For six years, I taught interaction design at Cal State Los Angeles University, with mental models as the core of why we make interaction decisions. The entire class integrated human psychology and a clear understanding of human behavior, not just as theory, but as the foundation for every design choice.

Like why everyone pulls on “Push” doors. Or why literally no one trusts the popcorn button on microwaves. (Has it ever worked?)

Mental models shape everything we do, including why some virtual events feel like magic while others make you question your life choices and wonder if you could have just watched a YouTube tutorial instead. Because here’s the thing: great events aren’t just good content plus decent WiFi. They’re behavioral ecosystems built on how humans learn, engage, and retain information.

Spoiler alert: our brains are wonderfully predictable weirdos who fall for the same psychological tricks every time.

After fifteen years of running events and watching what makes people lean in, stay engaged, and remember experiences, I developed S.T.R.E.A.M: my event production framework built on real feedback and how humans actually respond. Each piece of the framework pairs with behavioral psychology principles that explain why certain events make you feel genuinely seen, weirdly energized, and like you need to DM someone because THAT JUST HAPPENED.

Pop quiz: Why do people really sign up for your events?

Is it because you promised “actionable insights?” Because it’s free? Because your speaker has impressive credentials?

Yeah… no.

They sign up because somewhere in that event description, they caught a glimpse of their future self. The version who finally launches that thing. Who speaks up in meetings without rehearsing every word seventeen times first. Who stops hiding in the back like it’s middle school and the teacher might call on them to solve the math problem they definitely didn’t prepare for.

That’s Future Self Projection. And when combined with Anchoring Bias (those crucial first 30 seconds that set expectations for everything that follows), it becomes the psychological foundation of every strategy that actually works.

Your event isn’t competing with other events. It’s competing with Netflix and that little voice that whispers “maybe later” while they refresh Instagram for the fourteenth time today.

So when I write event copy, I’m not listing features or benefits. I’m painting a picture of who they could become after spending time in this space. And I obsess over that opening moment, because it anchors their entire experience.

Strategy isn’t what you're offering. It’s who they get to become.

The most engaging speakers tap into something psychologists call parasocial relationships, and it’s the secret ingredient behind speakers who create genuine connection. We trust people who feel human. Flawed. Real. Not like they emerged fully formed from some TED Talk assembly line with perfect lighting and a wireless mic that never cuts out.

Some of the most magnetic speakers I’ve worked with have lost their slides mid-presentation and rolled with it like a boss, shared stories they’d never planned to tell, or admitted they Googled something five minutes before going live. (The audacity! The relatability!)

People remember vulnerability, not polish. They remember the moment someone said the thing they were thinking but afraid to voice.

Your speaker doesn’t need a TED Talk. They need to be a person your audience wants to grab coffee with.

You know that feeling when an event just... flows? When the pacing feels natural? When you’re not checking the time every few seconds? When you’d honestly be bummed if it ended early?

That’s your brain’s pattern recognition doing its happy dance. Humans crave rhythm. Structure. Predictable beats that let us relax into the experience.

But here’s where it gets interesting: We engage even more when we help build that structure. Enter the IKEA Effect: we value things more when we’ve assembled them ourselves. (Virtual events: all the satisfaction, zero Allen wrenches, and nobody gets into an argument about whether that weird little drawing actually represents a screw or modern art.)

Let people co-create the experience:

Another thing about memory: We don't remember entire experiences—we remember the peak and the end (Peak-End Rule). So you’re not just planning activities, you’re engineering the moments people will carry with them.

Sprinkle in some variable rewards—surprise guests, bonus content, spontaneous interactions—and you’ve got the psychological recipe for addictive engagement.

The magic isn’t in perfect production. It’s in making everyone feel like they’re building something together while creating experiences they’ll actually remember.

I attended a big online summit last year and watched someone spend two minutes trying to submit a question. The chat mods asked them over and over to put it in the ‘Q&A Pod.’

The UI was too confusing. They gave up and left the webinar. Probably went to make actual popcorn with better success rates than the event tech. (At least microwaves are consistently disappointing.)

That’s when Cognitive Ease hit me like a revelation. When something feels hard, we don’t blame the system. We blame ourselves. And then we peace out faster than someone who just realized they’re unmuted on a company-wide all-hands call.

Good execution isn’t flashy tech or perfect lighting. It’s the feeling people get from the moment they arrive. Clear. Welcome. Obvious.

But people also need a psychological threshold: a moment where they transition from “observer” to “participant.” That’s the Doorway Effect.

You need virtual doorways:

Most importantly, create psychological safety. People won’t participate unless they feel safe to fail, ask questions, or look imperfect. Most virtual events fail because people lurk instead of participate—not from lack of interest, but from fear of judgment.

When people stop thinking about the tech, they start thinking about each other.

Here’s what I learned from watching thousands of people in virtual rooms: Engagement is contagious. When a few people start dropping fire in the chat, others follow. When participation drops, that silence spreads like yawning in a meeting that could have been an email.

It’s Social Proof in action. We look to others to know what’s acceptable behavior in a space. But in large virtual groups, individuals often assume someone else will ask the question or make the comment. That’s the Bystander Effect, and it can kill the energy you’ve worked so hard to build.

Here’s the insider knowledge most event planners miss: Energy Management follows predictable patterns. Virtual attention spans peak for 7-10 minutes, then require restoration. Most event analytics miss these energy cycles that predict success.

The solution? Design content in digestible chunks with built-in restoration breaks. Track who speaks up first. Notice what makes the quiet ones feel safe to contribute. Pay attention to when people mentally check out and what brings them back.

Your data isn’t just numbers. It’s human behavior telling you a story about connection, safety, and belonging.

Want people to show up to your next event? Don’t send better marketing. Don’t offer bigger prizes. Make them proud they came to this one.

Reciprocity is powerful: when you give genuine value, people want to give back energy, attention, presence, community. It's like the behavioral psychology version of “you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours,” but with significantly less actual scratching and more meaningful human connection.

When you create content derivatives from your event (clips, quotes, follow-up insights), something beautiful happens in people’s brains. That quick video snippet triggers the Nostalgia Effect. Suddenly they’re back in that room, feeling that energy, remembering why they showed up in the first place.

The Zeigarnik Effect kicks in too—seeing a piece of the experience makes their brain want to complete the loop, to get back to that feeling.

So tell them what they did right:

Momentum isn’t about hype or pressure. It’s about reflection, identity, and making connection feel normal.

Community isn’t a Slack channel that goes quiet after three days because everyone’s back to their regular programming. It’s a shared story people want to keep writing. And here’s the plot twist: they’re all the protagonists.

The best events don’t end. They evolve into something people carry with them, reference in conversations, and use as inspiration for what they build next.

Because when you understand the behavioral psychology behind human connection, you stop treating virtual spaces like consolation prizes and start creating experiences that people actually remember.

Want the complete STREAM + Behavioral Psychology quick reference guide? Grab it below. ⬇️ It’s designed for event planners who are ready to create transformation, not just information. Because your future attendees (and your sanity) will thank you.