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Essay: The Derpygeddon
13 years ago
(I)f once you have paid him the Dane-geld
You never get rid of the Dane.
—Rudyard Kipling, “Danegeld”
Appended are addenda addressing changes and updates in the available information.
The spectacle of a man pushing fifty getting literally teary-eyed over the fate of a googly-eyed cartoon pony may seem ridiculous, but there it is. No one ever outgrows the need for a little innocence in one’s life, and that particular cartoon answers this basic human desire with a concentrated blast of pure unadulterated life-affirming joy—as golden and radiant as Celestia’s sun; as silvery and comforting as Luna’s moon. Perhaps it is not the fictitious pony herself that warrants such a profound emotional response, but rather the stomach-twisting realization that even this uplifting work of genuine art is not immune to the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.
Beyond this admittedly sentimental reaction, however, are coldly logical reasons why bowdlerizing the episode on which Derpy was named and had spoken lines may turn out to be a mistake. (Derpy she was, and Derpy she shall remain. I for one will not let her go gentle into that good night.) Hasbro built up an enviable store of goodwill by granting the program’s production staff enormous creative freedom with minimal interference, and by treading lightly when a wholly unexpected fandom coalesced from nowhere. This goodwill and the resulting trust very likely will suffer notably in the wake of a decision that looks to have few benefits and several important problems.
It almost certainly will damage the relationship between the adult fans and Hasbro, as it has in my case. The astonishing gift presented by the production staff, squarely and unmistakeably, to those fans has been snatched back or at least greatly diminished—but only after those fans got a chance to see what was being taken from them, thereby definitely rubbing salt in the wound. They may begin to feel that perhaps they need to keep a wary eye on that corporate patron after all, and to fear being kicked to the curb after their wallets have been drained.
It perhaps could damage the relationship between that staff and Hasbro. The writers’ and artists’ expansive gesture to the fans has been cauterized away to a significant degree. They may begin to feel that perhaps they need to keep an eye on their corporate bosses after all, and to fear their decisions being second-guessed. Moreover, a scheduled new episode has failed to appear; in its place was a re-run, with a first-season episode in the tandem slot. The obvious inference is that this ruckus (fracas!) has made a shambles of the breakneck production schedule, thereby possibly rubbing salt in the wound.
If it happened once, it can happen again, is the natural thought in either case.
Even Hasbro itself may end up with cause for regret. Kipling’s poem expresses the dynamic perfectly: A relative handful of busybodies with loud voices convinces a massive corporation to bend to their demand. It seems to said corporation like less hassle than sticking to one’s guns, standing by the creative staff and the legions of fans who have fallen in love with the special thing they have wrought. On top of everything else, submitting to this emotional blackmail has lent credence to a bizarre and completely spurious interpretation of the word “derp”, abetting its effective hijacking by those little tin gods on wheels.
If we did it once, we can do it again, is the natural thought in that case.
Perhaps a threatened lawsuit has been dodged—a common reason for making such moves—but in the long run it could encourage future such threats, or even the actuality. Hasbro has paid the outrage-mongers the Dane-geld, and thus has given them power. Like the Dane they may return again and again to commit mayhem at the expense of others’ innocent enjoyment, deriving from it an unholy pleasure masquerading as righteous satisfaction. Nobody else will benefit, not even Hasbro.
In the mean time, just in case, I have burned to DVD my copy of the episode—downloaded from iTunes before its lamentable cosmetic surgery.
Addendum: If it is true that only the iTunes version is affected, the calculus changes radically. Most of the objections laid at Hasbro's door move instead to Apple's, though they lose none of their validity, and Hasbro's relationships with both fans and staff are unimpaired except to the extent the distinction is not cleared up.
There is precedent for such editorial dictates by sellers: in years past, Blockbuster and Walmart had the clout to require—and indeed got—special DVDs of R-rated movies to meet their bluenosed standards. On the other hand, the moment Apple starts making such demands, they erode their status as a mere seller of content and the limits on liability conveyed by that status. Apple generally is very shrewd about their business practices, and it is out of character for them to cast aside such limits or to kowtow to protesters in such a way.
It appears, however, that Hasbro finally has made a statement admitting responsibility, for pretty much the anticipated reasons and with pretty much the usual peppy-but-bland business-speak.
A fuller explanation from the episode’s writer, Amy Keating Rogers, has been posted that places everything in perspective. As is usually the case, the situation was more complex than it appears from the outside, and both the mere existence of an explanation and the narrative it conveys may go some way to ameliorating relations, though it does not address the potential fall-out of having paid the Dane-geld.
Moreover, this complete explanation should have come from Hasbro, and it should have come promptly—before or when the episode was removed. Such a statement would have gone a long way to dampening the fans’ hysteria. It would have presented Hasbro as honest, plain-speaking, and respectful of their audience, even if one may disagree with the move and its motives. It might have spared poor Ms. Rogers some or all of the hassle resulting from the brouhaha. In other words, Hasbro could have turned the affair to their advantage.
That Hasbro signally failed to do so demonstrates they still have no idea how to deal with the fandom. Apparently they have advertised a job opening for a community manager; if that position has not been filled it should be—soon. If it has been filled, either the person filling it is not handling it adequately or is not being heard. The company would do well to remember that while the show’s core demographic may be their bread and butter, it was the adult fans that put their property on the cover of the Wall Street Journal.
You never get rid of the Dane.
—Rudyard Kipling, “Danegeld”
Appended are addenda addressing changes and updates in the available information.
The spectacle of a man pushing fifty getting literally teary-eyed over the fate of a googly-eyed cartoon pony may seem ridiculous, but there it is. No one ever outgrows the need for a little innocence in one’s life, and that particular cartoon answers this basic human desire with a concentrated blast of pure unadulterated life-affirming joy—as golden and radiant as Celestia’s sun; as silvery and comforting as Luna’s moon. Perhaps it is not the fictitious pony herself that warrants such a profound emotional response, but rather the stomach-twisting realization that even this uplifting work of genuine art is not immune to the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.
Beyond this admittedly sentimental reaction, however, are coldly logical reasons why bowdlerizing the episode on which Derpy was named and had spoken lines may turn out to be a mistake. (Derpy she was, and Derpy she shall remain. I for one will not let her go gentle into that good night.) Hasbro built up an enviable store of goodwill by granting the program’s production staff enormous creative freedom with minimal interference, and by treading lightly when a wholly unexpected fandom coalesced from nowhere. This goodwill and the resulting trust very likely will suffer notably in the wake of a decision that looks to have few benefits and several important problems.
It almost certainly will damage the relationship between the adult fans and Hasbro, as it has in my case. The astonishing gift presented by the production staff, squarely and unmistakeably, to those fans has been snatched back or at least greatly diminished—but only after those fans got a chance to see what was being taken from them, thereby definitely rubbing salt in the wound. They may begin to feel that perhaps they need to keep a wary eye on that corporate patron after all, and to fear being kicked to the curb after their wallets have been drained.
It perhaps could damage the relationship between that staff and Hasbro. The writers’ and artists’ expansive gesture to the fans has been cauterized away to a significant degree. They may begin to feel that perhaps they need to keep an eye on their corporate bosses after all, and to fear their decisions being second-guessed. Moreover, a scheduled new episode has failed to appear; in its place was a re-run, with a first-season episode in the tandem slot. The obvious inference is that this ruckus (fracas!) has made a shambles of the breakneck production schedule, thereby possibly rubbing salt in the wound.
If it happened once, it can happen again, is the natural thought in either case.
Even Hasbro itself may end up with cause for regret. Kipling’s poem expresses the dynamic perfectly: A relative handful of busybodies with loud voices convinces a massive corporation to bend to their demand. It seems to said corporation like less hassle than sticking to one’s guns, standing by the creative staff and the legions of fans who have fallen in love with the special thing they have wrought. On top of everything else, submitting to this emotional blackmail has lent credence to a bizarre and completely spurious interpretation of the word “derp”, abetting its effective hijacking by those little tin gods on wheels.
If we did it once, we can do it again, is the natural thought in that case.
Perhaps a threatened lawsuit has been dodged—a common reason for making such moves—but in the long run it could encourage future such threats, or even the actuality. Hasbro has paid the outrage-mongers the Dane-geld, and thus has given them power. Like the Dane they may return again and again to commit mayhem at the expense of others’ innocent enjoyment, deriving from it an unholy pleasure masquerading as righteous satisfaction. Nobody else will benefit, not even Hasbro.
In the mean time, just in case, I have burned to DVD my copy of the episode—downloaded from iTunes before its lamentable cosmetic surgery.
Addendum: If it is true that only the iTunes version is affected, the calculus changes radically. Most of the objections laid at Hasbro's door move instead to Apple's, though they lose none of their validity, and Hasbro's relationships with both fans and staff are unimpaired except to the extent the distinction is not cleared up.
There is precedent for such editorial dictates by sellers: in years past, Blockbuster and Walmart had the clout to require—and indeed got—special DVDs of R-rated movies to meet their bluenosed standards. On the other hand, the moment Apple starts making such demands, they erode their status as a mere seller of content and the limits on liability conveyed by that status. Apple generally is very shrewd about their business practices, and it is out of character for them to cast aside such limits or to kowtow to protesters in such a way.
It appears, however, that Hasbro finally has made a statement admitting responsibility, for pretty much the anticipated reasons and with pretty much the usual peppy-but-bland business-speak.
A fuller explanation from the episode’s writer, Amy Keating Rogers, has been posted that places everything in perspective. As is usually the case, the situation was more complex than it appears from the outside, and both the mere existence of an explanation and the narrative it conveys may go some way to ameliorating relations, though it does not address the potential fall-out of having paid the Dane-geld.
Moreover, this complete explanation should have come from Hasbro, and it should have come promptly—before or when the episode was removed. Such a statement would have gone a long way to dampening the fans’ hysteria. It would have presented Hasbro as honest, plain-speaking, and respectful of their audience, even if one may disagree with the move and its motives. It might have spared poor Ms. Rogers some or all of the hassle resulting from the brouhaha. In other words, Hasbro could have turned the affair to their advantage.
That Hasbro signally failed to do so demonstrates they still have no idea how to deal with the fandom. Apparently they have advertised a job opening for a community manager; if that position has not been filled it should be—soon. If it has been filled, either the person filling it is not handling it adequately or is not being heard. The company would do well to remember that while the show’s core demographic may be their bread and butter, it was the adult fans that put their property on the cover of the Wall Street Journal.
I don't agree myself, but if it is true, then it seems odd that someone decided that the best way to handle Derpy was to make her "normal".
My cold hard editorial opinion is that the revised version feels better.
Correcting her eyes and deleting her name? Not so much.
However, that wasn’t really the point of my essay. I’m taking issue with the decision to make the revision and with the potential consequences of that decision, not with the actual revision itself.
I've been in the trenches with Hasbro for 8 or 9 years now, riding the waves as they shot TSR with a bolt gun and tried to cannibalise the corpse. And i share a house with someone who has been one of the pinwheels of MLP toy fandom for the past 25 years.
I have a sad impulse to take all you "Brony" folk aside, hold your hands, and try to break it to you all that HASBRO - the evil overlord Hasbro - not the animators, not the animation gang, but the giant multinational... really doesn't care about your love.
That said, I, for one, have seen (and indeed felt) a great deal of wariness toward Hasbro early on, precisely because of corporate doings in general and Hasbro’s reputation in particular. (I’m a wargamer and it’s a continuing source of frustration that Hasbro has all the classic old Avalon Hill wargames locked up and won’t license them.) However, the company’s light-handed behavior was a welcome breath of fresh air and gave hope that perhaps they wouldn’t be as hamfisted. I was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt—not unreservedly but far more so than I give most large companies.
To reiterate, they’d built up quite a store of goodwill, and this move damages that. Even leaving aside sentiment, there are practical business reasons why it will do so. No, it doesn’t destroy that goodwill, but Hasbro’s drawn on the account, and if they don’t want to see it dry up they’ll have to do something to replenish it. The question is whether they realize that fact and will do something about it. I hope they do and fear they don’t.
Moreover, it’s as true in business as it is in any other field of human endeavor that one should not give in to kidnapers or hostage-holders. Hasbro did. That may pay off in the short run, but in the long run it only encourages similar actions.