Netflix is Scar and Pride Rock is my sleep.
For years I assumed my lack of sleep was to do with a lack of discipline. Now, I know there’s something more sinister at play.
“Muuhahahahahaha”
That’s the sound the servers at Netflix make as they realise I’m on my fifth episode of Mad Men in a single evening. I can see their evil little circuits glowing red with glee as they increase the platform-time of yet another (mindless) user, me.
It’s not much different when I imagine their delight at an auto-play trailer catching me off-guard and causing a sudden shower of popcorn in the vicinity of my couch. Only this time, I see a flash of wicked green light as shrieking bats fly out between the server racks and a menacing violin slices the air.
Now, it’s easy to dismiss these visions as another bout of anti-tech paranoia. But wait, what if there was actually something more sinister going on?
I’m talking about are dark patterns, of course. You know, the kind of UX they teach you in Slytherin. These are misleading or otherwise deceptive design decisions that exploit human psychology to get users to do things they don’t really want to. Sneaky.
In their simplest form you can find dark patterns in pesky pop-up ads where the close button is actually a link in disguise. They can also be frustratingly bureaucratic in nature, like trying to cancel an Amazon subscription you no longer need. Curse you, Jeff!
Dark patterns suck because they’re dishonest. But in the murky world of human behaviour there’s always more than one shade of deception.
The Netflix patterns I described above aren’t “technically” dark patterns — i.e. they don’t deceive me into doing something I don’t want to do — but they certainly contribute to it. And that sucks too.
From studying UX — like actually doing a course — I’ve realised that there’s this whole other world design tricks that can promote negative behaviours. I call these “grey patterns” and just like dark patterns they thrive on ambiguity, confusion and inaction. Rather than actively seeking to deceive, grey patterns passively enable abusive user-behaviour within a product or service. Abusive user-behaviour being anything that causes a net-negative impact on user health or mental well-being. Think of an app so engaging that a user, me, can’t even put it down long enough to write this article, ugh.
Now, I believe that most grey patterns arise from very noble intentions. For instance, I can hear the designers at Netflix brainstorm about how they’ll eliminate clicking into every new episode for their users. At first grey patterns look like they’re on your side. They feel like they’re fighting the good fight for you and your user. You believe it. They work well, like really well, and people seem to love them. Over time, however, these grey patterns reveal a much bleaker nature: Behind excellent metrics hides real-life misery.
Hear me out. By “letting” me unintentionally watch a Mad Men marathon night after night, Netflix is handing me poison to poison myself. And although that’s not illegal by any stretch of the imagination, it is a dick move.
A common counter argument to this idea is trope: “Use Responsibly”. Companies love to put that out in big, banging red letters, but rarely do they have any practical advice on offer. It’s such a cliché that it feels straight out of the 1979 Alcohol and Tobacco Lobby Playbook. And it probably is.
Another firm says: “Hey! We can’t be held responsible for what people do with our product”. And, yeah sure, I get it. You’re not responsible for the actions of others. However, I maintain that if you continue doing something after you’ve learned that it’s harming other people, you’re the asshole. Looking at you, Facebook.
As an aspiring product designer looking at the world through a Retina-display of smiling persona’s, it’s easy to forget that the design choices I make could ultimately carry an unknown human cost.
A severe cost if left unchecked. And with the rise in the influence digital products have on our everyday decisions, moods and thoughts, the time to address that cost is now. Fortunately, this gave me an idea. And a very self-righteous one at that:
What if the first oath of UX was “Do no harm” ?
What if I had to ask myself that before suggesting a new product feature? Would I still suggest push notifications to lure you back to an app? Would I build a full-volume-auto-play-trailers into your experience? Would I make you miss precious hours of deep REM sleep to improve my KPI’s?
Maybe. But I promise to think twice about it.
Afterthought…
I can assure you that grey patterns are real. And I’d like to know more about them. Let me know if you have any thoughts to add, or if I’m actually talking about something that someone else has already described much more elegantly.