randomeer: SpaceMonkey
Imagine if it was the law — not a guideline, not a suggestion, an actual legally binding requirement — that every advert had to use the exact same voiceover guy. One man. One voice. One poor soul narrating everything from luxury perfume commercials to discount carpet warehouse blowouts. You’d turn on the TV and hear him say, “Introducing the new fragrance by Dior,” and then without even taking a breath, “Also, sofas half‑price until Sunday, no credit checks.” The tonal whiplash alone would cause national migraines.
And this guy wouldn’t even be allowed to change his delivery. No accents, no character voices, no enthusiasm. Just the same neutral, vaguely bored baritone for every product on Earth. “Try our new triple‑chocolate fudge cake,” delivered with the exact same energy as, “This medication may cause dizziness, nausea, and existential dread.” Kids would grow up thinking that’s just how adults sound when they’re trying to sell you things: like they’re reading a ransom note written by capitalism.
Eventually he’d become the most recognisable voice on the planet. More famous than any actor, more trusted than any politician, more unavoidable than your own thoughts at 3 a.m. He’d be the background radiation of society. You wouldn’t even hear him anymore — he’d just seep into your brain like an audio watermark.
And imagine the chaos when he tries to retire. He’d file the paperwork and the government would be like, “Sorry, you’re a national resource now.” They’d have him hooked up to some kind of vocal‑preservation machine, keeping his throat hydrated with taxpayer‑funded lozenges. Meanwhile, advertisers would panic at the idea of having to use a different voice. People would riot. Markets would crash. Somewhere a lizard alien economist would be taking notes, wondering why humans get so emotionally attached to a man who spends his life saying, “Terms and conditions apply.”
Eventually, after decades of service, he’d become a myth. A legend. The Voice. Children would ask their parents if he was real or just a sound the government makes. And honestly? At that point, who could tell. He’d be less of a person and more of a national infrastructure project.
All because someone, somewhere, thought it would be “simpler” if adverts just had one voice. Simpler for who? Certainly not the guy.
If you want, I can spin another random from this universe — like what happens when he sneezes on air, or what the black‑market “illegal alternative voiceover” scene looks like.
