In the spring of 1993 an obscure French publisher proposed a novel form of entertainment to people as yet unable to squander hours watching TikTok videos. “In Search of the Golden Owl”, a slender illustrated volume, referred to a life-size statue of the nocturnal bird designed by one of the authors, cast using three kilograms of gold, even more silver and encrusted with diamonds. The tome’s other author had devised 11 riddles that would lead successful sleuths to the precise spot where he had buried a bronze replica of the owl. The clues were fiendishly cryptic, requiring knowledge of history, science and other dark arts to unlock. The organisers thought it would take amateur investigators up to two years to crack the code; whoever unearthed the replica prize could exchange it for the real owl, said to be worth 1m francs (over €250,000 in today’s money, or nearly $300,000), as well as a cellar of fine wine. Not quite, as it turned out. On May 2nd 2025, after armchair adventurers had spent three decades looking for the wretched talisman, the organisers revealed the solution. The continent in which the game had started in 1993 had morphed into something different altogether. The “owlers”—an early manifestation of how shared obsessions can give rise to niche communities—had something to do with it.