Clout chasing is loud. Cool is quiet.
The Illusion of Cool
Nothing kills cool faster than trying too hard to be cool. Yet here we are, living in a time when validation is a scoreboard of likes, retweets, and tagged selfies. The harder you push to “belong,” the more obvious it becomes that you’re chasing clout, not living your passion.
I’ve seen it in both the goth scene and geek fandom. In one, the so-called refuge for outsiders can feel like a velvet-rope club where you’re quizzed on your wardrobe and asked to name an obscure 1983 B-side. In the other, geek culture sags under the weight of algorithmic hype, where enthusiasm looks more like performance than connection. Both end up asking the wrong questions: Do you look the part? Do you know the trivia? Who do you know online? instead of the only one that matters: Do you love this?
Clout Chasing: The New Performance Art
- Racing to post hot takes before a finale even finishes streaming.
- Flooding feeds with memes from the latest Marvel drop.
- Treating trivia like a loyalty badge.
It used to be different. Geek spaces were late-night tabletop games, beat-up comic shops, VHS anime trades at cons, homemade zines passed from friend to friend. Passion first, performance later. Now it’s flipped: perform first, maybe care later.
The algorithm rewards visibility, not depth. That’s how we got fandoms that look massive but feel paper-thin.
Hard to imagine something like Firefly’s Browncoats catching fire in today’s feed-driven world.
The Goth Problem: Gatekeepers in Black Lace
If geek fandom is warped by algorithms, goth has its own curse: gatekeeping. The irony’s thick. The scene built for misfits can feel like it’s guarded by style cops at the door.
I’ve been there. I’ve been seriously chastised because I skipped the black nail polish at one show, didn’t sport a deathhawk, or wore something too “normal” and not shocking enough. I didn’t look enough the part that particular night, so apparently I wasn’t a real goth.
It’s that same “name three songs” energy. If you’re wearing a Joy Division or Bauhaus shirt, someone will test you. And yes, chain stores have turned those bands into fashion logos, so sure, some folks wear them without hearing a note. But gatekeeping doesn’t fix that. It just punishes the wrong people.
Sometimes the person in that shirt is brand new, just curious and about to fall in love with the music. Sometimes they’re already a fan who just doesn’t “look goth enough.” Either way, quizzing them doesn’t protect the culture. It just makes it smaller and meaner.
Geek spaces do it too. Women especially get grilled to prove they’re “true fans.” A cosplayer once dressed as Duela Dent, a deep-cut DC character and Harvey Dent’s daughter, and was accused online of being a “sexy Joker” for attention. The irony? She knew the lore. Her critics didn’t.
Gatekeeping never protects the scene; it only exposes insecurity.
The Algorithm Trap in Geek Fandom
Geek fandom runs on the hamster wheel. Disney+ drops a new Star Wars spinoff, Netflix adds another slick dystopia, a new RPG hits Steam, and everyone floods into the same discourse window. Then, a week later, it’s gone.
It doesn’t matter if you’ve loved Tolkien since childhood or just discovered The Expanse. If you’re not visibly hyped, you may as well not exist. That’s not community. It’s marketing.
What we end up with is passion reduced to hashtags, conversation flattened into noise, and silence the moment the trend expires.
Authenticity as the Advantage
Here’s the difference: authentically cool people don’t chase. They curate. They engage deeply. They build connections that last longer than an algorithm’s half-life.
And authenticity doesn’t mean reciting credentials or showing off collections. It’s about having a lived-in relationship with the thing you love, one that doesn’t need to be weaponized for status.
The friend who hands you a mix with a band you’ve never heard of is cool. The guy who sneers that you didn’t already know them? Definitely not.
Reflection: Owning My Own Clout Chase
I can’t throw all the stones here. I’ve chased clout too. Early on in the DJ circuit I went out of my way to connect with bigger names. Partly strategy. I wanted to be seen, get gigs, build a rep. But also respect. I genuinely liked the people and wanted real friendships.
Those two motives, ambition and authenticity, can live side by side. That’s what makes it messy. You DM someone to talk shop, you tag a friend’s project, you collaborate hoping it opens doors. Is that community or calculation? Honestly, sometimes it’s both.
That blur between connection and currency shows up in creative circles all the time. Playing in a band has a way of exposing it. When everyone’s chasing the next show, the next feature, the next playlist spot, friendship can start to look like strategy. Nobody’s being cruel. It’s just how things tilt when attention becomes currency.
I’ve felt that tension firsthand. When a project I’m in gains momentum, people appear. When I’m working on something smaller and more personal, like The Twilight Tone, the vibe shifts. Not in a cold way, but you can sense the recalibration. Some folks see value through reach, not resonance. That’s the quiet cost of a culture built on visibility.
Personal Reality Check: Clout Isn’t Connection
When I was more active in certain goth circles, some connections felt genuine, but I’ve learned how easily visibility gets mistaken for value. Take Obscura Undead, a platform built largely around one personality. That’s not an insult, just reality. It gave the project reach, but it also shaped the community around a single voice, which made it hard for others to grow inside it.
I was offered the chance to take over their website when the organizer stepped back, but I turned it down. The Twilight Tone was just taking shape, and it was never meant to be an industry hub or a scene institution. It’s more personal: essays, reflections, and cultural commentary that stretch past goth into speculative fiction, film, and the ways we explore darkness in art.
There’s overlap between the audiences, sure, but they’re not the same. One is anchored inside the scene. The other looks at it from the edge. That’s fine by me. I’d rather build something that grows slow and honest than inherit a platform that doesn’t speak in my voice.
Finding Your Vibe Without Playing the Game
- Be a curator, not a consumer. Share what moves you, not what’s trending.
- Engage deeply, not loudly. Skip the hot takes. Bring something thoughtful.
- Celebrate newcomers. Someone discovering Bauhaus or Neon Genesis Evangelion today is just as valid as someone who’s been here since the ’80s.
- Value connection over recognition. Smaller circles, deeper bonds, passion that doesn’t need applause.
Cool isn’t exclusion. Cool isn’t performative inclusion either. Cool is finding your lane and living it so well that people want to ride along.
The Twilight Tone Take
The Twilight Tone has always aimed for that middle path: thoughtful fandom, not hype. Passion over posture. If cool is signal over noise, then it’s not about being first, loudest, or most visible. It’s about being real, even when that realness doesn’t trend.
Clout chasing is exhausting. Gatekeeping is corrosive. Both drain the joy from the very thing they claim to protect.
Authenticity, though? That sticks.
Cool isn’t about black nail polish or obscure trivia. It’s about being yourself so unapologetically that people want to orbit you. Stop chasing clout, stop demanding proof, and remember: subculture was never meant to be a leaderboard. Be the signal, not the noise.
Editor’s note: This piece began as a personal reflection on creative relationships and evolved into a wider look at authenticity within subculture and fandom.
thetwilighttone.com 