Opinion: Escapsim, Complacency, and the Inner Gigachad

From Zero to Hero: Why We’re All Rooting for Losers These Days

Once upon a time, our heroes were untouchable. They wore tuxedos to gunfights, jumped off skyscrapers without breaking a sweat, or wielded powers that made gods look underwhelming. They were motivators, idols to look up to and follow. But lately, something strange has happened. Our protagonists are no longer the flawless paragons we once idolized. Instead, they’re… well, losers. Struggling moms saving the multiverse, high schooler turned edgy anti-hero, or socially awkward anime girls that can only communicate through a flipbook. What’s going on here? Have we collectively decided that being cool is overrated?

The answer lies somewhere between societal disillusionment and a desperate need for escapism. In a world where economic stagnation and social pressures weigh heavy, it seems we’ve traded in our aspirational fantasies for something more relatable—flawed characters who stumble their way to greatness. But is this shift empowering, or are we just fooling ourselves with prettier versions of mediocrity?

Why We Love Watching Nobodies Become Somebodies

Let’s talk about isekai. If you’re not familiar, it’s a genre of Japanese storytelling where characters are whisked away to another world (think The Matrix but with more swords and badly written existential crises). These stories thrive on one simple premise: losers get second chances. Whether it’s the socially inept gamer who becomes an overpowered hero or the book-obsessed-psychopath who manages to razzle-dazzle medieval peasants with modern knowledge, isekai offers the ultimate fantasy—escaping your current life and starting over as someone extraordinary.

And it’s not just Japan. Western media loves this trope too. Remember Ready Player One? A broke, awkward kid saves the virtual universe because he knows obscure trivia about 80s pop culture. Or how about Harry Potter, unloved, downtrodden boy living under the stairs discovers he’s actually a wizard destined to defeat the most feared dark lord in history? These stories resonate because they tap into a universal longing: the hope that maybe, just maybe, we’re destined for something greater than our boring, underwhelming lives.

But here’s the catch—these narratives often cheat. The protagonist doesn’t succeed because they work hard or grow as a person; they succeed because they’re “chosen” or stumble upon godlike powers. It’s escapism at its finest but also its most dangerous.

When Escapism Becomes a Trap

On the surface, these stories seem empowering—they tell us that even the most flawed among us can achieve greatness. But dig a little deeper, and you’ll notice a troubling pattern: many of these narratives romanticize passivity.

Take isekai again. The protagonist is usually handed immense power without earning it. One minute they’re a nobody; the next, they’re fighting off zombies or saving the world from some guy with a hand fetish. Sure, it’s fun to watch, but what message does it send? That greatness doesn’t require effort? That you just need to wait for some magical Deus ex machina to fix your life?

Even outside of fantasy, this trend persists. Modern media often glorifies “acceptance” in ways that border on complacency. Characters are celebrated for “being themselves,” but rarely are they challenged to grow or change in meaningful ways. The worst offender of this is the growing trend of “romance with a gimmick” shows that decided that drama and actually building upto a relationship took too long and instead opted for the same Girl A with a quirk meets Boy A and they live happily ever after. It’s as if we’ve collectively decided that striving for something in life was too much work.

And maybe that’s the point. In a world where real-life challenges feel insurmountable—crippling student debt, climate change, political chaos—it’s no wonder we gravitate toward stories that let us off the hook. But while escapism provides temporary relief, it also risks widening the gap between reality and expectations.

The Case for Struggle: Why We Might Need to Suffer

Here’s an uncomfortable truth: growth requires discomfort. No amount of magical thinking or escapist fantasies can replace the value of hard work and perseverance. And deep down, we know this. It’s why stories like Rocky or Good Will Hunting still resonate—they remind us that greatness isn’t handed out; it’s earned through struggle.

So how do we reconcile this with our love for loser-to-hero narratives? By rethinking what “acceptance” really means. True acceptance isn’t about resigning yourself to mediocrity; it’s about acknowledging where you are while striving to become better.

Imagine if media leaned into this idea—flawed characters who don’t just stumble into success but actively work for it. Imagine an isekai where the protagonist doesn’t gain instant godlike powers but has to learn and grow alongside their new world. Imagine stories that inspire us not by showing us what we could be if circumstances were different but by showing us what we could become if we tried. How we can go even further beyond.

Unleashing Your Inner Gigachad

Let me introduce you to Korea’s first viral meme of 2025: the Inner Gigachad. What started as a joke about embracing absurd confidence when the world seemed to be burning around us quickly became a rallying cry for self-improvement. People plastered a mixture of broken English and Korean glued together with pure charisma and confidence across their social media feeds, paired with images of chiseled figures captioned with lines like, “Hey 만삣삐, you have to trust yourself to take action. Only you can decide what the right decision is.”

It was ridiculous. It was over-the-top. But it worked. The Inner Gigachad wasn’t about actually being perfect—it was about channeling an audacious belief in yourself, even when you felt like a total loser. It was about showing up for life with the same swagger as someone who thinks they’re invincible, even if you’re barely holding it together.

So maybe you’re not destined to save the multiverse or lead a rebellion against a dystopian regime. Maybe your story is smaller—quieter—but no less heroic. Whether it’s learning a new skill, mending a broken relationship, or simply getting out of bed when everything feels impossible, these are the battles that define us. So STOP 띵킹 만삣삐, a day will come where your hard work is rewarded, not by some benevolent hand-waving god, but by you yourself.