Common Myths About the Top YouTubers 2016
The story of 2016’s YouTube elite is frequently oversimplified. One persistent myth frames their success as a zero-sum game, where PewDiePie’s decline meant someone else’s automatic rise. In reality, the platform’s growth created space for multiple winners. Another misconception treats their earnings as a direct reflection of view counts, ignoring the role of sponsorships, merchandise, or even secondary revenue streams like merch or Patreon. Even the "gaming vs. vlogging" divide is overstated—many creators blended both, proving that niche specificity wasn’t a limitation but a strategy. The most damaging myth, however, is that 2016’s top YouTubers were all the same. The truth is far more diverse. While PewDiePie dominated with gaming commentary, others like Kurzgesagt built empires on science education, and David Dobrik (then rising) experimented with prank-style content. The year’s winners weren’t clones; they were specialists who understood their audiences’ unmet needs. This diversity is often lost in retrospectives that focus solely on the loudest names.Myth 1: PewDiePie’s Fall Meant the End of Gaming Dominance
PewDiePie’s subscriber count plateauing in 2016 led many to declare gaming’s reign over. But the data tells a different story: gaming channels collectively grew that year, just not all at the same pace. PewDiePie’s challenges—from controversies to shifting viewer tastes—redirected attention to creators like Jacksepticeye or Valkyrae, who filled the gap with fresh content styles. Gaming didn’t collapse; it fragmented, with different subgenres (e.g., Among Us streams, Minecraft builds) attracting distinct audiences. The myth ignores that YouTube’s algorithm favors diversity, and gaming’s dominance simply became less centralized. The bigger picture? PewDiePie’s struggles highlighted a broader truth: monetization and fame aren’t synonymous. His channel’s ad revenue didn’t drop proportionally to his subscriber loss, thanks to brand deals and merchandise. Meanwhile, smaller gaming creators thrived by leveraging communities PewDiePie had helped build. The "fall" narrative was a distraction from the platform’s real evolution—toward sustainable, multi-revenue models rather than algorithmic whims.Myth 2: Viral Videos Were the Only Path to Success
The assumption that one viral hit guaranteed longevity led many to chase trends like Tide Pod challenges or Mannequin Challenge parodies. Yet most of 2016’s enduring channels—Kurzgesagt, Vsauce, The Slow Mo Guys—succeeded through consistency, not virality. Their growth was gradual, built on weekly uploads and deep audience engagement. The myth persists because viral moments are easier to measure, but the real work was in content ecosystems: playlists that kept viewers subscribed, community forums that turned fans into superfans, and behind-the-scenes content that humanized the creators. Even PewDiePie’s later struggles stemmed from over-reliance on viral moments. His most profitable years came when he balanced high-risk content (like The Legend of the Three Holy Relics) with steady, community-driven series. The lesson? Virality was a spark, not the fuel. The top YouTubers 2016 who lasted were those who treated YouTube like a long-term business, not a lottery ticket.Myth 3: YouTube Paychecks Were Simple to Calculate
The idea that a YouTuber’s earnings could be boiled down to "views × RPM" ignored the hidden variables of the industry. Sponsorships, for instance, varied wildly—MrBeast’s early deals were reportedly in the six-figure range, while smaller creators might earn pennies per view from niche brands. Then there were secondary revenues: merch sales (like Dude Perfect’s basketball hoops), Patreon tiers, or even physical products (e.g., Kurzgesagt’s merchandise). The lack of transparency meant even industry insiders struggled to pin down exact figures, leading to wild speculation. What’s clear is that ad revenue alone rarely covered costs. Many creators spent years subsidizing production, from Fine Brothers’ travel gear to Kurzgesagt’s animation teams. The myth of the "easy YouTube money" obscured the reality: most top creators in 2016 were running lean operations, reinvesting profits to scale. The few who "made it" did so by treating YouTube as a hybrid media company, not just a content farm.
What Holds Up to Scrutiny
At its core, 2016’s YouTube elite succeeded by mastering two non-negotiables: audience retention and adaptability. The creators who thrived didn’t just chase views; they optimized for watch time, a metric YouTube’s algorithm prioritized even then. PewDiePie’s Collab series, for example, wasn’t just about guest appearances—it was a retention play, keeping viewers on the platform longer. Similarly, Vsauce’s deep dives into physics or philosophy proved that intellectual curiosity could drive engagement as effectively as humor or gaming. The other constant was diversification. The most resilient channels in 2016 didn’t put all their eggs in one basket. Kurzgesagt expanded into books and podcasts; Dude Perfect leveraged sports sponsorships; Emma Chamberlain (then rising) balanced vlogs with brand partnerships. This wasn’t just about hedging risks—it was about owning multiple touchpoints with their audience. The evidence is in the numbers: channels that diversified saw slower subscriber growth but higher revenue stability over time. > "YouTube isn’t a social network—it’s a search engine with a social layer." > — Neil Patel, digital marketing expert, 2016| Common Belief | What the Evidence Says |
|---|---|
| Top YouTubers in 2016 were all gamers. | Only ~30% of the highest-earning channels focused primarily on gaming; education, vlogs, and pranks drove significant revenue. |
| Ad revenue was the main income source. | Sponsorships and merchandise accounted for 40–60% of top earners’ income, with ad revenue often covering operational costs. |
| One viral video guaranteed success. | Channels with consistent upload schedules (weekly or biweekly) had 3x higher retention rates than those relying on viral hits. |
Why the Confusion Persists
The gap between perception and reality stems from two factors. First, YouTube’s lack of transparency: the platform never disclosed exact earnings, forcing outsiders to rely on leaks or educated guesses. Second, the media’s focus on outliers: PewDiePie’s drama or MrBeast’s stunts made headlines, while the day-to-day work of creators like Kurzgesagt (who spent years perfecting their animation style) went unnoticed. The result? A superficial narrative that prioritized spectacle over substance. There’s also the halo effect—the tendency to attribute a creator’s entire success to a single trait (charisma, luck, or a viral moment). In truth, the top YouTubers 2016 were often system builders: they hired editors, invested in equipment, and cultivated communities long before they saw major returns. The confusion endures because the grind behind the glamour is rarely told.
Conclusion
2016 wasn’t just a year for YouTube—it was a rehearsal for the platform’s future. The creators who dominated that year didn’t just ride trends; they engineered them. PewDiePie’s challenges revealed the fragility of algorithmic fame, while Kurzgesagt and Vsauce proved that depth could outlast virality. The lesson for today’s creators? YouTube’s top tier isn’t about chasing the next big thing—it’s about building something that lasts, whether through education, entertainment, or community. The top YouTubers 2016 also exposed the platform’s growing pains. As YouTube matured, so did its creators’ expectations. What started as a hobby for many became a career path with real stakes: legal battles (like PewDiePie’s copyright disputes), mental health struggles (highlighted by Logan Paul’s later controversies), and the pressure to reinvent constantly. The year’s legacy isn’t just in the names that topped charts, but in the blueprint they left behind—one that later creators would either follow or reject.Comprehensive FAQs
Q: Who were the absolute top YouTubers in 2016 by subscriber count?
By late 2016, the top 5 by subscribers were: 1. PewDiePie (~54 million) 2. T-Series (~40 million, though primarily music-focused) 3. Kids Diana Show (~38 million, animated content) 4. MrBeast (then "Dream SMP") (~10 million at the time, though his solo channel was smaller) 5. Dude Perfect (~15 million). *Note: Subscriber counts fluctuated, and some channels (like T-Series) had different monetization models.
Q: Which creator had the highest estimated earnings in 2016?
While exact figures are unverified, PewDiePie was often cited as the highest earner, with estimates ranging from $7–12 million annually (combining ad revenue, sponsorships, and merchandise). MrBeast’s early earnings were likely in the low six figures, while Kurzgesagt and Vsauce earned $1–3 million through a mix of ad revenue and secondary streams. Smaller but profitable channels (like The Slow Mo Guys) reportedly cleared $500K–$1M.
Q: Did gaming really decline in 2016, or was it just PewDiePie’s issue?
Gaming didn’t decline overall—it shifted. PewDiePie’s subscriber slowdown masked growth in niche gaming genres (e.g., Minecraft builders, Among Us streamers) and non-gaming gaming-adjacent content (like Jacksepticeye’s comedy skits). The "decline" was a redistribution: viewers moved to creators who offered fresher takes on games or blended gaming with other formats (e.g., Markiplier’s storytelling).
Q: How did sponsorships work for top YouTubers in 2016?
Sponsorships were highly negotiated and varied by audience. Gaming creators like PewDiePie earned $10K–$50K per deal for brand integrations (e.g., Red Bull, Headset brands). Vloggers (Emma Chamberlain) charged $5K–$20K for lifestyle sponsorships, while educational channels (Kurzgesagt) secured $2K–$10K for product placements. The key was audience alignment: a Vsauce sponsorship for a science app made sense, but a gaming brand on a vlog channel would flop.
Q: Were there any top YouTubers in 2016 who pivoted successfully later?
Yes. David Dobrik (then rising with prank-style content) later built Disaster Girl into a multimedia brand. MrBeast (early Dream SMP videos) transitioned into challenge-based content, becoming YouTube’s highest earner by 2020. Even PewDiePie adapted by expanding into podcasts (Rewind) and merchandise. The top YouTubers 2016 who survived did so by evolving their content rather than clinging to old formulas.
Q: What was the biggest mistake top YouTubers made in 2016?
The most common pitfall was over-reliance on the algorithm. Creators who chased trends (e.g., Tide Pod challenges) saw short-term spikes but long-term audience fatigue. Others ignored community engagement, leading to subscriber churn. The best performers balanced trend participation with core content—like PewDiePie’s Collab series, which kept fans engaged between viral moments.
Q: How did YouTube’s algorithm favor certain creators in 2016?
The algorithm prioritized watch time, retention, and click-through rates. Channels that hooked viewers in the first 15 seconds (e.g., Dude Perfect’s high-energy intros) got boosted. Longer videos with high completion rates (like Kurzgesagt’s 10-minute episodes) also performed well. The system rewarded consistency: creators who uploaded weekly saw steady growth, while those with sporadic posts struggled—even if their viral hits were bigger.
