Stop trying to turn Dungeons & Dragons into a Marvel-esque cash cow – it won’t work

The words hit players of the world’s favourite tabletop role playing game like a magic missile straight to the heart. “Dungeons & Dragons has never been more popular, and we have really great fans and engagement,” said Cynthia Williams, former CEO of D&D publisher Wizards of the Coast, in December 2022 at an “investor-focused” web seminar. “But the brand is really under-monetised”.

In the run-up to D&D’s 50th birthday this year, the branded tat has flowed with a vengeance. Amid the ongoing celebrations, Williams’ comments have acquired the ring of a terrible prophecy coming to fruition in the tackiest way imaginable. D&D is “monetising” as never before, and it is terrible to behold.

Wizards of the Coast (part of the Hasbro toy empire) has unveiled a Dungeon & Dragons Lego set – with a dragon-sized prize to match. It has also announced a tie-in with the Converse sneakers brand, with designs inspired by the original D&D handbooks from half a century ago. These products join an ever-expanding deluge of merchandise. Roll up, roll up for your D&D breakfast bowls, table lamps, and Dragonfire Roast “single-origin coffee”.

Merch is a key component of 21st-century geekdom. Lego, sneakers and table lamps are precisely the sort of products you would expect to accompany, say, a new Avengers or Star Wars movie. It is part of what we might call the “Baby Groot economy”.

But D&D isn’t Marvel. In trying to “monetise the brand”, Wizards has made a terrible misjudgment. In that notorious web seminar, Williams lamented that while Dungeon Masters – players who referee gaming sessions – make up 20% of the user base, they account for the bulk of the spending – ie they buy all of those expensive rule books. Joining her on the call, Hasbro CEO Chris Cocks outlined a plan to turn D&D into a “four-quadrant” brand “that has similar awareness as say Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter”.

What neither appears to understand is that D&D can never be the next Harry Potter. That is because D&D is not a franchise, lifestyle brand or a marketing opportunity. It is a community of people who largely make up their adventures for themselves. And you can’t monetise that. For all the recent hoopla around the game, the D&D experience is essentially unchanged since it first crawled out of the basement of co-creators Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson in 1974 .

It is about pals coming together every week. They hang out, chuck dice, and share the thrill of exploring an abandoned dwarf mine or rescuing a cousin of one of the party from cultists camped in the woods outside town. You can’t put a price on that. It’s like trying to monetise friendship.

That new D&D Lego set is an example of how little Wizards and Hasbro understands its player base. At first pass, The “Red Dragon’s Tale” box seems full of promise. It features a brick fortress, a huge dragon, square-headed adventurers, and some iconic D&D monsters – including the Owlbear, Displacer beast and Beholder. There is even a tie-in adventure that uses the included figures.

Oh wow, you’re thinking –D&D Lego. What a fantastic way to get kids into the hobby. The catch is that this luxury box costs £314 – roughly the cost of six D&D Player’s Handbooks.

Wizards’ problem is that it has already burned through much of the goodwill of its user base after a controversy last year over plans to reverse a policy going back to 2000, taking away the freedom for independent creators to use D&D’s rules however they saw fit. Leaked proposals showed that Wizards intended to demand a 25% royalty on the income of creators with annual sales exceeding $750,000, and reserve the right to re-use any content created under the licence. “Big gaming” was coming for the little guy.

That saga created a huge rift between publisher and players. Many in the community now perceive Wizards not as custodian of a game it acquired in 1997, but as capitalist necromancers trying to flog D&D for all it is worth.

There was an outcry, and Wizards climbed down. Twelve months later, the 50th anniversary of D&D is here, and it feels telling how Wizards is marking it: with Lego and sneakers. Yes, commemorative books are on the way – along with an updated rules set that Wizards has styled as “One D&D”. But few were crying out for a new edition of D&D, and to many it feels like a cash-generating exercise. (In its defence, Wizards has said its “One D&D” books will be backwards compatible with the “Fifth Edition” everyone is currently playing.)

These are boom times for tabletop role playing. There has never been a wider variety of games – from the folk-horror steampunk of Free League’s Vaesen to “rules-light” systems such as Mausritter or Mörk Borg. What the publishers of these titles understand is that it takes time to cultivate a player base and that the relationship is an ongoing one.

Contrast that with D&D’s cheesy merch onslaught, and you have to worry. Forget monetisation. The crucial currency in the tabletop hobby is player goodwill. Amid a blizzard of junk, Wizards seems determined to sacrifice a 50-year legacy on the altar of unchecked corporate avarice.

• Ed Power writes about role-playing and board games, music, films and TV.