When James Gunn (now the creative head of DC Studios) was recently asked what he believed had hurt Marvel, his words were both honest and damning: “Too much content. Not enough planning. It killed them.” His remarks, aimed at the overextension of Marvel Studios in the wake of Avengers: Endgame, could just as easily describe what happened to the Army Men franchise in the early 2000s.

Back in the late ’90s, Army Men stormed the gaming world with a simple yet irresistible premise: toy soldiers brought to life in an imaginative, war-torn plastic world. The original titles stood out with charming aesthetics, quirky humor, and solid gameplay. But the publisher, 3DO, quickly turned that initial success into a production frenzy. From 1998 to 2003, they pushed out over a dozen Army Men titles—a pace that left little room for refinement or reinvention.

Back in the heyday of 3DO’s rapid-fire release strategy, even those of us in the The Army Men videogames channel were caught off guard. Titles arrived so frequently that not even the fans seemed fully aware of what was launching (or when). By the time a new game crossed our radar, it was often already out in the wild, too late. In an industry where annual sports releases were considered the norm, Army Men shattered expectations by flooding the market with an unrelenting stream of entries. No amount of pre-release buzz could keep up. The public wasn’t just underprepared: they were overwhelmed.

Much like Marvel’s recent deluge of films and Disney+ series, 3DO’s Army Men games began to feel rushed, repetitive, and disconnected. Without a clear long-term narrative or gameplay evolution, fans began to lose interest. By the time fresh ideas were needed most, the brand had burned out… and 3DO filed for bankruptcy in 2003.

James Gunn’s criticism of Marvel’s strategy (greenlighting projects without finished scripts and saturating the audience with underdeveloped content) perfectly echoes the pitfalls of 3DO. Both cases show how creative properties, no matter how beloved, can collapse under the weight of rushed schedules and corporate overreach.

The Lesson? Sustainability in storytelling matters more than ever. The audience craves meaningful worlds, not just more content. In the age of ever-growing universes (cinematic, gaming, or otherwise) the smartest path forward is one paved with vision, patience, and purpose. Part of what was missing in those years was the breathing room—a chance for the audience to anticipate, absorb, and get excited. Great franchises don’t just drop content; they build moments. But with Army Men, there was rarely time to prepare the public or give each title its spotlight. Without that crucial window to inform and engage players, even solid ideas were lost in the noise.