The image of the 'Big Boss family,' survival riders working tirelessly to support their children and a wife who spends her days idly, has made their TikTok account go viral, attracting many supporters but also criticism from netizens regarding the wife's behavior.
However, the story took a turn when the couple revealed that behind their survival content was actually a script directed in Chinese by a Chinese agency, paying them only 1,000 baht per clip before switching to a monthly contract paying 20,000 baht.
Looking back at their TikTok account, the content closely resembles a survival drama plot typical of short dramas that Thai audiences have been captivated by—depicting daily struggles and hardships, with a conflict point such as a wife who shirks responsibilities while the husband perseveres to care for her like a princess.
These events may indicate that morality plays are still produced for Thai audiences, but as interest in such dramas wanes, shifting to real people instead of actors might rekindle Thai viewers’ tears over fellow human suffering, continuing to generate revenue for producers, possibly even more than before.
With morality plays, although viewers may sympathize, they understand these are scripted performances, so engagement is straightforward—just watching. In contrast, seeing real people struggling evokes genuine empathy, prompting small acts like supportive comments or shares, which aligns perfectly with platform algorithms designed to promote highly interactive posts, unlike typical drama viewership where comments are fewer.
The advanced marketing strategy entered the Thai market following a model previously established in China, exemplified by influencer Liangshan Mengyang, who gained nearly 4 million followers portraying herself as a struggling mountain girl caring for siblings alone, driving massive product sales. When exposed as staged—with no real mountain residence and a luxurious lifestyle—the Chinese authorities arrested her and accomplices.
Therefore, it may be more advantageous for clever agencies to relocate production of these tragic life stories to other countries, turning the daily struggles of working-class people into survival reality content that attracts sympathy and ultimately drives sales.
Thais are already familiar with survival content from various TV shows portraying the hardships of grassroots people, often involving financial stakes—singing to pay off debts or showcasing talents to earn aid—providing entertainment to the middle class framed in tears, akin to watching life dramas and wanting to cheer them on. While these feelings are not wrong, for investors this is an easy gap to exploit for profit.
Survival content produced by capitalists may seem mutually beneficial for struggling people and investors, but morally, many question the oddity of turning genuine hardship into a commodity, which appears to gradually diminish the dignity of those involved.
In the case of the Big Boss family, filming was constantly controlled by an agency, instructing the riders to make their rooms messier and more pitiable to intensify sadness and fuel the algorithm. The more drama there is, the richer the investors become, while the struggling people lose their human dignity bit by bit.
Ultimately, whether morality plays or real-life dramas, they share the use of viewers’ sympathy to generate profits for investors. What is worse is that the characters are real people, their stories half-written yet partly real. We should refrain from dismissing them as mere money-seekers, as some middle-class individuals might resort to the same means if pushed into desperate circumstances, hoping for a chance to survive.