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It’s hardly a secret that Meta is an unpleasant company. That’s reflected both in terms of what happens behind closed doors, and its actions in the market. Some of its attempts to bully nations or even large economic blocks are well documented. But its threats outside Western markets are just as reprehensible, though less well known. For example, the Rest of the World site reports on a major confrontation between Meta and the authorities that is currently taking place in Nigeria:
Local authorities have fined Meta $290 million for regulatory breaches, prompting the social media giant to threaten pulling Facebook and Instagram from the country.
As with earlier EU fines imposed on the company, the sticking point is Meta’s refusal to comply with local privacy laws:
The [Federal Competition and Consumer Protection Commission (FCCPC)] said Meta committed multiple and repeated infringements of the country’s Nigerian rules, including “denying Nigerians the right to control their data, transferring and sharing Nigerian user data without authorization, discriminating against Nigerian users compared to users in other jurisdictions, and abusing their dominant market position by forcing unfair privacy policies.”
After remediation efforts failed, the FCCPC issued its final order in July 2024, imposing a $220 million fine along with penalties from other agencies that took the total amount to $290 million. Meta appealed the decision, but the plea was overturned in April, prompting the company’s threat to withdraw its services from Nigeria.
The fine itself is small change for Meta, which had a net income of $62 billion on a turnover of $165 billion in 2024, and a market capitalization of $1.5 trillion. Meta’s current revenues in Nigeria are relatively small, but its market shares are high:
According to social media performance tracker Napoleoncat, Meta has a massive presence in the country, with Facebook alone reaching about 51.2 million users as of May 2024, more than a fifth of the population. Instagram had 12.6 million Nigerian users as of November 2023, while WhatsApp had about 51 million users, making Nigeria the 10th largest market globally for the messaging app.
Since many Nigerians depend on Meta’s platforms, the company might be hoping that there will be public pressure on the government not to impose the fine in order to avoid a shutdown of its services there. But it is hard to see Meta carrying out its threat to walk away from a country expected to be the third most populous nation in the world by 2050. In 2100, the population of Nigeria could reach 541 million according to current projections.
Even though the dispute in Nigeria has received little attention in the Western press, it involves a number of important issues such as privacy, national sovereignty and the future demographics of the online world, all of which have a global dimension. It also provides yet another instance of Meta behaving badly.
Follow me @glynmoody on Mastodon and on Bluesky.
Filed Under: africa, facebook, fccpc, fines, infringement, instagram, meta, nigeria, population, privacy, social media, whatsapp
Companies: meta
Fascist kleptocrats sure do love their lists, don’t they? Way back in March, when Vladimir Putin decided to invade a sovereign neighbor, we discussed how Russia was contemplating simply legalizing software piracy in the wake of crippling sanctions to try to keep the Russian economy as stable as possible. That Russia would take such a step came to the surprise of exactly nobody, of course, but there were questions as to how such a thing would work with parties that are not sanctioning Russia, such as China.
The answer appears to be lists! One Russian official has proposed that Russia create a registry of countries “unfriendly” to Russia at this time, ostensibly so that parties from those nations could be infringed upon due to their unfriendly status.
Anatoly Semyonov, the head of Russia’s Parallel Import Association, has proposed creating a registry of “unfriendly” copyright holders, according to the newspaper Kommersant. Semyonov reportedly raised the idea at a roundtable discussion held by the Russian Federation Council. According to a copy of Semyonov’s proposal obtained by Kommersant, the new registry would theoretically include copyright holders that support sanctions against Russia and that refuse to sell their products on Russian territory.
Under the initiative, all types of intellectual property would be included in a single registry, while “countersanction measures” would be selected individually by regulators and courts for each copyright holder.
It’s a shortsighted plan at best. As some within the Russian government and economy have already pointed out to Semyonov, this will simply turn into an arms race. Trying to route around sanctions by legalizing copyright infringement will only result in more sanctions that cannot be routed around in that fashion. And, despite what it may seem like today, it’s not as though this war in Ukraine is going to on forever.
At some point, one way or the other, Russia is going to find itself without a war to fight, but plenty of sanctions remaining in place. That is, unless Russia manages to negotiate peace in a way I don’t expect, or should disruptions or eliminations within the Russian government take place. Neither of those are terribly likely.
So all this would do is give Russia access to some software and IP it might want/need today, all while setting up more animosity with Western nations and further cementing the country’s role as a villain on the world stage.
Filed Under: copyright, infringement, russia, sanctions
A couple of years ago, we discussed the somewhat ironic story of a German software company suing the United States Navy for pirating its software. The initial story was a bit messy, but essentially the Navy tested out Bitmanagement’s software and liked it well enough that it wanted to push the software out to hundreds of thousands of computers. After Bitmanagement sued for hundreds of millions of dollars as a result, the Navy pointed out that it had bought concurrent use licenses through a third party reseller. While Bitmanagement pointed out that it didn’t authorize that kind of license itself, the court at the time noted that without a contractual arrangement between the company and the Navy, the Navy had an implied license for concurrent users and dismissed the case.
Bitmanagement appealed that ruling, however, arguing that the lower court stopped its analysis too soon. The story there is that such an implied license would require the Navy track concurrent users across its 500k-plus computers it installed the software on, but it appears the Navy didn’t bother to track concurrent users at all.
“We do not disturb the Claims Court’s findings. The Claims Court ended its analysis of this case prematurely, however, by failing to consider whether the Navy complied with the terms of the implied license,” the Appeals Court writes.
“The implied license was conditioned on the Navy using a license-tracking software, Flexera, to ‘FlexWrap’ the program and monitor the number of simultaneous users. It is undisputed that the Navy failed to effectively FlexWrap the copies it made,” the Court adds.
And just like that, the dismissal flips entirely and the Appeals Court has now remanded the case to determine damages. Again, Bitmanagement is asking for just under $600,000,000 in damages, given the wide scale of installations the Navy undertook with its software. With nothing tracking how many users concurrently used the software, the Navy doesn’t really have any way to argue back that it complied with the implied license.
The real lesson in this is just how messy these sorts of copyright conundrums are. It’s reasonable to believe that the Navy thought it was doing the right thing, even if it failed to comply with the implied license by monitoring concurrent users. But it’s also reasonable for a software provider, with no evidence providing nuance, to simply see 500k-plus installations as mass copyright infringement.
But, in the eyes of the same United States that likes to put out reports on how terrible other countries are in respecting intellectual property rights, I guess the United States Navy is just a bunch of pirates now.
Filed Under: copyright, germany, infringement, us navy
Companies: bitmanagement
You may recall that, recently, I posted on WIPO’s bizarre decision to host a database of “pirate” sites that it would share with advertisers, encouraging them to block ads from appearing on any of the sites in the “Building Respect for Intellectual Property” (BRIP) database. As we noted in our original post, previous attempts at such databases showed how problematic they could be, as they almost always swept up perfectly legal sites, and they provided no due process, no checks and balances or anything of the like. I also had a list of questions about this for WIPO, which I noted were unanswered at the time of posting. WIPO actually did get back to me, but we’ll get to that.
First, I wanted to point to a Twitter thread by New Zealand internet lawyer Rick Shera, who, in response to the news of the BRIP database, gave a real world example of how such databases create real harms for internet services through false accusations with no due process. Here’s a lightly edited part of Shera’s tweetstorm (the full thing is longer, but you get the point). After describing how the database is set up, he tells a story relating to one of his own clients:
WIPO does not disclose who the ?Authorized Contributors? are, but, according to TorrentFreak, they are expected to be a mix of law enforcement, and industry groups such as MPAA and RIAA. Which reminds me of what happened to my client Mega a few years ago. In 2014 a UK-based online brand management agency NetNames published ?Behind the Cyberlocker Door: A report on how shadowy cyberlocker businesses use credit card companies to make millions” commissioned by Digital Citizens Alliance, a US rightsholder lobby group.
Mega was included in the report as a ?cyberlocker?, without being given any opportunity to comment or rebut. Even by the report?s own criteria, Mega?s inclusion was patently incorrect.
But don?t take my word for it. Mega commissioned Olswang, one of the leading IP, media and IT law firms in the UK, which in turn had Grant Thornton in New Zealand analyse Mega?s systems. Olswang concluded the NetNames report was clearly false and defamatory. NetNames and Digital Citizens Alliance of course refused to withdraw the report and, at that early stage in its operation, it was uneconomic for Mega to take defamation action in the UK.
But it?s what happened next that provides a salutary lesson on the dangers of copyright guilt on accusation. The NetNames report was picked up by US Senator Patrick Leahy, who, also without the courtesy of checking with Mega, wrote to Visa and MasterCard encouraging them to cease providing payment services to anyone listed in the report. Here?s his letter to MasterCard.
The NetNames report was picked up by US Senator Leahy, who, also without the courtesy of checking with Mega, wrote to Visa and MasterCard encouraging them to cease providing payment services to anyone listed in the report. Here?s his letter to MasterCard. pic.twitter.com/26nV1pMWgU
— Rick Shera (@lawgeeknz) July 24, 2019
Visa and MasterCard blacklisted Mega, again, without notice. That resulted in PayPal ceasing service literally overnight. This despite the fact that PayPal had itself conducted exhaustive due diligence on Mega before giving it a clean bill of health just months earlier. Mega is not a cyberlocker. It complies with NZ and with European and US copyright laws. It is one of a handful of companies in NZ that publish a transparency report. Naturally, as a privacy protective business, it has put a huge effort into GDPR compliance. It has excellent relationships with law enforcement agencies worldwide operating under its takedown guidance policy.
And yet a spurious report, commissioned by a non accountable industry backed lobby group, was able to run roughshod over all that. If Mega was not so well supported by its users and stakeholders, that false accusation would have driven it out of business. This is the danger in WIPO encouraging advertisers to cease service based on unsubstantiated allegations by non publicly accountable third parties. The allegations alone, which may be false, as they were for Mega, can kill a business.
That’s a great example of the kind of mistake that is quite often made. We highlighted some other examples in our original post. Also, it’s important to note that early innovations in new spaces often appear to be infringing. Imagine a similar rule in the time before the Supreme Court ruled that the VCR was perfectly legal. If retail shops relied on a “list” from the MPAA on what they shouldn’t stock, it certainly would have meant they never would have sold VCRs (the same VCRs that helped drive the home video market, which quickly surpassed the box office market and saved Hollywood in the 1980s).
Back to WIPO’s list, however. I had reached out to them before my story went up — and they responded saying they’d be happy to set up someone for me to talk to, though that email was sent right around the time my original story went out. I told them I was hoping to do a follow up story and would like to speak to someone there. After a number of emails back and forth, WIPO eventually told me that since this database is “under formal discussion by WIPO member states at a meeting of the Advisory Committee on Enforcement” in early September, WIPO felt that it was best not to comment until after it’s too late for it to matter and after the member states have discussed it. That strikes me as odd.
However, a WIPO employee, Jeremy Thille, decided to come into our comments and take it upon himself to give, as he called it, “WIPO’s reply.” Thille is a web developer, who notes that he helped build the database. I am quite sure that Thille thought he was being helpful here — and, he actually was being super helpful in revealing WIPO’s complete and utter disgust for basic due process on issues that impact speech and innovation. Most tellingly, he responded to my question about whether or not sites are notified that they’re being put in this database that can literally put them out of business by saying:
No. They know what they’re doing.
This isn’t a surprise. In two decades of doing work in and around the copyright space, this attitude is pervasive. It ignores, of course, that throughout all of this time, those in legacy industries are often way too quick to declare something, or some tool or service, “dedicated to infringement,” when it is not. It ignores that making mistakes here have massive impacts on both free expression and innovation. This is especially galling given that WIPO is a part of the UN and the UN is supposed to be bound by the principles of free expression in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. To brush off such blatant censorship without any due process as “they know what they did” is astoundingly cavalier.
Other parts of Thille’s responses (er… “WIPO’s reply”) are equally enlightening, if not surprising. He argues that there really aren’t any problems with WIPO keeping such a censorship database, because it’s all really maintained by member countries:
The BRIP platform is merely a central repository for national authorities such as HADOPI in France, AGCOM in Italy, or Roskomnadzor in Russia.
These authorities are governmental and they declare websites as infringing, as they legally have the power to do so. We don’t have this power, so we don’t add or remove anything from the database.
He leaves out the earlier statements that industry representatives get to take part as well. He also leaves out the, uh, rather checkered history of some of the agencies he names in censoring the internet. Remember, when the company that Hadopi employed to run its copyright enforcement program decided that the DNS address 127.0.0.1 was a pirate site? (For the non-technically savvy, 127.0.0.1 is your own local machine). Or how about the time that Roskomnadzor used its copyright naughty list to shut down an entire news site. AGCOM? Remember how they ordered a user-generated-content platform blocked throughout Italy based on claims of 11 infringing works, and then ignored the fact that the site quickly removed all 11 works when informed?
Odd that the three examples of “trusted” government agencies that WIPO uses as examples for its database all have histories littered with problematic sites and censorship. Seems like, maybe, something WIPO should have considered, rather than merely assuming that if a government says “kill this site” that it must “know what they did.”
Thille also passes the buck on WIPO’s database, noting that while WIPO won’t remove stuff, it will be left up to those problematic trusted authorities to create any due process. Though, he is candid that basically, any site in the database is fucked:
If they have been flagged by their national supreme internet authority, it will be difficult to contest, but here again, this is a process we have noting to do with. Displeased websites will have to try and contact their national authority directly, as they alone can remove a website/domain from their list in the BRIP database. Technically, we could of course remove a website from an official list, but legally we absolutely can’t.
That’s fascinating. Given just how hard all of the industry reps have been fighting over the years to argue that the maintainer of a website should have liability for what’s in it, it does seem just slightly ironic for WIPO and the industry to team up on a database while insisting they have no liability whatsoever for putting companies into it incorrectly, even if it cuts of free expression or innovation.
Thille further clarifies — as we expected — that there is literally no way for the public, or even an NGO, to check the database and review it for accuracy. So it’s a hidden, secretive database, put together by organizations that have a troubled history of censorship, that will be used to starve sites out of existence, and there is no due process, no transparency, no way to review, no way to appeal. But it’s all cool because, WIPO believes, those sites “know what they’re doing.”
Of course, as we saw with Mega, yes, those sites know that they’re complying with the law. And it didn’t matter.
I asked WIPO whether or not it would like to comment on Thille’s clarifications, suggesting that as an organization pushing such a database, it would probably be in their interest to have a better response to these questions. WIPO declined to respond and has provided no additional comment. It seems like the kind of thing that might help member states have a more informed discussion at their meeting September 2 – 4, at which there will be a discussion on “recent activities” regarding the BRIP database.
Unfortunately, responding to pesky journalists asking silly questions about censorship and due process is not on the agenda. I guess, the best you can say about WIPO and this database is… “they know what they’re doing.”
Filed Under: accusations, brip, copyright, database, due process, free speech, infringement, innovation, wipo
Companies: mega, wipo
On Friday, we wrote about the cartoonishly evil decision by producer Scott Rudin, who is producing a big Broadway reboot of To Kill A Mockingbird, written by Aaron Sorkin, to shut down local community theater versions of the earlier play version of the story, written by Christopher Sergel. Apparently, the contract with the Harper Lee estate for a stage adaptation of her book involved some odd clause that said if there was a showing on Broadway of Mockingbird, there couldn’t be any stagings near a city. And Rudin then had his lawyers threaten a whole bunch of small community theaters with cease-and-desist notices, claiming they may be on the hook for $150,000 in damages. All for small community theater operations which had paid their $100 license for the rights to perform the old Sergel version of the play.
As we noted in that post, rather than say this was about lawyers getting out of hand, Rudin doubled down on the idea, bizarrely making it sound like he had to block the productions:
“We hate to ask anybody to cancel any production of a play anywhere, but the productions in question as licensed by DPC infringe on rights licensed to us by Harper Lee directly,” Rudin said in a statement.
Just because something might infringe doesn’t mean you need to shut it down.
As that story got more and more attention, making Rudin look worse and worse, on Friday evening he announced a “solution” as told to the Hollywood Reporter: any theater that his lawyers had already threatened… would now be able to present the Rudin/Sorkin version of the play:
“As stewards of the performance rights of Aaron Sorkin’s play, it is our responsibility to enforce the agreement we made with the Harper Lee estate and to make sure that we protect the extraordinary collaborators who made this production,” said Rudin in a statement released exclusively to The Hollywood Reporter. “We have been hard at work creating what I hope might be a solution for those theater companies that have been affected by this unfortunate set of circumstances, in which rights that were not available to them were licensed to them by a third party who did not have the right to do so.”
“In an effort to ameliorate the hurt caused here, we are offering each of these companies the right to perform our version of To Kill a Mockingbird, Aaron Sorkin’s play, currently running on Broadway,” continued Rudin’s statement. “For these theaters, this is the version that can be offered to them, in concert with our agreement with Harper Lee. We hope they will choose to avail themselves of this opportunity.”
On the one hand, you could say (as Rudin seems to suggest in patting himself on the back in putting forth this “opportunity”) that letting small community theaters put on a big Broadway show while it’s still on Broadway is quite a rare opportunity. It is. But… still, the whole situation stinks. If he’s letting them put on that version, why did he threaten all of those community theaters with the potential of a lawsuit that would shut down most such theaters permanently first? And why not just let them perform the version they wanted to perform in the first place? Many of the theaters had already been rehearsing and preparing sets for the original version. And while it may feel like a nice offer to put on the newer version of the play, this whole thing feels like a cheap publicity stunt by Rudin after his cartoonishly evil moves earlier.
Just let them put on the play they wanted, rather than acting like you’re making a giant concession after you made yourself look like an asshole with stupid threats to bankrupt community theaters.
“I think it’s a good save from something that was, honestly, not the fault of the people who licensed it and not the fault of the people who owned the rights ? which people are us ? but I think ultimately for those who still can do it it’s a good solution,” said Rudin. “Everything that they licensed, we’ll stand behind with ours.”
A “good save”? Maybe stop patting yourself on the back and admit that you fucked up in the first place by unleashing lawyers with bogus threat letters to small community theaters? It’s a “save” in that you’re trying to save your reputation, but part of that is admitting that you made a mistake in the first place, rather than trying to turn this bad situation into free marketing for your own staging.
“Letting these theaters do it now is a substantial give for us, obviously, because it’s really not in our interest to have the play out anywhere but on Broadway right now,” he added.
“Substantial give.” Oh come on. All you had to do was not threaten community theaters and let them put on their own version. This whole thing stinks of a Hollywood producer thinking that his own play must be what’s really in demand and therefore he’s being oh-so-generous in letting people present it after he basically threatened to bankrupt a ton of community theaters. Those community theaters should tell him to take his offer and stuff it.
Filed Under: aaron sorkin, community theater, copyright, infringement, scott rudin, threats, to kill a mockingbird
In many, if not most, of the copyright disputes we cover here, the stance we take is not typically a purely legal one. Often times, we make mention that one party or another is legally allowed to take the actions it has, but we note that those protectionist actions aren’t the most optimal course to have taken. Perhaps the best example of this can be found in a dispute that arose between metal band Arch Enemy and a photographer it had allowed to take concert photos for them.
The backstory here goes like this. Arch Enemy has worked with J. Salmeron, a photographer and attorney, to take photos of the band’s concerts. Salmeron then posted those photos to his Instagram account, after which they were reposted both by the band’s fans and members of the band themselves. All of that was done without issue. One of the band’s merchandise partners, however, used one of the photos of the lead singer to promote the band’s merchandise on social media accounts. Finding out about this, Salmeron contacted the company and asked for a 100 euro “licensing fee” in the form of a payment to his choice of charity.
At this point, the issue could have been resolved without any fuss, but things quickly got out of hand. Thunderball Clothing wasn’t planning to pay and reached out to the band, accusing the photographer of making threats. The band and the singer sided with the clothing company and sponsor, arguing that a payment is not required. Apparently, the band’s management is under the impression that the band, fans, and sponsors can use the work of photographers free of charge. In return, they get exposure.
“I would like to ask why you are sending discontent emails to people sharing the photo of Alissa? Alissa’s sponsors and fan clubs are authorized to share photos of her. Thunderball Clothing is a sponsor of Alissa and Arch Enemy,” they replied. “Generally speaking, photographers appreciate having their work shown as much as possible and we are thankful for the great photos concert photographers provide,” the band’s management added.
Now, much of that is true. Photographers do get exposure through channels like this. Exposure for their work generally and, in the music space, exposure to other musical acts to use their services. On the other hand, it really isn’t up to the band whether or not to authorize their partners’ use of these photographs which are, unless otherwise stated in a contract somewhere, covered by copyright for the photographer. It also is the case that Salmeron’s request wasn’t exactly unreasonable in terms of the amount or the recipient. This, in other words, is pretty tame stuff in the world of copyright infringement. So… both sides of this equation have valid stances. And, one would imagine, something should have been easily worked out given that.
Unfortunately, it seems every side decided to go full nuclear.
After some messages back and forth, the photo was eventually removed, but the band also made it very clear that Salmeron is no longer welcome at any future gigs.
“By the way, we are sure you don’t mind that you are not welcome anymore to take pictures of Arch Enemy performances in the future, at festivals or solo performances,” the reply read. “I have copied in the label reps and booking agent who will inform promoters – no band wants to have photographers on site who later send such threatening correspondence to monetize on their images.”
And then the responses from many of the band’s fans, many of whom do photography work, was to hurl snark at the band and suggest that its stance on copyright for the photographer be applied to the band’s work as well. A whole bunch of people tweeted at the band, suggesting that instead of buying their latest album, they would just download it and that the band should consider that free exposure for themselves. Now, that analogy doesn’t really hold, of course, but the point is clear.
And so basically everyone loses here. The band has pissed fans. The photographer isn’t on the Arch Enemy beat any longer. The merch company had to take the photo down. And, again, all this over 100 euro? Come on.
Filed Under: arch enemy, concerts, copyright, fans, infringement, j. salmeron, licensing
Let’s do a bit of stage-setting for readers who aren’t aware of Fortnite, the multiplayer online battle arena that is generating millions of dollars for Epic Games. Fortnite is multicolored, vibrant playground of death wherein dozens of combatants fight to be the last man/woman standing. Also included are tools to build things (hence the “fort” half) — like walls — to surround yourself with to stave off the inevitable. (“Inevitable” meaning a 12-year-old halfway around the world celebrating your death with a purchased “emote.”)
Fortnite is free-to-play. But it still makes millions of dollars. It does this by selling players cosmetic items. After exchanging real money for Fortnite funbux, players can purchase pickaxes, backpacks, and “emotes.” The last one on the list has translated into a flurry of litigation over the last month.
Emotes are mostly dances. Being that there’s a limited number of instantly-recognizable dances available, Epic Games has been plucking new “emotes” from the vast pop culture wasteland. It then sells these animated sequences to players, making each celebration dance no more individually expressive than the millions of imitators spawned by the pop culture figures Epic is approximating.
Three lawsuits alleging copyright infringement have been filed against Epic Games in the last month. Rapper 2 Milly, the co-star of 90s sitcom “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air” (Alfonso Ribeiro), and a precocious teen better known as “Backpack Kid” (born Russell Horning) have all sued Epic Games for turning their distinctive dances into pay-to-play emotes.
All three lawsuits have been filed by Pierce Bainbridge Beck Price & Hect of Los Angeles, California. While other pop culture figures have lamented Fortnite’s profitable borrowing of their dance moves, only those retaining this law firm have actually acted on it.
Here’s the things about the lawsuits: while they all allege copyright infringement, no copyright infringement has actually occurred. This is an extremely difficult hurdle to leap when .
First off, the Copyright Office isn’t willing to extend protection to all dance moves. As many can overlap with normal human body movements, there are some specifics that must be met. And the shorter the dance is, the less likely it is to be protected.
The U.S. Copyright Office cannot register short dance routines consisting of only a few movements or steps with minor linear or spatial variations, even if a routine is novel or distinctive.
Nonetheless, these plaintiffs claim the copying of possibly uncopyrightable human movements is copyright infringement. Here’s what’s being sued over in these three lawsuits — all of which seem to be on the short side as dance routines go.
All three of the plaintiffs have made belated moves to file for copyright protection. Alfonso Ribeiro appears to have waited the longest to attempt to wring $$ from a dance created more than two decades ago. From Ribeiro’s lawsuit [PDF]:
Ribeiro is the undisputed creator of the wildly popular and immediately recognizable Dance. YouTube videos depicting Ribeiro’s performance in The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air are the original depictions of The Dance.
Ribeiro is in the process of registering The Dance with the United States Copyright Office. On December 15, 2018, Ribeiro submitted an application for copyright registration of three variations of The Dance and assigned Copyright Office case numbers 1- 7226013364, 1-7226013290, and 1-7225814191.
So, Ribeiro submitted his copyright registration two days before his lawsuit was filed. Since copyright protection isn’t immediately extended to simple dance moves, there’s no copyright infringement to be had until after the Copyright Office allows his moves to be registered. History suggests it won’t do this, putting Ribeiro right back where he was three days before this lawsuit was filed.
The lack of protection — either implicit or explicit — makes his claims a bit problematic.
Defendants did not seek to obtain Ribeiro’s permission for its use of The Dance for the Fresh emote. Nor have Defendants compensated or credited Ribeiro for their use of The Dance.
There’s no permission to seek and no compensation required. That’s how this works, thanks to the very limited protections extended to dance moves.
The other lawsuits are no better. Backpack Kid’s dance [PDF] has also been submitted to the Copyright Office. He may have done it far earlier than the opportunistic Ribeiro (BK filed his applications in July and October), but he still hasn’t been granted copyright protection for his dance moves.
Rapper 2 Milly has also sought protection for his “Milly Rock” dance, filing his two weeks before his lawsuit [PDF] against Epic. Like the others, he has obtained no protection for his dance moves. And, like the others, his lawsuit claims he was somehow screwed out of compensation for the copying of a possibly-unprotectable set of human body movements.
Other claims in the lawsuit are equally problematic. All three lawsuits allege copyright infringement, but then include passages that make it appear as though the plaintiffs think they’re dealing with trademark law — which is a completely different branch of IP and subject to completely different rules.
Plaintiffs are damaged by Defendants’ exploitation of the Floss and Backpack Kid’s likeness through 1) selling the infringing Floss emote directly to players; 2) advertising the Floss emote to attract additional players, including Backpack Kid’s fans or those persons familiar with the Floss to play Fortnite and make in-game purchases; 3) using Backpack Kid’s fame to stay relevant to its current players to incentivize those players to continue playing Fortnite; 4) impliedly representing that Backpack Kid consented to Epic’s use of his likeness; 5) intentionally causing the erroneous public association between the Floss and Fortnite; 6) creating the false impression that Backpack Kid endorsed Fortnite; and 7) inducing and/or contributing to the performance and misattribution of the Floss by others.
These assertions are made under “False Designation of Origin” — something that deals with misrepresenting the source of goods. It’s not technically trademark, but is usually limited to counterfeiting or violating country of origin labeling requirements. To have it applied to a set of dance moves is novel, and courts tend not to like novel arguments.
The key element here may be the reason these lawsuits have been filed in California. California, being home to Hollywood and a bunch of actors, actresses, and studios, has granted a “Right of Publicity” that protects people from having their likenesses used by entities they haven’t granted permission to. The damage allegations here might find some traction at the state level, but seem unlikely to receive the federal court’s blessing. Even under state law, the claims seem to exaggerate the facts at hand.
As the rapper, 2 Milly, Ferguson exploits his identity by performing at concerts, events and festivals. Ferguson was damaged by Defendants’ conduct as he was prevented from reaping the profits of licensing his likeness to Defendants for commercial gain.
Except that Fortnite didn’t use 2 Milly’s “likeness.” It only used a small set of dance moves 2 Milly claims are his. The avatars chosen by players will often bear no resemblance to person the emote can be traced back to. Since Fortnite isn’t using these plaintiffs’ likenesses, there’s nothing to “license” from any of them. And if the dance moves aren’t able to be copyrighted, those can’t be licensed either.
The same thing can be said for the state claims under California’s unfair competition laws. These claims are made even more ridiculous when the plaintiffs — or rather, their professional representation — make patently (I know. Sorry.) untrue statements in their allegations.
As a result of Defendants’ conduct, Ferguson has been damaged by being precluded from receiving his rightful share of the profits from selling or licensing his exclusive copyright in the Milly Rock dance.
At this point, 2 Milly has zero exclusive copyright protections for his dance. It’s unlikely he even has implied protection at this point, a la numerous other creations that only need to be “affixed to a medium” to be guaranteed protection. This is 2 Milly claiming he’s been legally injured by an act that quite possibly hasn’t happened yet and may possibly never happen.
Things look even worse for Alfonso Ribeiro, who created his dance while working on the “Fresh Prince” TV show. Since it was developed while he was employed by the studio and it first appeared during an episode of the sitcom, it seems like the studio may actually hold whatever copyright there is to the dance and may be able to claim complete possession of it, depending on the details on Ribeiro’s contract.
Unless the Ninth Circuit is ready to start handing wins to plaintiffs who can’t state a cognizable copyright infringement claim, these lawsuits are on their way to an early dismissal. The US Copyright Office is the only entity that can say for sure these moves are protected and it has yet to affirmatively state these belated dance move registrations are valid. The real wrinkle at this point is the state claims, which are far more coherent than anything claimed at the federal level. But even those aren’t all that strong. These are dubious lawsuits that appear to have been prompted by a law firm that thinks it can carve off a piece of Fortnite’s millions with a litigation dog-pile.
Filed Under: 2 milly, alfonso ribeiro, backpack kid, choreography, copyright, dance, dance moves, fortnite, infringement, registration
Companies: epic games
Yesterday we published the first part of an analysis by copyright lawyer Rick Sanders who wrote up a thorough analysis of the recent 9th Circuit decision to overturn the jury verdict in a case involving whether or not the Led Zeppelin song “Stairway to Heaven” infringed on another song. The first part described how the 9th Circuit might correct a problematic “test” for infringement, and this part analyzes the problems with the jury instructions.
Last time, I explained why I thought the Ninth Circuit’s recent vacating and remanding of the jury verdict in Led Zeppelin’s favor was, long-term, a good thing for copyright law (even if I kind of liked the verdict and am genuinely sorry for Led Zeppelin). The reason is that the reversal gave one panel of the Ninth Circuit an opportunity to try to fix the Ninth Circuit’s unhelpful legal framework for determining copyright infringement.
But that isn’t why the panel reversed. While the panel did make some suggestions about how to present the “inverse-ratio” rule to the jury, the way it was presented to the original jury isn’t what merited reversal. What merited reversal was the lack of another jury instruction about a basic and uncontroversial principle of copyright law that the parties agreed should have been there in some form. In short, the case is being reversed ? and the Ninth Circuit is getting a chance to fix its own weird copyright law ? because of what appears to have been a brain fart.
We all gasped when we heard about the reversal. Jury verdicts are hardly ever reversed. One of the few ways a jury verdict can be thrown out is if the jury was badly instructed in the law. Juries, naturally, don’t bring any knowledge about the law with them when they serve. That’s not their job, really. Their job is to weigh evidence, make credibility determinations, and so forth. But at some point, they need to be told what the law is, so they can take all that evidence they weighed and apply it to the law and render a verdict. How this is accomplished might surprise you.
There are several ways for jury instructions to be prepared and delivered to a jury, but the main way is this. First, the parties’ attorneys confer about what jury instructions they can agree on and jointly submit those instructions to the court. In this, they are aided by pattern jury instructions prepared at the circuit court’s direction. But pattern jury instructions don’t cover every aspect of every area of the law. You’d need ever-updating volumes to do that. Also, the pattern jury instructions aren’t unassailable: a party might disagree with one and explain how it should be and why.
For all other jury instructions, the parties submit their own versions of instructions they think address all of the legal issues being raised at trial, together with a short explanation of the legal authorities for their versions. The judge decides which version to use, or the judge might even craft his or her own version based on their own research.
Are the instructions then typed up, collated and distributed to the jurors in a neat binder? No! The judge reads them to the jurors, at the very end of the case, during what is called the “jury charge.” The jurors have to memorize the instructions (though they can ask to re-hear specific ones later during their deliberations).
In this case, the parties agreed that they needed an instruction about what to do with a work that is made up of unprotectable elements. Just because your work is made up of lots of unprotectable elements, that doesn’t mean your work as a whole can’t be protected by copyright. If you put those unprotectable elements together in an original way, then the way you put those elements together is protectable, though not the individual elements themselves. After all, you can theoretically dissect any creative work down into non-protectable elements: individual notes, individual words and phrases, individual brushstrokes, etc. It’s what you do with those non-protectable elements that counts. Courts call this “selection and arrangement,” which makes it seem more abstract than it is.
In this case, the plaintiffs hold the copyright in the song “Taurus,” which has for years been rumored as the inspiration for Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven.” (But inspiration isn’t infringement! Well, at least, not necessarily.) When the plaintiffs finally got around to suing, Led Zeppelin argued (among other things) that any similarities between the songs were only for non-protectable elements, like the use of the chromatic scale. Plaintiffs argued that, even if that were true, the “selection and arrangement” of those elements were original (and, by implication, that “Stairway to Heaven” took that selection and arrangement).
Both parties recognized the need for an instruction on this issue. They disagreed on what it should say. They submitted competing instructions for the judge to consider. Then came the jury charge, at the very end of the case, just before the jury began deliberations. The judge began to read the instructions. Now, normally, a party would have an opportunity to object on the record to an instruction. This is a prerequisite to complaining about it on appeal. But the judge here didn’t want to hear any objections. He reasoned that, if the parties disagreed about an instruction in their submissions, it was reasonable to assume that they would object to an instruction that didn’t match what they’d submitted.
The parties waited for the instruction about what to do with works made up of unprotectable elements. It never came. This was good for Led Zeppelin, though not ideal. On the one hand, since Led Zeppelin had presented evidence that all they’d taken (if anything) from “Taurus” was not protectable, such an instruction couldn’t help their argument, no matter how it was crafted. On the other hand, it was foreseeable at the time that the missing jury instruction could imperil a jury verdict in Led Zeppelin’s favor (assuming they could focus on it with 500 other things going on at that moment.
On appeal, the strongest argument ? that trial court was correct not to give the instruction ? wasn’t really available to Led Zeppelin because even it had suggested an instruction. (Led Zeppelin tried anyway.) Instead, it had to argue that the missing instruction made no difference to the jury’s deliberations. That’s where another major goof with the jury instructions came in.
Nearly all copyright cases will need an instruction about originality. Without “originality,” there is no copyright. Originality, however, is pretty easy to achieve. All that’s really required is that the work be expressive (i.e., not just ideas) and the product of a human mind. This last requirement not only excludes things like the “monkey selfie,” but also things like underlying facts, which exist independent of human thought; and stock “tools of the trade” commonly available to everyone in the creative field, like stock characters, computer code that everyone uses, certain three chord progressions, and so forth (what lawyers call “scènes à faire”). It also excludes material the author copied from other works (including those in the public domain), but only if the author actually copied them. Originality doesn’t mean novelty, just that it’s the author’s independent expression.
Originality is so basic to copyright law that there’s actually one of those “pattern jury instructions” about it. Pattern jury instructions aren’t law and aren’t always appropriate in every instance, but departure from them demands explanation. The court took the model instruction and added the stuff in bold and took out the stuff that’s been :
An original work may include or incorporate elements taken from works owned by others, with the owner’s permission. However, any elements from prior works or the public domain are not considered original parts and not protected by copyright. Instead, [t]he original parts of the plaintiff’s work are the parts created:
1. independently by the work’s author, that is, the author did not copy it from another work; and
2. by use of at least some minimal creativity.
You might detect a pattern here (as it were). The instruction about how to treat works consisting of non-protectable elements was left out. Now the instruction about originality includes a new sentence that emphasizes how non-protectable elements aren’t protectable, without telling the jury that those non-protectable elements can be selected and arranged in a protectable way.
I don’t know if copyright has a single “heart.” Perhaps, like an octopus, it has several hearts. But surely one of copyright law’s hearts is that creativity can and often does build on the work of others. This idea is echoed in fair use. And it is echoed in the non-controversial idea that not every element of a work must be protectable for the work to be entitled to copyright protection. “Selection and arrangement” is just a stilted and abstract way of saying: if you give 100 kids the same collection of 100 lego bricks, you will have 100 different original works in about 30 minutes, even though no single lego brick is protectable and even though the 100 different original works will naturally share certain techniques in common.
These two errors in the jury instructions aren’t just about technicalities of a highly technical law. Goodness knows there’s a lot of those in copyright law. No, they go to one of the basic tenets of copyright law: what it means to create.
My charitable interpretation of all this is that the court had a major brain fart that Led Zeppelin’s lawyers didn’t see coming or didn’t fully understand how perilous the consequences would be. The other interpretation is that this was a legal strategy that worked too well and backfired badly. It’s too bad. I strongly suspect that a correctly instructed jury would have come to the same verdict, but the scale of this mistake is such that we can’t safely assume that. I also strongly suspect Led Zeppelin will prevail on remand?after incurring more expense, lost time and anxiety.
Rick Sanders is a trademark, trade secrets and copyright litigator and a founding partner of Aaron & Sanders, PLLC. From 2012 to 2014, he was an adjunct professor at Vanderbilt University Law School, where he was teaching Copyright Law. He blogs at IPBreakdown and tweets at @RickSandersLaw.
Filed Under: copyright, infringement, jury instructions, led zeppelin, spirit, stairway to heaven, taurus
A few weeks ago, we wrote about the 9th Circuit overturning the district court’s ruling in a copyright case questioning whether the song “Stairway to Heaven” had infringed on the song “Taurus” by Spirit. We were less than pleased with this result, as we felt the original ruling was correct. Copyright lawyer Rick Sanders disagreed with part of our analysis and made some really great points in a two part blog post series, which he’s graciously allowed us to repost in slightly edited form here. Part II will be published tomorrow.
Yes, the new 9th Circuit surprising reversal of the jury verdict looks like “Blurred Lines” all over again — only in reverse. Whereas in “Blurred Lines,” the jury reached the “wrong” conclusion, and the Ninth Circuit refused to fix the jury’s mistake, here it looks like the jury reached the “right” conclusion,” and the Ninth Circuit is screwing up the jury’s work. Techdirt all but said so, in an article 9th Cir Never Misses a Chance to Mess Up Copyright Law: Reopens Led Zeppelin ‘Stairway to Heaven’ Case.
I’m pleased to report that, far from taking this opportunity to further screw up copyright law, as Techdirt fears, the panel of judges is attempting to improve copyright law by replacing the Ninth Circuit’s (very bad) framework for copyright infringement with a much better one. Indeed, the “Stairway to Heaven” opinion may be seen as a rebuke to the “Blurred Lines” opinion. The pity is that Led Zeppelin must bear this burden by having to do the trial all over again.
The reason the “Stairway to Heaven” has to do with our old, misunderstood frenemy, the “Inverse-Ratio rule,” which is only tangentially related to why the case is being sent back for a second trial. I blogged extensively about the “inverse-ratio” rule in connection with the “Blurred Lines” case, and how the Ninth Circuit (correctly) amended its opinion to excise (its terrible) discussion of the rule. But here’s the deal: the inverse-ratio rule provides that the more similarity there is between the two works, the less proof of access you need, and vice-versa. It is highly beneficial when applied to the right legal framework for copyright. It is a perverse disaster when applied to the wrong legal framework.
Generally, there are two leading legal frameworks for determining when someone has infringed copyright:
Both of these frameworks grapple with the same thing: to infringe copyright in a work, the defendant must both copy the work and take enough of the work that, well, um, it’s too much. But the key is that copying is something that must be proved. In theory, if a magical monkey banged out Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets without ever have looked at a copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, that would not be copyright infringement. It would just be unbelievably unlikely. The need to prove copying is actually a fairly important limitation on copyright law. We shouldn’t lose sight of it.
Imagine that you saw me with a book and that I was writing something down on a pad of paper while obviously reading the book. Have you proved that I have “copied” the book? You certainly have proved access: there I am, with the book in hand! But, you haven’t. You need one piece of evidence. You need to see what I am writing. It’s possible that I’m multitasking, perhaps writing a shopping list as I read. It would take just a glance to figure that out, though, right?
Now imagine that you didn’t see me with the book. No one did. And yet my notebook is word for word the same as the book. Do you need any evidence of access? Maybe just the slightest bit, like I live in the same city as a bookstore or library that has a copy of the book. (This is sometimes known as “striking similarity.”)
Does this make intuitive sense? If so, congratulations! You understand the “inverse-ratio” rule, at least when correctly applied to “copying.” The more access, less probative similarity is needed to prove copying. More probative similarity, less access needed.
Proving copying is only step one of a two-step process, so let me hit you with another hypothetical. Let’s say that I was seen with the book at some point, and my notebook contains an extensive data table that is exactly the same as a data table in the book (but in my handwriting). There is nothing else in my notebook related to the book. The data table is otherwise unremarkable. Have you proven infringement? No! You have proven copying. I had access to the book, and the data table is too much of a coincidence to explain away. Clearly, I copied the data table. But not all copying is infringement. What I took isn’t protectable because it’s just facts. You haven’t proven the “unlawful appropriation” (AKA “substantial similarity”) element.
This hypothetical shows the difference between the two kinds of similarity: probative and substantial. (See, this is why we should re-name “substantial similarity” as “unlawful appropriation.”) You can use unprotectable elements to establish probative similarity. You can’t use unprotectable elements to establish substantial similarity/unlawful appropriation. Hopefully, this makes intuitive sense to you. With probative similarity, we’re just trying to prove copying, so we’re just looking for coincidences that, in light of the amount of access, we can’t explain away. Substantial similarity/unlawful appropriation is limited to protectable expression.
Let’s return to the “inverse-ratio” rule. Can you see why it’s appropriate in the context of copying, when we’re weighing access against probative similarity? And why it’s inappropriate if you are instead weighing access against substantial similarity/unlawful appropriation? In fact, it’s perverse. Imagine if you and I both took the same material from an unpublished manuscript, and that the case for substantial similarity is kind of borderline. I am found with a copy of the manuscript on my computer. You, however, have no connection with the manuscript except that you are the manuscript editor’s niece’s best friend (and the niece visited the editor at least once while in possession of the manuscript). We both took the same thing, but under the misapplication of the inverse-ratio rule, I’m an infringer, and you are not. That’s stupid. Considering that most courts do not correctly handle the distinction between copying and substantial similarity, you can see how the inverse-ratio rule has gotten a bad rap.
Which of these two frameworks does the Ninth Circuit use? Neither, of course. This is the Ninth Circuit we’re talking about. Its framework looks like a combination of two. On the one hand, it follows the Majority Framework by requiring proof of access (instead of copying) and “substantial similarity.” But then is splits the inquiry into “substantial similarity” into two tests, both of which must be proven: the “extrinsic test” and the “intrinsic test.” The extrinsic test is meant to be “objective.” The jury is permitted to consider both protectable and non-protectable elements, to dissect the elements and compare those, and to consider expert opinion. You know what that is? Probative similarity, but here’s it’s pressed into the service of substantial similarity and has been separated from the inquiry into access.
The intrinsic test is just the normal test for “substantial similarity”/”unlawful appropriation” that every other court uses. Calling it a “test” is overstating it: it’s more like the jury’s gut instinct, based on the “total concept and feel” of the works. Sorry, but no one has come up with a better way of formulating the test, or how “total concept and feel” works when both protectable and non-protectable elements have been taken. To be fair to the Ninth Circuit, the distinction between intrinsic and extrinsic evidence was innovative at the time and served as an important stepping stone to the preferred legal framework. Alas, the way precedent works, the Ninth Circuit has been stuck at this half-way point for decades. It should go without saying that the application of the “inverse-square” rule to the Ninth Circuit’s framework can be ugly.
But that’s what makes the court’s opinion in the “Stairway to Heaven” case so exciting. The court straight up endorses the Preferred Framework, even using the preferred terminology:
Whether Defendants copied protected expression contains two separate and distinct components: “copying” and “unlawful appropriation.” A plaintiff must be able to demonstrate that a defendant copied his work, as independent creation is a complete defense to copyright infringement. In cases such as this one where there is no direct evidence of copying, the plaintiff can attempt to prove it circumstantially by showing that the defendant had access to the plaintiff’s work and that the two works share similarities probative of copying. When a high degree of access is shown, a lower amount of similarity is needed to prove copying. To prove copying, the similarities between the two works need not be extensive, and they need not involve protected elements of the plaintiff’s work. They just need to be similarities one would not expect to arise if the two works had been created independently.
It then tackles the plaintiffs’ argument about the missing “inverse-ratio” rule. I’ll bet the plaintiffs were wanting an “inverse-ratio” instruction that told the jury to weigh access against substantial similarity. If so, the Ninth Circuit had some bad news for it: the “inverse-ratio” applies only to copying, not to substantial similarity.
This [inverse ratio] rule assists only in proving copying, not in proving unlawful appropriation. Even if a plaintiff proves that a defendant copied his work, the plaintiff must still show that the copying amounts to unlawful appropriation. The showing of substantial similarity necessary to prove unlawful appropriation does not vary with the degree of access the plaintiff has shown.
The court then went on to suggest strongly to the trial court that an “inverse ratio” rule might be a really good idea, in a case where there’s proof of access.
But what about that intrinsic-extrinsic distinction? Surely, it’s no longer relevant, right? Well, I guess the Ninth Circuit wasn’t quite prepared to get that radical. With a little hocus-pocus, it sort of re-purposed the distinction in the service of substantial similarity/unlawful appropriation. Now, instead of being objective and subjective, it’s about making sure you have both evidence of appropriation of protected elements and that gut-feeling. OK, whatever?that might actually be an improvement, since its one way to reconcile “total concept and feel” with a need to filter out non-protectable elements.
The fight’s not over. When a Circuit court takes up an appeal, it assigns a panel of three of its judges. In theory, a panel can’t overrule an earlier panel?for that to happen, you need the entire court, or in the 9th Circuit a larger panel of judges, (called “en banc”) to take up the case, which is rare (but not unheard of). Right now, later panels have the option of picking which framework they want to use: follow “Blurred Lines'” traditional Ninth Circuit framework, or adopt “Stairway to Heaven’s” newfangled Preferred Framework. Obviously, parties are going to pick the one that works best for them. We might end up with an internally-split circuit (which is essentially the current situation with the Second Circuit). Of course, the Supreme Court to step in and fix it, but let’s be serious. Indeed, it is almost scandalous that, for decades, there have been multiple frameworks for a concept CENTRAL to copyright law, and the Supreme Court has never expressed interest in the subject.
Now, as it happens, the court’s discussion of the “inverse-ratio” rule, and its related description of the Preferred Framework, is not what caused the court to vacate the jury verdict and send the case back down for a second trial. I’ll explain the twin brain farts that caused that disaster in a subsequent post.
Rick Sanders is a trademark, trade secrets and copyright litigator and a founding partner of Aaron & Sanders, PLLC. From 2012 to 2014, he was an adjunct professor at Vanderbilt University Law School, where he was teaching Copyright Law. He blogs at IPBreakdown and tweets at @RickSandersLaw.
Filed Under: 9th circuit, blurred lines, copyright, infringement, inverse ratio, jimmy page, led zeppelin, randy california, robert plant, spirit, stairway to heaven, taurus
Lawsuits and intellectual property disputes revolving around the Star Trek franchise are legion. This is largely due to just how massive and popular the franchise has been over the past decades and into the present. Still, we’ve seen all kinds of examples of how either the disputes are frivolous or silly, or cases in which IP owners had so many options open to them other than bullying and suing but chose to ignore those alternative routes.
That brings us to Stage 9, a non-commercial labor of love put together by fans of Star Trek: The Next Generation. Stage 9 is the virtual recreation of TNG’s Enterprise starship that allows fans of the series to explore the beloved vessel and immerse themselves in the chief setting of the series. Stage 9 has been built over the past two years by creators that have taken great pains to state that the project was not affiliated or licensed with CBS or Paramount and that they weren’t doing this to make money, only to artistically demonstrate their fandom.
As you’ve probably already guessed, all that was for nothing as CBS sent them a cease and desist letter anyway.
“This letter was a cease-and-desist order,” Scragnog explains. “Over the next 13 days we did everything we possibly could to open up a dialog with CBS. The member of the CBS legal team that issued the order went on holiday for a week immediately after sending the letter through, which slowed things down considerably.”
Part of the team’s strategy at that point was to remind everyone it could at CBS of the words of John Van Citters, CBS VP for Product Development. Back in 2016, shortly before this project started, Van Citters publicly remarked that the Star Trek franchise owes its success to the fans and the community that creates so much fan-work around the Trek universe. He went so far as to plead with fans to get involved, specifically stating that fans creating fanworks are “not going to hear from us. They’re not going to get a phone call, they’re not going to get an email. They’re not going to get anything that’s going to ruin their day… like they’ve done something wrong.”
Those seem to be in direct contradiction to the very real letter that very much ruined the day of the team behind Stage 9. And so the team reached out to Van Citters directly to see if he could get involved and help. Van Citters failed to even respond, and when CBS’ lawyer finally got back from vacation, it was stated that nobody would be working with these fans to make their project legit, it all just had to go away.
“We were hoping, perhaps naively, that the elements of Stage 9 that CBS did not approve of would be highlighted to us, so we could be sure to remove these elements from the project and create something that met with, if not their approval, then at least their acceptance,” Scragnog explains.
To keep the project alive, the team were prepared to make any changes ordered by CBS. Sadly, CBS said that the project could not continue in any form, no matter what changes were made. They provided no further details and, as noted by Eurogamer, did not indicate how Stage 9 had violated the fan art guidelines previously published by CBS and Paramount.
And so the story of a two year fan-project that would have at worst brought some joy to a bunch of Star Trek fans and, at best, would serve as free marketing material for the show, has come to the most unfortunate of endings. Thanks to mealy mouthed executives who can’t be bothered to either back up their own altruistic statements or engage with fans of their property, two years of work simply gets tossed in the trash.
Filed Under: copyright, enterprise, fans, infringement, inspiration, licensing, stage 9, star trek, tng
Companies: cbs, paramount
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