Seraphine and the Complications of Virtual Stardom

Seraphine:

The Complications of Virtual Stardom

by: Ethan Lam

On June 26th, two accounts under the handle “seradotwav” were registered on Twitter and Instagram by a user named Seraphine. The first post to both accounts was a trio of selfies captioned “hello world ” from Seraphine herself - a young woman with flowing pink and purple hair that covered parts of her face as she smiled at the camera. An accompanying tweet explained that she had started her accounts “to share music and hopefully connect with people :)”

In the following days and months, Seraphine would continue to post, revealing more and more about herself. Of the pictures she posted, some were of herself as a child, of her with her cat, of her journal entries and doodles, of candid polaroids, of her playing instruments, etc. She would tweet out her most random and sporadic thoughts - “today i learned some people cook rice on the stove????what,” “baddie of the week is Dr. Doofenshmirtz he knew what was up” - and retweet art and music that caught her eye. From time to time she would also release some covers of her own, including her take on Russian pop duo t.A.T.u’s 2002 hit “All the Things She Said.”

Based on this information alone, you could come to the conclusion that Seraphine is a typical young internet-savvy musician - she certainly tweeted and posted with all the casual, relatable, self-aware mannerisms of one. But Seraphine doesn’t actually exist - she is a virtual influencer, a digital avatar who posts to social media as if they were a real person. Fans began to speculate that Seraphine was actually an upcoming character in League of Legends - one of the most popular video games in the world - a theory that soon proved to be correct.

While the idea of a virtual pop star or virtual influencer is still a bit novel, it certainly isn’t unheard of. In fact, Seraphine wasn’t even Riot Games’ – the company behind League of Legends – first foray into the world of music and virtual influencers. Using the game’s characters as band members, Riot has produced 3 different groups, the most successful of which is 2018’s K/DA, a virtual K-pop group whose 4 members are voiced by Soyeon and Miyeon of (G) I-DLE, Madison Beer, and Jaira Burns. The group’s return this year was tied in with the release of Seraphine, who helped “produce” their new EP and featured on lead single MORE. Some virtual pop stars have become normalized and present within the popular music canon. Blur’s Damon Albarn and artist Jamie Hewlett teamed up to form Gorillaz in 1998, a virtual band that has achieved massive success over the course of two decades. And Hatsune Miku - a holographic “Vocaloid” who sings with a fully synthesized voice - is a pop culture icon in Japan who has played on Letterman, opened for Lady Gaga, and toured globally (she was even supposed to play Coachella this year.) Virtual pop stars aren’t all that common, but listeners are generally open-minded enough to accept them. At the very least, they won’t immediately roll their eyes at the concept.

This is all to say that it wasn’t the inherent “weirdness” of the virtual star concept that, in October, suddenly thrust Seraphine under the scrutiny of the internet. She isn’t even the first virtual star to use social media like a real person might – that honour goes to influencer Lil Miquela, who started posting in 2016. Instead, Seraphine began to draw the ire of an audience beyond the League of Legends player base after she began to tweet about her “struggles” with imposter syndrome, anxiety, and self-doubt.

On October 10th, Seraphine tweeted: “we’re going to shanghai [The location of this year’s League world championship] in 2 days and it’s finally setting in, all at once. i’ve been working so hard, and i’ve been trying my best to love myself, but i still can’t find the confidence i need… i’m realizing that i can’t do this alone. and maybe i need to be the one to ask for help... so could you give me some encouraging words? i need something to believe in right now.” It wasn’t the first time that she tweeted about struggling with her mental health, but this particular tweet drew widespread attention to her. Replies varied between words of encouragement and affirmation, critiques of Riot over the ethics of this marketing technique, and expressions of disbelief at the users who replied to Seraphine as if she were a real person. “you really just typed a whole essay out for a fictional ad campaign for a video game,” one user wrote in response to another.

Perhaps Seraphine is reflective of something more pertinent than an extension of “woke” and “relatable brand” capitalism. The Seraphine project illustrates how

MELISMA | WINTER 2020 | 9 I do not mean to suggest that artists undertake these actions to gain attention on social media, or that their social media personalities and music are artificially tailored for the sole purpose of increasing the size of their fanbase and their sales figures. For many musicians, navigating these increasingly interactive relationships with their fans comes rather easily, and they genuinely enjoy enhanced levels of communication with their fans. Regardless, these actions lend them qualities of openness and honesty that subsequently increase their authenticity. But the fact that marketers have identified this authenticity and openness as a central trait of modern-day musicians is worrying. It’s indicative of how the culture of authenticity that we’ve built up has become a parody of itself, as evidenced by some of the overly adoring responses to Seraphine’s tweets. What originally facilitated the expression of real feelings and thoughts of real-life musicians hwwas virtually become its own pure simulacrum. It is the job of advertisers to figure out how to lend products and brands an air of authenticity, and they’ve managed to draw inspiration from modern-day musicians and the fan cultures that surround them. Perhaps fans need to take a step back and reevaluate exactly why they appreciate musicians, and the ways in which they express that appreciation. Seraphine is only the latest figure in a surprisingly long line of virtual musicians. In all honesty, she’ll likely be remembered as nothing more than a minor footnote in the wider history of the concept. But the controversy over her has set the precedent for future virtual musicians, which we will undoubtedly see more of in the coming years. Spirit Bomb – a “virtual artist label” from media production company Strangeloop Studios – completed a seven-figure pre-seed funding round earlier this year, receiving backing from companies such as Warner Music and Chinatown Market, just to name a few. And Braud, the media company responsible for Lil Miquela, raised $30 million in venture funding. As long as the teams behind virtual musicians and influencers try to emulate the authenticity of human musicians, the world will continue to see more Seraphines.

contemporary ideals of authenticity have intensified the parasocial relationship between musicians and fans – how fans have placed increased expectations on their favourite musicians to “be themselves,” and how as a result, these fans feel like they personally know their favourite artists inside and out. It could be argued that the relationship between fan and musician has always been parasocial. The appeal of a musician – through both their music and their public persona – is often tied to their marketability, and thus, their ability to generate income. Once a fan feels as if they relate to a musician, they are more likely to support the artist financially. However, this relationship has become increasingly intertwined with notions of authenticity. As Nancy K. Baym notes in “The Perils and Pleasures of Tweeting with Fans,” “fans identify with musicians because of the felt authenticity of the connection forged through music. As a result, authenticity can paradoxically be an important branding strategy.” Even though authenticity humanizes the artists who we so frequently place on pedestals, it actually has the contradictory effect of increasing the intensity of our fandom and adoration. There are many ways that musicians increase their authenticity, especially via social media. They are expected to constantly share things other than music – behind-the-scenes content, vlogs, pictures of their personal lives, etc – with their fans. They are increasingly outspoken about social issues, a behaviour that most popular musicians of the past avoided for the sake of their marketability. And through social media or their music, many are vocal about their mental health.