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homestuckreplay · 2 months ago

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Parasocial Relationships and the Author Self-Insert in Act 4 of Homestuck

On a hot summer’s day in the American Midwest, thirteen people sit around a table in a private, air conditioned room. For an hour we trade stories, take photos, ask and answer questions, give each other time to speak while waiting impatiently for our own turns, and thrill in the knowledge that today, we’re special: nobody besides us will ever experience this precise moment. At least, most of us feel this way. Ten of us have paid for the privilege of being here, seeking a social connection with people we only see through our TV screens, while the other three are being paid, their future paychecks dependent on the simulation of a friendship they can show us today. They’re practiced at this. They do their job well, and we’re satisfied with our purchase. The next time I meet these actors, they will remember my name, and I will glow with the knowledge that I am something more than their formless mass of indistinguishable fans. One decade later, I won’t remember anything we talked about, but I will remember that feeling of being known.

This is a snapshot of a 2010s fandom culture; one where the internet’s ability to break down barriers between fans and creators was seen as a universal positive, one where access to those creators was viewed as a status symbol, one where the term ‘parasocial relationship’ was safely hidden in academic literature, years away from reaching our own keyboards. This culture is in the past, now – but it is a culture that Homestuck both originated from and contributed to. From the comic’s first page, Homestuck fans have direct access to creator Andrew Hussie through MSPA’s dedicated forums, with a near-guarantee that the author will read their ideas if they’re posted to a suggestion thread. Hussie’s public persona is accessible through their forums, newsposts, blog posts, Formspring account and personal website, for any fan who wants to learn more about the comic’s creator. Then, in April 2010, the fictionalized Hussie appears within Homestuck itself, displaying this persona to all readers, even those who don’t seek active participation.

So I’d like to ask: How does Homestuck’s inclusion of a direct author insert affect the parasocial relationship that exists between creator and fans?

[disclaimer: this piece is not intended as a moral judgment towards anything discussed. I’m only aiming to describe a phenomenon and offer my own interpretation of it. to protect privacy and limit spreading old drama, I’ve anonymized all forum quotes and all names of fandoms, creators and fans, except for Homestuck, Hussie and myself.]

This essay is around 7k words below the cut and is also available on ao3. All cited articles in this post are available for free here.

Parasociality – an overview

The term ‘parasocial relationship’ has exploded in popularity throughout the 2020s, and it’s not surprising why. It describes a near-universal experience – not unique to young people or to those who participate in fandom, but encompassing the casual and one-sided intimacy a commuter feels towards the talk radio host they spend their mornings with, that a retired person feels towards the detective they’ve read so many novels about they they can predict the next words out of her mouth, or that a working-class voter feels towards a politician who presents himself as a down-to-earth man of the people. When coining ‘parasocial relationship’ in 1956, sociologists Richard Wohl and Donald Horton were most interested in applying it to television interviewers and game show hosts – people whose fame comes from the personality they present to the world – but believed it could extend to any public figure or fictional character, human or otherwise.

I’ve noticed that on social media, people describing a relationship as ‘more parasocial’ means ‘more inappropriate’, used when someone is seen as being too emotionally dependent on a celebrity or as causing that celebrity possible discomfort. In literature, ‘more parasocial’ means ‘further away from reciprocation’, and describes a spectrum that also includes mutual social relationships. So, it’s possible to have a parasocial relationship with a cool kid in the grade above at school, a singer in a local indie band, an actor in a major prestige TV show, and an elf in a fantasy novel, with each more parasocial than the last as the chances of these one-sided interactions becoming two-way social relationships decreases.

Understood this way, parasocial relationships aren’t problems in and of themselves. They’re an extremely common way humans relate to others, and can be a source of positive emotions – it has even been suggested that they are a ‘central prerequisite for media enjoyment’ (Vorderer et al., quoted in Stein et al., 2024). A meta-analysis of parasociality research (Tukachinsky et al., 2020) found that parasocial relationships were not more common among people who struggled to make social connections. They were more common when a person felt ‘long term identification’ and perceived similarity with a character or celebrity, experienced immersion in their content, was regularly exposed to the object of the relationship, and saw them as physically and socially attractive. A factor not explored by this study, but proposed by other researchers is wishful identification, where a person sees a character or public figure as someone they’d like to become.

Social media, then, becomes a fascinating site where a large portion of the social spectrum is collapsed into one. It opens channels where it’s possible for a household-name musician to create an account, ‘follow’ a number of their fans, ‘like’ their posts, and even invite the most dedicated fans to their house for a seemingly intimate get-together, creating a culture where fans define themselves by the number of times this musician has directly interacted with them. Taken to extremes, there are fan communities that seek to guide their favorite celebrity’s life and career. They feel ‘responsibilities’ and ‘duties’ towards the object of this relationship, expressing dissatisfaction in large numbers when their idol dates the ‘wrong’ partner or accepts a role in the ‘wrong’ TV show – Yan & Yang (2021) describe this in detail and interviews Chinese fans about their ‘co-creation of idols’. In 2010, Twitter, Tumblr and Reddit are all young platforms, and this new closeness and access between creators and fans is unprecedented and exciting on both sides.

Most existing analysis focuses on the parasocial relationships fans experience towards creators and public figures, but in truth, these relationships go both ways. First, many creators put in conscious work to craft a persona that will be attractive to fans, refining and updating this in line with changing demands from their audience. Perceived authenticity, for example, has long been valued among fans, so a public figure may try to cultivate this trait; however its ideal expression has changed over time. A singer-songwriter penning an ‘authentic’ pop song in 2010 might depict herself as the devastated and longing victim of a boyfriend’s cruelty who struggles to be understood by others, or conversely, as a fun-loving party girl who likes to chug beer and have casual sex – but both of these women will implicitly reassure listeners that they are heterosexual, neurotypical, and focused on others. In 2025, writing an ‘authentic’ pop song may involve the singer acknowledging her own serious flaws in her friendships or relationships, or discussing a serious struggle with mental health, body image, or the pressures of stardom. She’s more likely to describe a potential partner as ‘they’ instead of ‘he’, to be self-focused, and to use words from pop psychology. All this would have created backlash in 2010 as the ‘wrong’ kind of authenticity, but is celebrated and relatable today. In this way, a celebrity’s self-presentation merges with their fans’ beliefs and assumptions about them to co-construct a character: a fictionalized version of this real person who can be understood, predicted and judged in the eyes of the public.

Second, celebrities develop parasocial relationships with their own fans – this can be specific fans, or the ‘ideal’ or ‘archetypical’ fan they envisage. Sharon & John (2024) discusses these ‘inverse parasocial relationships that podcasters develop with their listener base. They describe how radio presenters are often advised to imagine a hyperspecific ‘typical listener’ to address their content towards, envisioning them as a full person present in the studio. Compared to radio’s broad audience and centralization, podcasters have to make names for themselves in a medium filled with options, and typically target a smaller niche of listeners – which, in itself, encourages parasociality as creators and fans can both see themselves as part of a ‘private club’ familiar with the podcast’s inside jokes and language. Interviewing specific podcasters, Sharon & John found that they conceptualize their fans in various ways, including ‘someone like themself’, ‘a specific person they know’, ‘people who really love them’, or even ‘imagined friends to assuage loneliness’. As such, public figures constructing their fans as a character often runs alongside their construction of themselves as characters.

2020s fan cultures, at least those I’ve participated in, tend to be critical of parasocial relationships and regularly challenge fans who are seen as crossing these boundaries. I believe this is an understandable reaction to the 2000s and 2010s culture where social media was in its infancy, and fans and celebrities alike were navigating how to interact with one another through these new possibilities, with no model for how best to do so. I’ve also noticed that fans put the onus on other fans to behave appropriately, and respect the real or imagined boundaries of creators. There’s far less discussion of celebrities’ roles in constructing these relationships and maintaining their disproportionate amounts of power within them, or of media platforms’ roles in encouraging these relationships in order to increase long-term engagement and ultimately, advertising revenue.

Even in communities that are critical of capitalist systems and power imbalances, this is often treated as an individual issue – surprising, given that in many cases celebrities choose to retain their public facing careers, while algorithms mean that social media users on many platforms have little control over the content they are exposed to, and people do not consciously choose who to form an emotional connection with. To speak personally, I’ve definitely acted towards celebrities in ways I now see as crossing a line and would not repeat, such as writing occasional RPF (real person fiction) or visiting a podcaster’s hometown after traveling for their nearby liveshow, to see places they’d referenced on air. I’ve also experienced celebrities exploiting parasocial relationships with myself and other fans, such as a writer beginning to actively participate in an adjacent fandom to their own work, then soliciting donations from these fans for their own next project, then disappearing without fulfilling their promise of continued participation. We all exist in the same social spectrum, and we all play roles in maintaining these dynamics.

Author inserts – an overview

Parasocial relationships have almost certainly existed for as long as public figures have. Similarly, author self-inserts have existed for as long as authors have. According to Dawson (2016), in the 1700s such inserts were seen as ‘digressions’ from the main narrative, and were an accepted convention even while they were contentious among readers largely as they slowed down the pace of the novel. Digressions were used for the author to provide moral or philosophical commentary, to share information that no characters have access to, and to discuss their own story, other influential stories, and the novel as a genre. In many cases they reinforced belief in the narrative, by arguing for why character actions and plot elements were plausible. By the 1900s, these inserts were seen as ‘intrusions’ into the narrative, being a ‘lazy’ storytelling method and breaking the now-established writing rule of ‘show, don’t tell’. They were now also seen as breaking a reader’s immersion in the story, reminding them of the actual reality that exists outside the fictional reality.

As such, the author’s direct presence left the primary narrative of most fiction, with the exception of postmodern and metafictional works which directly explore the concept of the author. However, the author remained present in other ways. Authors’ prefaces to a novel or interviews placed after the main text, director’s commentary tracks and ‘behind the scenes’ footage on a DVD, and lyric booklets with production notes from the band included with a record or CD, were all ways that the creator kept their presence and interpretation as close to their work as possible without affecting the storyworld itself. However, not everyone would read or listen to these, and they are generally considered ‘paratexts’ – supplemental material that frames the main text, but is not a part of it.

It’s not always clear cut when an author inserts themself into their narrative. Almost all fiction includes characters based on the author or their friends and family, fictional worlds based on the author’s experience of the actual world, or moral and political beliefs shared by the author. These can be analyzed although not objectively determined, even when the author discusses them in a paratext, as creators have plenty of reasons to misrepresent themselves to an audience. A screenwriter for a movie also playing its main character, a songwriter sharing the circumstances surrounding the song narrator’s recent breakup, and a novelist creating a main character who also writes novels for a living, may all be author inserts, but aren’t guaranteed to be.

The first experience I personally remember having with author self-inserts was through autobiographies. As a teenager, I read these as factual accounts of their subject’s lives, and didn’t question them further. This is known as the ‘autobiographical pact’, where a reader assumes that the writer, narrator, and main character of an autobiography are one and the same, and can translate knowledge of one to knowledge of the others. In reality, an autobiography is not a perfect window into its writer’s life – even someone who genuinely intends to represent themself truthfully will remember events imperfectly, fail to notice every personal bias, and construct a narrative from a sequence of unrelated events. An author can also purposefully misrepresent their life story to, for example, downplay their own privilege and inflate their struggles to present their achievements as individual success instead of coming from luck and help from others.

The genre of ‘autofiction’ (described in Schlick, 2020), acknowledges the fictionalization of the author’s life that exists in all autobiographical works, either exploring this theme directly or giving itself the artistic license to change true events without hiding this from the audience. Put another way, the author consciously creates themself as a character. Autofictional works can be novels, but exist across genre, such as the online ‘interactive life stories’ described by Chew & Mitchell (2015). Adding interactive elements means that the reader co-constructs the author-character’s life story along with the author themself. The same is true in metafictional video games, discussed by Pekanik (2024), where games may examine the ‘inevitable bond’ between game developers, narrators and players, and developers may insert avatars of themselves as characters to push back against the increasingly high expectations of story control, open-world possibility and ‘realism’ that players have for video games.

Outside of traditional media, the ‘self insert’ character is commonly associated with fanfiction, particularly with beginner fanfiction writers. In fan communities, referring to somebody else’s original fanfiction character as a ‘self insert’ is usually shorthand to suggest that the character is poorly written, one dimensional, a ‘Mary Sue’, and a form of wish fulfillment for the author. These stories are seen as self-indulgent, and taken less seriously than fanfiction that only includes characters from the source material. This judgment involves assumptions about the fanfiction author, and assumptions that the original work’s author is not writing a self insert. It also discourages writers from making original characters, in much the same way that widespread criticism discouraged late Victorian novelists from including authorial digressions.

As a fanfiction writer in the 2010s, I never wrote a direct self-insert or original character – I’m uncertain whether this was my personal preference, or influenced by their poor reputation. However, I openly wrote stories based on my real life, and gave details of myself to canon characters. In one example, I wrote an alternate universe fic where the characters attended my exact high school (disguised under a similar-but-different name) and attended school events I’d also been part of. In another, I and my girlfriend at the time both wrote fics based on our relationship and our hopes for its future, dedicated to each other but framed as a relationship between two canon characters. Taken without context, these fics were about their reader’s favorite characters, but taken alongside our author’s notes and interactions in comments, they allowed readers insight into our personal lives, and became author inserts.

This practice of using author’s notes to control the reception of fanfiction is fairly common. Unlike paratexts such as prefaces to a novel, fanfiction author’s notes often appear at the top or bottom of each chapter, or less commonly mid-chapter indicated by parentheses and (A/N:). They are generally in the same typeface as the main text and are consequently much harder to ignore when reading through a work. Maley (2020), discussing how fanfiction authors construct a persona, points out that once these author’s notes have been read, they cannot be separated from the text.

While not a traditional self insert, the information the author shares about their intent regarding characterization, their attitudes towards the source material, their own lived experience (such as whether or not the writer of a same-sex pairing is queer themself) or their plans for future installments, all affect the reader’s reception of the work. Comment interactions between author and readers can further reinforce this, as the author has the chance to directly refute any misconceptions their readers may have. Because of this, Leavenworth (2015) believes that author’s notes are ‘ultimately about authority and control’, imposing the author’s opinion of their own work onto other ways a reader may interpret it.

Another fanfiction trend is the reader insert, seen in ‘Y/N’ and ‘character x reader’ stories, where the reader is intended to replace prompts like ‘your name’ and ‘your hair color’ with their own personal details in a Mad Libs-style co-writing exercise. This takes the literary concept of an everyman – a character created to be generic and new to the fictional world so that the reader can see themself in the character’s place – to its logical extreme. Sapuridis & Alberto (2022) analyze how reader inserts often also function as author inserts, as the author places themself into the ‘you’ position while writing, and some inexperienced authors may accidentally slip into first-person pronouns, or make assumptions about traits of the reader that are also true of the author, such as being white or being female. While there is good reason to critique these assumptions, these reader insert fics place the author and reader as symbolically on the same level, as having the same desires and interests towards their favorite fictional characters and therefore sharing the same imaginary space. This is a clear contrast to the bid for control in author’s notes.

Webcomics occupy a similar space to fanfiction, as they have a similarly low barrier of entry for their creation, a similar lack of oversight by anyone concerned with marketing who may try to influence their content (such as network executives and publishing companies), and a similar status as ‘amateur fiction’. As original works, though, webcomics make a clearer distinction between creator and fans – this is even true of sprite comics, which use existing intellectual property – privileging the author even when they regularly interact with fans. This is in contrast to fanfiction, where authors and readers are members of the same fan community. Social divisions do exist in fanfiction communities based on author reputation and number of followers, hits and kudos, but this unofficial hierarchy is far more malleable than the firm divide between a webcomic’s creator and readers.

Author inserts are very popular in webcomics, with the TVTropes pages ‘Author Avatar’ and ‘Author Guest Spot’ indexing examples too numerous to list here – the second trope is stated to primarily feature webcomics as ‘more 'professional' or serious works tend to shy away from it’. To some readers in the 2000s, the trope feels ubiquitous, with fans anticipating that the author will eventually make an appearance in any new comic they begin. Author inserts in webcomics also tend to be explicitly metafictional and self-reflexive in webcomics as compared to fanfiction, whether that involves creating punchlines based on the lack of a fourth wall (see Thoss, 2011) or seriously exploring what it means for the comic’s author to influence the story.

Reader inserts and the second person ‘you’ pronoun are far less common in webcomics, however – comics may acknowledge the reader’s presence and even insult them for choosing to enjoy the work, but rarely invite their active participation. Author inserts tend to be explicitly the author as an individual or an embodiment of the work’s creator/god, instead of a shared identity that either author or reader may embody. One significant exception – a webcomic that directly acknowledges its readers in its concept, language, panel design, and occasionally narrative – is MS Paint Adventures, which in 2010 receives hundreds of thousands of visitors embodying its ‘you’ pronoun every day.

Homestuck, 2010

If public figures become characters by developing fictionalized personas of themselves and having these adopted by fans, and creators of fiction insert themselves in and around their work in both subtle and overt ways, it seems likely that these phenomena influence each other. Theory directly exploring this link is very limited, although one exception is Perot (2025), who discusses early twentieth century modernist novels’ exploration of the difference between a person’s public and private selves, their authors’ embodying this idea as ‘characters in real life’, and both of these as an early form of parasocialism. While Perot explores the author as a character and protagonists who are often read as self inserts, they don’t discuss explicit author inserts, and their work covers a time period long before the Internet.

Andrew Hussie’s MS Paint Adventures grew from the promise that readers could also be co-creators, symbolically placing them as equals in the relationship. It also grew from a forum community of friends – people with a direct, mutual social relationship – to a community of fans with widely varying levels of connection to the creator. Homestuck and its predecessor Problem Sleuth both attract large numbers of readers previously unfamiliar with Hussie, but if they choose, they can easily access a wealth of information about Hussie’s broader online persona as a larger-than-life Internet user via newsposts, interviews, blogs, a personal website, Formspring, and forums as either a reader or participant. All this is entirely optional, and fans can also choose not to engage, reading the work by itself while knowing very little about its author.

With Hussie still an active presence on their own forums, regularly making reference to taking ideas from fans even when they’re not posted directly in suggestion boxes, and with forum users becoming more ‘official’ collaborators by joining the music team, being asked for art and programming help, and having their forum adventures declared ‘semi-canon’, Homestuck involves a fairly unprecedented level of communication between creator and fans, especially for an audience of its size. The closest analogy may be early alternate reality games, such as 2001’s ‘The Beast’, promoting the movie A.I. Artificial Intelligence, written about by Janes (2020). In this game, participants solved three months’ worth of puzzles in 24 hours, forcing puppetmasters (game designers) to create content in real time as the game progressed, resulting in a dialog where creative solutions and fan speculation could be acknowledged within the game. However, these puppetmasters remained mysterious figures detached from real world identities until the game’s conclusion, unlike Hussie’s very public persona.

It’s clear from reading forum posts and Formspring questions that MSPA readers have a collective understanding of Hussie’s persona – a ‘fanon interpretation’ of their character in much the same way that they have a ‘fanon interpretation’ of John Egbert as a silly goober, Rose Lalonde as a delusional badass, Dave Strider as a genuinely cool guy, and Jade Harley as a ‘Mary Sue’. They view Hussie’s behavior as understandable, predictable, in some cases controllable, and worthy of admiration. There’s a few categories that posts tend to fall into, which together describe the parasocial relationship fans tend to have with Hussie.

1. As a creator, Hussie can do no wrong. This is the most common type of post by far, coming from fans who are completely in awe of Homestuck, blown away by flashes and plot twists, and awaiting the next update in full confidence that it will be just as good or better than everything up til now. Runs a full spectrum from seeing Hussie as a person who happens to be good at their job, to portraying them as a god worthy of worship.

‘I think I have to start worshipping him, or something soon, if not now.’

‘Using only his computer, Andrew has done what M. Night Shammy failed to do multiple times with a good budget and live actors.’

‘Is it ever disconcerting to think about exactly how many people idolize you or think you are incredibly awesome?’

2. Hussie’s such a dick (affectionate). Arguably the same as above, but filtered through ironic internet-speak, this typically occurs when fans notice a small detail (such as a hidden 413 or SBAHJ reference) and express this as mock-annoyance instead of amazement. Full spectrum from casual exclamations of frustration over cliffhangers to expressing concern over the state of Hussie’s mental health.

‘God damn it Hussie. You manipulative cur.’

‘Alright, it's things like that that make me afraid for Hussy's sanity.’

3. Hussie works ridiculously hard on this comic. People who are absolutely blown away by Homestuck’s fast update schedule and the high quality of its animations given their associated timelines, often involving personal comparison between Hussie’s constant output and their own procrastination or lack of motivation on tasks. Can include high hopes that eventually aren’t met, especially the belief that a Flash update will magically appear when one hasn’t been announced.

‘Hussie seriously puts more effort into every flash page than I ever have put into anything ever.’

‘Bugger me. The man is a machine!’

4. Actually, Hussie isn’t working hard enough. This includes people who are sad, annoyed, or even worried when a day goes past without updates, or express ‘it’s about time!’ when an update is finally posted, and people who attribute their own need to constantly refresh the MSPA website to Hussie. Also includes people who think Hussie is working on the ‘wrong’ things, such as too many ‘filler’ updates and not enough Flashes.

‘Good Gods but that was a long text update. I wondered what was keeping him!’

‘The cold gaze of the untouched >_ command line below has paralyzed us. The unending possibilities of it's blinking, flashing existence fall in perfect rhythm with time's pocket watch, until completely unexpected by it's naive perfection, the breakdance of Andrew's majesty manifested in flash will end it's tiny little life, only for it to be reborn on the next page, and so the cycle repeats’

5. I can/did predict what Hussie will do next. Successfully predicting a twist, especially with proof, is seen as an achievement and the mark of being a ‘truer fan’ than somebody who can’t do this. Posts like these tend to play up the poster’s understanding of Hussie, referring to them as a known quantity or stating that they’re now acting differently, and might suggest that it is a true fan’s ‘job’ to predict their moves in advance.

‘anyone who knows Andrew should've already guessed that he was going to cut away right then’

‘Considering that, spread across two posts I somehow still managed to accurately predict his entire behavior, I am going to consider myself double-right.’

‘i thought the self-insertion was pretty out of character for you’

6. I can make Hussie do the thing that I want. The active equivalent of the above passive category, these posts make demands or requests of Hussie. Full spectrum from wishes that don’t necessarily expect fulfillment to bids for control addressed directly to Hussie. Includes requests for more reader control of the story in general, as well as requests for specific story twists or retcons to existing story details.

‘AW, you should retcon Dave's birthday to Dec. 4th instead of 3rd, if it doesn't interfere with plans. Why, you ask? Because you are reading a question from a Dave who lives in Texas and has a birthday of Dec. 4th. I am clearly your character come to life!’

‘Remember when you said you were going to re-open the suggestion boxes? You should go do that.’

7. I want a deeper understanding of Hussie as a person, not a creator. Another very large category, this includes most posts and questions that don’t directly relate to MSPA, including speculation on Hussie’s life outside of the comic, requests for personal information that would usually only be shared between friends, a desire to meet Hussie in person (or a worry about the poster’s own self control if they did), statements about Hussie’s morality, offers to give Hussie a job or money, speculations about Hussie’s sexual interests or relationships, comments on Hussie’s physical appearance, direct acknowledgments of trying to impress Hussie, and more.

‘I want Andrew to read me a bedtime story.’

‘Do you ever let people ever call you "Andy"?

‘You've got the most weird haircut, man.’

These categories aren’t exhaustive, and many posts fall into multiple. Although some posts and questions tend towards extreme and inappropriate things to say, the majority of posts are innocuous – admiring the skills of a favorite artist is extremely common, and speculating on a story’s future is a core component of fandoms for ongoing works. In many cases (though not all) I don’t see any problem with the parasocial relationships fans have with Hussie, but I find it useful to see these common threads, especially when they appear in both the casual and extreme contexts. Specifically, discussion of Hussie is almost universally positive, and when it’s negative it revolves around wanting more from them. I couldn’t find any examples of fans disliking or criticizing Hussie as a person, and posts about disliking story decisions are a minority. The ‘reader co-creation’ aspects of Homestuck actually contribute to this, as story decisions that fans dislike can be blamed on ‘MSPA forum users’, leaving Hussie blameless in the eyes of fans.

There’s also a strong current of emotional dependence on Hussie and MSPA, with people framing their ‘daily fix’ as something necessary. Failing to get an update on their birthday is a source of disappointment, while getting an update right after submitting a big paper is framed as being done ‘for them’. Homestuck as a work and Hussie’s external content appear to contribute fairly equally to the fan understanding of Hussie, with a lot of wonder over their capabilities and speculation on the twisted mind behind it coming from the work itself, while personal speculation and beliefs about Hussie’s knowability come from their personal statements elsewhere.

Perceived similarity and wishful identification, two proposed factors in the development of parasocial bonds, are definitely at play here. Posters think of Hussie as having a similar sense of humor to themselves, and as coming from a similar Internet culture – true, as Hussie was previously a participant on the Penny Arcade and Something Awful forums. Hussie’s blog posts and Formspring answers often present them as someone who understands Internet humor and culture and therefore exists ironically above it, which is how many long-term Internet users in 2010 like to see themselves, too. Becoming a webcomic artist or other online creator feels like an achievable goal to some people, and Hussie is a model for success in this way: someone who can potentially be emulated or whose talent can somehow be grasped. As a person with full creative control over their work and financial support from their fans who is also perceived as funny and likeable, it’s no surprise that Hussie in 2010 has a life many readers envy.

Homestuck’s Author Insert

On April 15, 2010, Andrew Hussie publishes pages 1669 – 1683 of Homestuck, which comprise the work’s first explicit author insert: a stylized cartoon depiction of a person who looks similar to the real life Andrew Hussie, referred to in-text as ‘AH’. He’s shown creating Homestuck, writing a recap of events so far, interacting with characters and fans, and exerting his influence on the story. With this context, it’s possible to re-read earlier sections of the story as AH’s direct presence, when previously they could have been any narrator-character. This particularly applies to use of the first person pronoun, such as ‘I’m afraid I can’t ‘HAVE THE BOY’ do that. Tell him to do it yourself!’ (p.253), or other direct addresses from narrator to named character.

Writing after Homestuck’s end with context for the AH character’s later arc, Andrew Hussie describes AH in his initial appearance as ‘the cartoon avatar for The Creator’, ‘the supreme goofball-savant in absolute command of his craft’, and ‘supremely enamored of art's ability to let them conjure anything out of thin air, manipulate people's emotions in any direction on a whim, and to revel in this whole process as some sort of innate celebration of their ingenuity’. Hussie further claims that ‘this preposterously megalomaniacal, self-absorbed, power-drunk persona… is often the motivating force behind an individual's desire to create certain things in the first place’ (author’s commentary, Homestuck Book 3, 2018) but speaks in general terms, and does not make an explicit link to their real world self. Interestingly, this analysis is fairly close to the fan understanding of Hussie’s persona at the time, though slightly more distant and untouchable.

My personal read of the first AH insert is a little different. Intentionally or otherwise, I believe that Hussie presents their fictional self along five interwoven dimensions in these pages, as follows.

1. The ‘reluctant self insert’.

AH expresses the opinion that a self insertion arc is ‘always such a terrible idea’ (p.1674), and appears annoyed at being disturbed by the ‘player’ switching on the fourth wall. He emphasizes that it won’t be exciting for the reader to watch him type or draw, asks to be left alone, tells the reader to ‘shut the hell up’ (p.1675), calls the self-insertion arc ‘disruptive’ (p.1680) and pushes for it to be over quickly. The AH character pre-emptively counters criticism towards this self-insertion arc, aligns his desires with the reader’s (continuing the main story), and creates an introverted persona who wants to remain behind the scenes, with a dislike of distractions and direct communication with readers.

2. The extension of a broader persona.

AH wears a shirt with a Homestuck design on its front and a Problem Sleuth design on its back. He directly cites a series of ‘Need For Steed’ blog posts previously made by Andrew Hussie outside of MSPA. This suggests that AH is not an entity designed specifically for Homestuck, but a broader Internet persona constructed by Hussie, which may or may not represent their behavior offline. Intimacy between AH and the reader is restricted to this fictionalized and computer-mediated self, and does not extend to the real world, shown by the fact that this section includes seemingly authentic screenshots of Hussie’s computer and work process, but acknowledges that AH’s physical location is one he’s been Photoshopped into.

3. Serious, but not too serious.

AH’s study is old-fashioned, filled with books, portraits and wood paneling, suggesting a place for serious and literary work. He expresses opinions on how stories should be told (ie. without self inserts) and writes a long recap in plain, earnest syntax, without any ironic deflection or making fun of his own story. He displays mastery over Photoshop and an organized workflow, suggesting and then implementing a clever way to transition away from this arc. However, he calls the Photoshopped study ‘ridiculous’ (p.1674), includes vast hyperbole in some of his other narration in this section, and is commanded to ‘stop being a wiseass’ (p.1679). As such, AH presents himself as a serious creator making a valuable and meaningful work, but somebody who isn’t afraid to laugh at himself when necessary. Irony is a component of his work, but not the main element underpinning it.

4. Struggling for control.

AH is depicted with head in hands, poor posture, bags under his eyes, pressing against the confines of the fourth wall he’s trapped behind. It’s stated that the ‘player’ has full control over the wall’s on/off switch. He appears tired and overworked, beholden to fans and perhaps overwhelmed by their demands. (In truth, fans actually helped with this section by providing all the hyperlinks in the recap, although this is only acknowledged in paratexts). He’s also bothered by a real life Lil Cal, a physical doll made by a fan and gifted to Hussie, representing the intrusion of Homestuck into all areas of AH’s life. As such, his overblown rant about having ultimate control over the work and readers’ ‘captive mind[s]’ (p.1678) reads as overcompensating, hiding a genuine fear that he does not retain full control over Homestuck or its role in his life.

5. The Andrew Carnegie of webcomics.

Although not stated in-text, a reverse image search reveals that AH’s Photoshopped study belonged to Andrew Carnegie, a historical figure who notably shares a first name with Andrew Hussie. Carnegie was a free-market capitalist and a magnate of the steel industry, who at one point was the richest man in America. He claimed to be against retaining large amounts of wealth and became a philanthropist, donating large amounts of money and using the study to ‘interview’ potential recipients. While much of his money went towards the public good, Carnegie continued to live in luxury, and controlled who would receive his gifts. This constructs AH as a mythic figure with creativity and ideas far surpassing the average person, distributing them out of kindness and goodwill to fans for their own enjoyment and use via a highly successful webcomic, but ultimately retaining creative control – a best of both worlds scenario that paints AH in a positive light, but does not threaten their copyright or financial profits from their work.

While writing this section, Hussie was almost certainly aware of how fans talked about them, and was likely responding to this in some ways – particularly as they’ve mentioned previous efforts to consciously develop their syntax and Internet persona. With the AH character’s insertion into the work, readers can no longer choose not to engage with the person behind the story. For non-participatory readers of Homestuck, this character is their first introduction to Hussie’s online persona, while to fans already familiar with this persona, some elements may be emphasized, downplayed, or reconfigured. In one example, the belief that Hussie is creates like a machine and is deserving of hero worship is countered by AH being presented as tired, reluctant to do his job, and frustrated with fans. In another, the constant requests for personal information about Hussie outside of Homestuck is countered by AH being linked to Hussie’s online self and creative work, but not to their physical location. In yet another, the idea that readers have control over Hussie is countered by AH’s extensive rant about their mastery over the narrative.

Without saying it directly, the author insert carries an undercurrent of AH being good but not perfect, being willing to assert himself when necessary, and feeling both beholden and resistant to expectations. It also contains a depiction of an archetypal MSPA reader – characterized here as someone who is often in conflict with AH but ultimately retains their role as co-creator, and as someone who is lucky to have the opportunity to read MSPA, but should only be interested in its most exciting parts. Broadly, the reader is characterized in line with the forum posters who are more critical of the story, have high expectations of Hussie, and seek a more personal connection than is necessary. Their characterization doesn’t match the forum posters who are in deep admiration of everything Hussie does, or believe themselves capable of predicting what will happen next. However, it’s uncertain whether Hussie sees this depiction as the archetypical MSPA reader, or just one type of reader who best supplements their self-depiction here.

There’s surprisingly little forum discussion about the AH insert (or reader insert), with most comments focusing on the usefulness of the recap and its confirming or subverting prior suspicions, or comparing the section favorably to other webcomics’ author inserts. AH is seemingly read as ‘literally Hussie’, with nobody suggesting that they might have differences in personality or opinions. In my opinion, whether or not AH is a ‘true’ representation of Hussie is ultimately irrelevant – either way, the AH character is a declaration of how Hussie wants to be seen at this point in relation to their work. Whether AH’s statements are to be taken literally or read as ironic or tongue in cheek, the goal of creating a persona remains – one that supersedes the character found in paratexts and provides an introduction for fans only reading the main story.

By being placed within Homestuck itself – Hussie’s most successful work to date – this AH characterization privileges itself above other depictions of Hussie. AH is closer in proximity to fans than Hussie is, and is shown visually as well as in text. So in answer to my original question, I view the author insert section of Homestuck as an attempt to create or reinforce an authoritative persona, and a way for Hussie to control the reception not just of their work, but of themself as a person. On the MSPA forums, there is theoretically no boundary between creator and readers, and the possibility of forming a genuine social relationship with Hussie exists, however small. In Homestuck, the boundary is very firm. Once a page has been posted, fans cannot change it. Hussie may be accessible, but AH is not, and the depiction of both AH and the MSPA reader within the comic is fixed.

An author insert also freezes the author in time at the moment of writing. Between writing about themself and any given person choosing to read their work, an author may change in any number of ways. They may end a relationship with a partner they cite as supporting them with the work, come to disagree with a political opinion they once saw as unshakable, or change their own opinions about what makes a good story, whether their work is effective, or if they should have written it in the first place. In the absence of updated versions, such as a second edition with new author’s notes, the original version continues to define them and shape the audience’s opinions of the creator. Even if this updated version exists, readers can choose whether they see the author’s real-time or retroactive opinions as more important.

Put another way, by close reading these pages and conducting this replay project where I near-exclusively read real time paratexts, I have developed a parasocial relationship with the version of Andrew Hussie who existed in 2010, while knowing and caring far less about whoever they may be in 2025. The distance between fan and public figure in a parasocial relationship is often one of time, as well as one of space, and as Hussie retreats from public life and paratexts such as forum posts are either lost from the internet or preserved without context, still without guarantee that new fans will look at these supplemental materials, the Homestuck author inserts increasingly become one of the only ways to understand Hussie’s online persona.

At one point in my life, meeting celebrities was important to me. If I were engaging with Homestuck in 2010, I would have wanted to meet Hussie. I would have wished I could go to a convention, ask them to sign something funny and unique that might fix me in their mind, if only for a moment. I don’t want those things now, though it’s impossible to stop myself forming a perceived understanding of and identification with 2010 Hussie. I remember, though, times when source media for fandoms I grew up with would acknowledge the presence of the author or readers. I remember knowing how important these stories were to my reality, and feeling like nods to their creation legitimized their importance as more than ‘just fiction’. I remember crying after a conversation with a friend in 2013, because I preferred for the author-fan relationship to be misrepresented, criticized or ridiculed than ignored entirely, and was told I was wrong for this preference.

Back then, I did seek closeness with characters and especially creators, but above that, I sought recognition. An author insert, implicitly or explicitly addressed to the reader, allows a reader to recognize the person behind the work and to be recognized in return as someone to whom the work is important. For a moment it appears to remove the mask of the narrative, and provide a brief moment of what feels like human connection.

#homestuck #analysis #andrew hussie #i wanted to explore this topic and i think it’s valuable but this still isn’t an angle i want to take on a regular basis #as ive said often its very hard to strike a good balance when talking abt real people #so I’ll leave them alone for a while now. at least until things significantly change in the community #i hope the balance i struck was ok here but i am open to feedback on that #chrono

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