It is June 2018, and I am sitting at a table in a needlessly fancy restaurant in LA with a bunch of teenagers. Well, some of them must be over 21 as they are able to order alcohol, but most are sticking to Coke or sparkling water with their overpriced steaks. These are some of the up-and-coming stars of Twitch, the livestreaming platform that now broadcasts about 2bn hours per month from more than 9m channels, most of which involve people filming themselves and chatting while playing video games. Later, there will be a lavish party in a similarly extravagant club, where the streamers with the most views and subscribers will be treated like celebrities in the VIP area. And, well, they are celebrities.

If you're in a household with teenage video game players, you will know the sound of Twitch streamers and YouTubers. Right now, my sons seem to live on a steady media diet of wildly enthusiastic young men, playing the same games, in the same ways, using the same slang. Over lockdown I have heard the words "What's up?" and "like and subscribe" enough times to last me until the heat death of the universe. Last weekend, my wife emerged from my youngest son's bedroom and said to me, between clenched teeth: "Is there no one different for them to watch?" And true, from the outside, game streaming can seem like a monoculture, dominated by energy drink-sponsored dudebros.