In this episode, Andy, Jo and Emily sit down with Chris Heatherly — former Disney executive, Club Penguin General Manager, and the man who ran the world's biggest kids' playground for nearly a decade. What follows is a candid, fascinating look at one of kids media's great "what ifs."

Chris traces his journey from overseeing Disney's toy business to becoming the custodian of Club Penguin, the safe, customisable multiplayer world that, at its peak, boasted 200 million registered avatars and 300,000 concurrent players. He talks about the early days of the platform, the innovative toy-to-game codes that predated today's digital unlocks, and how a fan-created myth about blurry in-game artwork spawned Card Jitsu — a trading card game that briefly outsold Pokémon at Toys R Us.

But the conversation goes deeper than nostalgia. Chris reflects honestly on why Club Penguin was ultimately shut down in 2017: a combination of the mobile transition (Club Penguin was built by artists who could code, not engineers), Disney's wider mismanagement of its games portfolio, and — perhaps most tellingly — corporate leadership that simply didn't understand the value of community. "I had suits ask me, 'what's the value of community?'" he recalls. It's a question that still stings, given what platforms built on exactly that principle are worth today.

There's also a moving thread running through the episode about what Club Penguin was really for. Chris describes a mission to protect children's innocence in a media landscape that's constantly pushing maturity down to younger audiences. He shares a quote from a focus group participant — a girl who said that at school she wasn't the most popular, but on Club Penguin she could be whoever she wanted — that became the team's north star. That ethos extended to the platform's charity work too, with millions donated through the Coins for Change initiative, and an unusually rigorous commitment to making sure the money actually made an impact.

Club Penguin may be gone, but as Chris points out, pirate servers running the game today have more active players than ever played during its official peak — and a new generation of lore has grown up entirely after his time. The nostalgia is real, and it's earned.

Key Takeaways

1. Community is a product feature, not a side effect. Club Penguin's lasting cultural impact came from genuine human connection — moderators who replied to kids' emails, a team that listened to its audience, and leadership that treated the playground metaphor seriously. Platforms that stripped out those elements to cut costs never managed to replicate the magic.
2. Artists who code build differently than engineers who design. Club Penguin's charm came from its creative-led origins. The comparison with Disney Infinity — a technology-first project — is instructive: one is still talked about with affection; the other isn't.
3. User-generated culture is powerful, and ignoring it is expensive. Card Jitsu, one of Club Penguin's biggest hits, came directly from fan speculation. Disney's corporate structure struggled to understand how a platform could generate its own IP from the ground up — a lesson that Roblox and Minecraft would later prove at enormous scale.
4. Corporate short-termism kills long-term value. The decision to shut down Club Penguin is presented here as one of the clearest examples of a business prioritising spreadsheet logic over strategic vision. Chris left Disney partly because he refused to be the one to close it.
5. Protecting children's innocence is a genuine editorial position — and a commercially sound one. The longevity of Club Penguin's cultural footprint suggests that audiences — and their parents — are hungry for platforms that hold that line.

1. Part two of this conversation continues next week.

This episode brings Andy, Jo, and Emily back together after a busy fortnight that saw the Kids Media Club divide and conquer — Emily and Andy heading to KidScreen in San Diego while Jo hosted the Kids and Teens Summit at MIP London. Here's what they came away with.

The hierarchy is gone — and that's now official. Both events reflected something the podcast has been saying for a while: TV no longer sits at the top of the kids media food chain. YouTube, Roblox, and broadcast were all on equal footing — on the panels, and in the rooms. That shift from polite tolerance of digital platforms to genuine integration feels like a genuine turning point.

KidScreen got intentional about YouTube and Roblox. Rather than token sessions, this year's programming offered real depth — from 101-level introductions to developer showcases — signalling that the industry has accepted these platforms as core infrastructure for young audiences, not add-ons.

Jonathan Haidt's keynote caused friction. The Anxious Generation author's appearance divided the room, given that the very conference schedule celebrated platforms he believes are harmful to children. It made for an interesting tension — and a useful reminder that the debate around kids, screens, and wellbeing is far from settled.

Social media bans: well-intentioned, but complicated. The team unpacks the nuance that came out of both events and the Children's Media Foundation day. Outright bans may actually let platforms off the hook. The COPPA regulations are held up as a cautionary tale — well-intentioned legislation that may have done unintended damage to the kids content ecosystem, with YouTube monetisation for children's content reduced to around 30% of what it once was.

Kids media is facing a potential market failure. TV commissions for children's content were down 20% in 2025 — more than double the decline seen in other genres. Combined with reduced YouTube monetisation, the financial incentive to make content specifically for kids is shrinking. Some producers are already quietly dropping the word "kids" from how they describe themselves — something the team finds genuinely alarming.

Roblox is getting ahead of the crosshairs. Andrew Bareza from Twin Atlas (the studio behind Creatures of Sonaria and various Lego activations) addressed safety concerns directly and clearly at MIP London — walking through the toolsets Roblox is rolling out and demonstrating how brand-safe, purposeful activation on the platform is very much possible.

The BBC and YouTube partnership: a front door, not a full commitment. Jo hosted the BBC and YouTube in a fireside that got unexpectedly candid. The BBC's suite of seven YouTube channels won't simply mirror their broadcast output — the strategy is promos, tactical full episodes around new series launches, and some YouTube-first commissions (including a Next Step micro-drama). The goal is to use YouTube as a gateway to iPlayer, though whether a generation raised on YouTube will follow that path remains an open question.

The Sidemen are rewriting the rules on appointment viewing. Long-form content, licensed TV formats (a Family Fortunes rework pulled from Fremantle's archive got 3 million views in 24 hours), and a focus on watch time over view counts — the Sidemen's keynote at MIP London was a masterclass in how creators are evolving into something closer to TV studios, and why that matters for the future of format licensing.

Despite a lot of hard truths, both events left the team with a clear impression: the people still in the room are passionate, pragmatic, and not going anywhere without a fight.

Episode Summary:

In this bonus episode, Andy Williams and Emily Horgan join Eric Calderon of Surviving Animation for a candid debrief straight from the Kids Screen conference floor in San Diego. With a smaller-than-usual attendance, a shifting industry landscape, and more than a few big questions hanging in the air, the three take stock of what Kids Screen looks like now — and what it might need to become.

Key Takeaways:

1. Smaller crowd, better conversations. Attendee numbers were down, but the quality of conversations was up. The frantic "hard sell" energy of previous years gave way to something more honest — people asking each other how they're really doing and what they're trying next.

2. The old guard model is done. The days of "what does Netflix want?" panels are over. This year's conversation centred on anime, K-pop, webtoons, Roblox, and YouTube — and crucially, the buyers in the audience were the ones taking notes.

3. The audience is there. The business model isn't. Platforms like YouTube and Roblox have the kids. Nobody has quite figured out how to build a sustainable revenue model around them yet — and the group are refreshingly honest that no one left San Diego with the answer.

4. Jonathan Haidt stirred the room. The keynote took a hard line against social media and called out Roblox and micro-drama sessions directly. The reaction was mixed — some applauded, some walked out. The group discuss whether a blanket ban approach is too blunt, and make the case for a more graduated, age-appropriate ladder of access instead.

5. Kids Screen itself is at a crossroads. With attendance below a thousand and a move back to Miami on the horizon, the conference is grappling with an identity question: if the traditional buyer-seller marketplace no longer functions the way it used to, what is the event actually for? The group land on a compelling answer — relationship deposits. You're not closing deals, you're laying groundwork.

6. Do the thing, don't just attend the session. Sitting in on a YouTube strategy panel no longer counts as a YouTube strategy. The studios generating the most excitement were the ones actually experimenting on new platforms — making mistakes, learning fast, and trying again.

7. Humility is the new competitive advantage. Whether you're a veteran studio or an independent creator, approaching new platforms with curiosity rather than authority is what separates those who are adapting from those who aren't.

The mood heading into 2026? Cautiously determined. As Eric puts it: stop surviving, find the fix.

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