Armchair Imagineering: Four Concepts For Area Themes That Disney Should Absolutely Try

I've been getting more wildly speculative with my Armchair Imagineering posts lately. This is largely because I've had this blog for three-and-a-half years, with a pretty consistent weekly posting schedule, and I'm just plain running low on what you might call “standard” material. I've gotten all the Strong Opinions about rides past and present out of my system and I have to reach deeper into my imagination for topics.

The topic of this week's post is something I've touched on before but never devoted an entire post to: ideas for area themes that haven't been tried before, at least not by Disney. I don't have a proposal for a park to fit all these into, but for what they are, I hope you find them as intriguing as I do.

Off-Brand: Evermore

This week's post is a bit different. I'm not going to talk (much) about Disneyland. Or California Adventure. Or even Disney at all. I'm going...off-brand.

You see, there's something in the works up in Utah that could utterly transform theme parks as we know them. They're calling it Evermore (no relation, presumably, to the video game Secret of Evermore), and based on available information, it's not only unlike any theme park currently operating, at least in the U.S....it's unlike any theme park I ever expected to actually exist.

Evermore does not derive its appeal from the presence of popular mainstream media IP. Evermore makes its guests active participants in whatever stories it presents. Evermore is all about exploration and engagement, not passive absorption. Evermore has no rides...just beautiful scenery to walk through, and characters—not from movies or cartoons—to interact with. Seriously, just...watch the promotional video on the website, and skim through the pages. It's fairly mind-blowing that anyone decided to go ahead and do this.

It's like Legends of Frontierland...but an entire park...and all the time...and in a different genre. A genre much more dear to my heart, as it happens. Roleplaying as a citizen of an Old West town was immense fun, but the prospect of roleplaying as a citizen of a fantasy village is orders of magnitude more appealing on principle.

Also, its thematic emphasis will change with the seasons.

And there will be themed gardens.

And did I mention the Legends of Frontierland-like opportunities for character roleplaying?

This feels like something made especially for me. Or would, if it weren't two states away. But if it finds success, the concept will surely spread. Either we'll see more Evermore parks in more places, or other theme park entrepreneurs will take up the challenge, and that will change the entire landscape of the theme park industry.

This, in short, could be a real game-changer for the way theme parks are designed and operated. Obviously this type of experience won't suit everyone, but for those of us who enjoy it...it could very well surpass the more traditional type of parks that focus on rides and celebrity encounters.*

But how, you might be wondering, could such a place really compete with the big boys, especially in places where Disney, Universal, and Six Flags already hold territory? I can think of at least a couple of reasons:

• It's different. Never underestimate the power of novelty. Curiosity alone will be enough to get plenty of people through the gates at least once, and some of them are bound to find the new thing to their liking.
• Escapism is all the rage these days.** The push for “interactivity” in theme parks these days is in response to demand for more immersive adventures. (See also the increasing popularity of escape rooms.) The existing major players are actually at a disadvantage here—they have to square the circle of adding interactivity to what they already have, without violating their primary mission statement of making guests happy to accept whatever they want to flog them. Evermore and its hypothetical eventual imitators can simply provide that sort of environment from the get-go.
• This sort of concept inherently rewards and incentivizes repeat business. While other parks worry about being good enough to get people to come back, Evermore can confidently inform them that coming back is what makes it good.
• It might actually be less expensive. I don't have the facts and figures in front of me, but I'm willing to bet a huge chunk of a typical theme park's operating costs is tied up in the rides—R&D, construction, staffing, and maintenance. Simply by forgoing rides in favor of attractions with fewer moving parts, Evermore probably stands to save huge amounts of money...and can then pass those savings along to its guests.

So I think Evermore, and the Evermore model in general, has a fighting chance. And that can only be a good thing for theme parks in general. Not only will it diversify the landscape overall, but it will put a new source of pressure on existing theme parks to diversify their own offerings, maybe slowing down or even reversing the ever-increasing trend toward more elaborate thrill rides and more fashionable characters—Spacier Mountains and Mickier Mice, if you will.***

Disney? If you're listening, if your spybots are scanning this blog, pay close attention. If someone else beats you to this idea in Southern California, and if bullet #4 doesn't come to pass and it is expensive enough that I have to choose between you and it, then—and I cannot believe I am typing this—I might very well go with the LARP park. And I very much doubt that I am the only one. You, Disney, are the very best at what you do, but what you do is not necessarily the very best, if you follow.

With Evermore, someone might just have come up with something better.

* Because that, let's face it, is what a character meet-and-greet is.

** And who can blame us?

*** I'm sorry. Who am I kidding, no I'm not.

Armchair Imagineering: A California Adventure Worthy of the Name

Lastweek's post brought a momentary idle thought about an alternate version of California Adventure 1.0. It wasn't the sort of thing I could let slide, so this week, you get to see me develop it a bit further. I say “a bit” because, well, this is my first time designing a theme park almost completely from scratch. I'm keeping very little from the California Adventure we actually got; the area themes, attractions, and even layout are almost completely different. The upshot is that virtually none of the work has already been done for me and I've had to bash this out in time for the weekly deadline I have set myself.* So it's more of an outline than a fully detailed concept.

But enough excuses. Let's talk theme park!

Armchair Imagineering: Alternate Universe Castles

Sleeping Beauty Castle. Cinderella's Castle. Cinderella's Castle again. Sleeping Beauty's Castle en français. Generic Castle! If there's one thing that defines a Disneyland-style theme park, it's that gorgeous central castle. Fans even lump together the various Disneylands and Magic Kingdoms around the world under the umbrella name of “castle parks,” understood to mean not just that they contain a castle, but that they consist of several themed lands arranged radially around said castle. One of the first details many Armchair Imagineers hammer down when doing something like this is the identity and basic design of the castle: Which Princess has her name attached to it? How big is it? What (if anything) is inside it? Obviously, you can't envision such a park without a castle...

...or can you?

Years before the announcement of a Star Wars themed area dropped, fans would sometimes spitball ideas for an entire Star Wars theme park. I actually think such a park could work really well,* but the interesting thing is that more than one person defaulted to the “castle park” template in their design, with lands themed to various planets and other concepts in the Star Wars continuity, arranged around a central palace-like structure. Obviously this wasn't a storybook castle—it was the palace on Naboo, or the Galactic Senate meeting hall, or a grand Jedi temple.

So now I'm thinking...what else could the castle be, besides a castle? Part of the reason it's always a castle, of course, is that it doubles as the entrance to Fantasyland, where all the fairy tales get charmingly mashed together. So what if a different themed land claimed that place of honor? Let's try a few:

Imagineering Theory: Who is It For?

This question came up in the comments on my Niche Vs. Pastiche post, and I decided it deserved a post of its own. Who, when you get right down to it, is the target audience for Disneyland and other Disney theme parks? Is it the same for all of them? Should it be the same?

And of course, embedded in the is of the question is an implicit ought: Whom should the Imagineers attempt to court with their projects?

The Wonderful World of Color Schemes

Come to think of it, Disneyland has meant more to me than rides and characters since I was a child. I've been noticing the art on display there since middle school at least. One of the facets that always stood out to me was the iconic color schemes of certain attractions. We're talking, I would get bored in class and start doodling in those signature colors, because it reminded me of the park. (When I wasn't trying to draw the attractions outright, that is.) We're talking, if those particular combinations showed up anywhere else, it would give me the warm fuzzies.

So I figured I'd gush about them here, for your amusement. I may or may not have anything insightful to say about how the colors work on psychological level—that aspect was largely lost on me, for whom the Disneyland! connection overrode anything else.

Imagineering Theory: Niche Vs. Pastiche

In my ongoing quest to figure out just what makes the themes of theme parks tick, I've started to think that maybe the specificity of a given theme plays a big role in how well it's received. Is it better for a themed area to mimic a defined time and place, with accurate details, or does it work better when it plays things loosey-goosey?

Ultimately the answer is probably highly subjective. Some people need a high degree of verisimilitude to feel immersed in the fictional world of a theme park, while others are fine with a rough interpretation that engages their imagination to fill the gaps. Heck with it...some settings work better with a high degree of verisimilitude, while others work better rough. Let's call the two approaches niche and pastiche—the perfect specific fit vs. the patchwork. Plus they rhyme with each other!

Both approaches are very much in evidence in the Disneyland Resort. The ultimate niche area is surely Cars Land, which mimics its source material basically to perfection. Shall I post the two images again? I'm gonna post the two images again.

Meanwhile, the best example of pastiche is probably Frontierland,* which combines elements as disparate as a Mississippi River paddleboat, a saloon decorated with Texas longhorn racks, a Mexican town square, and a Gold Rush mining operation, yet makes it work because it all fits within the continuum of the “Old West” as understood by guests. Historical accuracy is not the point; Disneyland is not Colonial Williamsburg. The object is to get across a general idea, and Frontierland succeeds very well—none of its attractions feel like they don't belong to the overall area theme, which is more than you can say for some themed lands.