Succession, Survivor, and the Social Game
Thoughts from earlier in the year.
(Spoilers for the season finales of Succession and Survivor 44. They came out months ago, though – this is an older article to kick off my Substack.)
It's been a tense few months for fans of cutthroat TV. Last week saw the finale of two hugely popular shows: HBO's Succession and CBS's Survivor. The two shows have highly engaged online audiences – at the time of writing, they each hold the number one spots for scripted and reality television, respectively. HBO has banked heavily on Succession over the past two years, and Survivor was just granted even longer episodes by CBS. It's safe to say the two programs are popular – likely because of the fascinating ways they examine humans engaging in high-stakes, interpersonal politicking.
Both shows spent their respective finales barreling towards similar scenarios: a tightly knit trio, after a number of bickers and quarrels, faces a vote in which each hopes to be crowned the sole victor of the games they're playing. In Survivor, three members of the Tika tribe ally to vie for a chance to convince the jury of their merits as a player. In Succession, the three children of Logan Roy and Caroline Collingwood collude to stop Swedish tech billionaire Lukas Matsson from acquiring their father’s company, pitching themselves to Waystar's board as a preferable alternative.
The Tika three and the Roy siblings differ in a number of ways, but their fundamental dynamics are strikingly similar. Carson and Roman flourish in chaos and work the hardest to keep the trios together, displaying emotional vulnerability despite their conniving maneuvers. Carolyn and Kendall are both social media favorites, volatile protagonists with a humanizing history of addiction. And, of course, there are Yam Yam and Siobhan – always on edge and in danger, they try to use charisma to keep threats against their interests at bay.
The metaphor isn't a perfect one. Doesn't Shiv's relationship with womanhood draw a tighter parallel with Carolyn, who shares her mother's name? Is Matsson Jeff, or is he Logan? Is there a way to talk about Greg or Danny in this piece? (Answer: Likely not.) There are a myriad of interpretations, but one thing is clear: both shows demonstrate the weight of politics and relationships in building a winning social coalition.
The vote counting is constant. Yam Yam talks about reviewing rocks in the sand to get a clearer understanding of the composition of the jury. Shiv and Ken rattle names off at each other, each insistent that they're on the side with the winning numbers. The jury and board have loomed large over Survivor and Succession since the finales of their first seasons, where Kendall shot for the king (and missed) and Sue likened her tribemates to rats and snakes. The jury and the board are filled with actors with a variety of stakes, investments and preferences – Frannie says Carolyn "changed her life" and Stewy says he's "team Ken, baby."
The paths to victory were not simple for any of our protagonists. Unforeseen twists tripped them up at every turn, from idols to advantages to deaths. Working together – and against one another – they're able to position themselves right up at the finish line, attempting to fend off "clumsy interlopers" like Heidi and Tom.
Of course, viewers know how that worked out. Though Heidi only came in second, her record time in the firemaking challenge burned Carson's chance at a winning game to a crisp, his fear of public failure similar to Roman's self-immolating eulogy at his father's funeral. Just as Carson is pushed out, Roman, too, steps out of contention, leaving Ken and Shiv to compete for the coveted crown. Their arguments throughout the series are sometimes a smokescreen, but their closeness and familiarity with one another also creates very real tensions – reminiscent of the fights between Yam Yam and Carolyn.
Unfortunately for the Roys, this competition gives Matsson space to use Tom as a reliable CEO option. Like the sole survivors of past seasons, Tom knows how to play a strong social game with the hand he's dealt. Following in Heidi's footsteps, he pitches his humble background and hardworking attitude during a "hang" with Matsson, a choreography that mimics that of a strong final tribal council.
His relationships within the show are integral to Tom's victory within the realm of Succession, but there is a broader context outside of the confines of the two stories. While the winners may have won votes and taken power within the narratives of the shows, there is another game of favoritism playing out with the show's audience. This game of hearts and minds is won by strengthening the audience's connection to the characters on their screens – and reflects the parasociality at the heart of contemporary social media.
Just look at Reddit and Twitter after the finales. While the Yam Yam and Connor trains chugged on, Carolyn stans and Kenheads witnessed a tale of brokenhearted loss. These characters dominated their stories, introducing the audience to their lives and allowing us to witness the massive ups and downs of their journey – both times culminating in cathartic swimming montages.
Beyond the fiction of Succession, there is no Kendall Roy. Carolyn Wiger is, in the words of College & the Electric Youth, a real human being – and a real hero. In recent seasons, Survivor has shied away from controversial cast members, and for good reason. Unlikeable or villainous characters may make good reality TV, but they're often maligned, misrepresented, and even doxxed by viewers who don't approve of their in-game decisions and personalities. Even Sandra, the Queen of Survivor, has had to contend with angry Parvati stans on her Instagram account. In contrast, the Tika Three and their castmates are eminently likable, from Jamie's boundless positivity to Frannie and Matt's adorable showmance. These are real people, but the meanness is excised – and so winning the social game with the audience is an easier process. Reality TV contestants are now all but expected to rack up major follower counts and brand deals online, making a positive relationship with an audience a potentially lucrative prospect.
And yet, Succession has managed to turn the most onerous people into babygirls and faves. A fascist pervert, a defender of sexual abuse, and a murderous, neglectful father should not make for a likable trio. But seeing them gleefully concoct the world's worst smoothie conjures enough joy in the audience to make them forget, even momentarily, the characters' worst actions.
Maybe that's because, like the real-life cast of Survivor, the cast of Succession is adored. There is a difference here between fact and fiction, and a creation of two social games. One exists on an island in Fiji and a New York office building, where bastards cut each others' throats and toss the bodies overboard. The other springs to life with forums and fancams as audiences have spent the shows' running times speculating about winners and losers, spurred on by sly commentary and misdirection from both casts.