Abstract
Problem: Why has Tim Cain — creator of Fallout, Arcanum, Pillars of Eternity, The Outer Worlds, and other landmark IPs — stopped creating new commercial intellectual properties?
Approach: Through an extended painting analogy (a "Fun Friday story"), Cain illustrates the structural misalignment between IP creators and the companies that profit from their work.
Findings: Creators of original IPs see a fraction of the revenue their creations generate. People who merely work on established IPs often earn more than the person who created them. Without revenue-sharing models like those in film, TV, and book publishing, there is no rational incentive for a comfortable creator to keep producing new IPs for others to profit from.
Key insight: The fix is simple in principle — align success with everyone involved, the way Hollywood has done for a century — but the game industry refuses to adopt it.
Background
Tim Cain has created numerous original IPs from scratch: Fallout, Arcanum, Wildstar, Pillars of Eternity, Tyranny, and The Outer Worlds. In each case he was part of a team — sometimes the driving force, sometimes a contributor waiting to be asked to design or code something.
Despite this prolific track record, Cain describes himself as "firmly middle class" — comfortable but not rich. He is frequently asked to make more games, especially an Arcanum sequel (he doesn't own the rights). The core tension: other people have made far more money from Cain's IPs than he ever did. Not by a little — by a lot. Even people who simply work on his old IPs in a team capacity earn more than he received for creating them.
He stresses he is not bitter, but after being asked the same question thousands of times, he is "exasperated with the question."
The Painter Analogy
Cain reframes his situation as a story about a young painter:
The Early Days
A young man loves painting. Each painting costs about a dollar in canvas and paint. He paints all day, throws finished work in the corner, and paints another. He's happy and improving steadily.
The First Sale
A buyer offers $100 for a painting of bugs and insects. The painter is thrilled — that covers a hundred more paintings. He feels like a professional.
A year or two later, the buyer resells that painting for $10,000.
Trying to Go Direct
The painter tries selling directly, but discovers customers want much more than a painting: a fancy frame, built-in lighting, premium packaging, shipping, and professional installation. He can't afford to provide all that for each sale. The infrastructure costs require volume he doesn't have. The frame maker ends up earning more than the painter.
The Comfortable Plateau
The buyer returns several times. The painter sells more paintings, builds a nest egg, and reaches a point of comfort. When the buyer asks for more, the painter declines: "I don't need the money. You're becoming super wealthy off my paintings while I'm just a little more okay. Why would I work harder to make you richer?"
"But You Love Painting!"
The buyer tries several arguments:
- "You love painting!" — "I do, and I'm still painting. Look at all these paintings I've done."
- "Just hire another painter" — "I tried. They all paint fruit bowls. When I told them to paint bugs, they painted fruit bowls with maggots in them."
- "Think of your fans!" — "They have my paintings already. You sell cheap prints. They can get everything I've made."
- "They want NEW paintings!" — "But you want me to paint exactly how I used to. I've moved on — pointillism, impressionism, even my own fruit bowls. I paint all kinds of things now because I like painting."
The Impasse
The buyer wants new paintings in the old style. The painter doesn't want to make the buyer any richer. The painter is happy with his fun little doodles. Everyone is confused.
The Real Answer
When people ask Cain for new IPs, sequels, or spiritual successors, his first thought is: You already have those games. Don't you want something new?
And if they truly care about what he wants — he's still making things he loves. He's simply done making other people wealthy with his creations.
He challenges anyone to give him a reason beyond selfish ones ("I want something new" or "those companies want more money") for why he should stop painting whatever he feels like and throwing it in the corner.
The Fix: Revenue Sharing
Despite the story's resigned tone, Cain offers a constructive solution: align success with everyone involved in making the product.
When a game does well, everyone should share in the success — the creator, the developers, the publisher, the distributor. The movie industry has done this for nearly a century. The TV industry and book publishing have figured it out too, even with multiple authors and illustrators on a single project.
Industry Pushback
When Cain raises this in the game industry, he gets predictable objections:
- "We have expenses — salaries, publishing, distribution, advertising, marketing"
- "It's too hard to figure out who gets what share"
- "Some people get flat fees, some get percentages — we can't sort it out"
Cain's response: other entertainment industries solved these exact problems. Until the game industry does the same, he'll be happy in the corner making his little paintings and doodles.
References
- Tim Cain. YouTube video. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MvSwGYStIho