Netprov: Networked Improvised Literature for the Classroom and Beyond

One fine day in 2015, Mark Marino put on a brave face in his Facebook account:

For those of you asking how things have been going here at Facebook Dept. of Likes: generally everything is hunky-dory. Everywhere you look there’s someone throwing a thumbs up (or Flipping the Zuck). But I’ve started noticing different kinds of Likes. Like the not-so-nice Likes, and sometimes it seems like people feel obligated to do it, like they’re afraid if they don’t thumb up everything they might miss out, miss some opportunity, lose some social media capital (which come back to us as bonuses paid in FaceBucks to use in the company store). So while all and all things are really swell, I’m starting to suspect something beneath the surface—though I try not to notice it. So mostly things are A-Ok.

This was the seed for the netprov I Work for the Web.ⁱ We thought back to the railroad robber barons of the nineteenth century and imagined the secretive company that owns the Internet: RockeHearst Omnipresent Bundlers. Its charismatic leader the “exployer” (exploiter-employer) Andrew Rockehearst Sr. (@tycoonthropist on Twitter) launches a viral morale-boosting campaign on Twitter called “I Work for the Web,” encouraging all social media users to celebrate and feel pride in the revenue their liking and reposting generates.

The exployer’s website exhorted:

You work for the Web!
And it’s so easy, you probably don’t even know you’re doing it!
We gave you a stage to perform on!
We let you upload your dreams and images to the clouds!
So tell us your stories on Twitter and Facebook! Now!
The Stats Don’t Lie: 38% Awkward Moments; 29% Waiting On Downloads; 66% Friends Ignoring You—It all means 100% Time on Device!
We Earn Your Attention
Be Proud of Your Contributions:
Sending Comic Selfies, Trying New Emoticons, Inventing New Passwords, Clicking Celebrity Teases, Counting Your Likes, Winning Next Level, Re-typing Captchas
The wheels of the Web turn on your generosity!
You’re welcome!¹

The website contained Mark Marino’s animated Prezi slideshow, the text of which read, in part:

The World Wide Web, every post, every selfie, every like
50 billion posts each second
The work you do collectively could LIGHT up the entire WORLD
Andrew RockeHearst, Sr.
He put the Web to Work for You . . .
Just a twinkle in his eye . . .
And has made it HIS life’s work
To build a cyberspace where Work
feels like Play!
Shout it loud:
I Work For the Web!
RockeHearst Omnipresent Bundlers says: Tell us your story #IWFW*
*By Tweeting your story using the #IWFW hashtag, you waive all copyrights and contribute your content to R.O.B. Marketing and Promotions.²

Instead of boosting morale and increasing donated productivity the “I Work for the Web” campaign had the opposite effect. In the netprov, ordinary web workers like you and me began to realize how much labor they’d been giving away in the form of clicks, likes, upvotes, and reposts. They balked at donating time and energy to helping voice-recognition algorithms improve through data-gathering systems such as Apple’s Siri and facial recognition systems authorized by clicking on interminable terms of service. They decided to organize. Electronic literature great Mez (whom I talk about more in chapter 6) created an eerie feline to represent the legions of income-generating cats in social media (see figure 1).

Halfway through the netprov, a notorious live Twitter event was called by disgruntled workers to organize a union. The union was called the International Web and Facetwit Workers so that they, too, could use the hashtag #IWFW. The legendary rally was to happen in a real-time Twitter event at the imaginary Nighthawks bar, the sprawling, fictional hangout where all web workers in the world gather after work.

What happened at Nighthawks?

This question echoed through the netprov. A riot? A rumble? Reports conflicted. Emotions ran high. Whose side were you on? Union or no union? The tweets that came through that night brought vivid scraps of information, like the tweets from real life protest marches that year. Rumors appeared that the tycoonthropist Rockehearst was sending his brutal “Pingertons” to crush the union. No one could remain neutral. Players were encouraged to vote thumbs up to approve the union (see figure 2).

Author and electronic literature pioneer Talan Memmott’s popular character @Link_Dinn was a rebel from the popular job networking site LinkedIn. Link Dinn, whose avatar image was an angry-faced wooden child’s toy, had declared himself the shop steward and began putting up posters. That night in Nighthawks, Link Dinn was the rallying point for the prounion workers (see figure 3).

Artist Joellyn Rock’s character @VanaEverbush (a tip of the hat to analog computer pioneer Vannevar Bush) came to the party with Russian-revolutionary-style posters to encourage a Pinterest user revolt (see figure 4).

@VanaEverbush’s image was quickly co-opted by the official I Work for the Web account, turned upside down and reposted as fake news (see figure 5).

Even @webwaffler, who had gone back and forth on the issues indecisively throughout the whole netprov, finally joined the walkout to honor the late Link Dinn (see figure 8).

These tiny snapshots of this huge netprov give you only the slightest hint of what fun it was to play that first time. Many players were doing multiple hilarious characters on both sides of the conflict: the union and the corporate overlords. That night at Nighthawks, in particular, has been talked about by featured players as a memorable artistic moment in their lives. To witness multiple story lines unfolding simultaneously at the hands of multiple creators is an astonishing, exhilarating, and laughter-filled experience. And many felt tears well up at the death of the beloved Link Dinn. Thankfully Link Dinn’s ghost returned to give his final blessing (see figure 9).

Creating fiction within major commercial platforms is a carnivalesque approach to escaping corporate control. Netprov encourages you to let your fingers do the talking—and the walking.