OTT & Transmedia : Why Star Wars Is Failing (And It's the Worldbuilding, Not the Fans) by Waheed Rehman

There’s a quiet tragedy unfolding in a galaxy far, far away.

It’s not the recycled plotlines. It’s not even the divisive sequels. It's not the fans being "too nostalgic" or the actors being harassed online. It’s something more fundamental — something that once made Star Wars feel alive and now makes it feel... flat. The worldbuilding, once vibrant and mythic, has slowly eroded into a checklist of aesthetics and references. And this collapse is starting to cripple everything Star Wars touches, from Disney+ shows to comics, games, and toys.

Once Upon a Time in a Used Universe

Star Wars once had some of the best worldbuilding in pop culture. The "used future" of the original trilogy — sandblasted speeders, dented helmets, grimy cantinas — made the galaxy feel lived-in. It wasn’t just the visuals; it was the cultural depth. Jedi weren’t just space wizards — they were echoes of samurai, monks, and Arthurian knights. The Empire wasn’t just bad guys — they were a sci-fi reflection of fascism. Every background alien hinted at a wider galaxy. Every piece of tech told you something about who used it and why.

The world didn't explain itself because it didn’t need to. You felt it.

Compare that to today’s Star Wars, where entire planets exist just to be blue backdrops, and cultures exist for exactly one plot beat before they’re discarded. Characters jump from planet to planet like it's UberEats, but none of the places matter. Nothing feels rooted. It's cosplay worldbuilding — the kind that looks like Star Wars, but has no inner logic.

Lore Bloat Without Lore Depth

Star Wars has become obsessed with explaining things that don’t need explaining, while ignoring the things that do. Want to know how Han got his last name? Here's a scene for that. But want to understand how the New Republic collapsed so fast after winning the war? Or how the Force is understood in different cultures? Too bad.

Instead of building out the galaxy, recent entries collapse it inward. Everything is connected to the Skywalkers, the Death Star, or Tatooine. There’s a whole galaxy out there, but we’re stuck doing laps around the same ten plot points. The High Republic tried to go wide, but even that struggles under the weight of a franchise afraid to move beyond legacy.

It’s a galaxy that refuses to grow — or worse, one that pretends to, but always snaps back to its comfort zone.

Transmedia Is Suffering

Transmedia storytelling — comics, novels, games, shows — should be Star Wars' secret weapon. But it’s turning into an anchor.

Without a strong, evolving world, these spin-offs don’t feel essential — they feel like homework. A new show doesn’t expand the mythos; it patches plot holes. A new book doesn’t unveil a forgotten legend; it retrofits a character arc. The connective tissue has turned into duct tape.

Look at The Mandalorian. It started strong because it felt new — the Outer Rim, a lone bounty hunter, moral ambiguity. Then it became a cameo carousel for other shows. A backdoor pilot machine. Andor was a rare exception, but even that sits in a prequel box, trapped by canon. Meanwhile, the games (Jedi: Survivor, for instance) build stronger stakes than the films — but even they’re hamstrung by the need to tiptoe around the “big stuff.”

When transmedia feels like filler rather than foundation, you're no longer worldbuilding. You're brand-building.

The Heart of the Problem: Star Wars Is Afraid to Let Go

The biggest issue? Star Wars doesn’t trust its own galaxy anymore. It clings to the Skywalker saga like a security blanket, terrified of what happens when it steps outside. Every new thing has to tie back to something old. Every old thing must be repackaged and resold. That’s not storytelling — that’s taxidermy.

The irony is that Star Wars was once the boldest myth in pop culture. Now it’s cautious. Hesitant. Safe. And in a genre that thrives on imagination, safety is the kiss of death.

Worldbuilding isn't just maps and names. It’s the art of making a place feel real — so real, you want to live there. Star Wars used to do that. Now it sells the illusion of it.

And unless it finds its mythic courage again — unless it remembers how to build stories beyond the Skywalkers, and explore the weird, wild galaxy it once promised — the Force won’t just be asleep.

It’ll be forgotten.