An Open Letter to Horror Inc. Regarding the Future of the Jason Universe & the Character of Jason Voorhees

(The view from my dock on a calm July morning)

To the team at Horror Inc.,

I write to you not out of malice, nor entitlement, but out of deep-rooted passion. I, like countless others, am a fan who has stood by this franchise through every era, every reboot, every false start, every failed script, every canceled pilot, every lawsuit, and every silence between films. Friday the 13th isn’t just something I watched—it’s something I lived. I still do - I grew up on this franchise. I remember the grainy VHS covers, the midnight cable screenings, the first time I heard that whispering “ki-ki-ki, ma-ma-ma", and the first time I saw that ghostly hockey mask appear from the darkness to permanently cement itself as the cornerstone for my artistic inspiration. Now, I make a living as a practical effects artist, creating wild monsters and outlandish gore for film, television, and the Halloween industry. All that, every single bit of it, is owed to your franchise. Without it, I can certainly say I wouldn't be who I am today.

And, while I certainly can't be so bold as to speak for every single fan out there, it is safe to say that I'm not the only one. Jason, and the legacy he left in his wake, has embedded himself into the cultural DNA of generations old and new. And now, after years of legal stasis and hopeful waiting, the long-anticipated “Jason Universe” has finally been revealed… only to land with a thud that echoes louder than any axe to the skull.

It's disheartening. It's tragic. Perhaps most importantly, though, it doesn't have to be. 

Let’s be clear: this reaction is not about resisting change. I understand that franchises must grow. Horror evolves with each generation. But evolution only succeeds when it remembers where it came from. I think we all wish that the last week had gone better for the franchise. The issue here, in my mind, is not change—it’s disconnect. What’s been revealed feels unrecognizable, not just in aesthetics, but in spirit. The new Jason design doesn’t feel like an organic continuation or an inspired reinvention. It feels like a boardroom rendering of an icon stripped of his menace and mystique, then polished until he gleams with the false shine of mass-market appeal. It's sanitized, like it was designed with the sole purpose of being easily copied and pasted onto tshirts and videogame skins.

Jason Voorhees is not a brand mascot. He is dread made flesh. A primal force. A mythic terror. The faceless fury of nature’s revenge. When you reimagine him without understanding this elemental appeal, you don’t just miss the mark—you miss the point. This isn’t just about one design. It’s about a pattern—a slow drift toward the commodification of fear, where marketing timelines precede narrative intent, and merchandising beats character development to the finish line. It’s not simply that this version of Jason doesn’t look right; it’s that it doesn’t feel right. It feels like product, not presence. Moreover, what is this new design for? There has been no announcement regarding a new film, other than vague platitudes about 'immersive experiences' and going 'to the big screen and beyond'. It's all so very confusing, and feels like putting a cart without a driver in front of a very slow horse. I understand that you're attempting to bring the franchise back to form, and we should all be very grateful for that - believe me, I am - however, it honestly feels(and looks) like no one on your team understands how to do that. Your intentions are of no doubt, it is the execution that is concerning.

The solution, in my humble opinion, is right in front of you. It has been all a long, and it's something that you and your team have actually done before - with quite successful results, I might add.

Eight years ago, when the franchise was more dormant than it had ever been, Horror Inc. took a chance on small group of indie game developers, believing that their passion and creativity could elevate the character and franchise to new heights. The resulting videogame, Friday the 13th: The Game, not only blew expectations out of the lake, but set new ground by popularizing the asymmetrical multiplayer horror genre in a way that had not been done before, yet has been replicated ever since - much like the original film series did during the horror boom of the 1980s. It was the proverbial lightning bolt that shocked Jason back to life, sent long time fans over the moon, and exposed a whole new generation to the intellectual property, rising to the top at one point to become the most streamed game on Twitch. To this day, it boasts a total estimated player count upwards of 5 million. It wasn't done by some triple-A developer powerhouse. This was a handful of diehard fans who wanted to make the game they always wished they could play.

(Fan favorite Kane Hodder performs a motion capture murder for Friday the 13th: The Game) 

The developers knew what fans wanted, because they were lifelong fans themselves. Any franchise needs new blood to thrive, and you don't have to look very hard to find it.

(Vincente DiSanti in full costume as Ghost Jason in Never Hike Alone. Photography by Ashly Covington)

Never Hike Alone is a fan film in name, but in execution, heart, and quality, it is a love letter of cinematic proportions to everything that made this franchise legendary. Director Vincente DiSanti didn’t just recreate the vibe of Friday the 13th—he expanded its universe with care, with reverence, with an eye toward both legacy and longevity. He accomplished something most studios struggle to do: he made fans feel again. He made them want more. His Jason is terrifying. His locations feel isolated and lived-in. His pacing echoes the best of the early sequels, and brought a fresh and new ferocity that hadn't been felt in the series before.

(Vincente DiSanti directing on the set of Never Hike Alone. Photography by Ashly Covington)

DiSanti’s series brought back legacy characters and respected continuity two full years before Halloween (2018) reminded Hollywood that nostalgia, when used with care and reverence, is a superweapon. Vincente was ahead of the curve. He saw what others didn’t—that legacy, handled right, doesn’t anchor you to the past; it empowers your future. He’s proven, repeatedly, that you can push boundaries and still honor tradition. That you can innovate without betraying what made fans fall in love in the first place.

(Left to Right: Bryan Forrest, Barry Jay, Thom Matthews, and Vincente DiSanti on the set of Never Hike Alone II. Photography by Ashly Covington)

Never Hike Alone, Never Hike in the Snow, and Never Hike Alone II didn’t just collectively accumulate over 10 million views(and counting) out of curiosity. They did it because Vincente gave us something authentic. With modest budgets, a skeleton crew, and the Herculean burden of fan expectation, he pulled off what major studios haven’t managed in over a decade: he made Jason matter again. He didn’t just cobble together nostalgia for cheap dopamine hits—he understood why the original films worked, and layered that understanding into new storytelling that still made room for fresh blood, resulting in a film series that rivals official franchise sequels(and, in my opinion, surpasses a few of them) in both production value and execution. And, again, this was no studio-backed, big budget reboot. This was a small, motley crew of fans who simply wanted to make the Jason movie they wished they could have bought a ticket to go see.

(Kelsey Berk applies facial prosthetics for Ghost Jason's ghoulish visage. Photography by Ashly Covington)

These films, and the grassroots movement around them, kept this franchise alive during a time when it's future was uncertain. They kept the torch burning. Let’s be honest—had it not been for Never Hike Alone, and the aforementioned Friday the 13th: The Game, as well as the community that rallied around both, the franchise would have likely risked fading into obscurity. In a time when the franchise had no studio momentum, no confirmed releases, and no official plans in sight, it was fans like Vincente DiSanti, Ronnie Hobbs, and their respective teams who carried the machete forward.

(The Cast & Crew of Never Hike Alone. Photography by Ashly Covington.)

Let’s talk numbers for a moment. Ten million views. Now imagine if even half of those translated into box office sales, or VOD rentals. That’s revenue. That’s audience. That’s proof of demand—hard numbers that show people still care. That Jason’s name still fills rooms. But the caveat is this: people don’t want just anything with Jason’s name on it. They want something that feels earned. They want stories that reflect the tension, grit, and atmosphere that defined the franchise's golden years. They want Jason as the stalking, relentless force he was always meant to be—not a focus-tested action figure designed to bleed the interests of a passionate fanbase dry. 

(Photography by Ashly Covington)

The time couldn't be better - we live in a world where Terrifier 3 beat Joker 2 at the opening weekend box office to claim the title of 'Number 1 Movie in America'. An independently produced and distributed slasher film stood against a DC/Warner Brothers tentpole and won. That isn't a feat that director Damien Leone accomplished by selling his soul to some big-wig studio executive. He and his team did this by staying true to what it is that they, as diehard horror fans, wanted to see.

(Damien Leone's Terrifier 3 proved that low-budget, independent slashers can dominate the box office.)

The newly unveiled “Jason Universe” feels less like a resurrection and more like a cash-in. Its presentation places the emphasis on branding first, narrative second, and heart somewhere offscreen. The rollout lacked emotional resonance. It lacked the kind of care that fans rightfully expect after waiting this long. What should’ve been a thunderous return felt more like a soft launch for an IP storefront. You can't see the years of patience, nor your hard work, reflected in the creative choices being made. In its place, all that is seen is advantageous monetization—pure and simple.

This is not to say that a new vision is unwelcome. In fact, quite the opposite: fans want more. They crave the next chapter. But that next chapter must be built by creators who understand the why of Jason. Why the original film worked. Why the sequels endured. Why even in his goofiest incarnations—space, Manhattan, or facing off against a psychic—Jason never stopped being iconic. Because under the gore, the gags, and the grindhouse charm, there was always an earnestness. A sincerity. A mythos.

It is not my aim here to tear down—only to hold accountable. And to offer a solution. Give the machete to someone who knows how to use it. Someone like Vincente DiSanti. Someone Like Damien Leone. Someone who has already proven that with the right team, the right story, and the right passion, Jason can come back not just as a franchise, but as a force. These directors, and others like them, have the vision. They have the fanbase. And most importantly, they have something that seems lacking in your recent rollout: respect.

Respect for the character. Respect for the setting. Respect for the genre, and for the fans that carry it.

I don’t want to boycott. I want to believe. I want to cheer when Jason crashes through another window, when the strings shriek, when the screen fades to black. The fans are still here. We never left. But I'm asking—begging—you to listen. If this truly is a new beginning, make it one that earns its place beside the classics. Let the creative decisions moving forward be made by those who love this franchise, and this character, as much as the fans who kept it alive all these years.

You’ve got something powerful in your hands. Don’t just brand it—honor it. Do that, and a whole new generation of film makers, writers, directors, and artists will rise up to carry the legend of Jason Voorhees into eternity.

Sincerely,

A Camper Who Never Left the Lake

(The views and opinions shared in this editorial are solely those of the writer.)