The Dream SMP Wasn’t Bad
Introduction
Part of the fan experience–for me at least—is rediscovering a fandom you used to love but haven't engaged with in a while. Last week I had that happen to me again while I was scrolling TikTok. I came across a clip from the QSMP (Quackity's Survival Multiplayer), a server made by the content creator Quackity to unite creators across language barriers by implementing systems that enable communication, such as live translation. More specifically, I saw the streamer TommyInnit whom I watched a few years back, talking to a Brazilian creator I'd never heard of before. I don't understand Portuguese, and the translation wasn’t always right, but it immediately evoked some of the same feelings as the Dream SMP once did. That server was a huge part of my life from 2020 through 2022. I watched streams every day, made friends through it, and created a lot of stuff because of it. Simultaneously, it’s something I've spent years being hesitant to discuss. The fandom gained a reputation so bad back in 2022 even my most open minded friends mocked it, and former fans today insist on trying to defend why they were “one of the good ones” or explain how much they regret such an embarrassing “phase.” I of course acknowledge there were issues within the community, as is the case for many internet fandoms. However, most of us DSMP fans were kids and teens that could've used guidance from outsiders on how to be better, not hate. Now I’m an adult, learning to love the parts of myself I once would’ve hid out of shame, and the QSMP has inspired me. So, in this post, I want to finally write down some of my thoughts on the Dream SMP. The good parts, the bad, and why it mattered all without wasting time on defending myself.
About The Dream SMP
Similar to the QSMP, the Dream SMP (DSMP) was created by the youtuber Dream back in 2020 to pass time playing Minecraft during Covid 19 lockdowns. Eventually, the introduction of streamers like TommyInnit and WilburSoot sparked a new style of gameplay based in storytelling. With that, the server grew fast, and the fandom even faster. More creators joined such as Tubbo, Technoblade, Quackity, Fundy, JSchlatt, Ranboo, and dozens more over the next two years. Each creator on the server played a fictionalized version of themselves and together roleplayed wars, elections, factions, and complex character arcs live on twitch. The plot was organized through a mix of loose scripting and improvisation. Major events were planned in advance, but dialogue and smaller moments were made up on the spot. It was described by Wired as digital live theater and by Polygon as similar to WWE in how performers play heightened versions of themselves.The resulting project contained thousands of hours of content telling a complex story across numerous platforms and creators.
Why Was It Special?
The DSMP wasn't special because it was particularly polished or professional. In fact, it was usually the opposite. It was special primarily because of how it brought creators and fans together in ways that hadn't really been done before. For one, because the server was being streamed from dozens of different perspectives at once, no two fans ever experienced the same story. During major lore events, my friend and I would have multiple streams open simultaneously. She'd monitor a few characters POV, I'd do the rest, and we'd text each other updates in real time about what the other was missing. Other people chose to watch a single streamer they connected with most. The perspective you picked changed who felt like the protagonist. Effectively, we became our own narrative directors without even realizing it.
It was also very fun when the DSMP creators took time to include the audience directly in lore. For example, polls were used frequently to make real decisions that affected the plot. Karl Jacobs' side series “Tales from the SMP” was story heavy, and part of what made it appealing despite disconnection from main plotlines was how he regularly let the audience decide what characters would do. The biggest example of polls was during the election arc in September 2020, during which viewers voted on Twitter for which party they wanted to win. The creators had prepared for every possible outcome beforehand, so the impact of the vote was very real. However, one of my personal favorite examples of audience inclusion on the DSMP was also the least direct one. In the lore, Technoblade's character was driven by voices in his head telling him to cause chaos—the fun part was that those voices were literally the stream chat. During his streams, viewers would spam messages like "BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD" and Techno would respond in character as if the voices were talking to him. It was a simple but brilliant metatextual choice that made the audience part of the story itself and Technoblade one of the most beloved creators on the DSMP.
Content creators aside, the art the DSMP fandom made was genuinely incredible. Some of the most beautiful fanworks I've ever seen came out of this community. Passerine, a fanfic by blujamas, is still one of the top-rated works on AO3 in 2026 with millions of hits. Fan artists developed an entire visual language combining Minecraft skins, lore details, and art styles from global media to depict the server and characters. The animator SAD-ist created videos that became so beloved by fans and creators alike they actually started influencing the server's lore. Streamers carved out time for solo character moments specifically because they knew she'd animate them, and more effort was put into set design. Technoblade was one of her most avid supporters, he even started recording audio separately just so she could use it without in-game noise interfering.
“War, such a small word for such a big thing. Death, such a small word for such a big thing. God, such a big word for such a small thing.”— blujamas, passerine
Technoblade Never Dies
If you haven't noticed by now how much I keep bringing up Technoblade, you will soon. There's a reason for that. For myself and many others, Technoblade epitomized everything that made the Dream SMP special. He was an established content creator with a background that helped him to understand story structure better than most people on the server, which was clear in his character's compelling arc. When Technoblade passed away from cancer in June 2022, it felt like the server lost its anchor. The fandom had already been declining, but his death was the nail in the coffin for many of us. It's hard to explain to someone who wasn't there how one Minecraft YouTuber could mean so much to so many people, but the millions of viewers, the tributes, the charity funds raised in his name in the years since are certainly a testament. “Technoblade never dies” used to be a funny one liner for a guy whose brand was defined by gaming prowess. Today, it refers to his ongoing legacy and the positive impact he left on gaming communities long after his passing.
The Complication
Thus far, I have discussed some of what made the DSMP so special to me during its prime. Now, I also think it is important to discuss the problematic side. This project wasn't just Technoblade, nor just the art and the community and the interactive storytelling. It was a product, had massive cultural influence, and at many times became a place where real harm was done to creators and fans alike. Fair warning: there arent any fun pictures for this section
During the DSMP and in the years after, some of the members on the server have turned out to be not so great individuals in their personal lives. This isn't unique to the DSMP—internet celebrities being disappointing is practically expected at this point—but it was and is a major problem and point of contention in the fandom. Dream, the server's creator, has a long history of problematic behavior. He has used slurs on Twitter, shown misogynistic attitudes behind the scenes, and repeated a pattern of manipulation that became more visible over time. TommyInnit has spoken at length about how Dream used his fame and ownership of the server as a means of exploitation, especially against the underage members. In early 2024, Shelby "Shubble" accused the member Wilbur Soot, her ex, of physical assault. She was backed by many former DSMP members, and Soot's career effectively ended not long after.
Another huge piece of the DSMP fandoms culture that I have not yet discussed is the parasocial relationships between fans and creators. These relationships are one-sided bonds where a fan extends emotional energy, interest, and time toward a creator who is unaware of their individual existence. Every celebrity has fans like this to some degree. However the Dream SMP was designed in such a way that actively encouraged these feelings. At its core, these relationships started with the server and its fandom providing a sense of community, friendship, and belonging that viewers—again, mostly teens and children—were desperately missing in their own lives at the time. Streamers engaged directly with their audience through live chats, shared personal details, and expressed love for viewers, creating an illusion of friendship that was easy to fall into and hard to recognize.
The result was a fandom generating an immense amount of incredible fan labor, supporting beloved creators and their fellow fans. At the same time, the intensity also led to a substantial toxic underbelly. Fans would attack other content creators, misconstruing banter and in-game conflict for real interpersonal issues. Some particularly avid fans engaged in cancel culture, death threats, and doxing against perceived enemies, to the extent that they started getting classified as “stans.” For those unfamiliar, this term comes from the 2000 Eminem song of the same name, about a fan named Stanley who spirals into dangerous, violent obsession after feeling ignored by his idol. DSMP fans saw "stan" used to describe enthusiastic fans and adopted it for themselves, ignorant of any history or context. From here, the fandom got stuck in a weird spot. Outsiders hated DSMP "stans" per the original definition of the word—those who were obsessive, dangerous, out of control. Meanwhile, insiders who reclaimed the term assumed they were the ones being attacked and got extremely defensive. The fandom's defensiveness was then used as further evidence that they were all toxic stans, and justification for the harassment they received.
Anti-Fandom
The last and perhaps worst thing to come out of the DSMP era was a final culmination of conflict between fans and outsiders: the anti-fandom. An anti-fandom is the opposite of a fandom, made up of individuals actively and emotionally invested in opposing a particular piece of media and/or its fans. I’d say the DSMP anti-fandom specifically was composed of several overlapping motivations. There were people who took legitimate issue with Dream's actions—such as the speedrun cheating scandal, his mishandling of controversies, the way he treated younger creators—and believed supporting his server was immoral. There were others who simply found the creators and fans annoying, cringe, and undeserving of the success and influence they had. And of course, there were plenty who joined in simply because hating on DSMP fans was fun and trendy at the time.
I have personally been in fandom from a very young age, and I can say with confidence that I have never witnessed an anti-fandom as passionate and loud as the DSMP’s was. Though they would argue otherwise, there was never any grounds for this kind of backlash. Every single large online community has problems, toxic behavior isn't at all unique to the DSMP. I'd actually argue that there are socially accepted spaces that are far more consistently harmful—games like Call of Duty and their fans' casual racism, homophobia, and harassment normalized as "just how it is." But those spaces don't get targeted the same way. The key difference with the DSMP was who the fans were.
This fandom was largely made up of kids and teenagers, like myself at the time. Most of us were girls, many proudly queer and/or neurodivergent, all being openly emotional about Minecraft roleplay. We had such a massive presence online that it was difficult to go anywhere without encountering somebody with a DSMP username or icon, and we’d consistently drive what was trending on Twitter. This combination made us an incredibly easy target for hatred entirely disproportionate to any actual harm caused.
Conclusion
The point of all this discussion is that the Dream SMP was more than its worst parts. What made it special—the interactivity, the community, the art—keeps getting buried under the scandal and the cringe label every time anyone tries to talk about it. As I've said, most of us were kids and teenagers in the middle of a pandemic, isolated from our friends, trying to find a community in the only place we could. Instead of guidance on how to navigate that, how to be ethical fans, recognize parasocial dynamics, and understand the history of fandom, we got hatred, mockery, and an entire community of people dedicated to putting us down.
I think that TikTok clip I mentioned earlier stuck with me because it's proof that something from the DSMP survived other than its terrible reputation. For years, I've been hesitant to talk about the Dream SMP. Even while writing this I have felt the old instinct to add disclaimers that frame myself as “one of the good ones.” I am going to keep pushing back against that reflex, both because I want to talk about it and because I think it needs to be. It mattered to me, to my friends, and to hundreds of thousands of other kids who found community there when they needed it most. It was messy, complicated and sometimes problematic, yes. But it was also special. I think both things can be true at once.
I'm grateful to have been part of the DSMP fandom and for how it shaped who I am today. Now I'm going to go watch some QSMP clips, maybe find a livestream to tune into, and let myself be excited about silly Minecraft fandom again without any disclaimers. You should too, if any of this resonated.
Much love,
Darge < 3
