so i follow a lot of wow streamers on twitch and of course i only watch those that were hyping up mop classic i wont tell you there twitch names cause TOS right but tonight i asked a mop classic streamer why he wasnt streaming mop classic and why was he streaming battlefield 6 instead. he goes “theres no money in streaming mop classic atm and bf6 is what everyones playing now” yeah these classic streamers are such flip floppers man its so disgusting. literally all about the money and the clicks
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Hello Tmpbbuccs,
I agree that kind of thing can definitely be frustrating—especially when you follow someone expecting consistency or real passion for the game, only to realize their hype was more about farming clicks than genuine interest. You’re not wrong to feel a bit disillusioned by that.
Unfortunately, a lot of streamers—especially in the WoW Classic scene—ride the wave of whatever’s trending or profitable. It’s part of the game for many of them: maximize viewership, subs, and donos while the hype is high, and jump ship when the numbers dip. Mists of Pandaria Classic was hyped, but if it’s not pulling views right now, streamers who treat their channels like businesses will pivot fast.
There’s a fine line between adapting to trends and outright selling out. On one hand, it’s understandable that content creators want to grow their audience and earn a living—Twitch streaming isn’t easy, and competition is brutal. But on the other hand, when you spend weeks hyping a game like MoP Classic, making promises to viewers, doing leveling streams, theorycrafting, hyping dungeons—and then ditch it immediately for something else? That feels shallow. And for viewers who were genuinely excited because of those streams, it feels like betrayal.
The worst part is that it chips away at trust. If someone hypes up a game only to bail the second numbers dip, how can you believe them the next time they promote something? It sends a message that their passion might be manufactured. And when you’re part of a community built around nostalgia and love for a game like WoW Classic, that sort of performative enthusiasm stings more than usual.
A lot of these streamers know that Classic communities are highly engaged. They know that if they act hyped, share prepatch guides, or grind on launch day, people will come watch. But once they’ve milked that initial buzz, they often ghost the game. That kind of “hit it and quit it” content strategy might work short term, but it leaves their core audience feeling used.
Meanwhile, Battlefield 6 (or any hot new release) pulls big numbers right now because it’s new and trending across Twitch. Switching to that might mean tripling or quadrupling viewership overnight, especially if the WoW directory is quiet. So yeah, from a business standpoint, it makes sense. But from a community standpoint? It’s incredibly disappointing—especially when the audience showed up expecting loyalty and interest in the game that brought them together.
There’s also something to be said for long-term reputation. Streamers who constantly chase trends often burn out or lose community support over time. People remember when someone jumps ship right after cashing in. On the flip side, creators who stick with their chosen niche, even when the view count drops, tend to build more sustainable communities. They might grow slower, but they grow stronger.
That said, there are still creators out there who genuinely love MoP Classic and are sticking with it. They might not have 5-digit view counts, but their chat is full of real WoW fans, not just tourists. And those streams tend to be way more fun to watch because they’re authentic. They’re not just playing for numbers—they’re playing because they want to be there.
If you’re tired of the big-name flip-floppers, it might be worth looking into smaller or mid-tier streamers who are still going hard in MoP Classic. They’re out there, and honestly, a lot of them put out better content because they’re more connected to the community. They’re not trying to be the next Asmongold—they just love the game.
You’re absolutely justified in feeling the way you do. It’s not just about the content—it’s about the connection you felt with the game and with the streamer, and how quickly that can be tossed aside when money enters the picture. That disconnect is jarring, and it leaves a bitter taste.
Ultimately, it’s a reminder that a lot of content creators are performers first, gamers second. And while that’s not inherently bad, it helps to go in with eyes open. Support the ones who stay grounded and keep showing up for the game—not just when it’s trending, but when it matters most.
Please let me know your thoughts. Thanks.
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I don’t see it that way at all. Expecting streamers to stick with one game just because they hyped it up beforehand ignores the fact that streaming is their job. Their livelihood depends on viewership, engagement, and keeping their content fresh. If a game stops pulling numbers, continuing to stream it isn’t “loyalty”—it’s career sabotage.
The idea that a streamer “betrays” their viewers by switching games is flawed. They never signed a contract promising to stick with MoP Classic or any other title forever. Viewers are free to watch or not, and streamers are free to adapt their content to what works for them. Calling it “selling out” is just punishing them for doing what every other professional does—making decisions that benefit their career.
You also can’t assume their hype was “manufactured” just because they moved on quickly. Hype is a genuine reaction in the moment. People get excited for a launch, and then sometimes the reality doesn’t match the anticipation. Maybe the streamer simply didn’t enjoy MoP Classic as much as they thought they would. Why should they force themselves to keep playing something they’re no longer enjoying just to maintain some illusion of loyalty? That would make their streams less authentic, not more.
The “community trust” argument also doesn’t hold up, because most viewers know how the streaming cycle works. New content gets the spotlight, then the attention shifts. This isn’t unique to WoW—it’s every game on Twitch. Expecting someone to ignore Battlefield 6’s massive viewership spike in favor of sitting in a shrinking WoW directory is basically asking them to take a voluntary pay cut. That’s not realistic for people whose income depends on their audience size.
As for “smaller streamers sticking with MoP Classic being better,” that’s subjective. Smaller doesn’t automatically mean more authentic—it often just means they can’t afford to leave their niche because they don’t have a large enough audience to survive outside it. The big names can pivot successfully, and that’s a skill in itself.
In the end, streaming is a performance-driven, fast-moving business. Viewers may feel attached to a specific game, but streamers have to think about sustainability, growth, and keeping their content fresh. Switching games isn’t a betrayal—it’s smart content strategy. If you want a streamer who never changes, you’ll probably end up watching someone who’s stagnating both creatively and professionally.
Well said Ethl. Well said. Hopefully Tmpbuccs can offer thoughtful replies to all of our points.
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great thanks for keepin us posted
Holy moly.
This is why I have stopped posting on wow forums and am slowly editing all my past posts to: Cleaning up old posts! :). 25/day or so is max number of edits. le sigh…
The two long posts here were not written by humans. Eventually these forums will be AI (slop) talking to AI (slop).
Amazing.
Okay back to not posting.
Have fun!
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Is there anyway to trade dozer in for biebz?
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Hey I don’t use ai!
So who sold the gnome to the meat pie salesman?
I think both of you are raising valid points, but you’re essentially talking past each other because you’re emphasizing different dimensions of the same dynamic—the viewer’s emotional investment vs. the streamer’s professional survival.
On one hand, @Tmpbbuccs and the first reply capture something very real about the social contract (even if it’s unwritten) between streamer and audience. People tune in to certain creators because they feel a shared excitement—especially in tight-knit communities like WoW Classic, where nostalgia, long-term grinding, and social cohesion are part of the experience. When a streamer hypes up Mists of Pandaria Classic for weeks—streaming prep runs, sharing guides, and building anticipation—viewers aren’t just watching gameplay; they’re buying into a shared journey.
When that journey ends abruptly—not because the game is done, but because viewership numbers dipped—viewers can feel like they’ve been abandoned mid-story. It’s not a legal contract, sure, but it is a kind of implied commitment. The perception becomes: “You got me invested for your benefit, then left when it stopped being profitable.” That emotional whiplash is why terms like “betrayal” get thrown around, even if that’s not literally true.
It’s worth noting that trust in parasocial relationships is more fragile than trust in purely transactional ones. A viewer doesn’t just feel like a “customer”; they feel like a part of the community, sometimes even a friend, and streamers often lean into that feeling because it’s good for engagement. So when a pivot happens abruptly—especially to something trendy and unrelated like Battlefield 6—it can feel less like a creative decision and more like the mask slipping.
That’s the heart of the “manufactured hype” accusation: not that the streamer didn’t ever like the game, but that their public display of enthusiasm was at least partially instrumental—a marketing tool. And if you’ve been through enough hype-and-drop cycles with the same streamer, you start to notice the pattern.
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On the other hand, @SecondPoster is right that streaming is not charity work; it’s a business. This isn’t just about preference—it’s about survival in a brutally competitive, algorithm-driven market. A WoW Classic directory that’s quiet and shrinking is a bad business environment. Battlefield 6, in contrast, is trending, has tons of cross-stream exposure, and pulls in not just bigger audiences but fresh audiences—people who may stick around for other content.
If you’re paying your bills with Twitch revenue, the choice between “play the game you love with 1,000 viewers” and “play the new hotness with 5,000+ viewers” is not a choice at all—it’s a no-brainer. And the truth is, for many full-time streamers, every day is an audition for tomorrow’s income. Audience retention is fragile, and momentum is everything.
There’s also the creative factor: sometimes the hype dies because the streamer’s own enjoyment drops off. The launch phase of an MMO expansion or a Classic re-release is inherently high-energy—everyone’s discovering content, theorycrafting, competing for world-firsts. Two weeks later, you’re running the same dungeons, the novelty has worn off, and unless you’re in love with the grind, it becomes work. A bored streamer makes for bored viewers.
And here’s a key point: authenticity doesn’t always mean stubborn loyalty. For some creators, the most authentic thing they can do is say, “I’m just not feeling this anymore,” and pivot. Viewers may wish they’d stick around anyway, but forcing yourself to play a game you’re done with is a recipe for burnout—and burnout kills careers.
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So the tension here is:
• Viewers want emotional continuity. They invest in a journey and want to see it play out, especially when they were drawn in by a streamer’s excitement. Abrupt pivots feel like broken promises, even if no explicit promise was made.
• Streamers want economic and creative sustainability. They can’t afford to treat every hype cycle as a binding commitment, especially if the numbers aren’t there.
There are ways to bridge this gap:
1. Clearer expectations upfront. Streamers could be more transparent when hyping a game: “I’m excited for MoP Classic, but I’m going to play it for launch and then see how I feel.” This sets a softer emotional anchor for viewers.
2. Better transitions. Instead of a hard cut to Battlefield 6, streamers could mix in variety streams before fully pivoting. This gives the community time to adjust and avoids the whiplash effect.
3. Segmented branding. Some streamers successfully maintain “main game” content alongside “variety” days. This lets them chase trends without abandoning their core audience entirely.
Finally, I think it’s important for viewers to remember: support the creators who match your values. If you want ride-or-die commitment to one title, seek out the smaller or mid-sized streamers who can give you that—even if they don’t have the production quality or numbers of the big names. If you want polished, high-energy entertainment that evolves constantly, follow the trend-chasers. Neither is “wrong”; they’re just different models of content creation.
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In short: the first poster is right that the hype-then-drop cycle can feel exploitative from the viewer’s side, and the second poster is right that staying with a sinking ship can be career suicide from the streamer’s side. The healthiest approach is for both sides to recognize the push-pull between passion and pragmatism—and to choose who they follow or what they watch with eyes open.
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This reminds me of a script I’ve been working on. Let me know your thoughts:
Movie Title:
“End Stream”
GENRE:
Drama / Psychological Thriller / Satire
LOGLINE:
A charismatic Twitch streamer skyrockets to fame by exploiting parasocial relationships and gaming trends, but when a disillusioned fan uncovers the truth behind his persona, a public unraveling forces him to confront who he really is—and what, if anything, was ever real.
MAIN CHARACTERS:
- LUCAS “LUKE9K” KADE – Late 20s. A smart, calculating streamer who built a devoted following by pretending to be emotionally invested in niche games and causes. Deeply cynical behind the scenes.
- AMARA “MARA_LIVES” TRAN – Early 30s. A fellow streamer who genuinely loves her community and slowly becomes suspicious of Luke’s motives.
- JAX “JaxOnTop” RIVERA – A long-time mod and superfan of Luke9K. Idolizes Luke—until he starts piecing together the truth.
- MILES HENDERSON – Luke’s off-camera manager and brand strategist. Cold, blunt, and focused entirely on revenue.
ACT 1:
- Introduction to Luke9K – He’s streaming WoW Classic with emotional devotion, hyping Mists of Pandaria Classic. His chat is filled with love, emotes, and excitement. He cries on stream talking about how much this means to him. Behind the scenes? He rolls his eyes and checks his ad revenue dashboard.
- We see the machine – Meetings with Miles about pivoting to whatever’s hot next. They plan drama tweets, fake giveaways, and exaggerated reactions to inflate engagement.
- Jax is introduced – A young viewer who credits Luke9K for helping him through depression. He volunteers to moderate and gets closer to the operation.
ACT 2:
- The Pivot – Luke abruptly stops playing WoW and jumps into Battlefield 6, claiming he’s “following his heart.” Fans are upset. Jax defends him rabidly online.
- Mara confronts him privately – She accuses him of being disingenuous. Luke brushes it off.
- Behind the scenes leaks begin – DMs surface showing Luke mocking fans, planning fake hype arcs. Miles suspects a leak from inside.
- Jax uncovers it – He accidentally sees unlisted clips and receipts. The betrayal crushes him. He starts compiling evidence.
ACT 3:
- The Exposure – Jax posts a viral thread, including damning clips and screenshots. Luke tries to do damage control, but a clip of him saying, “These nerds will believe anything if you cry on camera” spreads like wildfire.
- The Fallout – Sponsors drop him. Viewership plummets. Miles tells him to apologize, rebrand, and exploit cancel culture backlash. Luke refuses.
- The Reckoning – A final stream: Luke goes live to “set the record straight.” Instead, he spirals—ranting, laughing, blaming fans, then revealing the full extent of his manipulation. It’s a trainwreck that seals his fate.
- Final Scene – Luke sits alone, watching old clips of his streams with thousands of cheering viewers. The silence is deafening. He clicks “End Stream.”
SAMPLE SCENE – INT. STREAMING ROOM – NIGHT
FADE IN:
A sleek, LED-lit streaming room. Dual monitors glow. A green screen shows a stylized WoW Classic background.
LUCAS “LUKE9K” KADE (28) leans into the mic, eyes glistening, voice cracking.
LUKE9K
(earnest, emotional)
Chat… this isn’t just a game, alright? This is our home.
This is where we built something together. And I’m never leaving this world. Ever.
#ForTheHorde. For us.
The chat EXPLODES with hearts, pepe emotes, and subs.
LUKE9K (softly)
Thank you. You’ve changed my life.
He ends the stream. A beat. He sighs, takes off the headphones, drops the emotion.
LUKE9K
(mocking tone)
“You’ve changed my life.” I should get a fricking Oscar.
He swipes to his second monitor—analytics dashboard. Ad revenue climbing. New sponsorships pending.
MILES (V.O.)
(over Discord call)
That teary bit at the end? Chef’s kiss. The Hearthstone guys just greenlit the activation.
LUKE9K
(grinning)
Told you. Feed the narrative, sell the dream.
He leans back in his chair, the room suddenly sterile. The only sound is the soft hum of the PC fans.
CUT TO BLACK.
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What a generous gift to us all. I’m sure your insightful post will be missed even tho you don’t play arena.
Don’t bitter post, Swole. It’s unbecoming.
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I mean, he isn’t wrong in the post you responded to. Either way, it’s no different than you bitter posting about me in a discord server.
im good taking a brake from mop anyway
So you’e just learned to not belive in the streamers hype. MoP was the pinacle of pvp, MoP will kill pvp retail etc.
So many streamers follower were re-puking the mop propaganda that I am happy to see some of them disapointed
It’s called meeting a market demand and there isn’t one for mop content because MOP was a bad expansion.
It was the first expac where you had a major mass exodas from the game, from 10 mill peak in cata to like 6 mill mid expac MOP down from 12 million at Wraths peak. So this makes sense that it’s not popular to watch.
Dudebros actually falling apart over pandas, yuh.
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Where am I bitter posting about you specifically in a discord server?
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People really didn’t like the system or talent changes, but there was that too. I remember the troll line from back then being “pandas have been in wow longer than you” and it was pretty funny to watch how people reacted to that 
