Kickstarter has, by all accounts, been a huge success, and
for good reason: It has found a way to make everyone a winner. As is always the
case, of course, there are still loads of people who want to piss all over it.
Kickstarter, for those who do not know, is a crowdsourcing
site. “Crowdsourcing” is a new enough concept that it fails my word processor’s
spellcheck. (Oddly, so does “spellcheck.” At least my computer isn't going to be self-aware anytime soon.) Basically, people who
have projects they wish to produce (be they gadgets, businesses, or creative works) put their idea up on the site. Open to all of the internet, other people may
then contribute to the project, and if the predetermined target funding is reached, the
recipient gets the money to make the product. Technically this is not an
investment, so donors aren’t guaranteed anything, but oftentimes people will
offer some sort of gift or product based on the level of contribution. (Donors
know ahead of time that the project is a risk that may not pan out the way the
creator invisions; business plans are usually put up, and creators must list
any risks or unknowns with the project ahead of time.) For their part,
Kickstarter gets a cut of each donation.
So, basically, everyone wins: people get projects put up.
People who want to see the project get done can put their money where their
mouth is. If it doesn’t meet its goal, no money changes hands (and thus no risk
to donors) and the project creator knows their idea most likely will fail and
they need to either fix or drop it, all done without investing any money (or,
at the very least, a token amount of money to produce a prototype). Kickstarter
gets a cut. It’s all voluntary and basically everyone wins. The only thing that
can go wrong (and it’s a rather big “only thing”) is that someone gets the money and
then doesn’t produce the product. This is a risk (and not an insignificant one)
but so far hasn’t been a huge issue.
It’s a fascinating idea that is here to stay. It’s been
especially productive in the creative world. In the past, studios and
publishers wielded control over the creative process, but if a writer or actor
can get the funding ahead of time they are no longer beholden to an
organization with more of a financial stake than a creative one. Crowdsourcing has given a
huge amount of control over to creative types, and fans are notoriously
generous when it comes to making more of the stuff they love. The poster child
for huge media products is the much-missed and beloved Veronica Mars movie, which managed to
far surpass its target funding date to create a movie from a TV show that’s
been off the air for over five years.
And, of course, that brings us full circle to the complaints.
Recently, Zach Braff launched a Kickstarter campaign to help partially fund a follow-up to his cult hit Garden State.
It met its modest goal of $2 million (he used traditional Hollywood fundraising
for the remaining budget, about $20 million more), but he faced criticism from many
circles. Why use fan’s money to fund a movie when he has plenty of money himself? Why use something like Kickstarter when he is a reasonably
well-known actor who could certainly pull off a larger budget without taking
cash from average Joes—cash that is not going to yield any reward (aside from a
few modest token prizes based on contribution level)? Braff’s defense—he has
money but not that much money—is
valid enough, but I think it misses the point completely.
So what if Braff
wants to fundraise a movie? And how is this any different than the Veronica
Mars campaign, which is almost identical? Everyone involved in each of these
transactions did so voluntarily. Braff was upfront that the funding he was
getting from fans wasn’t necessary—it was enough to give him casting and final
cut options, but the movie could be made with funds already raised. If fans
want to contribute and there isn’t any misinformation out there, who cares?
Likewise, in my own hobby of board gaming, Kickstarter has
created a huge opportunity for small publishers to produce games. (The world of
board games and Kickstarter is a column for another day. Summary description: It's fantastically awesome.) However, some of the
bigger names in board gaming have jumped in as well. The current controversy is
with Steve Jackson Games, who reprinted his classic game Ogre via Kickstarter. Many in the industry were upset, stating that
the company had the money to front the game without resorting to Kickstarter.
But as before—who cares? If someone wanted to get in on the Ogre action, they
can do so. It’s not hurting anyone else, and even for large, established
companies it’s incredibly useful for finding out exactly what the public is
interested in—if a project isn’t worth producing, people won’t buy into it.
About the only thing that critics could legitimately
complain about is that by throwing large products up, established companies are
soaking up the available money that donors have. But, still, in the end, does
it matter? If I really, really want Ogre or a Zach Braff movie, I’m going to
see it when it’s produced and spend the money then. What difference does it
make? And won’t spending the money earlier (and letting the producers know the exact sort of products that are wanted) going to eventually lead to a better final product for everyone?
In the end, I suspect the critics won’t change anything, nor
should they. Like anything else, letting projects stand or fall is part of the
process. It is rarely a good idea to interfere with it in either case.
The Pledge: People are dickholes who don't like other people to be happy. Anyone should be able to start, and fund, whatever they want on Kickstarter without people getting all butt-menstrual about it.
No comments:
Post a Comment