Inside dark world of online challenges as star found dead after '10 days of torture'

The livestream had been running for nearly 300 hours when the co-creators of Raphaël Graven, 46, noticed their immobile fellow streamer was not breathing.

One of the other streamers threw a plastic bottle at his head before moving towards Graven, who lay on a mattress on the floor closest to the camera, and repeatedly slapped his face. Earning no response, the fellow streamer calmly, finally, cut the cameras and ended the stream.

Less than an hour before, as the four men in the video slept, Graven's breathing was loud and laboured. The streamer, known online as Jean Pormanove, reportedly asked on multiple occasions during the marathon stream to end the challenge, threatening to call the police, complaining of health issues and asking for an ambulance. He was ignored.

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Graven, a former soldier, died on Monday 18 August, and authorities were called to the residence in Nice, France, where the marathon stream had been taking place. An autopsy has been ordered, and an investigation has been called into his death after he endured shockingly violent and humiliating treatment on camera in the 12 days before his death.

During the stream, he was allegedly suffocated with a plastic bag and a diaper, routinely deprived of sleep, forced to clean the excrement of one of his co-creators, hit countless times in the head, suffered people throwing themselves on top of him as he screamed from the pain, forced to degrade himself, and called innumerable insults.

However, concerns about the treatment Graven endured during livestreams on the platform Kick had been longstanding. He appeared regularly with three other creators: Owen Cenazandotti, nicknamed Naruto, Safine Hamadi, and a disabled man called "Coudoux" who is, per Le Monde, "under guardianship".

Last December, an investigative report by Mediapart was published about the creators and the treatment suffered by Graven and Coudoux at the hands of the other two streamers, which routinely featured humiliation, violence, and seemingly abusive behaviour.

An official investigation was opened by Nice prosecutors at the time, but all four of the men denied the charges of abuse, claiming the videos were intended to be funny - which regularly saw Coudoux and Graven spat on, hit, strangled, or degraded.

The videos were met with enthusiasm from the streamers' viewers, who made financial donations or paid subscriptions for the content, with some even reported to have "encouraged even more degrading abuse in the comments."

But extreme content on Kick and the internet at large is nothing new.

The streaming platform Kick is known to be an attractive alternative for creators to Twitch - one of the biggest streaming platforms. This is, in part, because streamers keep far more of the money they earn, with Kick only taking a 5 percent cut.

Kick's rules are also reported to be more relaxed than those of Twitch - allowing provocative and shocking content on their livestreams, with what the Daily Mail called a more "permissive moderation policy".

So much so that many of their high-profile streamers have come under fire for horrifying content in their streams, including one streamer who took a homeless woman for a meal, before promptly dining and dashing, leaving the poor woman to pay the bill.

The streamer, username Dumbdumbjeez, was kicked off the platform for his bad taste antics. Another streamer, Rangesh Mutama, found himself in hot water after allegedly torturing and beheading a chicken during a livestream, something that also saw him banned.

Other controversies during livestreams have included one user being whipped by a dominatrix and a man being tortured and shot close-range with a paintball gun, during a bizarre simulated "prison" livestream by creator Paul Denino.

The Mirror understands that Kick doesn't try to influence the content of their streamers, but will ban, suspend, or remove content that breaches its terms, and that the challenge the streaming platform perceives when it comes to moderation is that it is a reactive process: until someone breaks the rules, they can't take any action.

However, legal expert Adam Jones from HD Claims, points out that just "if a company becomes aware – or ought reasonably to have been aware – that harmful or degrading behaviour was taking place, there is an argument that a duty of care arises to act," and in this case, an investigation into the streamers by authorities had already been launched.

"In cases like the tragic death of Raphaël Graven, the role of the streaming platform itself inevitably comes under question," Jones told continues. "Legally, most platforms shield themselves through disclaimers and terms of service, placing responsibility on the users."

This means "criminal liability for platforms is unlikely," the expert explains, but "they could face civil claims or regulatory pressure if it can be shown that inadequate moderation allowed dangerous content to continue unchecked. Courts are increasingly exploring how much responsibility platforms bear for foreseeable harm occurring on their watch."

For more than 12 days, in a marathon online stream before his death, Graven was subjected to treatment that has been called "absolute horror" by French government minister Clara Chappaz.

Experts speaking exclusively to the Mirror explain that this kind of shocking and extreme behaviour is part of a larger pattern in the digital world, where our attention itself is monetised, and amid the never-ending flurry of information available online, capturing that attention becomes more of a challenge.

"We live in a culture where visibility is currency," says Counselling Directory member Tina Chummun, "and even those not financially benefiting from content are immersed in its algorithmic rhythms. Watching extreme content provides a form of stimulation in a saturated environment where more subtle or nuanced material no longer cuts through."

"The tragic death of Raphaël Graven highlights the darker side of what we call the 'attention economy'," explains criminal psychologist John Eastham from Private Investigations UK.

"For some streamers, the drive to shock, entertain, and retain an audience means their behaviour escalates over time. What starts as performance can quickly cross into humiliation, violence, or risk-taking, because the pressure to 'outdo/ previous content is relentless when your livelihood and reputation depend on it."

Senior Lecturer in Digital Economy from King's College London, Dr. Jamie Woodcock, echoes these sentiments. "Livestreaming can be an incredibly competitive activity," he explains.

"Discoverability can be a big challenge for streamers, with only a very small number able to make money. This can, in some cases, encourage extreme activities to capture viewers within this 'attention economy.'"

However, Woodcock notes that there are "many other dynamics" that can capture an engaged audience, and that other streamers have found success without relying on sensationalist or extreme content.

"While recent cases have shown that these activities can escalate," he points out, "it is also worth remembering that there are many forms of streaming and not all rely on controversy. There are many other dynamics that can draw in viewers, particularly through building diverse online communities."

Graven's co-streamers knew well that his health was fragile, because it was a topic of discussion in their streams that the diminished former soldier was having breathing issues, with Cenazandotti even expressing concern about it in the marathon stream.

But Grazen's health issues were not new. Older videos show Hamadi and Cenazandotti even noting that he might die on-air, and pressuring Grazen to tell the camera that if that did occur, it would not be their fault.

"People will come after us, but it's because of your 46 years of a miserable life," Cenazandotti was recorded saying. Grazen was hesitant to do so, but after some time, he eventually said, "If something happens to me live, I take full responsibility."

In the stream before his death, Grazen is reported to have messaged his mother saying, "I think this is going too far, I feel like I'm being held hostage".

He is also reported by Mediapart to have repeatedly told his co-creators to stop their routine violence and humiliation against him, even threatening to call the authorities.

Graven asked for an ambulance and said he needed to go to the hospital more than once, after complaining of ill health. He even told the camera and viewers directly on day five that he wanted to stop.

So why did people keep watching?

"Behind a screen, empathy is dulled," explains Tina Chummun. "The body's natural visceral responses, the quickened heartbeat, the surge of mirror neurons, are blunted when we consume violent or humiliating acts digitally rather than in person. That distance makes it easier not just to watch, but to normalise the spectacle. Depending on the context of the individual, it can obscure and distort their sense of reality".

The expert psychologist likens this to "the urban term 'keyboard warrior' and how people can easily use their words to create conflicts and challenges that they may not necessarily do in person."

"Psychologically, viewers are also part of this cycle" of extreme content, adds Eastham. "Many ordinary users are drawn into extreme livestreams out of curiosity, the thrill of witnessing taboo behaviour, or even peer dynamics within online communities egging things on.

"Algorithms intensify this, feeding audiences more of the same content and making dangerous stunts feel more normalised. We’ve seen this before with challenges like the 'blackout' trend or the Tide Pod craze – where social influence and virality push people towards dangerous acts they might never consider offline."

The Tide Pod craze in 2018 saw a large number of young people ingesting the colourful, and poisonous, laundry capsules, with social media companies like YouTube forced to reportedly step in and remove content encouraging the trend.

Parents of four British children launched a legal action against TikTok due to their belief that their kids died whilst participating in online challenges, including the 'blackout' trend.

Chummum notes, "Online personas and avatars shape how we see ourselves, and in turn, how we behave. Even if someone isn’t financially tied to their digital presence, they can slip into exaggerated roles, over-hyped visual expressions of emotions, emboldened by the anonymity and performative culture of platforms.

"Replicating stunts or challenges becomes less about rational choice and more about inhabiting a temporary identity whilst performing for an idealised one. Popularity online is now being exchanged for a sense of achievement through false-self identification."

However, Chummum makes clear that the psychology behind the 'attention economy' is "complex" and that our "neurobiology", "unresolved trauma", and "cultural backdrop" of a "'digital fast-food' model of content" are all interwoven - and that extreme content can even become "addictive" for some people.

"For some viewers, shocking or violent material can act like a lightning rod for their own unresolved pain. Trauma survivors may be unconsciously replaying familiar dynamics of chaos," Chummum explains, "while others with insecure attachment patterns may seek an intensity online that feels absent in their daily lives. Watching becomes a form of addictive self-soothing, even if paradoxically destructive."

She adds, "A large proportion of our mental processing is driven by unconscious processes, content that shocks or transgresses can bypass rational filters and hook into automatic neural circuits of fear, arousal, and reward."

Overall, this means in Chummum's view, "It is the combination of psychological distance, unconscious processing, unresolved trauma, the emotional state of the individual in any given moment and time, as well as the cultural allure of spectacle," that makes extreme content "so attractive".

"For some, it scratches the itch of intensity. For others, it projects their pain onto another’s performance," she says.

The experts warn that there is a slim chance of legal ramifications even for users just watching and commenting on an extreme stream like this one, but that, more importantly, a case like this raises crucial "questions around the moral responsibilities of audiences".

"For those watching and encouraging Mr Graven’s ordeal, the legal position is complicated. Under English law, someone could, in theory, face liability if they incited or encouraged harmful behaviour that directly contributed to a death," explains Eastham.

"In practice, proving that online comments or encouragement caused a fatal outcome is extremely difficult," he continues. "That said, this case raises important questions around the moral responsibility of audiences, as well as the platforms hosting such streams, to intervene before tragedy occurs."

Jones adds, "This case highlights a wider legal challenge: how far should platforms go in policing extreme online behaviour, especially when it leads to serious injury or loss of life?"

Each of Graven's attempts to leave the stream or end the brutal treatment he received was met with further apparent abuse and humiliation, until the tragic ending of his story, which viewers watched unfold in front of their very eyes.

Chummum says about the nature of this kind of extreme content, "For all of us, it's a reflection of how far the attention economy has shifted the goalposts of what is considered to be 'normal' online."

Graven's co-creators have denied mistreating him, with the lawyer of Cenazandotti telling Mediapart, Graven, "Voluntarily participated in staged performances broadcast live, from which he derived his income."

A spokesperson for Kick told the Mirror that they are "deeply saddened" by Graven's death, "and extend our condolences to his family, friends, and community. We are urgently reviewing the circumstances and engaging with relevant stakeholders to investigate the situation. Kick’s community guidelines are designed to protect creators, and we remain committed to upholding these standards across our platform."