From picturesque pints to Twin Peaks fandom: The era of post-TVC creativity

"It's such a sadness that you think you've seen a film on your f**ing telephone. Get real." – David Lynch 

I wonder if David Lynch ever saw #TwinPeaksAesthetic on TikTok or listened to Twin Peaks Core on Spotify… 

The effort it took to uncover the details made you even more invested; you’d really earned it; and the more time you spent in that online world, the more engaged you felt. 

Either way, it’s undeniable that this is the latest formulation of the fandom that has evolved around the series over the last 30 years. Twin Peaks’ dedicated cult following first emerged online, in tandem with the televised series. 

Starting on Usenet and AltTV, hundreds of forum pages on an early dial-up internet would discuss every mysterious detail and argue over plotlines. Over the years, this moved to LiveJournal and then Reddit, before making the inevitable shift into mainstream social media, ultimately being turbocharged by modern platforms. 

Above: David Lynch, co-creator of Twin Peaks – a series that transformed a decades-long internet fandom.

In the late 90s, The Blair Witch Project pushed this further. Long before streaming or second screens, the team launched blairwitch.net, a primitive website filled with fake evidence, “discovered footage” and chatrooms where users debated details and clues, blurring the lines between fact and fiction and in doing so, helping to invent online world-building. 

Television has effectively become a “choose your own adventure” experience, and the shows themselves now facilitate that dual-screen instinct.

A personal favourite and an early inspiration was Gorillaz’ Kong Studios, an interactive Flash website that allowed fans to explore a haunted recording studio, create remixes, and uncover hidden lore in chatrooms. It felt like you were discovering clues and finding the community yourself. The effort it took to uncover the details made you even more invested; you’d really earned it; and the more time you spent in that online world, the more engaged you felt. 

Fast-forward to today and that behaviour hasn’t changed, but the tools have. The difference is that now the conversation doesn’t happen in one place. It happens everywhere, all at once: in Instagram comments, Reddit threads, Discord servers and TikTok stitches. Entertainment no longer exists in isolation; it exists in collaboration. 

Above: British virtual band Gorillaz have recently relaunched an updated version of Kong Studios, an interactive Flash website that allowed fans to uncover hidden lore.

We used to talk about “water-cooler moments”, the next-day debrief after a big show. Now, the water-cooler moment happens in tandem with the show. Viewers live-comment on Love Island, dissect every Married at First Sight storyline on Reddit and remix moments into memes before the credits roll. Storylines, spoilers and side-plots all collide in real time, layered across multiple screens. 

That shift has quietly reshaped the craft of storytelling itself. Scriptwriters now write with fandom in mind, seeding Easter eggs for the communities that will inevitably find them. Even reality-TV producers have adapted, repeating scenes, throwing forward and recapping every 10 minutes to keep dual-screen audiences hooked. 

The rise of behind-the-scenes storytelling, creator POVs and community-led campaigns shows that rawness is often the new refinement.

While catering for shorter attention spans in audiences might feel like a shame, there is something to be said for the new way people engage with television. Looking up contestants on Married at First Sight while watching it makes it so much better. Viewers scroll through contestants' social feeds and watch them call each other out for boxing matches that will never happen. Television has effectively become a “choose your own adventure” experience, and the shows themselves now facilitate that dual-screen instinct. TV hasn’t disappeared; it has simply learned to share the stage. 

The same is true for brands. A campaign isn’t a 30-second spot anymore; it’s an ecosystem. The billboard you walk past, the BVOD ad you half-watch on the train and the TikTok you scroll to seconds later are all part of the same creative universe. The most successful brands aren’t just running ads; they’re building worlds that people want to explore and see themselves reflected in. These aren’t isolated moments; they’re part of a bigger story. The billboard has to talk to the TikTok. The TikTok has to talk to the event; if it doesn’t all ladder up to the same story, you lose people halfway. 

Above: Viewers now scroll through reality TV contestant's social media pages while watching live episodes.

The craft conversation often centres on polish, but in the Not TV era, it’s about engagement. Every frame needs to earn its place, and the most powerful ones are often the least polished. Lo-fi videos, fan edits or creator collaborations can feel more ‘true’ than a glossy cinematic cut-down because they’re made with people, not just for them (or even at them). 

That doesn’t mean the standards are lower; it means they’re higher. You can’t hide behind production value anymore. If the story doesn’t land, the audience moves on. You’ve got three seconds to make them care. 

You can’t buy fame anymore; you have to earn it. That doesn’t mean chasing trends; it means building stories worth joining.

The creative work that stands out today tends to share a few traits. It’s frictionless: ideas that travel fast, invite interaction and feel native to social. From Oatly’s physical prop creation, designed to create engagement and shares, to Burberry’s elevated lo-fi executions, this creative work doesn't feel like advertising, because no one goes on Instagram to watch adverts. Guinness’ Pint of View started as a social idea, reimagining the pint as a perspective, and became a tactile, shareable product, with Guinness beermats showing up across pubs and feeds alike. Everyone can create their own content and become part of the brand. 

It needs to be authentic: people can spot contrivance instantly. The rise of behind-the-scenes storytelling, creator POVs and community-led campaigns shows that rawness is often the new refinement. And it’s connected: every asset adds to the narrative. Great campaigns now think like cinematic universes; modular, interconnected and self-referential. 

Above: Guinness’ Pint of View started as a social idea, reimagining the pint as a perspective, and became a tactile, shareable product. 

For marketers, the lesson is to stop thinking in single screens. Audiences are already designing the sequel while you’re still writing the pilot. A campaign that invites response and reinterpretation will always travel further than one that simply instructs. 

Every frame has to do something: make you feel something, make you share it, make you look twice. That’s not less craft, it’s more. 

You can’t buy fame anymore; you have to earn it. That doesn’t mean chasing trends; it means building stories worth joining. The brands that thrive in this ‘Not TV’ world are the ones comfortable with sharing the creative process with their communities, responding to what their customers want and allowing audiences to write part of the script. The best ideas multiply when they meet culture. 

It’s time to challenge the idea that we’re creating for a passive audience. Every interaction is an active decision, and creativity has to work harder to earn it. Craft was never tied only to a high-production TV ad or a beautiful billboard, but that’s never been more relevant than it is now. The same principles still apply – clarity, story and emotion – but we need to think about how the work resonates in the real world.