The Amazing American Circus: Why Do We Even Have All These Classes

In the Amazing American Circus, there are fifteen different types of circus performer you can have, and you can bring three of them to any given circus performance, which is a card-battling RPG where the enemies are audience members you have to impress and who boo you on their turn. The mechanics are kind of thinly attached to the theme, but it’s a unique theme and the mechanics are still good, so I like it.

When I say the mechanics are good, though, there is a major hole in them, just one that’s luckily easy to ignore: There’s fifteen classes and basically no reason to care about more than three of them. You start with a juggler, an aerialist, and a clown, and you can recruit new performers at each town you visit. There’s three of the same class, so when you find a class you don’t have, you can pick out one whose starting hand of five cards is closer to the build you’re going for. Performers gain XP from shows, but leveling up gives you extra cards or upgraded cards without changing your limit of 5 cards per performer, and you don’t get any extra HP or anything, so a level 1 performer is completely usable even in the endgame.

However, you don’t get to pick out specific cards when you level up. You get a random selection of three. Since leveling up does take quite a long time, it’s very hard to assemble a build without pulling up the Wiki to see what cards are available and shoot for those…oh, except the Wiki sucks because it’s not a super popular game, so actually when you level up you have to look at the cards in front of you and decide if you want to use a reroll to draw three new ones completely blind. You have limited rerolls per level up (you can unlock more by buying an upgrade, which is theoretically useful, if you know what card you want), so you don’t know if you’re throwing away your best option or fishing for it until you’ve played with that class through multiple level ups.

And since there’s no point where retiring characters is required or even useful, there’s not really any reason to change things up except boredom. There’s more than enough depth to this game to carry it through three or four playthroughs, but once I found my team of Face Changer, Juggler, and Fire Swallower was an effective heavy-attack party, I was reluctant to switch out even after I started maxing the level on some of them. I did eventually switch out Juggler for Snake Charmer because that gave my party a more unified aesthetic (the Juggler looks like just some girl with a dream, which I love, but the Face Changer and Fire Swallower are both really extravagently costumed and the Snake Charmer was more consistent with that, whereas the Juggler looked less like we were an underdog circus with a limited budget and more like we really didn’t like our Juggler and refused to get her a costume). I’m glad to be figuring out a new class instead of just steamrolling through everything with a maxed out party, especially since I can always swap the Juggler back in if I’m ever confronted with a particularly difficult performance, but I would appreciate some more guidance on what these classes actually do and, for that matter, where to find the ones I’m missing. The Wiki doesn’t have complete card lists, but it does have a complete class list, and there’s a One-Man Band? Where?!

What this game is really crying out for is side quests that revolve around and require a specific performer. The game has tons of side quests and they’re great, highlighting cryptids, urban legends, and prominent historical figures of the vaguely 1880 to 1910 time period the game is set in, and they’re the best part of the game. Instead of having performers recruited randomly from towns you visit along the way, the game could’ve used the side quests as an opportunity to recruit specific, named performers with specific classes. A handful of the side quests work this way, or nearly work this way, which makes me think this might’ve been the plan at one point? Having a side quest that required you to use a specific performer for a couple of shows would’ve incentivized the player to get a feel for that class and then make a decision about whether or not to add them to the permanent line-up.

And then, instead of randomly selecting cards on level-up, the performer should be able to get any card they want each level up, including copies of or upgrades to existing cards. Put all the cards in front of the player and let them work out what build they want to go for, and get there within just a few levels. It’s fine if there’s some cards that you can only have a maximum of one of, like the Face Changer’s Dragon Circle, a heavy nuke whose primary downside is that after you play it you have to flip it over to Face of Failure, a terrible card that you play only to get it flipped back around to Dragon Circle (but ideally you’ll play a card like Defensive Change that lets you flip another card in your hand without playing it). This does mean that a performer will probably only spend two or three levels getting new cards (or new copies of existing cards) and then the rest upgrading them, but a lower level cap would be fine and also it would be fine if a performer is expected to have all five cards they add to the deck be upgraded when they hit max level (which is eight in the game as it is).

The Great American Circus is still a pretty great game overall. If you want to explore more classes you can always decide for yourself to swap them out more. In order to see all the classes, you will have to commit to using five in each of the three regions (technically four, but you can’t do the South and the Midwest in the same game, which is annoying), and I didn’t realize I might want to do that until way later in the game, and some better design could’ve fixed that. But it’s not like the game prevents you from fully exploring its mechanical depth. You can just decide to do that.

Somebody Please Finish Fallout 1

I replayed Fallout 1 recently – I don’t have a record of when I completed it, which means I had no date to enter into my How Long To Beat backlog of finished games, which I decided was as good an excuse as any to play it again – and as with every time I play this game, I am pained by how close to perfect it is, how relatively easy it would be to get that last inch. Fallout 1 isn’t maimed by the places where it’s slightly rushed, but just another three months of polish and it would be completely flawless. Here’s what’s missing:

First, there’s a broken end slide for the Hub because the quest to turn Iguana Bob over to the police is broken. All that’s missing is the dialogue for turning him over to the police. The only reason this would even take an afternoon to fix is because no one’s familiar with the source code anymore (even the original devs will have lost their intuitive grasp of the structure nearly thirty years later), so you’d need a while to familiarize/refamiliarize yourself with how to set flags and add dialogue at all. If Fallout had even one extra week of polish before shipping, this part could’ve been finished. Instead, it’s impossible to get the good ending for the Hub. It will disperse to the wastelands no matter what you do.

Second, finish the Boneyard. There’s a lot of wholly unimplemented quests in the game, but I don’t think the game particularly needs most of them, especially since all the major ideas the game missed out on got picked up and reintroduced into the setting in Fallout: New Vegas. We don’t need a second raider camp for the Vipers, because to whatever extent that content is missing from our lives, we have it now in New Vegas.

But the Boneyard is genuinely unfinished. Like the Hub, there’s a good ending that’s impossible to get in the current game because the side quest for it was never implemented (you can even get it in your quest log, but the spy you need to find is not in the game world). It’s also impossible to end up with a version of the Boneyard where either the Blades take over or the Regulators remain in power. An ending slide where the Followers of the Apocalypse take over is in the game files, unreachable due to the unimplemented side quest, but if you help the Blades defeat the Regulators or vice-versa while not helping the Followers, there’s just no ending slide at all.

Third and finally, fix all the timers. There’s some dangling bugs where certain activities that only cost you a few days on the pip-boy countdown for the water chip advance the calendar date by several weeks, which matters because the mutant army countdown is based on the calendar date, so the same action can bring you three days closer to Vault 13 dying of dehydration but twenty days closer to Vault 13 dying of super mutant invasion, not because it actually affects the timetables of those two things in different ways, but because of a bug.

Also, there’s claims on the wiki that the super mutants are supposed to take over every settlement in the game on specific dates, but despite blowing past the earlier deadlines even on my fastest playthroughs, the end slides are never affected the way they’re supposed to be. I’ve heard if you actually return to Necropolis after the deadline it will be taken over and the end slide will reflect this, but the Hub and the Brotherhood definitely don’t work this way and if you just don’t go back to the Necropolis it will never be overrun by mutants no matter how long it takes you to finish the game.

The game having a timer for its endgame to pick up when the water chip timer that dominated the early-to-mid game leaves off is a good idea. I understand why people didn’t like the half-finished version that the game shipped with and why the easy fix in the post-release patch was to add a 0 to the number of days on the timer rather than overhaul what happens when the timer counts down, but I think the game would be much better with a properly functioning timer.

What do I mean by “properly functioning?” First, let the player know there is a timer. The staggered nature of the timer is perfect for allowing a player to feel like they’re always at risk of running out of time to save everyone and yet have no chance of running out of time to save anyone. 500 or even 400 days is a ludicrously long time to complete this game in. But because the timer is unannounced and there’s no indication of settlements being overrun (except maybe Necropolis?), players get tricked into thinking they’re off the clock once they’ve got the water chip and may end up wandering over the time limit by accident if they spend a lot of time criss-crossing the map. There should be a radio network linking different settlements together. Shady Sands should have a little radio hut where you can tune in to hear the latest wasteland news, using the radio item (the same one you use to turn forcefields on and off with computer hacking in the military base) should let you tune in as well, and when you finish up in Junktown, whoever you helped should give you a radio so they can keep in touch in case the town ever ends up in trouble again. NPCs in the Hub should also point you to the radio in the general store, saying it’s a good idea to have one.

Now, on day 90, you get a radio message from a survivor from the Gun Runners in Boneyard who’s fled to the Hub, letting you know that the Boneyard has fallen to a mutant army and it’s only a matter of time before they expand outwards (“it’s only a matter of months, maybe even weeks, before the mutants strike at the Hub!” or similar to help emphasize that this is a countdown, not a battle map). This causes a new sticky note to show up on your pip-boy in place of the water chip countdown. It’s got a spot on it for the water chip countdown if that’s still relevant, and it’s got a list of all the settlements in the wasteland in order of when they’re conquered, with the Boneyard on top, crossed out. The player doesn’t know exactly when the others will fall, but they get the idea that they are on the clock to stop this mutant army before it’s too late.

Second, sort out the timers on all the settlements between the Necropolis and Vault 13. According to the wiki, the timers for the end slides are (or are supposed to be) 90 days for the Boneyard on the Master’s doorstep, 110 days for the Necropolis, 140 days for the Hub, 170 days for the Brotherhood of Steel, 210 days for Junktown, 230 days for Shady Sands, 400 days for Vault 13 if you told the Water Guild about its location to extend the water chip timer, or 500 days if you did not. The only ones of these that are well-balanced are the Boneyard and the Vault 13 default. The Vault 13 default is so long that, provided the player actually knows they’re on the clock, running out of time is nearly impossible. The Boneyard is on a tight enough timetable that you have to have a good idea of what you’re doing to meet it, making it a good challenge objective for a second playthrough.

The problem is that all of the others are way too soon after the Boneyard, except the 400 day timer on Vault 13 if you did give its location away, which is still so easy that it’s not much of a tradeoff at all for extending the initial water chip countdown. Making the Vault 13 timer more aggressive would be bad because you get an instant game over if Vault 13 falls, but if that just isn’t true, if you can keep playing so long as there’s one settlement left no matter what it is, then extending your initial timer can cut Vault 13’s endgame timer by a lot.

Necropolis being packed pretty tight after the Boneyard might not be a terrible idea, since it serves as a backup objective for someone who was going for the save-everyone deadline but missed it by a hair. You probably missed both the Boneyard and Necropolis on your first playthrough, so getting one but not the other serves as a decent consolation prize.

But saving the Hub is way too hard. As the primary city of the wasteland, any victory that comes after the fall of the Hub is going to feel like a Pyrrhic victory, and you can get there just by making one extra trip back up to Vault 13 to check on things, going on a few caravan runs, and spending a bit too much time in recovery from the Brotherhood of Steel’s stat-boosting surgeries – a sloppy playthrough to be sure, but not excessively so. The Brotherhood of Steel is supposed to get overrun after 170 days, but it definitely isn’t and shouldn’t be, because they are the source of power armor and the stat boosting surgeries, which means it shouldn’t be possible to lose access to them unless you’ve seriously messed up.

Instead, I’d suggest that at 140 days, the Hub reports that scouts from the Crimson Caravan have spotted a mutant army massing and announce that all caravans are suspended as all guards and Hub police are massed into an army to fight them off, at 170 days they announce that just as Hub forces were at their breaking point, the Brotherhood of Steel pushed the mutant army back, leaving without a word and leaving everyone as baffled as ever as to their motives and whether this is a good thing in the long term, and at 200 days, reports come that the Brotherhood is under siege. At 230 days, the Brotherhood falls, and the Hub falls at 240 days.

You can still get power armor (and some of the other loot normally available from there) by getting past the super mutant garrison and retrieving it (the mutants don’t need any special dialogue or anything, they’re just a bunch of bruisers left behind to camp on mostly the first level), but you permanently lose access to the surgeries and no one will show up to help you fight at the military base (for all the help those three losers are when they don’t even follow you inside). Likewise, while you can pick up some amount of leftover loot from the Hub (and get piles of XP from fighting the mutant army occupying its five maps), it’s eradicated as an interactable location.

Once they’ve captured the Hub, the mutants also capture the location of Vault 13, if the Hub traders had access to it. Without the Hub or the Brotherhood to fight them in the field, the super mutants can go wherever they want – Junktown will hold their walls against the army, but they won’t meet them in the field if they go around. Since nearly everyone in Vault 13 is sufficiently unaffected by radiation as to be a prime candidate for mutation, it’s a priority target, and it falls after just 255 days as the mutants make a beeline for it. Junktown goes at 270 days, and Shady Sands at 320 (it’s remote). If Vault 13’s location wasn’t given to the Water Guild, they hold out until day 500 because the super mutants don’t know about it. They think they’ve won and put no particular effort into doublechecking.

The drama around the fall of the Hub and the Brotherhood should make clear to the player that they’re still very much on the clock, and even 245 days is a very generous time limit to finish the game up within, so the player would have to have been completely ignoring the time limit to lose Junktown, Shady Sands, or Vault 13 (even with the Water Guild knowing where they are – the water chip deadline isn’t super harsh, so the price for extending it doesn’t have to be that severe, just not so lenient that it’s virtually guaranteed not to come up unless you go looking for it).

A player who didn’t take the fall of the Boneyard or Necropolis seriously might struggle to save the Brotherhood and the Hub, but even then, not by much. The battle for the Hub, from the first time the Crimson Caravan reports they’re in danger to the point when the Hub falls, lasts 100 days. The entire game is expected to be completed within 90 days if you know exactly what you’re doing, so while saving the Hub adds enough time pressure to make you think twice about making a second trip to the Glow to clean out extra loot, it shouldn’t be hard to do.

So now the game has Junktown, Shady Sands, and Vault 13 as settlements that are nearly impossible to lose, the Hub and the Brotherhood as settlements that are on a tight enough deadline to stop you from thoughtlessly wasting time but which you will almost certainly save in your first playthrough, and Necropolis and the Boneyard as settlements that require fairly efficient gameplay to save, with no room for a stray caravan trip or any unnecessary visits to remote locations like Vault 13 or the Glow (and pretty limited tolerance even for extra trips within the core region of the Hub, Junktown, Necropolis, Brotherhood of Steel, and Boneyard).

This is, by far, the most drastic overhaul to the game, but it’s part of the game’s original plan. The only thing I’ve tweaked is the exact number of days it takes to get there, everything else is reimplementing a super mutant march that was always supposed to be in the game.

The Amazing American Circus: Obviously Ghosts Are Real But The Loch Ness Monster Is Just Ridiculous

The Amazing American Circus is a card battling RPG where the premise is that your battles are circus performances. In terms of mechanics, it’s identical. Your audience is your enemy, they inflict damage on you by booing and sneering, and once you inflict enough entertainment on any given audience member, they start to cheer instead. This does not heal you, they just stop inflicting damage, just like a slain orc.

The game takes you from one end of the continental United States to the other. You have to choose whether you want to go through the Midwest or the South to get from the west coast to the east, which is annoying, but the writing on the side quests is fun. You often encounter cryptids and ghosts, and sometimes blunder into major historical events of the late 19th and early 20th century, in a way that makes it clear that the exact year the game takes place in is a non-committal mumbling sound.

When you arrive in Michigan, you can go hunting for a vaguely Nessie-esque lake monster (not that specific shape, but same idea), and as is often the case, you’re given a chance to express skepticism or belief at the existence of this monster. We’re about halfway across the States now, so it’s pretty hard to get this far without seeing a bunch of the supernatural. Side quest completionist that I am, I had a girl possessed by a fire demon, a clown cured of alcoholism by a magic ritual, and a literal ghost in my circus troupe. But a lake monster? Come on, no way, I’m totally with Scully on this one.

Hades Is A Better Diablo III Than Diablo III

Diablos III and Immortal are unworthy successors to the Diablo title. Diablo IV is reportedly much better (I haven’t tried it, and for that matter I haven’t tried Immortal, but for Immortal to be good, nearly everyone who ever wrote or talked about it would have to be lying), but it’s tied to plot points introduced in Diablo III and Immortal, which makes me worry that it would be a jarring lurch to go into straight from Diablo II. I hate the feeling that I’ve skipped a chapter, and while some installments in an ongoing series are so superfluous that you totally can just avoid them (the Assassin’s Creed series, for example, is an episodic series whose only ongoing plot is the stupid modern day frame stories that are best off ignored in the first place), it’s not clear to me if Diablo IV is that. I’d like it if someone took the new plot elements introduced in Diablo III and Immortal, cleared out the other 80% of the game retreading ground covered by Diablo I and II, and then presented it in a style consistent with those first two games rather than being World of WarCraft-ified in a quest to make all of Blizzard’s franchises more like the one that makes the most money. That game doesn’t exist, and so long as I’ve got 100+ games in my backlog, that’s enough to disqualify the otherwise (reportedly) quite good Diablo IV from my wishlist.

Hades is not that game. It isn’t literally a spiritual successor to Diablo II, but it’s closer to being that than Diablo III is, which is surprising since Diablo III is an actual numbered sequel and Hades was at no point even trying to be a Diablo successor. Diablo III had a few new ideas but squandered them with a combination of poor writing and slavish devotion to the settings and characters of the first two games. Diablo is a series where you go into a cool place, kill cool monsters, and watch the numbers go up as a result. The loot progression is critical to the gameplay loop, but what the loot actually is makes fairly little difference. The new weapons and armor you get are rarely that engaging on their own, but it does feel cool when you equip a new weapon and are now cleaving through monsters at a noticeably accelerated rate. And that’s not to say it’s a mindless process, either. While grabbing whatever has the biggest number will carry you through the base game, there is a lot of depth to build optimization in Diablo and especially Diablo II. Rather, what I’m saying is that where that build optimization comes out viscerally is not in what hat your character is visibly wearing, but purely in the rate of monster destruction.

And the reason that works well in Diablo and especially Diablo II is because the monsters and locations you’re in visually progress and the narrative accelerates towards a climactic confrontation (provided you’re playing with the Diablo II expansion’s Act V – Act IV is actually kind of lame, you just show up at Diablo’s house and beat him up and the Hell levels are just long enough for the momentum of the Act III/IV transition cut scene to wear off and then there’s not really anything else to pick up the slack in the story). Newer games’ “new locations” are locations from the old games with pretty minimal edits, and their new monsters are mostly the same. Even when locations do change significantly, it’s only to change into another old location. The mountain from Diablo II was reduced to a crater at the end of that game, so it is now the caves level from Diablo I.

The shift in art style in Diablo III was also a bad idea. I remember people making fun of the fan backlash over it and those people were and are stupid hacks. Making Diablo look like a gothic-themed expansion for World of WarCraft is no better an idea than World of WarCraft looking like an orc-heavy Diablo expansion. The unification of all of Blizzard’s games into a single mono-art style is bad. That it was the critics pushing for homogeneity in art against fans calling for more diversity is a bizarre reversal of what’s usually one of the critics’ redeeming qualities: A greater appreciation for the new. We can’t give the fans too much credit here, because retaining the old Diablo style would obviously not have been new, but at least it would’ve avoided winnowing down the old and actually shrinking the diversity of art.

And on the other end: Hades is a pretty good successor to the Diablo series. There’s definitely enough of a tonal mismatch that it is not a good idea to take it as literally a stealth Diablo sequel. In a Diablo game, Hades would be a world-devouring arch-horror and Zagreus’ quest would be to stop him, whereas in Hades the titular antagonist is a stubborn old man who must be worn down through a relentless defiance, but the ultimate resolution is reconciliation. I really like how well it’s handled, the game doesn’t present Zagreus as flawless but also doesn’t mind presenting a scenario where one side is more in the wrong and has to give more ground in a reasonable compromise than the other, and since the whole theme of the game is about wearing someone down over time, Hades’ slow crumbling before Zagreus’ relentlessness feels earned and plausible, not like the story reached act three so the writers flipped a switch and Hades instantly became more reasonable after a moment of emotional catharsis. It dawns on Hades slowly that no, really, Zagreus is never giving up on this, and it takes him a while to update his behavior on that realization.

Anyway, all that’s badly out of step with the tone of Diablo, but otherwise it’s a pretty snug fit. A gothic atmosphere, dungeon levels full of gory, infernal imagery, a host of ghastly and skeletal monsters, a heavily stylistic visual presentation that makes the game look like a playable film of a specific medium. Most people think of Diablo and Diablo II as just looking like themselves, but that distinctive art style comes from trying to look like claymation as best as the available tools permit. Hades looking like a 2D animated film that you can play is exactly the kind of visual update that Diablo III should have had – moving on from the old to do something new, rather than a relatively niche old thing being assimilated into the Borg cube of a bigger, more profitable old thing. Likewise, the mechanics are recognizably a realtime action dungeon crawler, but the details of how upgrades work and the new Roguelike elements significantly overhaul exactly how you play. The locations have Diablo III’s problem of being a bit of a retread – Tartarus is basically the crypts from Diablo I, Phlegethon is the pre-requisite Hell level, and while Elysium is new and interesting, Diablo III also managed exactly one interesting new location in its last act – but the new monsters and art style make them feel more distinct from older Diablo games than Diablo III’s rendition. Also, to be clear, I’m not marking Hades down for Tartarus and Phlegethon being vaguely thematically similar to Diablo series dungeons, because it’s not actually a Diablo game, just pointing out that Hades’ advantage over Diablo III as the accidental third installment in the series is more slight here than in other aspects.

Hades isn’t usable as the “real” Diablo III even with a few script edits to change the proper nouns around (especially not for purposes of being the missing bridge to Diablo IV), but if Diablo III had been good, it would’ve had more in common with Hades than with the Diablo III we got.

What If Copyright Was Still 28 Years?

One of the easiest ways to demonstrate how eminently reasonable a 28-year copyright duration – the United States’ original copyright length – is to look at what would and would not be public domain if we switched to a 28-year copyright right now. Ordinarily, a sudden legal shift like this would be devastating. Even if the new law is completely reasonable and better than the current system, pulling the rug out of people who made plans around current laws would be disastrous for people whose only crime was failing to anticipate the laws being changed immediately, with no grace period to change course. But a 28-year copyright doesn’t actually do that! We could seriously just declare that all copyrights last only 28 years, that all copyrights older than 28 years have expired as of right now, and it would be fine.

Let me demonstrate.

Genshin Impact

Genshin Impact is a phenomenally successful and quite recent intellectual property, first released in 2020. That means it will remain under copyright for full 28 years, going public domain in its 29th year of release, 2049. That is a fucking sci-fi year. Genshin Impact is not remotely at risk of being devoured by copycats stealing their thunder at the height of their popularity, because the height of their popularity is not going to be 29 years after they’re released. Things sometimes take a couple of years to rev up, but not three decades, come on.

Star Wars

Even under a 28-year copyright scheme, the entire Prequel Trilogy is still under copyright. While Star Wars fans and competing studios would be free to make new stories in the Original Trilogy and the first phase of the expanded universe, Disney’s control over the prequel era means that competitors either have to look to Disney’s canon and make their new stories compatible with it or else accept the daunting task of taking the OT and maybe some of the 90s books as the only canon and attempting to compete with Disney’s canon. On the one hand, Disney’s canon isn’t very popular. On the other hand, you’d have to try and convince people to accept the de-canonization of the Clone Wars and the Knights of the Old Republic. You can pick up Princess Leia’s reference to the Clone Wars in A New Hope and tell an entirely new version of that story and that would be cool and all, but it would have to be entirely new, which means it would decanonize the Clone Wars TV show, which means a lot of Star Wars fans will not follow you there. It’s technically possible to fight Disney for the Clone Wars era, but even under a 28-year copyright scheme, you’ll lose. They control the foundational IP for too many beloved stories in that era.

But there’s a time limit on that. In 2024, you can’t use battle droids, the planet of Naboo, or the vast majority of details of the Jedi Order before Order 66. Disney has the copyright on all of those, and anyone who wants prequel stories has to get them from Disney. But in 2028, the copyright on the Phantom Menace would expire, and by 2033, the copyright on Revenge of the Sith would be up. Now it would be possible for competing studios to make prequel-era content compatible with the prequel canon that people love, even if specific episodes and new ideas introduced by the Clone Wars would remain under copyright for a while. You wouldn’t be able to make stories about Ahsoka Tano until 2037, but you could make stories about clones fighting battle droids as early as 2031, and it would be easy to make them compatible with Ahsoka Tano’s existing stories even if you can’t directly reference or recreate them. Disney isn’t doing anything particularly exciting with the character of Ahsoka Tano these days either, so by 2031 (when Attack of the Clones would go public domain) you have all the clone troopers, battle droids, and Mace Windus you need to tell new stories in the era that don’t contradict anything fans already love. At that point, as long as you can produce better movies and TV shows than Disney, you can fight them for control of the Star Wars canon and win.

This puts Disney on the clock: They can either start making good, new Star Wars content in the few remaining years while they still have control of critical IP, or if they can’t, then it’s an open call to any studio who thinks they can make good Star Wars movies to release enough bangers that they seize the crown of “the Star Wars guys” in the eyes of the public.

Marvel/DC

If the public domain had been radically expanded in 2005, Marvel still would’ve been able to build the first three phases of the MCU because no one else was able to build a decade-spanning franchise like they were. If it had been radically expanded in 2015 (around when Age of Ultron came out – easily the weakest Avengers movie, but not bad enough to derail the MCU) no one would’ve been able to wrest the title of “the Marvel guys” away from them, both because of their affiliation with original creators like Stan Lee and because they were making good movies. If it had been radically expanded in 2020, then yeah, Marvel Studios would probably have lost their crown as “the Marvel guys” by now, because nobody liked Phase Four and four years is enough time for competitors to get some films out. Or maybe superhero fatigue is real and nobody can produce popular superhero movies anymore because the genre is too tired. Whatever.

The point is that regardless of the state of copyright law at any point from 2005 onwards, it is unlikely that anyone would’ve been able to stop the MCU from happening up until the point when it turned mediocre. Drastically curtailing copyright lengths wouldn’t have stolen those characters from Marvel Studios, just given them to anyone else who thinks they can do better.

And on the other end we have DC. DC’s cinematic universe is a continuous trainwreck. There have been several individually good movies, but they have way too many bad ones for anyone to ever feel good about the whole. Batman and Superman would’ve been an absolute feeding frenzy, and the worst thing that could’ve happened is that more bad movies about these characters would’ve come out, which wouldn’t have made things any worse (you’re under no obligation to see them), or else someone else makes the Justice League work and now the number of good movies goes up.

Every superhero anyone cares about is already past a 28-year copyright deadline, but that would not have stopped any of the superhero movies that were any good from being made. Or if it did, it would’ve been because they were outcompeted by other, even better movies. But the reason nobody made Iron Man movies except Marvel Studios in 2008 isn’t because no one had the copyright. Studios who wanted the copyright to Spider-Man, X-Men, and Daredevil had gotten their hands on it and, either immediately or eventually, squandered it. The reason why nobody but Marvel Studios made Iron Man is because nobody but Marvel Studios believed in Iron Man’s potential as a movie.

The Legend of Zelda

This one I bring up because nothing would change. Yeah, you’d be legally allowed to release a game called Zelda and try to compete with Tears of the Kingdom. Good fucking luck.

Pokemon

The copyright on the original 151 Pokemon and the Kanto region would expire in 2026 under a 28 year copyright term, and if anything that just proves that 28 years might be too long. People are trying to make Pokemon knock-offs left and right, and while Game Freak isn’t exactly doing an amazing job with the franchise, the wall that people keep running into is that 150 is a big number. Games that try to take the concept in an interesting direction run into the problem that it ceases to be recognizable, while games that stick to the Gen 3-5 formula risk succeeding and being knock-offs. What this franchise desperately, desperately needs is to give fans access to some of the earlier generations of monsters so that someone can take the concept in a new direction while still having Bulbasaur and Pikachu in it. A lot of media works by taking something familiar and putting a new twist on it and the Pokemon fan-game sub-genre is being absolutely strangled by the inability to use the actual Pokemon as the familiar thing, leaving us with games that have to make everything else familiar and use a new set of ~100 monsters as the “twist.”

Nintendo won’t want to give up on this cash cow because it’s made them $50,000,000,000, but also it has already made them $50,000,000,000. What kind of idiot would try to argue that anyone will be dissuaded from making new stories and intellectual property because Pokemon was only able to make $50,000,000,000 before going public domain? Particularly when Nintendo will still have copyright over every other generation, which will either encourage them to give those generations a bit more love rather than recycling Gen 1 over and over and over again or else see the entire franchise slip through their fingers one generation at a time until the games people actually like are all in the public domain and they’ve got nothing left but the likes of Sword and Shield.

And in order to avoid cluttering up the list with a half-dozen similar examples, here’s a bunch of other intellectual properties that could be producing lots of fun new interpretations but which aren’t, because it’s just not practical for the majority of creators to sell an audience on two different new concepts for one project, which means by the time you’ve finished selling them on the idea that your version of [thing] is interchangeable with the original, you have exhausted their patience for new ideas and have no room left for the new twist you’re putting on [thing]:

-Gundam
-Warhammer 40k
-Godzilla (and King Kong, but Kong is public domain in the reasonably attainable year of 2029)
-Judge Dredd
-Tomb Raider (past the 28-year mark in 2025)
-The Elder Scrolls
-Diablo (past the 28-year mark in 2026)
-Fallout (past the 28-year mark in 2026)
-Half-Life(!) (past the 28-year mark in 2027, although Half-Life 2 isn’t until 2033 – Valve’s been cool about people selling Half-Life spin-offs on Steam, so copyright law probably isn’t standing in the way of a third-party Half-Life 3, but this just goes to show that you can let people pick up your famous-but-abandoned properties and it’s fine)
-Jason, Freddie, and an assortment of other slashers
-WarCraft (although you would want a lot of the lore from WarCraft III, not past the 28-year mark until 2031)

In all these cases, I think the most fertile ground for new stories comes from relatively low-budget indie productions who wouldn’t be able to afford a license even for a mostly-abandoned property, or else they’re being squandered by their current owners, or sometimes a combination of the two. Warhammer 40k already gives out licenses with such hit-and-miss quality that whether or not a specific 40k game or book is any good is a crapshoot, why not open the floodgates completely? Let some indies take a stab at making a better Godzilla video game, or at making a Judge Dredd TV show or game. Maybe the threat of someone else making Elder Scrolls VI will convince Bethesda to stop fucking around with Skyrim rereleases. The Diablo series is a trainwreck that would benefit from going back at least to III, probably II, regardless of copyright law, and the sucking maw of evil that is Activision-Blizzard isn’t going to rescue the series.

Harry Potter

Under a 28-year copyright term, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone would go public domain in 2026. A lot of the iconic imagery comes from the films, which would start going public domain in 2029. Most of what people actually care about from Harry Potter would be public domain with the first film, although there’s a few elements like the Marauder’s Map and the Deathly Hallows (the symbol, at least) that would take longer. But for the most part, a more sane copyright duration would break JK Rowling’s grip over the setting within just a few years.

This is also an example of how 28 years is way more than enough time to prevent original works from getting eaten alive by cheap imitators. The time when Harry Potter fanfic frenzy peaked was like twenty years ago and a 28-year copyright term would still only be almost expired on the first book.

Dragon Ball

Dragon Ball Z premiered in the United States in 1996 and DBZ Abridged started releasing in 2008, so although 1984’s Dragon Ball manga would’ve been completely public domain as early as 2013 (still five years ahead of the 2008 release of their first episode, though), the footage they used for the first ten episodes (not counting any brief cuts from things like the Bardock special) wouldn’t be public domain until 2023. It would barely now be legal to make an abridged cut of the anime and sell it.

I use this example to demonstrate that it’s not like a 28-year copyright duration would be some kind of anarchy where anything goes. Even artistically valuable projects that help newer voice actors and directors develop their talents to a professional level and thus clearly serve the public good wouldn’t have been strictly legal under a 28-year copyright term. It is, if anything, still too long.

I don’t want to give it a separate section, but Sonic the Hedgehog is a similar story playing out right now. I’m sure whoever’s making the movies would be desperate to avoid facing competition because they are okay at best, but the world would be a better place if that Jehtt guy on YouTube could start building hype and a team for Sonic Adventure 3, officially Kickstarting in 2028, the first year Shadow the Hedgehog would be in the public domain.

Frozen

One of the biggest losers of a 28-year copyright duration would, of course, be Disney, who would lose half of their iconic Disney princesses immediately. Elsa and Anna wouldn’t go public domain until 2042, though, so they’ve got mountains of time to figure out another money printer before losing that one. Competitors can use Snow White, Cinderella, Ariel, and Jasmine, including their iconic Disney appearances (even ripping screens straight out of the films, which would be in the public domain), but not yet Mulan or Rapunzel. They also wouldn’t be allowed to call their toys, TV shows, etc. etc. Disney princesses, because the name Disney would still be covered under trademark law. You can use Steamboat Willie in your own media now in the Alpha Timeline where he’s gone public domain, but you’re still not allowed to trick people into thinking it was made by or in affiliation with the Disney Company.

Competitors can sell Belle and Ariel, but if your kid’s favorite princess is Moana, you’re still stuck with Disney. While Disney would undoubtedly lose some sales, even enough that I’m sure they would hate a 28-year copyright term, they’ve actually been pretty cool about shows like Once Upon A Time and the birthday princess industry. Despite having positioned themselves as the ultimate Final Boss of copyright law, even the drastic “change the copyright duration to 28 years and apply the new law to all works regardless of the law under original date of publication and put it into effect immediately and without warning” hypothetical doesn’t actually damage them that much.

Final Fantasy

For starters, the name “Final Fantasy” should probably be trademarked, because it doesn’t describe a specific setting or characters, but rather the work of a specific company in a certain genre. The only thing that unites the Final Fantasy series is that they are JRPGs made by Square-Enix (not even every JRPG made by Square-Enix, but whatever). But the first six games in the series would still be public domain, so anyone could host them for free download (or sell copies of them, but if free archives haven’t completely dropped the ball, it should be easy to find a free download of famous media in the public domain), and you could make sequels and spin-offs and remakes of those, specifically. So the Fabula Ultima guys could release official stats for the characters, settings, and monsters of Final Fantasies I-VI, for example, they just couldn’t call themselves Final Fantasy while doing it, and once the Final Fantasies with more famous setting names hit public domain, you could start using names like Midgar City Stories, Squall in the Garden, or Spira Chronicles. Those names won’t grab people as hard without the Final Fantasy prefix, and if that leads companies to try and build an identity around abstract titles rather than specific IPs then that would be great please do that.

Final Fantasy VII wouldn’t go public domain until 2026, which means that Square’s remake series would be well into its run before anyone else would be allowed to release a competitor, and it’s well-received enough that such a competitor would have to absolutely blow Square’s version out of the water to make it a favorable comparison. People are already going to be predisposed to think of the former IP holder as the “legitimate” continuation of the series, and they have to seriously fumble the setting to lose that. And Final Fantasy VII was famously a game that people clamored for a remake of for years before finally getting one even under existing copyright law where there was no threat of someone else picking it up and walking away with it in 2026.

This is another demonstration of just how long 28 years is, and how easy it would be for any reasonably competent company to retain de facto control over an IP even after its original installments are in the public domain. So long as they manage to take the story in an interesting direction in any of the 28 years since original publication, those follow-ups mean people will look to them as the “real” owner of the setting and view others as cheap knock-offs or, at best, a B-team making compatible material. And if they go 28 years without making anything good enough to stop a competitor from riding into the setting and making a follow-up that captures the public’s good will, then maybe they should suck less.