the sweetest side of the internet

IN: SWEET SUMMARIES | OUT: RIDICULOUS RAMBLING

♡ keep your descriptions classy

now this seems like a no-brainer. you've gotten to the point when you can publish your show on spotify or podchaser or soundcloud or wherever people host podcasts, and it all comes down to a few simple sentences to rope people in.

and while it sounds simple on paper, an engaging description can do quite a bit of heavy lifting, especially when it comes to selling people on your first episode.

in my honest opinion: short and sweet wins the race. nothing too short, obviously, but some of the best descriptions i've come across can say a lot with so little.

but if you wanna go the route of longer descriptions, i'd highly advise keeping these concise and cut down on any unnecessary fluff. get to the good stuff without being too specific—the vagueness will give your listeners something to look forward to!

also, and this is just a side note and undeniably just my opinion, but when it comes to complimentary language to describe your show—entertaining, hilarious, compelling—try keeping it to a minimum, or, better yet, have it come in the form of a quote from a reviewer or any other sort of press.

(fun fact: i had my own review quoted for the summary of the audio drama podcube™ and i am flattered to this day!)

while it's essential to be proud of your show, you don't want to assume audience reactions, and too much self-congratulatory language can come off as insecure and insincere.

instead, try descriptive phrases that present the genre, tone, and plot—trust me, it's way more convincing. long story short: be informative, but never excessive.

IN: PASSION PROJECTS | OUT: CASH GRABS

♡ do it for the art, not the money

be honest with yourself: are you making an audio drama because you respect the medium and feel your show would be best represented in this format, or are you just doing it because "well, night vale made a lot of money, so now you can too!"

for starters, get that way of thinking out of your head as soon as possible because it is no way to go about the creative process in any area of the artistic field.

if you're cynically pumping out content, people are going to catch on eventually that your endgame was never to entertain and inspire, but to reap the benefits of the potential income.

making money off of an audio drama is, in itself, a great, and sometimes guaranteed, perk, and believe me when i say there are plenty of people that will happily financially contribute to your continued success, but that should never be your main motivation.

and i get it, we all want to do what we love for a living, but if you throw yourself into a community that you have no respect for, you'll be laughed right out of the door.

The premise of Lost Terminal is relatively simple: in the distant future—and by that I mean about forty years from now—a sentient space satellite dubbed Seth suddenly loses contact with Earth and sends out a series of messages in hope of getting a response.

Over time, things change, an abrupt relocation derails his original plans, and we get to see the world through Seth's eyes as he communicates with human and machine alike.

All the while, Seth waxes poetically in philosophical and sentimental monologues about himself, humanity, and existence, trying to learn not only more about himself, but the very nature of his human creators.

Over time, we get more information about the purpose of his deployment, dutifully reporting on his progress and chatting up his fellow machines like chummy coworkers.

Lost Terminal is a little something I like to call "cozy existentialism," a special subcategory of similar "hopepunk" settings where the extensive navel-gazing, while mildly disquieting, also manages to feel very homey and comforting, with a childlike whimsy.

The soft, calming narration of Lost Terminal certainly adds to this. I found Seth's voice very soothing and sweet and sounds like something straight out of a nature documentary.

On a technical standpoint, Lost Terminal is a very smooth listen, providing not much in the way of additional sound effects beyond the occasional vocal glitch. A majority of the backing track is some humming ambiance.

Each episode also has musical intermissions, practically the equivalent of The Weather in Welcome to Night Vale, that I felt tend to go on for a lot longer than they need to.

And given the fact that many of the episodes are so short, the amount of time these one to two-minute techno tracks is definitely felt and weighs on the runtime. These feel so much more naturally interwoven in the longer episodes, providing a nice break between the first and second halves of the story.

I suppose these are far more similar to the music breaks in Wolf 359, a clever way of transitioning between scenes or just letting the events that transpired marinate for a bit. Once again, this adds to the show's leisurely aesthetic and docile tone.

It would seem the nature of contemplation as well as the natural beauty of the world, even during what's shown to be something of a climate disaster, is most definitely a recurring fascination at play here.

Categorizing these shows under specific genre niches is a topic that arises a lot while I'm writing these, and the ones that come to mind for Lost Terminal are two: a deep fascination with geographical locations and the concept of machine-to-machine communication, though it's truly Seth's inner monologue, if not some occasional dialogue with his peers, that has to carry much of the storytelling on its back.

The sense of conflict in Lost Terminal tends to vary and, in general, doesn't possess much urgency, so it's really our level of engagement with Seth and his recounting of events that keeps the momentum going.

And, to be honest, I like Seth.

Over time, you can't help but be endeared to the satellite's boundless curiosity and sheer innocence of his worldview—his understanding of earth and humanity viewed through this lens of utter adoration and naivete that you can't help but suspect will be smashed to bits sooner or later.

He still has yet to get any responses for all the transmissions he's been sending out for days on end, and a part of you just sits there, suspecting some horrible truth to come bubbling to the surface.

And yet, Seth prevails, either willingly oblivious or especially hopeful.

Seth's sheer trust and admiration for humanity, especially compared to his more cautious and borderline cynical acquaintances, provide an interesting contrast—I was particularly a fan of Ivan.

And maybe it's just my thoughts on 2014's SAYER colliding with this one, but throughout the entirety of my listen, I anticipated Seth's blindly trusting nature to dwindle, or even just the slightest hint of decreasing confidence in his human peers as he's challenged more and more.

While Seth has some occasional disagreements, he's far from being stubborn or irritable or snarky, even if the well-being of his fellow machines tends to come first. Not that Seth's unshakable kindness isn't endearing, but then again, I wouldn't have minded having a little more friction.

Despite them being rather similar shows, the interactions between human and machine, as well as machine to machine, couldn't be more different than SAYER who uses these interactions for horror rather than painting a picture of a fractured world capable of healing.

Let's just say that listening to both of these shows around the same time most definitely creates an interesting moral back and forth.

If anything, Lost Terminal feels like the good counterpart to SAYER—not just the show, but the titular character of SAYER—possessing a far more optimistic and far less misanthropic perspective of a hypothetical future, the perspective of Seth greatly contrasting SAYER's frigid and, more often than not, manipulative streak that made them such a morally dubious character.

Even the introductions, Seth's warm and welcoming "hello world" compared to SAYER's coldly professional "greetings, resident" setting the tone of both shows in just a few simple words.

All around, the line between human and machine is deliberately blurred here, while, with SAYER, the worst of humanity's flaws straddle the line between intentional programming and the implication that these traits were always evident in his character.

The same could be said here, Seth's kindness and willingness to help being seen as just part of his character and not so much a programming mistake. Seth simply is empathetic, is kind, is generous and curious and that warm fuzzy feeling he evokes feels genuine.

But, be it SAYER or Lost Terminal, it is interesting to perceive these machines as humans, and through the eyes of Seth, he always manages to provide these very complex emotions, reactions, and details that would ordinarily be lost on us.

It's times like these that the descriptions really shine and we get these interesting glimpses into the mental states of the artificial intelligences that can vary from humorous to tragic.

I honestly wasn't sure what to expect going into this and was not only endeared to Seth and his view of a flawed world, but also genuinely intrigued by the range of topics the show provided.

Humanity, nature, what it means to truly live—if these are topics that intrigue you, then Lost Terminal most definitely scratches that itch.

While I've perused far more hopepunk audio drama than usual in the past few months, and while I wouldn't consider it my favorite subsection of sci-fi, I'd definitely say that Lost Terminal left me something to chew on after giving it a long enough listen, which is what hopepunk should always strive for.

Even if I found it a little slow at times, Lost Terminal still has a calming tone, soothing narrative, and empathetic atmosphere that's worth taking a look at, especially if your tastes in sci-fi are considerably less chaotic than mine.

If we foolish humans hadn’t done it already, something this warm-hearted would be enough to melt the ice caps.