Tier lists.

Orc daddies. Protagoras.

Of all the time-wasting, navel-gazing crap I find myself watching and reading on the internet, I’d rank tier lists as an S. They’re a species in the family of general rankings, like greatest movie one-liners and top ten anime betrayals, but how this particular formula manages to be so appealing and attention-stealing eludes me. Why am I intrigued at all by how some guy on YouTube ranks 391 Animal Crossing characters—and then why do I find myself clicking on another video when his mother does it? I have no connection to these people. All I can say is that I like seeing how they rank things. It doesn’t really matter what the subject is, how thoroughly earnest* or clearly ironic or comically absurd—as long as I’m familiar with it, there is an inherent satisfaction in observing others as they parse a set of things into a hierarchy of value. 

It’s easy content for creators, to be sure. Open the doc, turn on the camera, and start putting things in order—any order. Lists that conform completely to expectation or revel in controversial takes are equally engaging, albeit for totally different reasons. Some have even turned the gimmick into their entire brand. There’s something deliciously simple about it—give this thing a ranking, tell us if it’s it good or bad (and how good, how bad). The exercise begins when we’re  children and they ask us: What’s your favorite food? Or: What animal do you like best? Now you can even turn it into a game show, a way to win a horoscopic revelation of your alternate universe self. 

Declaring your preferences isn’t just content for the internet—it’s code for our identity. Where we rank our favorite movies, places to eat, activities, etc. is a constant litmus test of compatibility with neighbors, friends, lovers. One or two incongruencies is cute—can you believe he thinks X is better than Y? What a goofball—but stray too far from alignment and you’ve got a problem. Because ranking isn’t just about preference—it’s indicative of taste and judgment. 

At its most fundamental, a tier list is really a sizing up of the world, a reflection of not only how we see it, but how we value it. How we value it in turn being a way of defining ourselves: the ranking as a tacit acknowledgment of how we will prioritize and pursue life and all its possibilities. After all, man is the measure of all things. Then there is the additional voyeuristic gratification in observing an act of ranking, an allure to being ranked vicariously, the things we love and hate as proxies for our most basic and familiar interiority. Only God can judge, but hey—why not try your hand at it anyway?

*Note: The video linked here is from a creator with allegations against them. You can read more here.