Stonemaier, CMON, and Kickstarter: A Study in Withdrawal

Two of the biggest names in modern board gaming have built their business on, and then stepped away from, Kickstarter, but the paths they took couldn’t be more different. Stonemaier Games treated the platform as a launchpad, used it to establish a foothold, and then walked away once it no longer needed the reach or the risk. CMON, by contrast, built its entire identity around giant crowdfunding campaigns and is now trying to disentangle itself from a model that stopped being sustainable.

Both companies left the same platform, but for opposite reasons. One moved on because it had outgrown Kickstarter. The other is retreating because the economics that once fuelled its growth have turned against it. Looking at the two side by side says less about Kickstarter itself and more about how differently publishers can relate to the same tool, and what happens when that tool becomes either a stepping stone or a dependency.

Part 1: Stonemaier

Stonemaier Games used Kickstarter the way the platform was originally intended: as a way to get early projects off the ground. Viticulture, Euphoria, and Scythe all arrived through tightly run campaigns that built the company’s reputation for clear communication and reliable fulfilment. But once those games established a stable audience and a predictable revenue stream, Stonemaier made a deliberate choice to step away.

The move wasn’t reactive. It wasn’t driven by a failed campaign or a logistical crisis. It was a controlled transition from crowdfunding to a direct‑to‑retail model built on long print runs, strong distributor relationships, and evergreen titles that sell steadily without the hype cycle. Stonemaier’s business now depends on consistency rather than spectacle: predictable release schedules, reprints timed to demand, and a customer base that knows exactly what to expect.

Kickstarter, in this model, becomes a tool the company no longer needs. Stonemaier treats it as a phase rather than a foundation; something useful for early growth, but not something to build the entire business around. The departure is intentional, measured, and made from a position of long-term stability.

part 2: CMON

CMON took the opposite path. Where Stonemaier treated Kickstarter as a temporary stage, CMON built its entire business around it. The company became synonymous with giant, miniatures‑heavy campaigns that routinely pulled in millions of dollars. Each new project had to be bigger, louder, and more plastic‑laden than the last. For years, the model worked: the spectacle drove momentum, and the momentum drove revenue.

But the reliance came with a cost. Manufacturing delays, rising freight prices, and the sheer complexity of producing enormous boxed games exposed how fragile the model really was. CMON’s campaign cadence accelerated even as its capacity to deliver on time shrank. The backlog grew. Cashflow tightened. The company found itself depending on the next campaign to fund the last one, a cycle that becomes harder to sustain once costs rise and backer patience thins. It’s Soda-Pop all over again…

The result is a publisher now trying to step back from Kickstarter not because it has outgrown the platform, but because the platform has become a liability. CMON is carrying multiple overdue campaigns, selling off major IPs, and raising capital to stabilise operations. Its recent pivot toward smaller retail titles isn’t a strategic evolution so much as a necessary contraction. Where Stonemaier left Kickstarter from a position of control, CMON is being pushed away from it by the weight of its own commitments.

Part 3: Comparison

Stonemaier and CMON didn’t just use Kickstarter differently; they built entirely different relationships with risk. Stonemaier’s catalogue is built around evergreen titles that sell steadily over long periods. That stability lets the company take small, measured bets and avoid the kind of financial swings that crowdfunding can create. Its audience expects refinement, accessibility, and consistent support rather than spectacle.

CMON’s audience was shaped by the opposite expectation. Years of blockbuster campaigns trained backers to expect excess: mountains of plastic, sprawling stretch goals, and limited‑window FOMO. That audience relationship creates pressure of its own. Each campaign has to top the last, not just in scale but in novelty. The company’s design philosophy – big boxes, big minis, big expansions – meshes with that model, but it also locks CMON into a cycle where ambition becomes mandatory rather than optional.

The two companies aren’t just diverging in business strategy; they’re diverging in how they relate to their players, their customers. Stonemaier’s community is built around predictability and transparency. CMON’s is built around anticipation and escalation. Those different expectations shape everything from product cadence to financial exposure, and they explain why one company can walk away from Kickstarter cleanly while the other struggles to unwind its dependence on it.

Part 4: Kickstarter

Kickstarter doesn’t just fund games; it shapes how they’re made. For Stonemaier, the platform was a way to gather early support before shifting to a model that rewards long‑term planning. Once the company moved to retail‑first publishing, the incentives changed: steady print runs, controlled growth, and a release schedule that isn’t tied to campaign hype. The absence of Kickstarter pressure lets Stonemaier design games that don’t need stretch goals, exclusives, or oversized production to succeed.

For CMON, Kickstarter became part of the creative process. The platform’s incentives, including bigger campaigns, more add‑ons, and more spectacle fed directly into the company’s design choices. The economics of crowdfunding encouraged scale, and scale became the brand. When manufacturing costs were low and freight was predictable, that alignment worked. Now that the economics have shifted, the same incentives create strain. The model that once amplified CMON’s strengths now magnifies its vulnerabilities.

What’s changed isn’t Kickstarter itself but the environment around it. Rising costs, slower logistics, and a more cautious backer base mean that the old “bigger every time” approach is harder to sustain. Publishers who treat Kickstarter as a periodic tool can adapt. Publishers who treat it as a structural pillar have far less room to manoeuvre. Stonemaier and CMON illustrate both ends of that spectrum. These are not moral lessons, but examples of how different business models respond when the ground moves.

Final Thoughts

Stonemaier and CMON may have walked away from the same platform, but the state of each company makes their departures feel worlds apart. Stonemaier leaves Kickstarter with a stable catalogue, steady revenue, and a business model that rewards patience over spectacle. It has the breathing room to choose its tools, shape its own pace, and decide what kind of publisher it wants to be.

CMON doesn’t have that luxury. The company is navigating overdue campaigns, rising costs, and the financial strain of a model that no longer scales the way it once did. Its shift away from Kickstarter isn’t a sign of evolution but a sign of pressure; a necessary retreat from a system that has become too volatile to rely on.

Both companies are still influential, still producing games, and still (for the moment) shaping the hobby. But their exits from Kickstarter highlight a simple truth: the platform amplifies whatever foundation a publisher already has. For Stonemaier, that foundation is stability. For CMON, it’s a structure under strain. The contrast isn’t about who used Kickstarter “correctly”; it’s about how different business models respond when the environment changes and the margin for error narrows.