A post on my plurk list regarding Halo, the variations between halo.bungie.org and the Halo Archive, and the interestingly varied tastes and dislikes that fans had regarding some of the properties of the franchise, had me think. There's a cynical term in Mexico given to one-hit-wonders: Donkeys that play the flute (once again proving that, at times, stereotypes regarding us are true).
To me it is not the thought that 99% of fiction published out there is shit. It's not that it necessarily is. It is more that most of the fiction that passes by us is ignored and has little effect on us compared to the one percent that we assimilate, memorize, love, and become parts of us. Even sequels or the rest of the properties of a fictional universe, be them better than the former work or weaker, are subject to that fact.
I still recall with a bit of cynism how Halo 2's release was panned by the community itself for numerous critiques regarding A.I., plotholes (some still unknown to this day, such as the Prophet of Regret going to another Halo), multiplayer; only to be praised when the following installments came in, praising its story in comparison to the rest of the games.
Halo 4 is one of my favorite games of the franchise. There are flaws within the story that make it unable to be recommended to those that don't know the lore, and it pained me to realize this when a co-worker asked me once regarding games to get for the 360. The Didact's motives were unknown when he was first released and why did he hate humanity, and to some (I recall even Wisecrack commented on it as well), Cortana's characterization was bent to fit the narrative. This was the story that halo.bungie.org disliked, for a good reason.
To the Halo Archive, Halo 4 was one of the best, and most emotional games of the franchise. It told the familiar, human story of death, and how we all cope on the steps to the final curtain. Josh Holmes mentioned that his main inspiration for the story was his mother suffering dementia, which are steps quite similar to rampancy in Halo. And seeing a love one fade to a disease, and knowing he will inevitably pass away and there's nothing you can do... it can wreck you. This was the story that the Halo Archive loved, for another good reason.
We become fans of something at varied times of a franchise's history. Not all works resonate with us even if we are invested in a particular creator or universe, and with time, it becomes inevitable that the many hands and many companies working on something will inevitably have it decay, losing sight of perhaps the spark that began the franchise, or that which an obscure piece of lore had, such as the gameplay and simple story of CE, or the multi-layered and realistic story of Hunt the Truth season 1.
The reason I brought over the donkey that played the flute, is that it applies to all fiction, especially regarding emotions.
We become fans of something because it resonates with us at a particular moment of our lives. And once we expect a work of fiction to follow on those same philosophical and emotional paths, to somehow fulfill them in an entirely different set of creators, emotional states, economical and developmental stages, and with different plans, people will inevitably be disappointed that what brought of to love a universe has not been repeated in the way we would want, which often brings all stages of loss due to how attached we are with a work... as silly as it sounds:
Denial of the differences and flaws of the work, anger that it failed to fulfill the exact expectations, bargaining as fans explain how would it have been better, depression as the love of the franchise fades as it fails to repeat that feeling, and acceptance when one sees a work for what it is.
It's not strange to see people cite works such as Bojack Horseman, To Kill a Mockingbird, Clannad, Puella Magi, what have you, and be noted as the works that changed their lives upon consuming that sort of media, but have it unable to touch others on any level. It's understandable. Every person is his own unique set of circumstances, emotions, likes, dislikes, fond memories, and traumas, that no work is universal in its effect, even if it reaches a majority; and even when that work is attempted to be repeated, it will have exactly the same effect on varied types of peoples.
Lately I haven't been as attracted to Halo as I've been in the past, since I've been on the bargaining phase of the fan with Halo 5 and Brian Reed, but I think the recommendations of the School of Life regarding using art for fulfillment still applies. A fan can be creative. Even his expectations and emotions that a franchise or work gave him can still be expressed and put to use on a comic, a novel, an animation, and many of the works we've had in time are influenced by them.
Mind you, I think it's horseshit that there are no new creative things ever. The ingredients are the same, but the way you use them is what can count as that new thing that can change another person's life. There is a videogame First-Person-Shooter about superheroes, there was a film and short story about a linguist trying to communicate with aliens, there is a book on the psychological effects of being a one-man-army (Armor by John Steakley, a really good book). The things we get in life allow us to create new stories and works of fiction, and that counts for the things we are fan of.
Even if we stop being fans, I do not believe it would be wise to abandon the memories, emotions, and experiences that work gave us. The media we consume is meant to do that. If a work of media disappoint us, the best we can do with those emotions and thoughts and theories we had, is channeling them into new works of media that could do the same for us as they did back then, when they were new, and we just found something in those works that talked directly to us.
And with any hope, have them talk to somebody else.