MrBeast vs. Hollywood: Vertical Video Stars Upend the Media Establishment

Max Sterling, 12/5/2025 Media’s in full vertigo: legacy outlets scramble for relevance via vertical video, creators rule the scroll, and prediction markets gamify the news. Nostalgia’s a luxury—survival is snackable, swipeable, and bettable. Welcome to the brave new world where the medium is the message, and the message is a wager.

It all happens with a kind of urgency that can only come from real fear—the kind that turns “strategy” meetings into something more akin to a high-stakes improv workshop. TikTok, once dismissed as kids lip-syncing in their bedrooms, now defines how billions consume news and entertainment. And let’s not forget YouTube, that perennial shapeshifter, quietly clocking nearly 13% of US TV-screen time. When you compare that to Netflix’s Squid Game, which once felt like the unassailable Goliath at 1.65 billion hours in a month, it’s clear the rules have changed.

The old guard isn’t going quietly. Take Time magazine—a publication with more sepia-toned history than most—now splashing “Bytes” all over its articles (a move surely named to seduce at least one generation raised on dad jokes and download bars). Even CNN, never shy about riding a trend, has peppered its app with “Shorts”—a term that would make any cable executive from 2015 squirm. Swipeable, snack-sized video isn’t just for teens and tweens anymore. According to a recent blizzard of stats, a solid chunk of US adults (and an even bushier wedge of the under-30 crowd) get their daily fix from creators rather than crusty anchors. Among those under 35 using social media, mainstream news is holding on by a thread—if “thread” means that creators are currently nudging ahead, 48% to 41%. Publishers, in other words, have stopped waiting for a warning bell. The whole aviary has flown the coop.

But video isn’t simply replacing text. It’s devouring it. The vertical format, once a TikTok novelty, is now the assumption—an eyebrow-singeing testament to the tyranny of the thumb-scroll. Mark Howard at Time summed it up with a nervous sort of pride: meet people where their fingertips are. Consumer “experience” reigns supreme, which probably explains why video ads—now costing advertisers 25–40% more than staid display units—are lashed to every page like lifeboats on the Titanic. After all, in this world, the only real currency is attention (or perhaps, the illusion of it).

On second thought, though, there’s more at play than just jostling for engagement. AI has crept into the equation, leeching off original reporting with the quiet persistence of a thousand tapeworms. Suddenly, defending your traffic against the algorithm isn't just a matter of brand pride; it's survival. Andrew Perlman at Recurrent Ventures didn’t dance around it: investing in vertical video is about fending off AI search tools that threaten to reroute users before they ever lay eyes on a home-baked headline. “All the company’s business growth is in video and experiential.” A little chilly, but in the current climate, who isn’t cold?

Meanwhile, while publishers try to outfox the bots, there’s a new show in town—prediction markets. Kalshi and Polymarket, once dismissed as financial curiosities, are now bedding down with household news brands. Imagine placing a wager on tomorrow’s headlines, not at the corner shop but right alongside analysis from CNBC or CNN. For some, it’s democratizing event prediction (for others, it feels like gambling’s uncanny cousin). Kalshi’s dance with the Commodity Futures Trading Commission has emboldened its backers, teeing up more friction with state regulators who’ve never been wild about casinos masquerading as exchanges. Lawsuits swirl; a Supreme Court appearance looms. All that’s missing is a John Grisham cameo and a slow pan across courtroom steps.

But let’s be honest—the real action sits somewhere between the boardroom and a gamer’s lair. Consider MrBeast, an avatar of this new YouTube empire. With billions of eyeballs and a bankroll powered more by algorithmic mastery than old-fashioned studios, this new generation outpaces not just Hollywood’s output, but its very definition of what content is. Xbox’s Matt Booty (yes, that’s his real name) offered a sobering admission: “gaming’s competition is not other gaming. Gaming’s competition is short-form video.” Netflix no longer battles HBO on Thursday nights; everyone, everywhere, battles for the next swipe.

All told, consumers walk through this landscape a little dazzled, maybe a bit dazed. News stories, once parsed in the evening paper or a trusted anchor’s monotone, now cycle through our feeds—sliced, diced, and delivered in vertical parcels, ready for instant consumption. Articles become clips, episodes dissolve into “Bytes,” and the boundaries that separated news, entertainment, and a quick flutter on future outcomes have all but disappeared.

Might there be a note of nostalgia in the air? It’s hard not to pine a little for simpler times, when the TV schedule told you what was important and the bookie stayed off the front page. If the current moment feels both inevitable and curiously disposable, perhaps that’s just the pace of change in 2025—where the pivot isn’t strategy anymore. It’s the whole damn performance.

So yes, let the legacy outlets fight for oxygen, let the vertical videos climb higher, and let following the crowd’s bets replace—if not outwit—the careful art of reporting. The future isn’t just televised; it streams, scrolls, and bets… all on a vertical screen that never seems to blink.

The media landscape, once thought solid as granite, now shudders and cracks beneath the weight of shifting audience habits—if tectonic plates could spin on fidget spinners, they might look a bit like today’s publishers scrambling after the next shiny format. A few years ago, every newsroom was obsessed with homepages, paywalls, and “pivoting to video”—remember that old refrain? These days, it feels more like flinging everything at the vertical video wall to see which format leaves a mark.It all happens with a kind of urgency that can only come from real fear—the kind that turns “strategy” meetings into something more akin to a high-stakes improv workshop. TikTok, once dismissed as kids lip-syncing in their bedrooms, now defines how billions consume news and entertainment. And let’s not forget YouTube, that perennial shapeshifter, quietly clocking nearly 13% of US TV-screen time. When you compare that to Netflix’s Squid Game, which once felt like the unassailable Goliath at 1.65 billion hours in a month, it’s clear the rules have changed.The old guard isn’t going quietly. Take Time magazine—a publication with more sepia-toned history than most—now splashing “Bytes” all over its articles (a move surely named to seduce at least one generation raised on dad jokes and download bars). Even CNN, never shy about riding a trend, has peppered its app with “Shorts”—a term that would make any cable executive from 2015 squirm. Swipeable, snack-sized video isn’t just for teens and tweens anymore. According to a recent blizzard of stats, a solid chunk of US adults (and an even bushier wedge of the under-30 crowd) get their daily fix from creators rather than crusty anchors. Among those under 35 using social media, mainstream news is holding on by a thread—if “thread” means that creators are currently nudging ahead, 48% to 41%. Publishers, in other words, have stopped waiting for a warning bell. The whole aviary has flown the coop.But video isn’t simply replacing text. It’s devouring it. The vertical format, once a TikTok novelty, is now the assumption—an eyebrow-singeing testament to the tyranny of the thumb-scroll. Mark Howard at Time summed it up with a nervous sort of pride: meet people where their fingertips are. Consumer “experience” reigns supreme, which probably explains why video ads—now costing advertisers 25–40% more than staid display units—are lashed to every page like lifeboats on the Titanic. After all, in this world, the only real currency is attention (or perhaps, the illusion of it).On second thought, though, there’s more at play than just jostling for engagement. AI has crept into the equation, leeching off original reporting with the quiet persistence of a thousand tapeworms. Suddenly, defending your traffic against the algorithm isn't just a matter of brand pride; it's survival. Andrew Perlman at Recurrent Ventures didn’t dance around it: investing in vertical video is about fending off AI search tools that threaten to reroute users before they ever lay eyes on a home-baked headline. “All the company’s business growth is in video and experiential.” A little chilly, but in the current climate, who isn’t cold?Meanwhile, while publishers try to outfox the bots, there’s a new show in town—prediction markets. Kalshi and Polymarket, once dismissed as financial curiosities, are now bedding down with household news brands. Imagine placing a wager on tomorrow’s headlines, not at the corner shop but right alongside analysis from CNBC or CNN. For some, it’s democratizing event prediction (for others, it feels like gambling’s uncanny cousin). Kalshi’s dance with the Commodity Futures Trading Commission has emboldened its backers, teeing up more friction with state regulators who’ve never been wild about casinos masquerading as exchanges. Lawsuits swirl; a Supreme Court appearance looms. All that’s missing is a John Grisham cameo and a slow pan across courtroom steps.But let’s be honest—the real action sits somewhere between the boardroom and a gamer’s lair. Consider MrBeast, an avatar of this new YouTube empire. With billions of eyeballs and a bankroll powered more by algorithmic mastery than old-fashioned studios, this new generation outpaces not just Hollywood’s output, but its very definition of what content is. Xbox’s Matt Booty (yes, that’s his real name) offered a sobering admission: “gaming’s competition is not other gaming. Gaming’s competition is short-form video.” Netflix no longer battles HBO on Thursday nights; everyone, everywhere, battles for the next swipe.All told, consumers walk through this landscape a little dazzled, maybe a bit dazed. News stories, once parsed in the evening paper or a trusted anchor’s monotone, now cycle through our feeds—sliced, diced, and delivered in vertical parcels, ready for instant consumption. Articles become clips, episodes dissolve into “Bytes,” and the boundaries that separated news, entertainment, and a quick flutter on future outcomes have all but disappeared.Might there be a note of nostalgia in the air? It’s hard not to pine a little for simpler times, when the TV schedule told you what was important and the bookie stayed off the front page. If the current moment feels both inevitable and curiously disposable, perhaps that’s just the pace of change in 2025—where the pivot isn’t strategy anymore. It’s the whole damn performance.So yes, let the legacy outlets fight for oxygen, let the vertical videos climb higher, and let following the crowd’s bets replace—if not outwit—the careful art of reporting. The future isn’t just televised; it streams, scrolls, and bets… all on a vertical screen that never seems to blink.