Why Hollywood Keeps Getting Games Wrong

Film reel and clapperboard contrasted with a video game controller, symbolizing Hollywood’s ongoing struggle to understand video game development
Film and television studios often approach games differently than the people who make and play them.

By Jon Scarr

Hollywood loves video games. It loves their audiences, their revenue, and their cultural pull. But despite decades of trying, most movie and television companies still struggle to make games work in a consistent way. Studios announce big projects, promise long-term plans, then quietly walk away when expectations are not met. For gamers, this cycle feels familiar, and exhausting.

The issue is not a lack of money or recognizable IP. Hollywood has both in abundance. The real problem is how video game development is treated inside these companies. Too often, games are viewed as side projects or merchandise extensions rather than full creative works. That mindset shapes everything, from budgets to timelines to post-launch support.

Paramount-Skydance recently made a structural change that suggests it understands this problem. It moved gaming out of consumer products and positioned it alongside film and television as a core content pillar. That decision does not guarantee success. But it does address the root issue in a way most studios still avoid.

The Pattern Gamers Have Seen Before

Gamers have watched the same story play out for years. A major studio announces a new game tied to a popular franchise. Hype builds. Trailers look promising. Then the cracks start to show. Development drags on. Features get cut. Support fades quickly after launch, or the studio shuts down entirely.

This pattern has trained gamers to be cautious. Licensed games often carry extra skepticism, even when the source material is strong. Trust is fragile, and once it is lost, it is hard to rebuild. The frustrating part is that this is not caused by a lack of talent. It is caused by instability at the top.

When gaming divisions are constantly restructured or treated as disposable, the games suffer. Long-term planning becomes impossible. Creative teams never get the time they need to grow. Gamers feel the consequences.

Disney as the Clearest Example

Disney’s history with video games is a perfect illustration of the problem. Over the years, Disney has moved in and out of internal game development multiple times. Studios have been opened, closed, and reopened. Strategies have shifted between building games internally and licensing IP to external partners.

The result has been inconsistency. Some projects worked. Many did not. What matters here is that some of Disney’s most successful games were not made by Disney itself. Marvel Snap, developed by Second Dinner, became a massive hit without Disney running the studio day to day.

This is not an indictment of Disney’s creativity. It is a reminder that making games requires patience, stability, and long-term commitment. Without those, even the biggest brands struggle to deliver consistent results.

Gameplay screenshot from Marvel Snap, a successful Marvel game developed by Second Dinner under a Disney license
Marvel Snap found success as a licensed Marvel game developed outside of Disney’s internal studios.

Why Treating Games Like Merchandise Fails

One of the biggest mistakes Hollywood makes is grouping games with consumer products. Merchandise is designed around short sales cycles. If something underperforms, it gets discounted or replaced. Games do not work that way.

Games are ongoing experiences. They require updates, balance adjustments, community communication, and long-term support. Decisions made to boost quarterly numbers can damage a game’s future. Rushed releases, aggressive monetization, or abandoned roadmaps all stem from short-term thinking.

This mindset is not new. In the 80s and 90s, movie-based games were often rushed out to line up with theatrical release dates, and the results were usually rough. Development timelines were built around marketing calendars, not creative needs. Those games existed to support movies, not to stand on their own. That way of thinking never fully disappeared, even as budgets and technology improved.
The most infamous example is E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, a game developed under extreme time pressure to meet a movie’s release date.

For gamers, this still shows up in familiar ways. Unfinished launches. Promised features that quietly disappear. Games that feel unsupported months after release. When companies treat games like products instead of long-term content, the experience suffers.

Screenshot from E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial on Atari 2600, often cited as an example of rushed movie-based game development
E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial on Atari 2600 is often referenced when discussing rushed movie tie-in games from the 1980s.

Why Paramount’s Move Is Different

Paramount-Skydance made a quiet but meaningful change by restructuring how it handles gaming. Instead of keeping games under consumer products, the company placed gaming alongside movies and television. That shift signals a different level of commitment.

This move recognizes that games are not accessories. They are a form of storytelling and engagement that stands on its own. By giving gaming equal footing, Paramount creates space for longer development cycles and better coordination across media.

This does not mean every Paramount game will succeed. But it does mean those games are less likely to be treated as disposable experiments. That distinction matters.

How Structure Shapes the Games We Get

Organizational structure directly affects creative output. When gaming teams sit alongside film and television teams, collaboration becomes more natural. IP consistency improves. Creative goals align earlier in development.

Games are interactive. They ask you to participate, experiment, and spend dozens of hours inside a world. Film and television are passive experiences by comparison. Copying a movie scene into a game rarely works without adjustment.

When teams understand those differences, adaptations feel more natural. When they do not, games feel disconnected from their source material. Structure influences whether those lessons are learned.

Why This Shift Matters to Gamers

This is not just industry theory. It affects the games you buy and the time you put into them. Stable studios usually mean better post-launch support. Clear leadership reduces sudden cancellations. Treating games as real content, not side projects, increases the odds that updates actually stick around.

Games ask for more than money. They ask for time, attention, and commitment. You build routines around them. You follow patch notes. You talk about them with friends. When a studio shuts down or a project gets quietly dropped, that investment disappears overnight. It is not just disappointing. It breaks trust.

That is why these structural decisions actually matter. They shape whether a game gets room to grow or gets rushed out the door. They influence whether a studio can think long term or is constantly bracing for the next internal reset.

Paramount is not alone in trying to rethink its relationship with gaming. Netflix has spent years experimenting, sometimes awkwardly, with how games fit into its ecosystem. Other entertainment companies are watching closely. There is no proven formula yet, but one lesson is becoming clear. Games cannot be treated as short-term initiatives without consequences.

This shift is slow. Mistakes will still happen. But recognizing gaming as a core part of entertainment, rather than a seasonal add-on, is a step in the right direction.

A gamer holding a controller while playing a video game, representing the time and commitment players invest in ongoing games
Games demand time and commitment, which is why long-term support and stability matter.

Final Thoughts: Commitment Is What Makes the Difference

I have seen this cycle too many times to get excited over announcements alone. Big IP, flashy trailers, and confident press releases do not mean much if the structure behind them is unstable. Gamers have learned that the hard way.

What resonated with me about Paramount’s move is not that it guarantees better games. It does not. What it does show is an understanding of why so many past efforts failed. Games need time. They need consistency. They need teams that are allowed to stick around long enough to learn from mistakes instead of being shut down after one rough launch.

That kind of commitment is rare, especially in Hollywood. When it shows up, it is worth paying attention to.

If more companies start treating games like long-term creative work instead of disposable experiments, everyone benefits. If not, the same mistakes will keep repeating. And gamers will keep being the ones left holding the controller when support ends.

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