.

People click the three dots—“Not interested in this video”—after only seeing the thumbnail. Not the video. Not even a single second of it. And YouTube pulls your work off the shelves. And it’s not just what you see: this type of negative feedback has a massive impact on the entire channel, cutting its visibility across the platform.
¯

_
A COLLECTIVE INJUSTICE

This article is long. Maybe too long. But I need to go into detail so that people understand the real value of our work. This isn’t about asking for €0.03 per view. This is about repairing a sabotage. For Kévin, Dinoh, José. For the €50,000 spent on an unfinished set. For the €10,000 in TV gear hijacked for YouTube’s benefit. For the ads played on our videos, from which YouTube earns a profit, without retributing the producer — despite the legal obligation tied to authorship.
¯

_
THE TRUE COST OF AN INDEPENDENT MEDIA PROJECT

Let’s assume a minimum wage in France of €1,250/month for 18 months:
1,250 × 18 = €22,500. And even that doesn’t cover:

- The other collaborators

- Operating costs

- Business expenses

- The value of my skills

I’m the producer, director, host, author, network tech—and more. And I get paid zero.
¯

_
THE FINAL HUMILIATION

One day, I fixed a woman’s computer.
– The hard drive cost me €75
– My labor was worth €75
– A data recovery lab would’ve charged €3,000 to retrieve the files.

She handed me a €20 bill. Not even enough to cover costs. YouTube is that woman. It decides what your work is worth: a few coins, a handful of cents.
¯

_
||#HSLdiary #HSLmichael

#CreatorEconomy #InvisibleLabor #YouTubeExploitation #IndieVideo #PlatformJustice #WebTV #DIYStudio #DigitalSabotage

HOUSE STATION LIVE: A COLLECTIVE SABOTAGED

Of course, I edited and hosted most of the videos myself. But House Station Live was never meant to be the project of a lone individual. It was a collective—a platform to showcase young talent, not yet another vlog centered on my own persona. This YouTube channel was supposed to serve as the launch campaign for an ambitious webTV, broadcasting 24/7 on our own servers. An alternative to traditional media, with our rules, our voices, our style. But very quickly, I had to put House Station Live on hold. YouTube was too demanding. And paradoxically, it was the only way not to end up in debt.
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JOSÉ, DINOH, KÉVIN

I worked with several presenters:

- José, charismatic but without his own following,

- Dinoh, competent but limited by lack of visibility,

- And Kévin, a freelance editor I hired for some episodes.

I spent a tremendous amount of time organizing castings, looking for hosts, trying to convince people. But how do you persuade someone to represent a channel that gets 20 views—even with decent pay? Even "generous" payments weren’t enough to keep people motivated. Eventually, candidates dropped out.
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THE TRAP OF FULL-TIME COMMITMENT

I no longer had the means to produce both House Station Live and YouTube content in parallel. So I bet everything on the platform. YouTube consumed me. Managing production, editing, recruitment, technical direction, scheduling, testing formats, durations, themes, hosts—I tried it all:

- Videos from 1 to 50 minutes,

- On all kinds of topics: video games, Formula 1, news, reviews, let’s plays.

But convincing a freelancer to commit long-term at a low rate is a nightmare. I couldn’t afford to pay for many hours or high rates. My channel brought in zero revenue. I had nothing to reinvest.
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A TEAM SACRIFICED

And yet, I tried. House Station Live wasn’t just a personal project. It was a collective hope. A launchpad. Momentum. We wanted to build an audience ahead of time, so that once the set was ready, we could immediately produce, publish, and exist. But in reality, YouTube swiped us away with a single gesture—like a Tinder match rejected with a left swipe. And it cost them nothing. No time. No money. No emotional weight.
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A CHANNEL, A GRINDER

YouTube contributes nothing to the creation of videos. It has no personal interest in whether your content finds its audience. The algorithm sorts, tests, eliminates. It's math-driven, disembodied, dehumanized. And the creator falls alone. On TV, you don’t air a million-euro show at 4 a.m. There’s programming, a respect for what’s been produced. On YouTube, no distinction: whether your video cost €10,000 or €0, it’s treated the same.
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_
A FRUSTRATED AUDIENCE, A BROKEN CREATOR

13-year-old trolls watch your content for 5 seconds, dislike your face, and move on. The algorithm knows this—and exploits it. It drives hatred and constant frustration, so you keep trying harder. For nothing. And if you dare believe your freshness, creativity, and sincerity will resonate... you crash into a machine that despises who you are.
¯

_
||#HSLdiary #HSLmichael

#IndieCreators #CollectiveMedia #YouTubeStruggles #DigitalBurnout #PlatformExploitation #SmallCreators #CreatorEconomy #HopeSabotaged

HOUSE STATION LIVE: A COLLECTIVE SABOTAGED

Of course, I edited and hosted most of the videos myself. But House Station Live was never meant to be the project of a lone individual. It was a collective—a platform to showcase young talent, not yet another vlog centered on my own persona. This YouTube channel was supposed to serve as the launch campaign for an ambitious webTV, broadcasting 24/7 on our own servers. An alternative to traditional media, with our rules, our voices, our style. But very quickly, I had to put House Station Live on hold. YouTube was too demanding. And paradoxically, it was the only way not to end up in debt.
¯

_
JOSÉ, DINOH, KÉVIN

I worked with several presenters:

- José, charismatic but without his own following,

- Dinoh, competent but limited by lack of visibility,

- And Kévin, a freelance editor I hired for some episodes.

I spent a tremendous amount of time organizing castings, looking for hosts, trying to convince people. But how do you persuade someone to represent a channel that gets 20 views—even with decent pay? Even "generous" payments weren’t enough to keep people motivated. Eventually, candidates dropped out.
¯

_
THE TRAP OF FULL-TIME COMMITMENT

I no longer had the means to produce both House Station Live and YouTube content in parallel. So I bet everything on the platform. YouTube consumed me. Managing production, editing, recruitment, technical direction, scheduling, testing formats, durations, themes, hosts—I tried it all:

- Videos from 1 to 50 minutes,

- On all kinds of topics: video games, Formula 1, news, reviews, let’s plays.

But convincing a freelancer to commit long-term at a low rate is a nightmare. I couldn’t afford to pay for many hours or high rates. My channel brought in zero revenue. I had nothing to reinvest.
¯

_
A TEAM SACRIFICED

And yet, I tried. House Station Live wasn’t just a personal project. It was a collective hope. A launchpad. Momentum. We wanted to build an audience ahead of time, so that once the set was ready, we could immediately produce, publish, and exist. But in reality, YouTube swiped us away with a single gesture—like a Tinder match rejected with a left swipe. And it cost them nothing. No time. No money. No emotional weight.
¯

_
A CHANNEL, A GRINDER

YouTube contributes nothing to the creation of videos. It has no personal interest in whether your content finds its audience. The algorithm sorts, tests, eliminates. It's math-driven, disembodied, dehumanized. And the creator falls alone. On TV, you don’t air a million-euro show at 4 a.m. There’s programming, a respect for what’s been produced. On YouTube, no distinction: whether your video cost €10,000 or €0, it’s treated the same.
¯

_
A FRUSTRATED AUDIENCE, A BROKEN CREATOR

13-year-old trolls watch your content for 5 seconds, dislike your face, and move on. The algorithm knows this—and exploits it. It drives hatred and constant frustration, so you keep trying harder. For nothing. And if you dare believe your freshness, creativity, and sincerity will resonate... you crash into a machine that despises who you are.
¯

_
||#HSLdiary #HSLmichael

#IndieCreators #CollectiveMedia #YouTubeStruggles #DigitalBurnout #PlatformExploitation #SmallCreators #CreatorEconomy #HopeSabotaged

HOUSE STATION LIVE: A COLLECTIVE SABOTAGED

Of course, I edited and hosted most of the videos myself. But House Station Live was never meant to be the project of a lone individual. It was a collective—a platform to showcase young talent, not yet another vlog centered on my own persona. This YouTube channel was supposed to serve as the launch campaign for an ambitious webTV, broadcasting 24/7 on our own servers. An alternative to traditional media, with our rules, our voices, our style. But very quickly, I had to put House Station Live on hold. YouTube was too demanding. And paradoxically, it was the only way not to end up in debt.
¯

_
JOSÉ, DINOH, KÉVIN

I worked with several presenters:

- José, charismatic but without his own following,

- Dinoh, competent but limited by lack of visibility,

- And Kévin, a freelance editor I hired for some episodes.

I spent a tremendous amount of time organizing castings, looking for hosts, trying to convince people. But how do you persuade someone to represent a channel that gets 20 views—even with decent pay? Even "generous" payments weren’t enough to keep people motivated. Eventually, candidates dropped out.
¯

_
THE TRAP OF FULL-TIME COMMITMENT

I no longer had the means to produce both House Station Live and YouTube content in parallel. So I bet everything on the platform. YouTube consumed me. Managing production, editing, recruitment, technical direction, scheduling, testing formats, durations, themes, hosts—I tried it all:

- Videos from 1 to 50 minutes,

- On all kinds of topics: video games, Formula 1, news, reviews, let’s plays.

But convincing a freelancer to commit long-term at a low rate is a nightmare. I couldn’t afford to pay for many hours or high rates. My channel brought in zero revenue. I had nothing to reinvest.
¯

_
A TEAM SACRIFICED

And yet, I tried. House Station Live wasn’t just a personal project. It was a collective hope. A launchpad. Momentum. We wanted to build an audience ahead of time, so that once the set was ready, we could immediately produce, publish, and exist. But in reality, YouTube swiped us away with a single gesture—like a Tinder match rejected with a left swipe. And it cost them nothing. No time. No money. No emotional weight.
¯

_
A CHANNEL, A GRINDER

YouTube contributes nothing to the creation of videos. It has no personal interest in whether your content finds its audience. The algorithm sorts, tests, eliminates. It's math-driven, disembodied, dehumanized. And the creator falls alone. On TV, you don’t air a million-euro show at 4 a.m. There’s programming, a respect for what’s been produced. On YouTube, no distinction: whether your video cost €10,000 or €0, it’s treated the same.
¯

_
A FRUSTRATED AUDIENCE, A BROKEN CREATOR

13-year-old trolls watch your content for 5 seconds, dislike your face, and move on. The algorithm knows this—and exploits it. It drives hatred and constant frustration, so you keep trying harder. For nothing. And if you dare believe your freshness, creativity, and sincerity will resonate... you crash into a machine that despises who you are.
¯

_
||#HSLdiary #HSLmichael

#IndieCreators #CollectiveMedia #YouTubeStruggles #DigitalBurnout #PlatformExploitation #SmallCreators #CreatorEconomy #HopeSabotaged

HOUSE STATION LIVE: A COLLECTIVE SABOTAGED

Of course, I edited and hosted most of the videos myself. But House Station Live was never meant to be the project of a lone individual. It was a collective—a platform to showcase young talent, not yet another vlog centered on my own persona. This YouTube channel was supposed to serve as the launch campaign for an ambitious webTV, broadcasting 24/7 on our own servers. An alternative to traditional media, with our rules, our voices, our style. But very quickly, I had to put House Station Live on hold. YouTube was too demanding. And paradoxically, it was the only way not to end up in debt.
¯

_
JOSÉ, DINOH, KÉVIN

I worked with several presenters:

- José, charismatic but without his own following,

- Dinoh, competent but limited by lack of visibility,

- And Kévin, a freelance editor I hired for some episodes.

I spent a tremendous amount of time organizing castings, looking for hosts, trying to convince people. But how do you persuade someone to represent a channel that gets 20 views—even with decent pay? Even "generous" payments weren’t enough to keep people motivated. Eventually, candidates dropped out.
¯

_
THE TRAP OF FULL-TIME COMMITMENT

I no longer had the means to produce both House Station Live and YouTube content in parallel. So I bet everything on the platform. YouTube consumed me. Managing production, editing, recruitment, technical direction, scheduling, testing formats, durations, themes, hosts—I tried it all:

- Videos from 1 to 50 minutes,

- On all kinds of topics: video games, Formula 1, news, reviews, let’s plays.

But convincing a freelancer to commit long-term at a low rate is a nightmare. I couldn’t afford to pay for many hours or high rates. My channel brought in zero revenue. I had nothing to reinvest.
¯

_
A TEAM SACRIFICED

And yet, I tried. House Station Live wasn’t just a personal project. It was a collective hope. A launchpad. Momentum. We wanted to build an audience ahead of time, so that once the set was ready, we could immediately produce, publish, and exist. But in reality, YouTube swiped us away with a single gesture—like a Tinder match rejected with a left swipe. And it cost them nothing. No time. No money. No emotional weight.
¯

_
A CHANNEL, A GRINDER

YouTube contributes nothing to the creation of videos. It has no personal interest in whether your content finds its audience. The algorithm sorts, tests, eliminates. It's math-driven, disembodied, dehumanized. And the creator falls alone. On TV, you don’t air a million-euro show at 4 a.m. There’s programming, a respect for what’s been produced. On YouTube, no distinction: whether your video cost €10,000 or €0, it’s treated the same.
¯

_
A FRUSTRATED AUDIENCE, A BROKEN CREATOR

13-year-old trolls watch your content for 5 seconds, dislike your face, and move on. The algorithm knows this—and exploits it. It drives hatred and constant frustration, so you keep trying harder. For nothing. And if you dare believe your freshness, creativity, and sincerity will resonate... you crash into a machine that despises who you are.
¯

_
||#HSLdiary #HSLmichael

#IndieCreators #CollectiveMedia #YouTubeStruggles #DigitalBurnout #PlatformExploitation #SmallCreators #CreatorEconomy #HopeSabotaged

HOUSE STATION LIVE: A COLLECTIVE SABOTAGED

Of course, I edited and hosted most of the videos myself. But House Station Live was never meant to be the project of a lone individual. It was a collective—a platform to showcase young talent, not yet another vlog centered on my own persona. This YouTube channel was supposed to serve as the launch campaign for an ambitious webTV, broadcasting 24/7 on our own servers. An alternative to traditional media, with our rules, our voices, our style. But very quickly, I had to put House Station Live on hold. YouTube was too demanding. And paradoxically, it was the only way not to end up in debt.
¯

_
JOSÉ, DINOH, KÉVIN

I worked with several presenters:

- José, charismatic but without his own following,

- Dinoh, competent but limited by lack of visibility,

- And Kévin, a freelance editor I hired for some episodes.

I spent a tremendous amount of time organizing castings, looking for hosts, trying to convince people. But how do you persuade someone to represent a channel that gets 20 views—even with decent pay? Even "generous" payments weren’t enough to keep people motivated. Eventually, candidates dropped out.
¯

_
THE TRAP OF FULL-TIME COMMITMENT

I no longer had the means to produce both House Station Live and YouTube content in parallel. So I bet everything on the platform. YouTube consumed me. Managing production, editing, recruitment, technical direction, scheduling, testing formats, durations, themes, hosts—I tried it all:

- Videos from 1 to 50 minutes,

- On all kinds of topics: video games, Formula 1, news, reviews, let’s plays.

But convincing a freelancer to commit long-term at a low rate is a nightmare. I couldn’t afford to pay for many hours or high rates. My channel brought in zero revenue. I had nothing to reinvest.
¯

_
A TEAM SACRIFICED

And yet, I tried. House Station Live wasn’t just a personal project. It was a collective hope. A launchpad. Momentum. We wanted to build an audience ahead of time, so that once the set was ready, we could immediately produce, publish, and exist. But in reality, YouTube swiped us away with a single gesture—like a Tinder match rejected with a left swipe. And it cost them nothing. No time. No money. No emotional weight.
¯

_
A CHANNEL, A GRINDER

YouTube contributes nothing to the creation of videos. It has no personal interest in whether your content finds its audience. The algorithm sorts, tests, eliminates. It's math-driven, disembodied, dehumanized. And the creator falls alone. On TV, you don’t air a million-euro show at 4 a.m. There’s programming, a respect for what’s been produced. On YouTube, no distinction: whether your video cost €10,000 or €0, it’s treated the same.
¯

_
A FRUSTRATED AUDIENCE, A BROKEN CREATOR

13-year-old trolls watch your content for 5 seconds, dislike your face, and move on. The algorithm knows this—and exploits it. It drives hatred and constant frustration, so you keep trying harder. For nothing. And if you dare believe your freshness, creativity, and sincerity will resonate... you crash into a machine that despises who you are.
¯

_
||#HSLdiary #HSLmichael

#IndieCreators #CollectiveMedia #YouTubeStruggles #DigitalBurnout #PlatformExploitation #SmallCreators #CreatorEconomy #HopeSabotaged

CREATING ON YOUTUBE MEANS PAYING TO WORK

YouTube is like Uber. Uber asks you to own, in your garage, a black sedan with less than 100,000 km on it—one you’re not using—and claims you can start making money from it. “It doesn’t cost you anything,” Uber says, since the car is just sitting there anyway. But in reality, it’s the most financially vulnerable people who see it as an opportunity. They take out a loan to buy a car. And when that car hits 100,000 km and the loan isn’t paid off, they get a second one—and now they’re stuck with two loans. Uber “earns” you €5/hour, but the cost of maintaining your setup is €7.50/hour. The more you work, the more your tool degrades. You earn 25% more, but spend 25% more. The vehicle is repurposed for an economic model that only benefits Uber.
¯

_
YOUTUBE IS NO DIFFERENT

When you become a YouTuber, they make you believe that “anyone can stream with a smartphone.” That all you need is an idea, a bit of courage, and some basic gear. That you can compete with MrBeast—who spends a million per video—on a shoestring budget. That’s a lie.
¯

_
THE REAL COST OF A SETUP

I spent five years, from 2018 to 2023, saving up to buy a €5,000 PC solely for production. Because streaming isn’t just “playing a game.” Your PC becomes a 4K broadcasting server. You need two graphics cards—or even two separate machines:

- One to run the software or the game

- The other to encode, stream, and record

You also need:

- A second monitor (for video return and replay)

- A replay buffer (to capture instant replays)

- A Stream Deck for seamless transitions

- A Wave XLR for professional audio quality

- Audio interfaces, mixers, USB cameras, XLR microphones

All these high-end peripherals constantly tax your system. You need two USB hubs capable of handling 15 devices at once with no signal loss. A single weak link can ruin everything. And that’s not all. To stream a Nintendo Switch, you need a capture card—and you can’t rely on your streaming software’s preview because of input lag. You have to play directly on the other screen already in place.
¯

_
ONGOING TECHNICAL LEARNING

Streaming requires broad technical expertise:

- Lighting, audio, capture devices, networking

- Compression, codecs, editing, formatting

- Live direction, visual/audio transitions, real-time coordination

And you’re doing all this with zero support from YouTube.
¯

_
STORAGE AND ENERGY COSTS

Your PC isn’t enough anymore. You’ll need a NAS—a network-attached storage system—cheaper than the cloud in the long run, but which demands:

- Two 20 TB drives (mirrored) → 40 TB

- A dedicated server, which adds another €1,000

It’s become a mini television studio. Which brings with it:

- Planned obsolescence

- Frequent breakdowns

- Hardware wear and tear

- Electricity costs of a 1,000-watt PC plus a 24/7 server

Altogether, the setup costs more than a car.
¯

_
AND YOUTUBE PAYS NOTHING

And yet, it’s YouTube that cashes in. It runs ads on your videos—even if you’re not monetized. It hijacks your gear, your energy, your skills. And if your content doesn’t “perform,” it simply ignores you. A PC, cameras, capture cards, hubs, microphones, lights—tens of thousands of euros invested just to exist. And the platform invests nothing in return. No visibility. No value sharing. Not even a word of encouragement.
¯

_
||#HSLdiary #HSLmichael

#InvisibleLabor #PlatformCapitalism #CreatorEconomy #DigitalPrecarity #FreeLabor #YouTubeProblems #Shadowban

CREATING ON YOUTUBE MEANS PAYING TO WORK

YouTube is like Uber. Uber asks you to own, in your garage, a black sedan with less than 100,000 km on it—one you’re not using—and claims you can start making money from it. “It doesn’t cost you anything,” Uber says, since the car is just sitting there anyway. But in reality, it’s the most financially vulnerable people who see it as an opportunity. They take out a loan to buy a car. And when that car hits 100,000 km and the loan isn’t paid off, they get a second one—and now they’re stuck with two loans. Uber “earns” you €5/hour, but the cost of maintaining your setup is €7.50/hour. The more you work, the more your tool degrades. You earn 25% more, but spend 25% more. The vehicle is repurposed for an economic model that only benefits Uber.
¯

_
YOUTUBE IS NO DIFFERENT

When you become a YouTuber, they make you believe that “anyone can stream with a smartphone.” That all you need is an idea, a bit of courage, and some basic gear. That you can compete with MrBeast—who spends a million per video—on a shoestring budget. That’s a lie.
¯

_
THE REAL COST OF A SETUP

I spent five years, from 2018 to 2023, saving up to buy a €5,000 PC solely for production. Because streaming isn’t just “playing a game.” Your PC becomes a 4K broadcasting server. You need two graphics cards—or even two separate machines:

- One to run the software or the game

- The other to encode, stream, and record

You also need:

- A second monitor (for video return and replay)

- A replay buffer (to capture instant replays)

- A Stream Deck for seamless transitions

- A Wave XLR for professional audio quality

- Audio interfaces, mixers, USB cameras, XLR microphones

All these high-end peripherals constantly tax your system. You need two USB hubs capable of handling 15 devices at once with no signal loss. A single weak link can ruin everything. And that’s not all. To stream a Nintendo Switch, you need a capture card—and you can’t rely on your streaming software’s preview because of input lag. You have to play directly on the other screen already in place.
¯

_
ONGOING TECHNICAL LEARNING

Streaming requires broad technical expertise:

- Lighting, audio, capture devices, networking

- Compression, codecs, editing, formatting

- Live direction, visual/audio transitions, real-time coordination

And you’re doing all this with zero support from YouTube.
¯

_
STORAGE AND ENERGY COSTS

Your PC isn’t enough anymore. You’ll need a NAS—a network-attached storage system—cheaper than the cloud in the long run, but which demands:

- Two 20 TB drives (mirrored) → 40 TB

- A dedicated server, which adds another €1,000

It’s become a mini television studio. Which brings with it:

- Planned obsolescence

- Frequent breakdowns

- Hardware wear and tear

- Electricity costs of a 1,000-watt PC plus a 24/7 server

Altogether, the setup costs more than a car.
¯

_
AND YOUTUBE PAYS NOTHING

And yet, it’s YouTube that cashes in. It runs ads on your videos—even if you’re not monetized. It hijacks your gear, your energy, your skills. And if your content doesn’t “perform,” it simply ignores you. A PC, cameras, capture cards, hubs, microphones, lights—tens of thousands of euros invested just to exist. And the platform invests nothing in return. No visibility. No value sharing. Not even a word of encouragement.
¯

_
||#HSLdiary #HSLmichael

#InvisibleLabor #PlatformCapitalism #CreatorEconomy #DigitalPrecarity #FreeLabor #YouTubeProblems #Shadowban

UNPAID LABOR, ALGORITHMIC DENIAL, AND SYSTEMIC SABOTAGE
May 7, 2025

YouTube built an empire on our free time, our passion, our technical investments—and above all, on a promise: “share what you love, and the audience will follow.” Thousands of independent creators believed it. So did I. For ten years, I invested, produced, commented, hosted, edited, imported, repaired—with discipline, ambition, and stubborn hope, all in the shadows. What I discovered wasn’t opportunity. It was silence. A system of invisible filters, algorithmic contempt, and structural sabotage. An economic machine built on the unpaid, uncredited labor of creators who believed they had a chance. A platform that shows your video to four people, then punishes you for not being “engaging” enough. This four-part investigation details what YouTube has truly cost me—in money, in time, in mental health, and in collective momentum. Every number is cross-checked. Every claim is lived. Every example is documented. This is not a rant. It’s a report from inside the wreckage.
¯

_
INVISIBLE COMMENTS: 33,000 CONTRIBUTIONS THROWN IN THE TRASH

As part of my investigation, I decided to calculate what I’ve lost on YouTube. Not an easy task: if all my videos are shadowbanned, there’s no way to measure the value of that work through view counts. But I realized something else. The comments I leave on channels—whether they perform well or not—receive wildly different levels of visibility. It’s not unusual for one of my comments to get 500 likes and 25 replies within 24 hours. In other words, when I’m allowed to exist, I know how to draw attention.
¯

_
33,000 COMMENTS... FOR WHAT?

In 10 years of using the platform, I’ve posted 33,000 comments. Each one crafted, thoughtful, polished, aimed at grabbing attention. It’s a real creative effort: to spontaneously come up with something insightful to say, every day, for a decade. I’ve contributed to the YouTube community through my likes, my reactions, my input. These comments—modest, yes, but genuine—have helped sustain and grow the platform. If each comment takes roughly 3 minutes to write, that’s 99,000 minutes of my life—60 days spent commenting non-stop. Two entire months. Two months talking into the void.
¯

_
ALGORITHMIC INVISIBILITY

By default, not all comments are shown. The “Top comments” filter displays only a select few. You have to manually click on “Newest first” to see the rest. The way "Top comments" are chosen remains vague, and there’s no indication of whether some comments are deliberately hidden. When you load a page, your own comment always appears first—but only to you. Officially, it’s for “ergonomics.” Unofficially, it gives you the illusion that your opinion matters. I estimate that, on average, one out of six comments is invisible to other users. By comparing visible and hidden replies, a simple estimate emerges: over the course of 12 months, 2 months’ worth of comments go straight to the trash.
¯

_
TWO MONTHS A YEAR WRITING INTO THE VOID

If I’ve spent 60 days commenting over 10 years, that averages out to 6 days per year. Roughly 12 hours of writing every month. So each year, I’m condemned to 1 full day (out of 6) of content invisibilized (while 5 out of 6 remains visible), dumped into a void of discarded contributions. I’m not claiming every comment I write is essential, but the complete lack of notification and the arbitrary nature of this filtering raise both moral and legal concerns. To clarify: if two months of total usage equal 24 hours of actual writing, that’s because I don’t use YouTube continuously. These 24 hours spread across two months mean I spend about 24 minutes per day writing. And if writing time represents just one-fifth of my overall engagement — including watching — that adds up to more than 2.5 hours per day on the platform. Every single day. For ten years. That’s not passive use — it’s sustained, intensive participation. On average, this means that 15 to 20% of my time spent writing comments is dumped into a virtual landfill. In my case, that’s 24 hours of annual activity wiped out. But the proportion is what matters — it scales with your usage. You see the problem.
¯

_
THE BIG PLAYERS RISE, THE REST ARE ERASED

From what I’ve observed, most major YouTubers benefit from a system that automatically boosts superficial comments to the top. The algorithm favors them. It’s always the same pattern: the system benefits a few, at the expense of everyone else.
¯

_
AN IGNORED EDITORIAL VALUE

In print journalism, a 1,500-word exclusive freelance piece is typically valued at around €300. Most YouTube comments are a few lines long—maybe 25 words. Mine often exceed 250 words. That’s ten times the average length, and far more structured. They’re not throwaway reactions, but crafted contributions: thoughtful, contextual, engaging. If we apply the same rate, then 30 such comments ≈ €1,500. It’s a bold comparison—but a fair one, when you account for quality, relevance, and editorial intent. 33,000 comments = €1,650,000 of unpaid contribution to YouTube. YouTube never rewards this kind of engagement. It doesn’t promote channels where you comment frequently. The platform isn’t designed to recognize individuals. It’s designed to extract value—for itself.
¯

_
||#HSLdiary #HSLmichael

#DigitalLabor #InvisibleWork #ContentModeration #PlatformCapitalism #TechCriticism #UserEngagement

UNPAID LABOR, ALGORITHMIC DENIAL, AND SYSTEMIC SABOTAGE
May 7, 2025

YouTube built an empire on our free time, our passion, our technical investments—and above all, on a promise: “share what you love, and the audience will follow.” Thousands of independent creators believed it. So did I. For ten years, I invested, produced, commented, hosted, edited, imported, repaired—with discipline, ambition, and stubborn hope, all in the shadows. What I discovered wasn’t opportunity. It was silence. A system of invisible filters, algorithmic contempt, and structural sabotage. An economic machine built on the unpaid, uncredited labor of creators who believed they had a chance. A platform that shows your video to four people, then punishes you for not being “engaging” enough. This four-part investigation details what YouTube has truly cost me—in money, in time, in mental health, and in collective momentum. Every number is cross-checked. Every claim is lived. Every example is documented. This is not a rant. It’s a report from inside the wreckage.
¯

_
INVISIBLE COMMENTS: 33,000 CONTRIBUTIONS THROWN IN THE TRASH

As part of my investigation, I decided to calculate what I’ve lost on YouTube. Not an easy task: if all my videos are shadowbanned, there’s no way to measure the value of that work through view counts. But I realized something else. The comments I leave on channels—whether they perform well or not—receive wildly different levels of visibility. It’s not unusual for one of my comments to get 500 likes and 25 replies within 24 hours. In other words, when I’m allowed to exist, I know how to draw attention.
¯

_
33,000 COMMENTS... FOR WHAT?

In 10 years of using the platform, I’ve posted 33,000 comments. Each one crafted, thoughtful, polished, aimed at grabbing attention. It’s a real creative effort: to spontaneously come up with something insightful to say, every day, for a decade. I’ve contributed to the YouTube community through my likes, my reactions, my input. These comments—modest, yes, but genuine—have helped sustain and grow the platform. If each comment takes roughly 3 minutes to write, that’s 99,000 minutes of my life—60 days spent commenting non-stop. Two entire months. Two months talking into the void.
¯

_
ALGORITHMIC INVISIBILITY

By default, not all comments are shown. The “Top comments” filter displays only a select few. You have to manually click on “Newest first” to see the rest. The way "Top comments" are chosen remains vague, and there’s no indication of whether some comments are deliberately hidden. When you load a page, your own comment always appears first—but only to you. Officially, it’s for “ergonomics.” Unofficially, it gives you the illusion that your opinion matters. I estimate that, on average, one out of six comments is invisible to other users. By comparing visible and hidden replies, a simple estimate emerges: over the course of 12 months, 2 months’ worth of comments go straight to the trash.
¯

_
TWO MONTHS A YEAR WRITING INTO THE VOID

If I’ve spent 60 days commenting over 10 years, that averages out to 6 days per year. Roughly 12 hours of writing every month. So each year, I’m condemned to 1 full day (out of 6) of content invisibilized (while 5 out of 6 remains visible), dumped into a void of discarded contributions. I’m not claiming every comment I write is essential, but the complete lack of notification and the arbitrary nature of this filtering raise both moral and legal concerns. To clarify: if two months of total usage equal 24 hours of actual writing, that’s because I don’t use YouTube continuously. These 24 hours spread across two months mean I spend about 24 minutes per day writing. And if writing time represents just one-fifth of my overall engagement — including watching — that adds up to more than 2.5 hours per day on the platform. Every single day. For ten years. That’s not passive use — it’s sustained, intensive participation. On average, this means that 15 to 20% of my time spent writing comments is dumped into a virtual landfill. In my case, that’s 24 hours of annual activity wiped out. But the proportion is what matters — it scales with your usage. You see the problem.
¯

_
THE BIG PLAYERS RISE, THE REST ARE ERASED

From what I’ve observed, most major YouTubers benefit from a system that automatically boosts superficial comments to the top. The algorithm favors them. It’s always the same pattern: the system benefits a few, at the expense of everyone else.
¯

_
AN IGNORED EDITORIAL VALUE

In print journalism, a 1,500-word exclusive freelance piece is typically valued at around €300. Most YouTube comments are a few lines long—maybe 25 words. Mine often exceed 250 words. That’s ten times the average length, and far more structured. They’re not throwaway reactions, but crafted contributions: thoughtful, contextual, engaging. If we apply the same rate, then 30 such comments ≈ €1,500. It’s a bold comparison—but a fair one, when you account for quality, relevance, and editorial intent. 33,000 comments = €1,650,000 of unpaid contribution to YouTube. YouTube never rewards this kind of engagement. It doesn’t promote channels where you comment frequently. The platform isn’t designed to recognize individuals. It’s designed to extract value—for itself.
¯

_
||#HSLdiary #HSLmichael

#DigitalLabor #InvisibleWork #ContentModeration #PlatformCapitalism #TechCriticism #UserEngagement

UNPAID LABOR, ALGORITHMIC DENIAL, AND SYSTEMIC SABOTAGE
May 7, 2025

YouTube built an empire on our free time, our passion, our technical investments—and above all, on a promise: “share what you love, and the audience will follow.” Thousands of independent creators believed it. So did I. For ten years, I invested, produced, commented, hosted, edited, imported, repaired—with discipline, ambition, and stubborn hope, all in the shadows. What I discovered wasn’t opportunity. It was silence. A system of invisible filters, algorithmic contempt, and structural sabotage. An economic machine built on the unpaid, uncredited labor of creators who believed they had a chance. A platform that shows your video to four people, then punishes you for not being “engaging” enough. This four-part investigation details what YouTube has truly cost me—in money, in time, in mental health, and in collective momentum. Every number is cross-checked. Every claim is lived. Every example is documented. This is not a rant. It’s a report from inside the wreckage.
¯

_
INVISIBLE COMMENTS: 33,000 CONTRIBUTIONS THROWN IN THE TRASH

As part of my investigation, I decided to calculate what I’ve lost on YouTube. Not an easy task: if all my videos are shadowbanned, there’s no way to measure the value of that work through view counts. But I realized something else. The comments I leave on channels—whether they perform well or not—receive wildly different levels of visibility. It’s not unusual for one of my comments to get 500 likes and 25 replies within 24 hours. In other words, when I’m allowed to exist, I know how to draw attention.
¯

_
33,000 COMMENTS... FOR WHAT?

In 10 years of using the platform, I’ve posted 33,000 comments. Each one crafted, thoughtful, polished, aimed at grabbing attention. It’s a real creative effort: to spontaneously come up with something insightful to say, every day, for a decade. I’ve contributed to the YouTube community through my likes, my reactions, my input. These comments—modest, yes, but genuine—have helped sustain and grow the platform. If each comment takes roughly 3 minutes to write, that’s 99,000 minutes of my life—60 days spent commenting non-stop. Two entire months. Two months talking into the void.
¯

_
ALGORITHMIC INVISIBILITY

By default, not all comments are shown. The “Top comments” filter displays only a select few. You have to manually click on “Newest first” to see the rest. The way "Top comments" are chosen remains vague, and there’s no indication of whether some comments are deliberately hidden. When you load a page, your own comment always appears first—but only to you. Officially, it’s for “ergonomics.” Unofficially, it gives you the illusion that your opinion matters. I estimate that, on average, one out of six comments is invisible to other users. By comparing visible and hidden replies, a simple estimate emerges: over the course of 12 months, 2 months’ worth of comments go straight to the trash.
¯

_
TWO MONTHS A YEAR WRITING INTO THE VOID

If I’ve spent 60 days commenting over 10 years, that averages out to 6 days per year. Roughly 12 hours of writing every month. So each year, I’m condemned to 1 full day (out of 6) of content invisibilized (while 5 out of 6 remains visible), dumped into a void of discarded contributions. I’m not claiming every comment I write is essential, but the complete lack of notification and the arbitrary nature of this filtering raise both moral and legal concerns. To clarify: if two months of total usage equal 24 hours of actual writing, that’s because I don’t use YouTube continuously. These 24 hours spread across two months mean I spend about 24 minutes per day writing. And if writing time represents just one-fifth of my overall engagement — including watching — that adds up to more than 2.5 hours per day on the platform. Every single day. For ten years. That’s not passive use — it’s sustained, intensive participation. On average, this means that 15 to 20% of my time spent writing comments is dumped into a virtual landfill. In my case, that’s 24 hours of annual activity wiped out. But the proportion is what matters — it scales with your usage. You see the problem.
¯

_
THE BIG PLAYERS RISE, THE REST ARE ERASED

From what I’ve observed, most major YouTubers benefit from a system that automatically boosts superficial comments to the top. The algorithm favors them. It’s always the same pattern: the system benefits a few, at the expense of everyone else.
¯

_
AN IGNORED EDITORIAL VALUE

In print journalism, a 1,500-word exclusive freelance piece is typically valued at around €300. Most YouTube comments are a few lines long—maybe 25 words. Mine often exceed 250 words. That’s ten times the average length, and far more structured. They’re not throwaway reactions, but crafted contributions: thoughtful, contextual, engaging. If we apply the same rate, then 30 such comments ≈ €1,500. It’s a bold comparison—but a fair one, when you account for quality, relevance, and editorial intent. 33,000 comments = €1,650,000 of unpaid contribution to YouTube. YouTube never rewards this kind of engagement. It doesn’t promote channels where you comment frequently. The platform isn’t designed to recognize individuals. It’s designed to extract value—for itself.
¯

_
||#HSLdiary #HSLmichael

#DigitalLabor #InvisibleWork #ContentModeration #PlatformCapitalism #TechCriticism #UserEngagement

UNPAID LABOR, ALGORITHMIC DENIAL, AND SYSTEMIC SABOTAGE
May 7, 2025

YouTube built an empire on our free time, our passion, our technical investments—and above all, on a promise: “share what you love, and the audience will follow.” Thousands of independent creators believed it. So did I. For ten years, I invested, produced, commented, hosted, edited, imported, repaired—with discipline, ambition, and stubborn hope, all in the shadows. What I discovered wasn’t opportunity. It was silence. A system of invisible filters, algorithmic contempt, and structural sabotage. An economic machine built on the unpaid, uncredited labor of creators who believed they had a chance. A platform that shows your video to four people, then punishes you for not being “engaging” enough. This four-part investigation details what YouTube has truly cost me—in money, in time, in mental health, and in collective momentum. Every number is cross-checked. Every claim is lived. Every example is documented. This is not a rant. It’s a report from inside the wreckage.
¯

_
INVISIBLE COMMENTS: 33,000 CONTRIBUTIONS THROWN IN THE TRASH

As part of my investigation, I decided to calculate what I’ve lost on YouTube. Not an easy task: if all my videos are shadowbanned, there’s no way to measure the value of that work through view counts. But I realized something else. The comments I leave on channels—whether they perform well or not—receive wildly different levels of visibility. It’s not unusual for one of my comments to get 500 likes and 25 replies within 24 hours. In other words, when I’m allowed to exist, I know how to draw attention.
¯

_
33,000 COMMENTS... FOR WHAT?

In 10 years of using the platform, I’ve posted 33,000 comments. Each one crafted, thoughtful, polished, aimed at grabbing attention. It’s a real creative effort: to spontaneously come up with something insightful to say, every day, for a decade. I’ve contributed to the YouTube community through my likes, my reactions, my input. These comments—modest, yes, but genuine—have helped sustain and grow the platform. If each comment takes roughly 3 minutes to write, that’s 99,000 minutes of my life—60 days spent commenting non-stop. Two entire months. Two months talking into the void.
¯

_
ALGORITHMIC INVISIBILITY

By default, not all comments are shown. The “Top comments” filter displays only a select few. You have to manually click on “Newest first” to see the rest. The way "Top comments" are chosen remains vague, and there’s no indication of whether some comments are deliberately hidden. When you load a page, your own comment always appears first—but only to you. Officially, it’s for “ergonomics.” Unofficially, it gives you the illusion that your opinion matters. I estimate that, on average, one out of six comments is invisible to other users. By comparing visible and hidden replies, a simple estimate emerges: over the course of 12 months, 2 months’ worth of comments go straight to the trash.
¯

_
TWO MONTHS A YEAR WRITING INTO THE VOID

If I’ve spent 60 days commenting over 10 years, that averages out to 6 days per year. Roughly 12 hours of writing every month. So each year, I’m condemned to 1 full day (out of 6) of content invisibilized (while 5 out of 6 remains visible), dumped into a void of discarded contributions. I’m not claiming every comment I write is essential, but the complete lack of notification and the arbitrary nature of this filtering raise both moral and legal concerns. To clarify: if two months of total usage equal 24 hours of actual writing, that’s because I don’t use YouTube continuously. These 24 hours spread across two months mean I spend about 24 minutes per day writing. And if writing time represents just one-fifth of my overall engagement — including watching — that adds up to more than 2.5 hours per day on the platform. Every single day. For ten years. That’s not passive use — it’s sustained, intensive participation. On average, this means that 15 to 20% of my time spent writing comments is dumped into a virtual landfill. In my case, that’s 24 hours of annual activity wiped out. But the proportion is what matters — it scales with your usage. You see the problem.
¯

_
THE BIG PLAYERS RISE, THE REST ARE ERASED

From what I’ve observed, most major YouTubers benefit from a system that automatically boosts superficial comments to the top. The algorithm favors them. It’s always the same pattern: the system benefits a few, at the expense of everyone else.
¯

_
AN IGNORED EDITORIAL VALUE

In print journalism, a 1,500-word exclusive freelance piece is typically valued at around €300. Most YouTube comments are a few lines long—maybe 25 words. Mine often exceed 250 words. That’s ten times the average length, and far more structured. They’re not throwaway reactions, but crafted contributions: thoughtful, contextual, engaging. If we apply the same rate, then 30 such comments ≈ €1,500. It’s a bold comparison—but a fair one, when you account for quality, relevance, and editorial intent. 33,000 comments = €1,650,000 of unpaid contribution to YouTube. YouTube never rewards this kind of engagement. It doesn’t promote channels where you comment frequently. The platform isn’t designed to recognize individuals. It’s designed to extract value—for itself.
¯

_
||#HSLdiary #HSLmichael

#DigitalLabor #InvisibleWork #ContentModeration #PlatformCapitalism #TechCriticism #UserEngagement

UNPAID LABOR, ALGORITHMIC DENIAL, AND SYSTEMIC SABOTAGE
May 7, 2025

YouTube built an empire on our free time, our passion, our technical investments—and above all, on a promise: “share what you love, and the audience will follow.” Thousands of independent creators believed it. So did I. For ten years, I invested, produced, commented, hosted, edited, imported, repaired—with discipline, ambition, and stubborn hope, all in the shadows. What I discovered wasn’t opportunity. It was silence. A system of invisible filters, algorithmic contempt, and structural sabotage. An economic machine built on the unpaid, uncredited labor of creators who believed they had a chance. A platform that shows your video to four people, then punishes you for not being “engaging” enough. This four-part investigation details what YouTube has truly cost me—in money, in time, in mental health, and in collective momentum. Every number is cross-checked. Every claim is lived. Every example is documented. This is not a rant. It’s a report from inside the wreckage.
¯

_
INVISIBLE COMMENTS: 33,000 CONTRIBUTIONS THROWN IN THE TRASH

As part of my investigation, I decided to calculate what I’ve lost on YouTube. Not an easy task: if all my videos are shadowbanned, there’s no way to measure the value of that work through view counts. But I realized something else. The comments I leave on channels—whether they perform well or not—receive wildly different levels of visibility. It’s not unusual for one of my comments to get 500 likes and 25 replies within 24 hours. In other words, when I’m allowed to exist, I know how to draw attention.
¯

_
33,000 COMMENTS... FOR WHAT?

In 10 years of using the platform, I’ve posted 33,000 comments. Each one crafted, thoughtful, polished, aimed at grabbing attention. It’s a real creative effort: to spontaneously come up with something insightful to say, every day, for a decade. I’ve contributed to the YouTube community through my likes, my reactions, my input. These comments—modest, yes, but genuine—have helped sustain and grow the platform. If each comment takes roughly 3 minutes to write, that’s 99,000 minutes of my life—60 days spent commenting non-stop. Two entire months. Two months talking into the void.
¯

_
ALGORITHMIC INVISIBILITY

By default, not all comments are shown. The “Top comments” filter displays only a select few. You have to manually click on “Newest first” to see the rest. The way "Top comments" are chosen remains vague, and there’s no indication of whether some comments are deliberately hidden. When you load a page, your own comment always appears first—but only to you. Officially, it’s for “ergonomics.” Unofficially, it gives you the illusion that your opinion matters. I estimate that, on average, one out of six comments is invisible to other users. By comparing visible and hidden replies, a simple estimate emerges: over the course of 12 months, 2 months’ worth of comments go straight to the trash.
¯

_
TWO MONTHS A YEAR WRITING INTO THE VOID

If I’ve spent 60 days commenting over 10 years, that averages out to 6 days per year. Roughly 12 hours of writing every month. So each year, I’m condemned to 1 full day (out of 6) of content invisibilized (while 5 out of 6 remains visible), dumped into a void of discarded contributions. I’m not claiming every comment I write is essential, but the complete lack of notification and the arbitrary nature of this filtering raise both moral and legal concerns. To clarify: if two months of total usage equal 24 hours of actual writing, that’s because I don’t use YouTube continuously. These 24 hours spread across two months mean I spend about 24 minutes per day writing. And if writing time represents just one-fifth of my overall engagement — including watching — that adds up to more than 2.5 hours per day on the platform. Every single day. For ten years. That’s not passive use — it’s sustained, intensive participation. On average, this means that 15 to 20% of my time spent writing comments is dumped into a virtual landfill. In my case, that’s 24 hours of annual activity wiped out. But the proportion is what matters — it scales with your usage. You see the problem.
¯

_
THE BIG PLAYERS RISE, THE REST ARE ERASED

From what I’ve observed, most major YouTubers benefit from a system that automatically boosts superficial comments to the top. The algorithm favors them. It’s always the same pattern: the system benefits a few, at the expense of everyone else.
¯

_
AN IGNORED EDITORIAL VALUE

In print journalism, a 1,500-word exclusive freelance piece is typically valued at around €300. Most YouTube comments are a few lines long—maybe 25 words. Mine often exceed 250 words. That’s ten times the average length, and far more structured. They’re not throwaway reactions, but crafted contributions: thoughtful, contextual, engaging. If we apply the same rate, then 30 such comments ≈ €1,500. It’s a bold comparison—but a fair one, when you account for quality, relevance, and editorial intent. 33,000 comments = €1,650,000 of unpaid contribution to YouTube. YouTube never rewards this kind of engagement. It doesn’t promote channels where you comment frequently. The platform isn’t designed to recognize individuals. It’s designed to extract value—for itself.
¯

_
||#HSLdiary #HSLmichael

#DigitalLabor #InvisibleWork #ContentModeration #PlatformCapitalism #TechCriticism #UserEngagement