Why we crave more of the same: the hidden science of familiarity in art, music, and stories
Ever notice how discovering something new: a song, a film, a book; often makes you want more of the same instead of something even newer? There’s a hidden pattern here.
The paradox of discovery
You stumble upon a song that gives you goosebumps. A film that feels like it rewired your brain. A passage in a book that vibrates with truth. It catches you off guard, disorients you briefly, and then... you want more. Not more of the unfamiliar, no; but more that feels exactly like that.
So you search for the sequel. The playlist. The "if you liked this, try that" suggestions. Something that scratches the same itch without the work of discovering again. It seems paradoxical. We say we crave novelty. But the moment we experience something new and powerful, we crave more of what feels familiar.
This isn't a glitch. It's a window into how our minds are wired for pattern, safety, and reward. This essay explores that loop. Why we form it, why we stay in it, and how to gently, intentionally break it.
The brain’s pleasure circuitry duo: dopamine and pattern matching
Let’s start with dopamine, often misunderstood as the brain's "pleasure chemical." What it really governs is anticipation. When we correctly predict a rewarding outcome, the beat drops where we expected, the twist lands with a satisfying punch and dopamine fires - bam! bam! bam!.
Over time, the brain becomes conditioned to associate specific patterns with pleasurable outcomes. We don't just enjoy that indie guitar riff, or that third-act redemption arc, we enjoy anticipating it.
We chase the structure, not just the content.
This is why repetition doesn’t bore us as much as we think it should. Instead, it soothes us. It confirms that our internal map of the world is working. The brain rewards predictability dressed up as discovery.
Evolutionary wiring : familiarity as survival
Go back thousands of years. A rustling bush could mean wind or a predator. A sweet-smelling fruit could be a meal or poison. Early humans didn’t have the luxury of curiosity for curiosity’s sake. Unfamiliarity was risky, and the slightest mis-step could kill you.
So we evolved with a bias toward what had previously helped us survive. Familiar trails. Known food sources. Repeated rituals. Known faces. Common languages. All signalled safety. Safety came not from exploration, but from repetition. That evolutionary programming hasn’t left us. Today, when we favour familiar movie structures or recognisable musical elements, it’s our ancient brain whispering: this feels safe. Even if the stakes are now emotional rather than existential. Unfamiliarity still triggers our caution circuits, even in a Netflix queue.
Cognitive ease - why the brain loves repetition
Cognitive ease is a term psychologists use to describe how fluently we process information. The smoother the experience, the more positively we judge it. That’s why we rewatch old shows, even if we know every plot point. Why we let our favorite album play again instead of exploring a new one. The brain says: I know this terrain. Let’s cruise.
Beyond survival, the brain just loves a shortcut. It accounts for 2% of body weight, but consumes 20% of our energy. Naturally, it looks for ways to conserve effort. This isn’t laziness, it’s energy efficiency. It’s emotional homeostasis. We call it "comfort viewing" for a reason.
Cultural echo chambers is how groups reinforce sameness
But the loop doesn’t live in our heads alone. Culture reinforces it. Taste becomes social currency. We form identities around what we love, and we look for others who love it too and tend to “group” together based on these. Fandoms emerge. Platforms notice. Algorithms optimize. And soon, what once felt unique becomes part of a well-oiled system of content delivery.
We don’t just consume. We validate, rank, recommend, replicate. Art becomes genre. Genre becomes brand. Brand becomes formula. And the formula gets repeated because it works. We don’t mind. We’re rewarded with the dopamine of shared experience.
Sameness scales. And when it scales, it self-perpetuates.
The contrarian mind craves dissonance, not harmony
But not everyone thrives in the loop. Some minds get restless when everything feels too known. They get suspicious when a pattern becomes too predictable.
These are the dissonance seekers. The contrarians. The ones who don’t want to watch the sequel. They want to be jolted, provoked, confused. Not because they dislike comfort, but because comfort wears off quickly for them. Often, these are also the creators. The genre-breakers. The people who put new shapes into culture, even when no one’s asking for it yet.
For them, boredom isn’t discomfort; it’s a compass pointing somewhere new.
Breaking the loop and how to rewire what we seek
So how do we escape this loop when we want to? Not by purging familiarity altogether. But by becoming aware of when it becomes default. We can disrupt the loop gently, with intention:
Listen to a genre that doesn’t show up in your algorithm
Watch a foreign film without subtitles
Read a book you pick blindly off a shelf, with no blurb or review
Let curiosity be the filter instead of the recommendation engine. And ask yourself: Is this stretching me? Not because stretching is morally better. But because novelty expands emotional range. It reveals you to yourself in new ways.
Harmony between pattern and disruption
We need both. Pattern and rupture. Repetition and rebellion. Familiarity isn’t the enemy. But when it becomes an unconscious loop, it stops being nourishment and starts being numbing. If art is a mirror, sometimes we need to look into a new one.
Discover. Repeat. Then, every now and then, break the damn loop.
Additional resources: Break the Loop workbook. A reflective worksheet designed to help you recognise consumption habits, embrace discomfort, and rebuild your taste through intentional curiosity.
Use weekly or monthly. Best when done with complete honesty. Download it here