Four million views later, YouTube gave Fritsch a cut of the ad revenue. Then the Techno Viking parody videos started rolling in -- the modern-day version of hearing your band's song on the radio. Fritsch seized on the video's success. He gave lectures on the viral nature of the meme and studied the world's reaction to it, and even started a website collecting the various parodies and art works fans created to express their love for the video.
Fritsch turned a video of a guy he didn't even know into a lucrative artistic career. But you probably noticed there's something missing in all this backstory ...
After The Fame
In the story of Techno Viking, there isn't much mention of the actual Techno Viking. No mention of the fame and fortune that fell into the lap of that dancing Norse god after the video blew up. He's an afterthought in the story of his own video. That's because no one knows for sure who the Techno Viking actually is. The only thing anyone knows about him is that he is well aware of the video's popularity -- and that he fucking hates it. Hates it so much that in 2009, Techno Viking (for the lack of his real name) sued for every single bit of cash Fritsch made off his likeness. And he won. He raked in 15,000 euros in damages (around $20,000 US, for comparison), and everything featuring his likeness that Fritsch uploaded needed to be removed from the Internet, including the original video.
In 2013, Fritsch took to Indiegogo in an attempt to raise 10,000 euros for a Techno Viking documentary. He only made it to 6,467 euros. He's also broke right now, because instead of having a job, he's spent nearly a decade trying to piss off a man who has probably given the nickname "Mjolinir" to several of his body parts.