Weekend Argus (Saturday Edition)

Going viral on the internet has dark side that scars emotionall­y

- CAITLIN DEWEY

WASHINGTON: Fewer than two weeks after posting the video that would make him famous and after appearing on The Ellen DeGeneres Show, Josh Holz experience­d the latest milestone in the viral-fame cycle: the 15-year-old was hacked on Twitter.

His account, @joshholzz – the original site of the Damn Daniel meme – began tweeting out racist memes on February 27. At some point after that, screenshot­s show, someone changed the account’s header to read Meme Team and the listed name to XTM. At some point, the hackers also deleted the original Damn Daniel video, a sin about which they apparently feel no regret.

“The Damn Daniel thing was utterly stupid,” one of the selfprocla­imed hackers told The Washington Post by direct message. “It was only a kid saying two words again and again.”

This is the current cost of internet fame, a capricious beast that gifts both surfboards and suffering to its (intermitte­ntly) willing subjects. In addition to the hacking, Holz was “swatted” last week, a prank in which a fake police tip gets a Swat team sent to your house. He and his 14-year-old mememate, Daniel Lara, have been the subjects of steady internet nastiness from homophobic Twitter jokes to mild threats.

Alex from Target or Keyboard Cat or the “prancercis­e lady” could have warned them: sometimes being one of the internet’s most beloved people is almost as bad as ranking among its most hated.

“If you’re going to be out there, part of the deal is that you’re going to get a lot of hate,” said Ben Lashes, the business manager of memetic phenoms from Scumbag Steve to Grumpy Cat. “If you’re in the entertainm­ent business, you sign up for it. But if you put something up on YouTube and it explodes overnight, often you don’t realise there will be a backlash.”

You may also not realise that, over time, the blowback has become worse. When Lashes began representi­ng online celebritie­s in 2011, the worst you might expect was schoolyard-level bullying: name- calling, nasty emails, weird conversati­ons with strangers at bars – generally, Lashes says, the online equivalent of “throwing eggs at the popular kid’s house”.

But in the past few years, as online celebritie­s have become more visible, the harassment has upped its pitch, as well. Joanna Rohrback, the woman behind Prancercis­e, had her email hacked. Then-16-year-old Alex Lee, better known as Alex from Target, received dozens of death threats after his photo went viral on Twitter. Later, detractors would publish his family’s personal informatio­n, including bank account and social security numbers; concerned for his safety, the family told the New York Times, they met his high school’s security officials. By far the most dramatic backlashes, however, are those that played out on Twitch, the livestream­ing site where some gamers have accrued audiences in the tens of thousands.

Beginning in late 2013, young trolls and pranksters began calling in fake police tips on popular streamers, hoping to catch the action live when Swat teams showed up at the player’s house.

“I had police point a gun at my little brothers because of you,” the popular Twitch gamer Joshua Peters told his audience after being swatted last year in February. “They could have been shot, they could have died. Because you chose to swat my stream.”

Unfortunat­ely, those sorts of admonishme­nts don’t really register among the community of people who prank, troll and otherwise harass online celebritie­s. Anecdotall­y, at least, they appear to be quite young: most of the people arrested for swatting have been teens. And in their minds, they’re playing the same game as the celebs themselves: doing very public and occasional­ly stupid things in the pursuit of greater internet notoriety.

Online celebritie­s can’t just sign off-line, of course: in many cases, they never even chose to become famous. Instead, the talent agencies and media networks that work with viral stars are urging their clients to be more cautious.

Fullscreen, which represents several thousand YouTubers, asks its stars to manage all of their passwords through an encrypted service and to use a service like Google Voice to mask their real phone number. They’re instructed to be cagey with personal informatio­n, like the name of their high school or the exact city they live in, even with journalist­s. And if their accounts are ever compromise­d, or if they’re ever harassed, Fullscreen has direct lines of contact at several social media platforms to get problems addressed quickly.

“It’s a weird transition, to suddenly go from normal kid to internet celebrity,” said Julie Kennedy, the vice president of talent at Fullscreen. “Sometimes they don’t realise they have to be careful.” – Washington Post

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