Can a Great TCG Survive Without a Famous IP Anymore?

I have a problem.

I’ve been playing Neuroscape, a relatively new cyberpunk TCG, and I am really, really enjoying it.

The game is good. The art direction is cool. The mechanics are interesting. I find myself thinking about cards and interactions after I stop playing, which is usually one of the best signs a card game can give me.

And instead of that making me excited to dive deeper into the game, part of my brain immediately went: “Don’t get attached.”

Which is a pretty depressing reaction to have when you discover a new game you genuinely like. The reason is that I keep coming back to a question that I’m becoming increasingly pessimistic about: Can a brand-new TCG without a major existing IP behind it actually survive in today’s market, no matter how good the game is?

And right now, I’m not convinced the answer is yes. That doesn’t mean I think Neuroscape is doomed. I hope I’m completely wrong. But I think the environment that a game like this has to survive in has changed dramatically. A great game may no longer be enough.

The IP Advantage Is Enormous

Think about what happens when a new licensed TCG launches. Pokémon doesn’t have to convince you to care about Pikachu. One Piece doesn’t have to introduce you to Luffy. Lorcana doesn’t have to explain Mickey Mouse, and Star Wars doesn’t have to spend five years making Darth Vader culturally relevant.

Those games can begin the relationship somewhere around: “You already love these characters. Would you like to play a card game with them?”

An original-IP game has a much harder job. It has to convince you that the game is good. Then it has to convince you that its world is interesting. Then it has to convince your friends to learn it. Then it has to convince your local game store to stock it. That store needs enough customers asking for it to justify continuing to stock it. Lastly, everyone involved needs enough confidence that the game will still exist two years from now to keep investing money, time, and attention into it.

That is an enormous number of hurdles to clear before card quality even enters the conversation.

A famous IP effectively gives a publisher a massive customer-acquisition subsidy before the first booster pack is ever opened.

Neuroscape Versus Cyberpunk Is a Brutal Comparison

This is where the numbers become almost comical.

Neuroscape ran a very successful Kickstarter. It raised approximately $570,000 from 1,891 backers.

For an independent original TCG, that is impressive. It was the tenth-highest-funded TCG Kickstarter at the time.

Then the official Cyberpunk Trading Card Game came along.

Same broad fantasy space: cyberpunk characters, corporations, technology, violence, style, dystopia.

Except one of them gets to put Cyberpunk 2077 on the front of the box.

That doesn’t tell us which game is better. It doesn’t tell us which game will have better organized play. It also doesn’t tell us which one will still exist ten years from now. But it does illustrate just how radically different the starting line can be.

Neuroscape has to make you care about its universe. Cyberpunk gets to begin with people who already care.

And that leaves me asking an uncomfortable question: How much better does an original game have to be to overcome that difference?

And perhaps the scarier question: Does being better even solve the problem?

Players Become Part of the Problem

This is the part where I have to point the finger at myself.

I like Neuroscape.

I own a game store.

I play an absurd number of TCGs.

I am exactly the type of person who should be willing to discover something new, teach it to other people, run events for it, build decks, make videos about it, and help create a community around it.

And my emotional reaction is still: “I don’t want to get too invested because what if nobody else does?”

That is an incredibly dangerous feedback loop for a new game. Players don’t invest because they’re afraid the game will fail. Stores don’t invest because they’re afraid players won’t invest. Events don’t fire because nobody wants to buy into a game before events are firing.

The fear of failure can actually help create the failure.

And then the lack of players, stores, and events becomes evidence that everybody was right not to invest.

A major IP can break that cycle by simply dumping thousands of interested humans into the ecosystem on day one. An original game has to manufacture that critical mass from scratch.

Could Flesh and Blood Launch Today?

Flesh and Blood is the obvious argument against everything I’m saying.

It launched without a famous outside IP and became a legitimate major TCG.

But Flesh and Blood launched in 2019, and even then the people behind it have openly discussed how difficult those early years were. Stores were skeptical. The company was calling stores individually, trying to convince them to take the game. COVID nearly put the business into hibernation.

Eventually the game broke through, and by 2021 it had reached thousands of stores. That’s an incredible success story.

But I keep wondering: What if Welcome to Rathe launched for the first time in 2026? Would Flesh and Blood become Flesh and Blood?

I’m not sure it would. The game would not suddenly be worse, but look at what an LGS is being asked to support now.

Magic. Pokémon. One Piece. Lorcana. Star Wars Unlimited. Gundam. Riftbound. Sorcery. Grand Archive. Yu-Gi-Oh!

And then whatever licensed TCG gets announced between the time I start writing this sentence and the time you finish reading it.

Shelf space is finite. Table space and weekly nights to run events are finite. Customer attention is finite. And most of all, money is finite.

The quality bar for a completely unknown game may now be absurdly high because being good only gets you permission to compete for attention. It doesn’t give you the attention.

What Does an IP Actually Buy?

I don’t think this is merely about name recognition. An established IP brings emotional attachment before gameplay. A collector may want a gorgeous Nami card even if it is completely unplayable. A Star Wars fan may buy Darth Vader without ever attending a tournament because it is Darth Vader. Someone might try Lorcana because their daughter loves Disney and they want to open packs together. A Gundam fan can walk past a display, recognize something they have loved for twenty years, and immediately become curious.

That creates demand that exists outside the competitive game itself. And that matters enormously.

Original TCGs have to build gameplay demand and collector demand simultaneously while also building an original world people care about. That is a hell of an assignment.

Which Brings Me Back to Neuroscape

The irony is that I’m writing this because I think the game deserves attention. I’m enjoying it enough that I want to talk about it. But the thing preventing me from becoming emotionally invested isn’t the gameplay. It’s confidence.

Will there be someone sitting across the table from me a year from now?

And I think that may be one of the biggest barriers facing every new original TCG. A card game isn’t like buying a board game. If I buy a board game and the publisher disappears tomorrow, I still own a complete game.

A TCG asks for something much bigger.

You learn the meta, build multiple decks, collect cards, convince friends to play, drive miles out of your way to attend events, follow releases, and invest hundreds or thousands of dollars.

All of these require becoming emotionally attached to a living ecosystem.

So before people make that investment, they increasingly want proof that everyone else is going to make the investment too.

And nobody wants to go first.

I Want You Guys to Argue With Me

This is eventually going to become a video, but I want to throw the argument to you first because I’m genuinely undecided on how pessimistic I should be.

And if you’ve played Neuroscape specifically, I especially want to hear your thoughts.

Because right now my position is basically: I really hope this game succeeds.

And at the exact same time: I’m afraid to love it because I’m not sure success is entirely in its control.

Maybe that is the real problem facing original TCGs now.

The game can do everything right and still have to convince players that everyone else is going to care.

And increasingly, I’m wondering whether an established IP has become the easiest, and perhaps even a necessary, evil to solve that problem.

Tell me I’m wrong.

I genuinely hope I am.