A GLOWING CUBE sits in the centre of Makuhari Messe, one of Japan’s largest convention centres. As the crowd roars with excitement, Hoshimachi Suisei (pictured) emerges from the box wearing a short, frilly skirt and her signature blue hair artfully tied up. She kicks off the show with her hit song “Stellar Stellar” before dozens of other performers take turns singing, dancing and bantering with the audience. The thousands of fans in attendance could not care less that Ms Hoshimachi and her cohort are digital avatars.
These entertainers are known as “VTubers”—“virtual YouTubers”—and they do not show their real faces; instead, individuals often use motion-capture technology to superimpose their movements onto their cartoon avatars in real time. Though the biggest VTubers host concerts and events, most remain in the digital realm, livestreaming footage of themselves singing, chatting or playing video games.
The phenomenon started in Japan around a decade ago as a niche curiosity, but it has now spread across the world. It took off during the coronavirus pandemic, as people, particularly youngsters, went in search of entertainment and companionship online. According to Mordor Intelligence, a research firm, the global VTuber industry is worth an estimated $2.9bn and could reach $4.5bn by 2030.
Photograph: Cover
Japanese VTubers dominate, but other countries are getting in on the act. VTuber talent agencies such as Hololive Production have opened outposts in the West to target English-speaking audiences, with great success. Gawr Gura, an American whose avatar wears a shark costume, has 4.6m subscribers on YouTube: the most of any VTuber. (Her recent announcement that she would be retiring on May 1st has provoked much dismay.)
The rise of VTubers represents a mix of two Japanese cultural exports. One is
anime, the country’s homegrown style of animation, which has soared in popularity across the world in recent decades. (International streaming revenues are
expected to exceed $12bn by 2030, up from $3.7bn in 2023.) VTubers usually have the wide eyes and cutesy aesthetic typical of anime shows; they are like beloved cartoon characters that can talk back from the screen.
The other is Japan’s idol culture, in which fans develop intense emotional bonds with public figures. To deepen those bonds, idols often make themselves accessible to their fans at meet-and-greet events. VTubers have adapted this model to the digital realm by using lucrative “Super Chats”. During a livestream, fans can send a message with a tip, in the hope that the VTuber will respond. Minato Aqua, a Japanese VTuber who wears a sailor uniform, is estimated to have made more than $500,000 from Super Chats in 2024.
Some 70% of VTubers are female; the majority of their fans are male. The use of alternative personas allows VTubers to be themselves at the same time as it prevents admirers from getting too close. Patrick Galbraith of Senshu University in Tokyo notes that VTubers’ appeal lies in their “freewheeling” communication style: they may suddenly burst into song or shout random statements. Devoted fans, called “clippers”, turn these moments into short, shareable videos and add subtitles. Some clips get millions of views on platforms such as TikTok. Talent agencies, for their part, welcome clipping as free marketing.
Given that AI models can write songs, generate artwork and have realistic conversations, might VTubers be
replaced by AITubers? Neuro-sama, an AI VTuber who sports brown hair and bows, has a large following on Twitch, a livestreaming site; she plays video games and responds to fans with the help of AI models. By offering
round-the-clock amusement, AITubers can give more of what fans crave.
Yet the industry is sanguine about ai. Motoaki Tanigo, the boss of Cover Corporation, which owns Hololive Production, has said that “Fans are drawn to VTubers because they know there is a real person behind the screen, someone they can connect with, empathise with and support.” Studies show that attractive avatars lure viewers, but what keeps them watching is the
naka no hito: the person inside. ■