Destructoid Checkpoint: Crossover Culture

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Sometimes I worry about a growing curmudgeon streak that appears to be growing down the center of my soul. The irony of curmudgeonliness is that it’s more acceptable in the young than in the old. For the 25-year-old, it is a hilarious character trait spoken about lovingly by friends who cannot get over the idea that their friend really does hate smartphones.

In a 45-year-old, it is just a refusal to get with the times, and a tired desperation to hold onto (somewhat ironically) their youth. This is why it is with a sense of trepidation that I approach the idea that I really, truly hate crossover culture, and see it as a net negative to both art and creativity. 

The tipping point

I would rather be honest about what has set off this reaction than not, so I may as well admit that it was Stardew Valley. Yes, the cutest game ever made. Stardew Valley has now been subsumed by the mutant crossover machine that is Magic: The Gathering. 

In an effort to massively annoy longtime MtG fans, I choose to refer to it as the Fortnite of card games. Not because of its number one spot in its niche, or the ubiquity of the franchise even among the mainstream, but because it has become the very definition of a soulless monster designed almost exclusively to remove cash from pockets at the cost of the valued entertainment it used to pride itself on providing. 

Technically, crossovers are not new to MtG, but the sheer volume of them now, wrapped up as the Universes Beyond, is a little silly. In Universes Beyond, the designers take whatever other IP they think will make money and gives them permission, and then they mix it into Magic. 

Formalized in 2021, we’ve had Stranger Things, Arcane, Transformers, Lord of the Rings, Warhammer 40K, Fortnite, Street Fighter, The Princess Bride, Jurassic Park, Doctor Who, Cluedo, Monthly Python, and SpongeBob. And now, Stardew Valley will get a Secret Lair release where the cards will cost more than Stardew Valley itself does. 

The normal sets will cost $29.99, and the foils will cost $39.99, which is twice and thrice the cost of the actual game, respectively. 

There is no real rhyme or reason to these crossovers; it is just a matter of wherever they think they might extract money from, potentially even dragging in money from Stardew Valley fans that don’t play the game, but will treat the cards as some form of collector’s item and be FOMO’d into buying them.

Fortnite

Fortnite managed to essentially destroy its own business model by leaning too far into crossovers and collabs. Originally, they were somewhat rare and worth being excited about, but rapidly came to dominate the shop front as Epic really turned up the juice when they realized how many people out there would buy Marvel skins. 

By the admission of Epic Games CEO Tim Sweeney, they then became overreliant on these cosmetics, and the main problem was that Epic retained 100% of the profits from their own skins, but only a share of these collabs. Because gamers don’t have infinite money, the collab skins dominated sales, reducing the sales of the Epic-owned skins, and so snake truly began to eat its own tail.

This year, Fortnite has over 100 crossovers planned, a never-ending cycle of new things that are all, somehow, the best thing ever. The concept of curation appears to be dead, as just about anything and everything can get into the game now. If you have a brand you want to push, you can sell a pickaxe, back bling or skin, and Fortnite will be happy to give you a platform to players—who can barely afford to keep the game up and running as-is, if layoffs at Epic are to be believed. 

Fortnite is perhaps the best example of the proposed value add being an actual value subtraction, and it will be interesting to see how they wiggle their way out of this one.

Destiny and Star Wars

Before Destiny 2 died, it did a Star Wars season. Hindsight implies this may have been a desperate attempt to bring in some cash, and I guess we should assume that didn’t go too well. This was an unusual crossover, almost uniquely so, because of how it was handled. Elements from Star Wars like Lightsabers, blasters, armor, and even concepts like the Jedi and Sith were twisted and distorted and forced into the Destiny mold. You ended up with an awkward application of one IP, stretched over the frame of another, like a serial killer wearing the face of a loved one as it smashes through your living room window at Halloween. 

In a way, the Renegades expansion sacrificed much of what made sense in Destiny 2 at the altar of Star Wars. Suddenly we had to wonder why Titans looked like Stormtroopers, why a new outpost appeared on Mars that was supposedly a vitally important smuggler's hub that had never been mentioned before, and why spaceships took on oddly TIE- and Death Star-themed designs. It felt stilted, awkward, and more fanservice-y than it needed to be. 

Ultimately, my problem with collabs boils down to them rarely, if ever, feeling genuine. I’m sure MtG designers love Fortnite, and Destiny 2 developers love Star Wars, but sometimes when we truly love something, it is best to just leave it alone.