Content for fun vs. content for purpose: designing for two distinct modes of consumption

We use content in different ways, based on our purpose. Sometimes we use it for fun or entertainment (and social connection), such as when reading a thoughtful essay or scrolling TikTok. At other times, we have a specific goal in mind, such as finding out how to fix a particular error code on our dishwasher or solving a specific coding problem. Understanding these distinct modes isn’t just academically interesting; I hope this mental model helps shape how we design content experiences, AI assistants, and digital platforms. Do these modes resonate with you? I’d love to see great examples of platform or content design that reflect this thinking, to reveal how we can better design Automattic’s products to meet you in whichever mode they find you. So, after reading, kindly share your thoughts in the Comments below. And now, onward.

Utilitarian mode: content as a tool

When we need content to complete a task, we operate in what I call “utilitarian mode.” Consider the person googling “How can I set up a workflow to transform screenshots into Obsidian notes on my iPhone?” They don’t seek entertainment or a journey or to bond with anyone—they want the most relevant information delivered in the most accessible format possible. My heart sinks when the first results are YouTube videos for something like this. I find it much faster to find and use written instructions than to have to sit through a video to find the segment I want.

In utilitarian mode, we prioritize efficiency over engagement. We want bullet points over narratives, screenshots over explanations, and direct answers over context. This content is transactional: We extract what we need and move on. It’s also increasingly likely that we will hand off this work to AI assistants who can parse, summarize, and act on the information more efficiently than we can.

Utilitarian mode tends to be solitary and instrumental. We don’t share these moments on social media or discuss them with friends. We just want to solve our problem and get back to what we were doing.

Experiential mode: content as connection

Contrast this with settling in to watch the new season of 100 Foot Wave. Here, we’re operating in “experiential mode”—seeking maximum stimulation, emotional involvement, and immersion. The value isn’t in extractable insights but in the experience itself. You wouldn’t get the same satisfaction from reading a bullet-point summary of a TV episode, no matter how comprehensive.

Experiential content is not about the destination. At this point, it’s tempting to leap to “it’s about the journey,”stereotypically the Hero’s Journey, which seems to fulfil a deep longing within us. It can feel like selfish fun; sometimes I just really want to watch a favourite movie or listen to a particular song. But I think this mode of content consumption is actually about something deeper.

“Which is more important,” asked Big Panda, “the journey or the destination?”
“The company.” said Tiny Dragon.

Big Panda and Tiny Dragon by James Norbury

Often content for fun is obviously social. It’s something we watch or listen to in the company of others and relive together afterward. Think: concerts, festivals, cinema, theatres. The shared experience becomes the social glue that bonds us. This is precisely the kind of content we’re unlikely to delegate to AI, because the consumption itself is the point. But hidden within the “selfish fun” category is also—to me—the deeper longing for a social connection. 

Importantly, experiential content isn’t inherently less intellectually rigorous than utilitarian content. Someone might choose experiential mode for a “mindless” sitcom to watch with their family or for a deeply thoughtful documentary about quantum physics they watch alone on a flight. The distinction isn’t about intellectual value—it’s about the mode of engagement and the role the content plays in that moment.

The quantum theory of content and rapid mode switching

Where it gets tricky is that the same piece of content can serve both purposes for different people or at different times: It’s at the point of consumption that the wave function collapses. A cooking video might be pure entertainment for someone unwinding after work, while serving as a utilitarian tutorial for someone preparing dinner. An Instagram reel often serves both purposes at different times; I get to enjoy watching a great chef cook something exciting. If I want to make the meal, the reel guides me. For me, this is a great example of a point of friction across a lot of my digital experiences—trying to find and follow a recipe that’s either subtitled, hidden in comments, or behind a Linktree is painful, especially in comparison to the ease and joy of discovery. Just give me the AnyList recipe import, please! One piece of content, two modes of consumption.

More importantly, while an individual unit of human attention appears to be either task-focused or experiential, we’re capable of switching between these modes rapidly within a single content experience. This rapid switching is often what curiosity feels like—you find an answer to your immediate question, but stepping out of task-centric mode for a moment helps you ask follow-up questions or choose to explore a rabbit hole further.

The most effective content design doesn’t transcend these categories but deliberately serves both with clear switching points. Consider Duolingo. It combines task-focused learning (I need to master this phrase) with experiential elements (gamification, social connection, streaks). Duolingo isn’t purely utilitarian any more than Sudoku is purely mathematical education—it’s a sophisticated combination of the two. Tellingly, when I need to communicate beyond my current ability in Portuguese, I reach for DeepL, not Duolingo. If DeepL tried to gamify that urgent translation experience, it would be counterproductive.

Even entertainment content can have utilitarian applications. We might want efficient summaries to decide which show to binge or which restaurant to try, or some post-entertainment takeaways, such as recipes, quotes from a book, clips from a show to share on social media, etc. But ideally those summaries are respectful of spoilers!

Real-world applications across the content ecosystem

This problem has immediate practical implications across the content technology landscape. Consider how different products within Automattic’s suite might navigate these modes:

Pocket Casts exemplifies this tension perfectly with features for both content consumption modes, like podcast transcripts (where available) and AI summaries. Some listeners want to absorb every minute of a Tim Ferriss episode for the full experiential journey—the pauses, the tone, the conversational flow. Others might prefer a feed of key insights that their personal AI agent can process and act upon. Both are valid uses of the same content, but they require fundamentally different product approaches.

WooCommerce sits at the intersection of both modes as commerce itself evolves. Utilitarian commerce might involve agent-to-agent transactions through protocols like MCP (Model Context Protocol), where AI assistants handle routine purchasing decisions. Meanwhile, experiential commerce—think TikTok’s live shopping or immersive product discovery—treats the shopping journey itself as entertainment and social interaction.

Passport (a subscription platform and collaboration between Stratechery and Automattic) raises perhaps the most intriguing question: Should we monetize content differently for AI and human access? Passport’s entitlement-based system allows for “an effectively infinite number of ways to gate access, down to the individual”—which could include distinguishing between human and AI consumers. But this raises complex questions: How do we reliably detect AI access (large-scale ingestion vs. agentic computer use for an individual)? Should AI training data cost more than human subscriptions, or less? The same Stratechery article might be worth $10/month to a human reader seeking business insights, but potentially worth thousands to an AI company training models on strategic analysis. Or the other way around.

Design implications for rapid mode switching

The most memorable technical blog posts work similarly. They don’t embed utilitarian content within narrative to transcend categories—they design clear switching points between modes. The specific technical solution (code snippets, configuration steps) needs to be clearly structured and easy to scan for task-focused consumption. But making it easy for readers to switch into experiential mode (through narrative context, analogies, or broader implications) is equally critical.

Code is poetry might be true, but code as poetry is a harder sell when someone needs a working TypeScript function. WordPress’s Gutenberg blocks exemplify this principle: Code blocks help differentiate task-mode content from surrounding text paragraphs that might serve experience-mode consumption.

As Nic Carter observes, “Writing is for the reader, after all,” and understanding the different types of reader (a human seeking experience vs. AI extracting utility) fundamentally changes how we should think about the tools we build for content creation, distribution, and monetization—just as knowing our customer shapes how we think about and evolve our products and their UX.

This understanding of rapid mode switching suggests that we need to design clear pathways between modes rather than optimizing for single-mode experiences:

For utilitarian consumption:

• AI-optimized formats that can be quickly parsed and acted upon. iIt’s currently possible but expensive for folks to individually use LLMs to transcribe videos or podcasts and extract insights—this is something that makes more sense at the platform level).
• Multimodal options (audio for commuters, images, charts, and video for visual learners, text for skimmers or efficient AI discovery).
• Clear hierarchies that surface the most actionable information first. (Recipe blogs that stuff the actual recipe at the end of a long blog post filled with SEO-friendly filler are something I hope AI disrupts!)
• Integration with workflow tools and AI assistants. (Are RSS feeds cool again?)

For experiential consumption:

• Rich, immersive formats that prioritize engagement over efficiency.
• Social features that enable shared experiences.
• Resistance to summarization—some content should remain “unspoilable.”
• Human-centric design that acknowledges the irreplaceable value of human attention and presence.

The future of content platforms

As AI becomes more capable of handling utilitarian content consumption, the experiential mode may become increasingly valuable and distinctly human. This doesn’t mean utilitarian content becomes less important—rather, it is processed more efficiently, freeing us to invest our attention in experiences that truly require human consciousness.

Content creators and platform designers who recognize rapid mode switching will be better positioned to serve their audiences. Instead of fighting against AI summarization or trying to make everything  “engaging,” they can thoughtfully design for the mode their content is primarily meant to serve while still accommodating clear switching points to the inverse use case.

The most successful content strategies of the future may be those that explicitly design for both modes within single experiences, creating clear visual and structural cues that help users navigate between task-focused and experiential consumption. After all, both modes serve essential human needs, and often these needs arise within moments of each other. For me, then, AI has simply helped bring the distinction into clearer relief. But enough from me. What do you think? Will this distinction between modes of consumption help you design more effective experiences? Let me know in the comments.