Anime culture in the 2000s was connected to the development of the Internet.
Piracy was on the rise as the only accessible way to watch the shows. YouTube propelled the creation of AMVs.
Crunchyroll started as a site with pirated anime. Subs and dubs were made by enthusiasts and filled with funny moments.
Currently, anime is much more widely available, and the sense of community changed as the Internet has evolved.
There's something that people who became interested in anime in the 2000s have in common. Most of them found out about anime through the Internet: they got their broadband (or dial-up, or ADSL) connection, plunged into the wild World Wide Web, and were floored by the amount of information available just on the tips of their fingers.
It started with the memes. It always starts with memes, they're the easy way to lure people into getting interested in something, and the early Internet was already flooded with them. Granted, the shelf life of memes was much longer back then, Haruhi Suzumiya's dance staying relatable for years, CaramellDansen was blasting from the speakers at every convention, and Orihime spinning leeks was jumpscaring people on many forums.
Can't buy it? Just find a friend who has it!
Piracy was on the rise. This early Internet was not really legally regulated in terms of copyright, and downloading new episodes didn't feel like a bad thing. Getting the originals from Japan was nearly impossible, as the country was pretty closed off, as the majority of the shops were downright refusing shipping goods to other countries, their understanding of user-friendly web design was pretty unique (and stays like that even in 2023), and there were not many mail-forwarders available that were ready to help you receive your goods.
So people resorted to whatever was available. They exchanged CDs, later DVDs, and then HDDs filled with content. They organized servers for local networks filled with shows with additional subtitle files — not integrated ones. When YouTube was launched and had a 10-minute cut-off, people were watching the shows with the episodes divided into three parts. Sometimes part 2 was missing. Sometimes the only available part had hard-coded subtitles in a different language.
Rise of YouTube and streaming
YouTube aided in the popularity of AMVs — anime music videos, ones that are now labeled as edits. There were even worldwide contests that featured works from prominent editors. AMVs were a great source of new music to add to the library. Who would've known that The Prodigy would work so well with Neon Genesis Evangelion? And if your anime didn't have an AMV with a Disturbed or Linkin Park song on YouTube, did this anime even exist at all? The staple for the shipping videos was Everytime We Touch.
The site that we now know as Mega was called Megaupload back then and was used to extensively share goods between people. Its side project, Megavideo, was one of the first streaming sites, but it had a 72-minute long streaming limit — then you had to either wait for an hour or create an account in order to keep watching.
Downloading new episodes was a challenge, as the speeds were slow, and sometimes it took a whole night for a 200 MB episode to download. Sometimes downloads failed. Sometimes the episodes were neatly divided into five archives to meet the upload quota of the file-sharing site, and one of the archives would get corrupted. The traffic wasn't unlimited back then, not everywhere.
Then the torrents came, and life became a little bit easier.
Crunchyroll was one of the sites with pirated anime. It's legal now, but its roots are buried in this 2000s anime culture that was built upon pirated content. Dattebayo ripped all of the Crunchyroll uploads and put up a torrent link.
Thank your fansubbers!
There were subgroups of enthusiasts who were spewing out subtitles the next day after the episode was released — all for free. And seeing that a subgroup was picking up a show that you were interested in filled you with relief: you surely will be able to watch it, because the official release may never come. Fandubs filled you with cringe and giggles.
The strongest community bonds
Forums were on the rise, too. The heated discussions, threads with arts, a dedicated section for NSFW stuff and headcanons — every show had its own little community, instead of the handful of bloated social media sites we have now. Another method of communication was IRC. The strength and knowledge lied in the communities that people built and supported through their own power. Those who were able to go to Japan were bombarded with requests for figurines and disks and usually were able to bring something that was not yet available online — but it was immediately shared with others.
The number of shows being released every season was significantly smaller, and every single one was an object of interest for those who were a part of the culture in general. People were able to consume it all but focus on something that caught their interest. They were building their overall anime knowledge, so to speak, while having time to indulge in the activities of the specific fandom.
The current landscape makes anime a part of a general culture instead of a marginalized one, making it much more easily accessible, but this ease dilutes the sense of community that people felt back then. Then again, it's a very organic evolution of anime consumption, as it changes along with the Internet. We're terribly online now, and so is anime. Is it good?
A little cup of nostalgia.
Summary:
Anime culture in the 2000s was connected to the development of the Internet.
Piracy was on the rise as the only accessible way to watch the shows. YouTube propelled the creation of AMVs.
Crunchyroll started as a site with pirated anime. Subs and dubs were made by enthusiasts and filled with funny moments.
Currently, anime is much more widely available, and the sense of community changed as the Internet has evolved.
There's something that people who became interested in anime in the 2000s have in common. Most of them found out about anime through the Internet: they got their broadband (or dial-up, or ADSL) connection, plunged into the wild World Wide Web, and were floored by the amount of information available just on the tips of their fingers.
It started with the memes. It always starts with memes, they're the easy way to lure people into getting interested in something, and the early Internet was already flooded with them. Granted, the shelf life of memes was much longer back then, Haruhi Suzumiya's dance staying relatable for years, CaramellDansen was blasting from the speakers at every convention, and Orihime spinning leeks was jumpscaring people on many forums.
Can't buy it? Just find a friend who has it!
Piracy was on the rise. This early Internet was not really legally regulated in terms of copyright, and downloading new episodes didn't feel like a bad thing. Getting the originals from Japan was nearly impossible, as the country was pretty closed off, as the majority of the shops were downright refusing shipping goods to other countries, their understanding of user-friendly web design was pretty unique (and stays like that even in 2023), and there were not many mail-forwarders available that were ready to help you receive your goods.
So people resorted to whatever was available. They exchanged CDs, later DVDs, and then HDDs filled with content. They organized servers for local networks filled with shows with additional subtitle files — not integrated ones. When YouTube was launched and had a 10-minute cut-off, people were watching the shows with the episodes divided into three parts. Sometimes part 2 was missing. Sometimes the only available part had hard-coded subtitles in a different language.
Rise of YouTube and streaming
YouTube aided in the popularity of AMVs — anime music videos, ones that are now labeled as edits. There were even worldwide contests that featured works from prominent editors. AMVs were a great source of new music to add to the library. Who would've known that The Prodigy would work so well with Neon Genesis Evangelion? And if your anime didn't have an AMV with a Disturbed or Linkin Park song on YouTube, did this anime even exist at all? The staple for the shipping videos was Everytime We Touch.
The site that we now know as Mega was called Megaupload back then and was used to extensively share goods between people. Its side project, Megavideo, was one of the first streaming sites, but it had a 72-minute long streaming limit — then you had to either wait for an hour or create an account in order to keep watching.
Downloading new episodes was a challenge, as the speeds were slow, and sometimes it took a whole night for a 200 MB episode to download. Sometimes downloads failed. Sometimes the episodes were neatly divided into five archives to meet the upload quota of the file-sharing site, and one of the archives would get corrupted. The traffic wasn't unlimited back then, not everywhere.
Then the torrents came, and life became a little bit easier.
Crunchyroll was one of the sites with pirated anime. It's legal now, but its roots are buried in this 2000s anime culture that was built upon pirated content. Dattebayo ripped all of the Crunchyroll uploads and put up a torrent link.
Thank your fansubbers!
There were subgroups of enthusiasts who were spewing out subtitles the next day after the episode was released — all for free. And seeing that a subgroup was picking up a show that you were interested in filled you with relief: you surely will be able to watch it, because the official release may never come. Fandubs filled you with cringe and giggles.
The strongest community bonds
Forums were on the rise, too. The heated discussions, threads with arts, a dedicated section for NSFW stuff and headcanons — every show had its own little community, instead of the handful of bloated social media sites we have now. Another method of communication was IRC. The strength and knowledge lied in the communities that people built and supported through their own power. Those who were able to go to Japan were bombarded with requests for figurines and disks and usually were able to bring something that was not yet available online — but it was immediately shared with others.
The number of shows being released every season was significantly smaller, and every single one was an object of interest for those who were a part of the culture in general. People were able to consume it all but focus on something that caught their interest. They were building their overall anime knowledge, so to speak, while having time to indulge in the activities of the specific fandom.
The current landscape makes anime a part of a general culture instead of a marginalized one, making it much more easily accessible, but this ease dilutes the sense of community that people felt back then. Then again, it's a very organic evolution of anime consumption, as it changes along with the Internet. We're terribly online now, and so is anime. Is it good?
