The answer: Phones evolved. New worlds are created. People became connected, impatient and inspired!
Let me explain.
Intro
Have you ever been in a conversation with someone, for in the end you think— “Wow, that was a waste of my time?” Or watch a movie, and think, what happened? The answer is yes. We all have been there one time or another. In this segment, we’ll focus on attention span, information delivery, and how technology has damaged or improved (depending how you look at it) our focus and demands.
We gained new access to people, media, and content—and with that came new demands and expectations. In a world where everything is easily accessible and abundant to select from. We have grown (or evolved) to learn or feel that if something doesn’t apply to us, we can just continue on. For there is or will be something ahead of us. But this isn’t a new concept. Instead it might just be disguised in a new format or delivered in a new way.
Short Form Content— A Look Back in History
For most of us, movies have always been a form of entertainment. A living, visual story. Before handheld phones, we consumed media in two places. We either left the comfort of our homes to go to a theater or in front of a television. Where we would need to go to a place to rent VHS tapes (or a physical form of streaming— for the youngins) that left a nostalgic and positive memory in our minds— it was called Blockbuster. But that’s a topic for another blog.
Even then, just the movie wasn’t enough. We needed to know if it was in our interest or worth our time to go out and see or rent it if it was available. Which is why we have “Movie Trailers”.
Original Shorts
What is a movie trailer? A movie trailer is a condensed version of the story, describing the plot and characters, and highlighting parts to influence someone to watch it. This is done in a fraction of the time of the movie itself; 1 to 2, 3 minutes max. But why?
It’s the only amount of time we give for it to tell and show us the information that will satisfy our decision. An early form of short content designed for quick decision-making. It has to catch our interest, the target point to influence someone’s decision. Plain and simple. It’s the same reason why you may be reading this post. Interest is the root cause of most decisions.
As time passed and technology evolved, the amount and how we consumed content has really been the only difference in what has changed. Access and capacity to create, has paved a new path for creators. Removing barriers that once only a few were able or had access, increasing the amount of supply available to the endless demand available for those consuming. This craving for condensed stories wasn’t new—it simply found a new home when a company decided to take the telephone to new heights
“A revolutionary and magical product” -Steve Jobs
Mobile phones have been around since the 80’s. Although it had one function—making calls. Then came “the indestructible brick” that with it was loaded with a game. The infamous “Snake”. But it wasn’t until a company named Macintosh—today known as Apple—delivered “a revolutionary and magical product” that changed the world we know today. The iPhone was a completely new kind of device—sleek, touch-based, and designed to be used without a stylus. It had an ecosystem that many seem to overlook. So why is this “ecosystem” so important to the iphone? It created a space for technology creators, developers, to come together and develop a new world for humans to live in. It started with Myspace and Facebook. Then came Gmail and YouTube—followed by Instagram, Vine, Pinterest, and now, TikTok. That ecosystem didn’t just give us apps—it gave us identities. A space where careers, trends, and even relationships now begin and grow. But think about it. We may not be inside these worlds physically. But make no mistake—we live in them, every single day.
The content didn’t change first—the container did.
Storytelling is more than entertainment. It’s a human technology—wired into our biology, emotions, and evolution. When done right, storytelling releases a mix of brain chemicals that help us connect, remember, and care. That’s powerful. (If you want to dive deeper into the topic of storytelling, check out our blog: “The Science Behind a Good Story: Why Storytelling Works and Why It Matters.”)
But access to stories—especially visual ones—wasn’t always as simple as pulling out your phone. There was a time when watching a video, on your terms, without negotiating what everyone else wanted to watch, was a luxury. To have that kind of control, you needed status. Money. A theater ticket. A home with a television. And even then, that TV wasn’t yours alone—it was shared. What you watched was whatever was available. The options were few.
And as for making videos? That wasn’t even a dream. That was a fantasy. Better to just consume.
A television without an antenna, cable box, or physical media player was just a monitor. But mobile devices changed that. Suddenly, you could wirelessly connect—receive and send information through the air. A thought once unthinkable. This led to the explosion of what we now call data—an invisible bridge carrying stories to us, anytime, anywhere. Go tell that to a caveman. As the devices improved, so did the demand for better infrastructure: faster speeds, broader access, stronger signals.
Why the way we tell stories shifted when the platform changed.
In the 1980s, a 20” television would cost you around $500—about $1,200 today, adjusted for inflation. Doesn’t sound too bad until you learn that the median income back then was just $21,020, according to the U.S. Census. In the 1990s, some TVs were priced around $20,000, dropping to $10,000 by the early 2000s. So yeah—TVs were a luxury.
And what were you paying for? Access to stories delivered to you by networks—large institutions with the power to distribute media to paying customers. It was expensive content delivered through expensive devices. Then came the ripple effects of the mobile device. Suddenly, the gatekeeper is gone. Consumers started demanding better infrastructure, choosing loyalty to the carriers who could actually deliver. It became a race to upgrade old systems fast enough to meet skyrocketing demand. Some might joke that it was like printing money—but it wasn’t that simple. It was a multimillion-dollar investment. And while all this was happening, another race was unfolding. Two individuals were innovating at the perfect time—just as people were gaining the power to connect, they needed ways and tools to actually do it. Tom (Myspace) and Mark (Facebook) were there to do it. Devices weren’t enough. People needed people. And to connect people, we needed platforms.
This is where the real shift happened: the rise of ecosystems. The App Store became the gateway—a space where digital products, applications, were offered that could do more than just entertain. They could connect, solve, and create. The things we now live inside of, every day.
Networks delivered a variety of content and stories. There were shows, news, and long-form visual stories—aka movies. While movies still held their place on a big stage and screen that enthusiasts went out to enjoy, convenience eventually won. At the end of the day, we appreciate comfort—and nothing beats being at home.
Technology and innovation reached a point where information could be delivered instantly, connecting people across vast distances. New digital spaces began to appear, offering access, connection, and the ability to react and engage like never before. New platforms and spaces emerged, giving us the ability to connect directly—and to tell our own stories. We became the producers. The content creators. We could now react, respond, and engage—shaping a new form of human behavior around content. New social norms were adopted—and embraced. We announced when we went to the gym, tagged who we were with, or shared a photo of our meal… all inside a newly created digital space.
Instagram has entered the chat.
Instagram is a space—an application that individuals use to connect on mobile devices. It allows us to take aesthetic photos, optimize them, and share them from wherever and whenever the opportunity arises. But why are we focusing on Instagram and not the others that came before it? The answer: how it’s used, and its native functionality.
In reality, Instagram was the first app whose primary function was to create and share. Myspace, Facebook, and others—even though they offered similar features—were used for communication: announcements, photo albums, building communities, etc. In comparison, Instagram was made for taking pictures and “instantly” sharing them—just like sending a traditional “telegram”. See what they did there. A snapshot of a moment in time. An unforgettable memory meant to last forever. Stored in your app. Listed on your profile. Not just for you—but for others connected to you too.
Video is King
Hardware can’t improve itself over the air—you have to buy the new version when it comes out. Applications, on the other hand, have this magical ability to keep things interesting compared to their competitive counterparts. Through over-the-air updates, new features are constantly rolled out, keeping users engaged and coming back for more.
Video had now been introduced as a new feature—able to be stored and played directly on devices. It was the next step in visual storytelling. Pictures can only show you so much. They’re restricted by the area they capture. Unlike video, where you can direct and control what’s shown, how it’s told, and where the story moves. But because video required stronger connectivity and bandwidth, it lagged behind images in usage. You had to be connected to Wi-Fi to watch without interruption—or settle for low quality. Capturing it had the same problem. It just wasn’t there yet. Unless you had a camcorder and uploaded it to a computer. But when that barrier was crossed—you noticed.
New applications like Vine and Snapchat emerged. Instagram updated with features to compete, mimicking elements from other rising platforms. The app was evolving. Competing. Trying to hold its users as new challengers entered the arena.
How we went from long-form blogs to 15-second videos
When using these apps, we’re consuming content that targets our emotions—without even knowing it. A meme or a video appears, and either you like it and watch it (a rewarding feeling), or you scroll past, landing on something else, chasing what you like and enjoy. Why do we do this? Well, when we see something rewarding—something we enjoy—a chemical is released in our brain. But when we don’t see what we’re looking for, that release doesn’t happen the same way. So why do we keep chasing it? Pleasure. Dopamine. It’s a chemical connected to the feeling of pleasure and reward. It makes you feel good. Satisfied. Like eating a Krispy Kreme or your treat of choice… without the treat itself. So we chase it. And because it’s easy to get, it can cause us to just keep going. Without stopping.
We saw similar behavior when people started binge-watching series on Netflix. You want to know what happens next—and it’s right there. No wait. No friction. The challenge of having to wait for what you want? Gone. In an Andrew Huberman podcast, with comedian Tom Segura, the conversation leads to a section about making jokes and testing them. The immediate reaction you receive from the audience. The anticipation of testing a joke in front of a live audience and receiving a reaction. You hear laughter—it confirms your assumption from your ideas. This serves as a comparison of why creators are always creating—they’re chasing that dopamine dump in the brain, the anticipation of imagining the assumed result to be received. It’s a satisfying end to a story. Chasing that feeling is an endless supply of intrinsic motivation carried within. Formally called—instant gratification.
Our shift from long format to short format is a complex explanation. It includes both the user perspective driving demand and the platform perspective delivering supply. Users exist in these spaces for a variety of reasons. People they interact with are one major influence. Others may include functionality, social status, or convenience of usage.
Take a look at Snapchat. From my own experience, after the company went public and needed to generate revenue, there was a noticeable overhaul to the user interface. Now to be fair, there were updates and facelifts before the IPO too—but after going public, something shifted. The app became a bit more complicated compared to the original, more intuitive experience. And I’m not the only one who noticed. I’ve heard similar thoughts from others over time, confirming it wasn’t just me.
Still, the app is far from dead. In fact, as of April 2025, Snapchat reported 460 million daily active users in Q1—an increase of 38 million, or 9% year-over-year. Sure, it might not be topping the charts like a few others out there, but the key thing here is consistency. Growth. Year over year. That matters. So what’s really going on? Short-form content works—not just because it’s fast—but because it taps into something deeper. Who we’ve become. Emotionally driven. Digitally connected. And constantly chasing moments that feel like they matter… even if they only last 15 seconds. We use what our people use. That’s just how we’re wired. It’s a form of social currency. Human behavior is about connection—seeking belonging, sharing space, participating in the story.
But let’s look from a different focal point. What about the businesses behind all this? Why do they keep building, optimizing, and evolving these platforms? Why the constant updates, features, and new formats? Simple answer: it pays.
In today’s world, attention is the new currency. Every second we spend watching, scrolling, or tapping feeds an entire ecosystem—creators, platforms, algorithms, and advertisers—all playing their part. It’s wild when you think about it. What feels like just another post or video is actually part of a bigger cycle—one built on connection, influence, and, yeah… profit. This is the world we’ve built. And whether we realize it or not, it’s also how we tell stories now.
The Modern Billboard
Advertising. It’s simple. It costs a lot of money to keep these platforms running flawlessly. So, in exchange for free usage, they show you ads—ads that businesses and brands pay to display in short, fast segments. Ads are seamlessly infused between the content you crave, without disrupting the dopamine-driven experience. With short-form content, both the dopamine hits and the ad slots are frequent—nearly endless. You feel in control, free to stop at any moment, and that keeps you from leaving. In a way, it’s a win-win for both the platform and the user. Users get a premium product for absolutely no monetary exchange. Or at least in theory. The currency has changed—something that seems to happen often in today’s society. Our attention has value, especially to those who want to communicate: marketers, brands. They’re the ones subsidizing the infrastructure. But without going too deep into that rabbit hole: currency doesn’t have to be traditional money. It just has to have value. But how is this done?
Platforms use an algorithm that calculates and decides what to show us next, increasing associated dopamine releases in the brain. These algorithms analyze our behavior—what we watch, like, skip, and rewatch—to predict and serve the next piece of content. The better the content delivery, the higher the quality of what’s shown—and the more likely we are to stay, engage, and consume. It’s in the platform’s best interest to keep the user happy by always testing and improving. They even use machine learning to constantly monitor and improve algorithms in real time. Why all this effort? This pleasure doesn’t satisfy like food does. When you eat, you get full—your body tells you to stop. But here, there’s no “full.” Just more pleasure. And because there’s an indirect transaction happening—a valuable emotional transaction—the user chooses to keep receiving the feeling. Because of its natural form—its length, timing, and speed of consumption—short-form content ensures the user receives more of that chemical, more often, in less time. Who doesn’t want that?
From another point of view, a new type of economy has emerged. One where a person can function as a network, individually. A creator. A content creator. This person becomes a storytelling machine—part of the living organism these apps have become. Like blood cells delivering oxygen, creators deliver content. What a time to be alive! As a content creator, you’re producing content—of any kind. Most focus on a niche, becoming experts in creating stories that users love. Since apps collect detailed user data, they can qualitatively measure the impact of what each creator makes. That alone is a breakthrough in technology: a system that can
A New Language for a New World
Short-form content isn’t just a trend—it’s the new language of the digital age. It works because it fits the world we’ve built: fast, emotional, mobile, and always on. Our devices evolved. Our platforms evolved. And we did too. It satisfies our brains, fuels business, and sustains culture—all in just seconds. Not because we’re shallow. But because we’re wired for stories that feel relevant, right now. Fifteen seconds may not seem like much. But in today’s world, it’s enough to teach, inspire, provoke, connect, and sometimes—change everything.
So why is short-form content so effective?
Because it doesn’t just meet us where we are. It’s who we are.