The worst part of fandoms is loyalty to a fault.
Not passion. Not enthusiasm. Loyalty. The kind that treats criticism as betrayal and assumes that admitting a bad product is the same as admitting personal failure. When something you like becomes part of your identity, any flaw stops being a design problem and starts feeling like an attack.
That reflex poisons honest discussion.
NuD&D benefited from this for a while. Every criticism was met with deflection. “It’s not for you anymore.” “You’re just resistant to change.” “You’re overreacting.” The goal was never to defend the quality of the product. It was to protect the emotional investment people had already made.
But loyalty cannot generate enthusiasm. It can only suppress dissent.
Looking back now, NuD&D did not spark excitement. It did not create defining arguments or memorable moments. It did not inspire players to care enough to keep fighting over it. Instead, it relied on goodwill accumulated from decades of better work and expected that goodwill to do the heavy lifting.
That only works once.
Engagement drained away quietly. Not in protest. Not in outrage. Just absence.
And absence is fatal to a hobby.
My prediction for 2026 is not a collapse or a dramatic failure. It is something more mundane and more damning. NuD&D quietly exits the conversation. It remains on shelves. It remains technically alive. But it stops being discussed, argued over, or cared about in any meaningful way.
No backlash.
No redemption arc.
Just silence.
And silence is what happens when loyalty finally runs out of excuses.