The Psychology of Engagement Bait
How You're Being Farmed Without Realising It
Engagement is the currency of modern platforms. Likes, comments, shares, reposts, saves. They all fuel visibility and reach. The more people interact with your post, the more the algorithm favours you.
That’s not news.
But what most users don’t realise is how often they’re being manipulated to serve someone else’s growth, and getting little or nothing in return.
Engagement bait is not new. It started with clickbait headlines and viral Facebook posts, but now it has evolved into something more subtle and harder to detect. It blends in with real content. It looks helpful. It feels like community.
But in truth, it’s often just farming disguised as generosity.
Twitter: Viral Threads Disguised as Value
On Twitter, engagement bait often comes in the form of viral thread formats designed to maximise clicks, saves and follows without delivering much substance.
You've probably seen these:
“10 websites that feel illegal to know”
“7 books that made me a millionaire”
“If you’re 25 and broke, read this”
“How I built a $100K business in 90 days with no money, no skills, no team”
“Don’t go to business school. Read these 5 tweets instead”
“AI will replace you unless you master these 10 tools”
“The top 10 side hustles you can start this weekend with $0”
They’re written for maximum engagement. Every tweet in the thread is a short dopamine hit. The CTA is always the same: like, retweet, follow, save.
The advice? Usually shallow, repetitive, or pulled from other creators without context.
It works because it feels actionable. But it’s mostly performance. The real goal isn’t to help you build a business or master anything. It’s to farm your attention and trigger algorithmic reach.
The result? The creator grows. You save a thread you’ll never read again.
LinkedIn: Performative Vulnerability and Lame Marketing
LinkedIn is full of engagement bait, but it’s wrapped in fake inspiration and “personal growth” narratives. The formula is predictable and, frankly, cheap.
It's not real content. It's performance marketing pretending to be authenticity.
You’ve definitely seen these:
“I was rejected by 47 companies before someone finally gave me a shot. Now I’m the VP of Strategy.”
“I had no degree, no experience, and no network. Today I closed a $2M deal. Keep pushing.”
“I was laughed out of a meeting once. Now those same people want to partner with me.”
“I posted every day for 90 days. Here’s what happened…”
“My startup failed. Then I built one that didn’t. Lessons below.”
“I fired a client today. Here’s why that matters.”
“One time my boss yelled at me. I decided that day to become a leader, not a follower.”
“At 25, I was broke. At 30, I’m financially free. Here’s how.”
It’s always some mix of fake hardship, overnight success, or corporate drama. Then they tack on a moral at the end and throw in a bait line like:
“What would you have done?”
“Has this ever happened to you?”
“Let me know your thoughts in the comments.”
It’s not content. It’s bait. And the sad part is that it works, not because it’s valuable, but because it’s engineered to manipulate emotion and trigger algorithm-friendly reactions.
This isn’t thought leadership. It’s lazy storytelling and cheap marketing. Empty calories. It wastes your time and clogs your feed.
If you want to build credibility on LinkedIn, skip the soap opera. Share things that actually help people do their job better, think sharper, or make smarter decisions. Not posts that belong on a bad TEDx stage.
Instagram: Reels, Stories and the Illusion of Value
Instagram is a playground for engagement farming. It rewards content that triggers quick reactions, not deep attention, and creators know this. Whether it’s posts, Reels, or Stories, most of what gets pushed is designed to game the algorithm, not deliver insight.
Let’s start with the posts:
“Save this for later” slapped on top of basic tips like “Drink more water” or “Wake up earlier”
“Tag 3 friends who need to see this” under a feel-good quote
Carousels like “5 things to improve your life this week” that say nothing new
Graphics that copy-paste advice from Pinterest and rebrand it as a mindset hack
Photos of a laptop + coffee with a caption like “just built a 6-figure business from here”
Now look at Reels:
“POV: You finally quit your 9-5” with cinematic music and zero context
Trendy lip-syncs with “entrepreneur lessons” over them, all recycled one-liners
Edits of someone typing, sipping coffee, or walking slowly while quotes flash on screen
Fake lifestyle montages: jump cuts of exotic trips with “Work hard, travel harder” as caption
Templates with AI voices listing “habits that made me rich” with zero proof or depth
Stories are even more manipulative:
Polls asking “Yes or yes?” or “Should I drop this course?” These are always a setup to sell
Sliders on every story with “🔥🔥🔥” to boost interaction stats
“DM me if you want access” followed by vague hints about some mystery product
“Only 3 spots left!” every single day, in fake scarcity countdowns
Stories of fake testimonials or old DMs used as new “proof”
Most of it’s not even subtle. But it works because it triggers the kind of micro-engagement Instagram rewards.
The game is this: make you tap, slide, vote, or save, even if what you're interacting with is hollow. It doesn’t have to be valuable. It just has to be viral.
The worst part? It trains your brain to expect dopamine, not substance. You stop looking for depth. You start reacting to noise.
If you’re trying to build a real audience or learn anything serious, cut through it. Follow people who make you think, not just scroll.
Substack: The Newsletter Gold Rush and Its Dark Side
Substack has become the new playground for creators looking to build an audience with more control. But just like every platform before it, farming tactics have followed. And in some ways, it's worse, because here the illusion of support feels even more personal.
It usually starts with a post like:
“Drop your Substack so we can all support each other”
“Writers, what are you working on? Let’s connect”
“Promote your Substack in the comments, I’ll check them all”
Sounds generous. Looks community-driven. But what it really is… is bait.
These posts generate massive engagement. Every comment boosts the algorithm. The creator gets more restacks, new followers, and increased visibility. But almost no one actually clicks on the links in the replies. And if they do, it’s a bounce. A skim. A ghost read.
The promise was support. What you got was exposure without attention.
Many of these threads are posted by creators who don’t even subscribe back. Or worse: they farm the thread, collect the emails, and send cold pitches later for their own paid newsletter, product, or community.
Some scrape dozens of replies and build an audience list from people hoping to be “seen.”
Others post a bait thread weekly as a growth engine, then pitch a premium course on “how to grow your Substack.”
Let’s be blunt: this is not community. It’s just polite farming.
It looks warm and welcoming, but it’s a numbers game in disguise.
Even worse is the culture of self-importance that's starting to spread. Creators act like thought leaders because 300 people liked their post. They write about “building in public” without sharing anything that matters. They celebrate growth based on impressions, not real engagement.
If you’re serious about writing (or reading/watching/consuming) then step away from these traps. You don’t need to bait support. You need to earn trust. One post at a time. One real subscriber at a time.
Because you can have 10,000 impressions and nothing to show for it. Or you can have 200 people who read everything you write, forward it, talk about it, and stay.
That’s the difference between farming and building.
The problem with Substack today isn’t writing. It’s pretending.
Pretending to support. Pretending to care. Pretending to build community while running a growth hack disguised as generosity.
It’s all noise dressed up as connection.
You scroll past a hundred links, remember none.
You get a restack, not a reader.
You chase visibility, and lose meaning.
This isn’t the future of publishing. It’s a popularity contest in slow motion.
And when the numbers stop moving, most of it disappears.
The Psychology Behind Baiting
Engagement bait works because it doesn’t target logic. It targets instinct. It’s not about what makes sense. It’s about what feels good in the moment, and that’s why it spreads so fast.
Let’s break down the real drivers:
1. Reciprocity
We’re wired to respond when someone appears to open a door. When a post says “Drop your link, I’ll support you,” it triggers a basic psychological response: this person gave me something, now I respond. But the “gift” is fake. There’s no follow-through, no actual interest, just a trigger designed to get you to act. It’s generosity theatre.
2. FOMO (Fear of Missing Out)
You scroll through a thread or post with hundreds of comments. Everyone’s dropping their work, their project, their ideas. You think, If I don’t join in, I’m missing an opportunity. The fear of being left behind overrides rational thinking. You don’t ask: Will anyone actually read mine? You just act to not be excluded.
3. Validation
Posting your link, your idea, or your project it feels like a small win. You did something. You shared your work. It feels like a step forward, like you're “in the game.” But in reality, nothing happened. No clicks. No conversation. No real exposure. It was a slot machine pull, and you left empty-handed. The dopamine hit fades, and you’re still in the same place.
4. Exposure Illusion
This is the most dangerous one. The belief that more visibility = more success. You equate impressions with impact. But the internet doesn’t work like that. You can have 100,000 people see your name and none of them care. You can get 1,000 likes and gain zero trust. Visibility without connection is noise. And platforms are built to confuse the two.
5. Mimicry and Social Proof
If it’s working for others, it must be smart, right? That’s what most people assume. So when they see engagement bait succeed (tons of likes, comments, shares), they copy it. And then someone else copies them. The tactic spreads like a virus, because it looks like success. Even people who see through it feel pressure to imitate it.
6. Algorithmic Obedience
Every platform has its own invisible reward system. When you comment, you get more reach. When you share, you get recommended. When you post consistently, your content gets priority. So you play the game, even when you hate it. Because not playing feels like disappearing. And that’s how you become another cog in the content machine, following signals that were never meant to help you.
You’re not wrong for engaging with bait. The entire system is built to reward that behaviour.
But once you understand how it works, how it plays your instincts to serve someone else’s goals, you can choose differently.
Not by disengaging entirely, but by focusing on signal over noise. By seeking real interaction, not inflated numbers. And by refusing to be a pawn in someone else’s growth strategy.
What You Feed Your Mind Matters
You wouldn’t live off junk food and expect to feel good.
The same goes for what you feed your brain.
If you consume empty content every day (shallow posts, bait threads, fake storytelling, dopamine Reels) don’t be surprised when your thinking gets foggy, your focus gets weaker, and your ideas start sounding like everyone else’s.
Junk in, junk out.
If you care about what you eat, care about what you read, watch, listen to, and follow.
Your attention shapes your standards. And your standards shape everything else.
