Flipping pages vs Pressing play: When adaptation into animation creates a tale of two fandoms

 

Every adaptation is a translation and every translation, no matter how faithful, changes something.

When a comic, novel, or web series is adapted into animation, the process can do more than reimagine a story.

 Well you might be wondering, what's the big deal about a story from a novel, comic book or a type of literature becoming an animated series or show.

 This is where things interesting. 

Imagine for the same public figure or celebrity, they are two different types of fans for the same thing? Same content, same person, same themes, but like two countries with a border, the fans sit on two sides of the same coin. This tends to arise from the change from literature to animated media.

It can split the audience into two distinct, passionate worlds, which are, the original fandom (from the literature work) and the adaptation fandom (for the animated work)

Sometimes, they share the same heartbeat. Other times, they speak entirely different creative languages.

It’s a fascinating phenomenon, watching two groups love the same characters for different reasons, debate creative choices like courtroom lawyers, and sometimes even collaborate to shape what comes next. 

These dual fandoms evolve in their own nature, and in their own way in terms what they often accept and reject. Therefore, they’re active participants in the evolution of storytelling itself.

Let’s dive into how these twin fandoms form, how they function, and how they’ve come to define one of the most complex and exciting cultural intersections in modern animation.

 

The Source and the Screen: Two Different Kinds of Love

At the core of every adaptation lies a delicate balance, respecting the essence of the source while reshaping it for a new medium.

Comic books, novels, and web comics are built on imagination and pacing. Animation, by contrast, brings movement, sound, and emotion to that imagination. It adds voice, rhythm, and visual life to what once lived only in panels or paragraphs.

That act of transformation is what births the “dual fandom” dynamic.

The source fandom (those who love the literature work) often cherishes depth, they’ve spent years with the story, memorized the lore, analyzed symbolism, and internalized the creator’s voice. They see the story as a world of infinite possibility, bounded only by the page.

The animation fandom, on the other hand, experiences the same story as a feeling. They’re drawn to the tone, the acting, the visual design, the soundtrack. For them, they aren't overly concerned with what the literature follows or what heated debates took part at some point of the series or story, through the fandom, but often, it’s about their appreciation from storytelling from the visual angle and what choices the creative team used to bring the story and character alive.

Neither approach is wrong. They’re just two lenses trained on the same light, refracted by medium.

But what happens when the colors don’t match perfectly? That’s where things get interesting.

 

When Fandoms Collide: Expectation vs. Interpretation

Every adaptation makes choices. A costume is redesigned. A backstory is condensed. A tone shifts to fit pacing or audience.

For every choice, there’s a fan somewhere saying, “But that’s not how it happened in the comic!”

We’ve seen this time and again:

DC’s “Teen Titans” (2003) reimagined beloved comic book heroes with a mix of anime influence, humor, and youthful tone. Comic fans initially barked at the stylization, while animation fans adored the emotional storytelling and character chemistry. Years later, both groups now appreciate the series, but for different reasons.

“The Sandman” adaptation (though live-action, this principle applies broadly) saw fans of Neil Gaiman’s original comics discussing tone shifts and representation updates that made the series accessible to modern audiences, a pattern mirrored in animation projects like Castlevania or Harley Quinn.

“One Piece” both its anime and manga fandoms shows the tension of adaptation in reverse. Anime-only fans often experience pacing fatigue or filler confusion, while manga fans treat the source as gospel. Yet the anime’s emotional delivery, voice performances, and soundtrack win hearts beyond what static pages can.

These conflicts mostly arise out of fan expectation and proper representation of the characters and story, but at the same time, certain twists play differently for both fandoms. A change in a comic book, might never cross what the animation fandom expects, and vice versa. Its all about passion meeting interpretation.

Fans of the source often guard fidelity, while fans of the adaptation champion innovation. The truth is, both instincts are essential. One preserves legacy, the other pushes evolution.

 

Two Fandoms, One Character: The Split Identity of Iconic Figures

Adaptations create fascinating cases of character duality, where one figure exists differently across mediums, each version with its own devoted fandom.

Take DC Comics' Harley Quinn, for example. Originally introduced in Batman: The Animated Series (1992), she jumped from animation to comics, evolving with every medium, from tragic sidekick to feminist antihero. Today, some fans prefer her animated chaos, while others, appreciate her comic complexity. Both coexist, shaping the same legend in different ways.

Another example, of a famous character, is Marvel comics Spider-Man. The character has a dozen animated incarnations, each spawning its own following, from the 1990s nostalgia fandom to the Spider-Verse generation, who celebrate not just the hero, but the idea of infinite versions.

Even within anime, you see similar dualities. Attack on Titan’s anime fans experience Isayama’s story through cinematic tension, while manga fans parse its deeper themes and foreshadowing long before they hit the screen. The two fandoms often cross-educate each other, forming a dialogue that enriches both experiences.

In essence, every adaptation adds another version of the myth and another emotional entry point. Plus fandom, being what it is, happily multiplies.

 

Creative Ecosystems: Cooperation and Crossover

Despite the occasional friction, dual fandoms often work together more than they realize.

Fans of the original source frequently act as guides, contextualizing storylines or clarifying differences. Meanwhile, animation fans amplify exposure, bringing in new audiences who may later seek out the source material.

Consider Castlevania (Netflix), the animation drew millions of viewers who’d never touched the games. Longtime game fans provided lore threads and history deep dives that helped newcomers appreciate the adaptation’s details. Over time, both sides developed mutual respect, one for narrative expansion, the other for preservation.

Another example, is, The Legend of Vox Machina, based on the Critical Role tabletop campaign, where original fans supported the Kickstarter and advised tone fidelity, while new animation fans introduced it to a global mainstream. Together, they built one of the most successful cross-medium fandoms in modern animation.

Dual fandoms can form ecosystems of shared learning where one side curates history and the other cultivates visibility. When they collaborate, everyone wins.

 

The Role of the Studios: Balancing Legacy and Reinvention

Behind the scenes, studios are acutely aware of these divided loyalties. 

Adaptation teams often walk a creative tightrope, staying faithful enough to honor the source, but flexible enough to make animation shine as its own art.

Animation has unique strengths, such as, expression, timing, motion, and sound, that sometimes demand creative deviation. What reads beautifully in a comic panel may not animate well. What feels nuanced in prose might need to be externalized visually.

Good studios know that the key isn’t copying, it’s translating emotion.

That’s why the best adaptations (like Arcane, inspired by the League of Legends universe) succeed, and mostly, in part, because they distill the spirit rather than the specifics. They capture tone, world, and heart, while reimagining form.

But of course, studios also study fandom reactions closely. 

When backlash brews, over design, pacing, or representation, creative teams often recalibrate. Sometimes, that’s for the better, and sometimes, it dilutes artistic intent. It’s a fine dance between legacy and evolution.

 

Cultural Context: Adaptation Across Regions

It’s worth noting that dual fandom dynamics shift depending on where you are in the world.

In Japan, where manga-to-anime adaptation is almost an institution, dual fandoms coexist with a sense of rhythm. Manga readers expect differences and they view the anime as a performance, not a replica. Anime-only fans, meanwhile, often experience the story emotionally first, then deepen their understanding through manga exploration.

In the West, however, adaptation often triggers stronger debates over “canon.” Comic book fans may view animated reinterpretations as deviations rather than expansions, which is a reflection of how Western fandom historically values continuity and authorship.

Interestingly, cross-regional fandoms (like Cyberpunk: Edgerunners or Scott Pilgrim Takes Off) are starting to blur these lines. When creative teams merge Western characters with anime aesthetics, the result is not just a single fandom, but an international dialogue about how stories can evolve.

Adaptation, in this way, becomes cultural collaboration, with fandoms acting as ambassadors between artistic traditions.

 

When Fandom Influences Continuations

Perhaps the most fascinating part of dual fandoms is how they directly shape what comes next.

Fan reception often determines whether adaptations diverge further or return to their roots. When Teen Titans fans longed for more of the original tone, or even continuation of the 2003 anime inspired series, after Teen Titans Go!, was released, but then a lot of fans were not easily, impressed by the more kid-centric or less depth and action.

Even despite the popularity, success and continuity that Teen Titans Go! has had, fans often still desire the anime-inspired series from 2003. This goes to show how influential fandom becomes when it goes towards continuity of animation productions.

Below is cover of the debate.

Teen Titans (2003) vs Teen Titans Go! Fandom debate

When Invincible debuted on Prime Video, its animated success renewed interest in Robert Kirkman’s comic series, creating a feedback loop where sales and enthusiasm from both sides boosted the brand as a whole.

Below is the Invincible YouTube page to get a bit of a feel and view of the series.

Get to know about Robert Kirkman's animation adaptation of his comic book, Invincible

Even in Japan, fan reception to anime pacing or filler arcs often guides studios to adjust later seasons, sometimes even re-adapting arcs (as seen with Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood).

In short, fandoms don’t just watch adaptations; they co-author their trajectories.

 

The Emotional Tension: Faithfulness vs. Freedom

Every adaptation walks the thin line between faithfulness and freedom, and fandom is the pressure gauge.

When an adaptation strays too far, original fans feel betrayed. When it plays too safe, newer fans get bored. Studios can’t please everyone but the smartest ones treat fandom not as a constraint, but as a conversation.

Adaptation, at its best, is about emotional truth. 

It asks, "What made this story matter in the first place?" 

If the animation captures that heartbeat, even with new details or altered pacing, then the spirit remains intact.

When fans from both sides recognize that shared emotional core, something magical happens, and the dual fandom merges, becoming one living, breathing culture.

 

When Collaboration Fails: Fandom Friction and Fatigue

Of course, not every dual fandom finds harmony.

Some communities fracture over tonal shifts (The Killing Joke adaptation from DC Comics), artistic choices (The Last Airbender live-action backlash, mirrored fears in upcoming reimaginings), or simplifications that lose depth.

In those cases, fandom can turn protective, retreating into its original form, almost like a cultural defense mechanism. “The comic did it better” becomes a rallying cry.

While those conflicts can get heated, they also reflect something important, in that, animation is being taken seriously. Fans care deeply enough to argue about nuance, to demand quality, to protect what they love. That kind of engagement, even when messy, means the medium is alive.

 

Closing Reflections: Two Worlds, One Imagination

Adaptation is an act of translation, but fandom turns it into conversation.

When two fandoms form around one story, they expand its universe. They ensure the story can live in multiple forms, reach multiple generations, and speak in multiple emotional languages.

The comic or novel gives it roots.
The animation gives it wings.
While fandom, in both forms, gives it life beyond its medium.

In the end, these dual fandoms are less about rivalry and more about resonance. Each is drawn to the same spark of creativity, just refracted through different mediums and moments in time.

The arguments, the collaborations or the reinterpretations, they’re all signs of a story that matters enough to fight for, to reinvent, and to keep alive in new forms.

So whether you’re the one clutching a first-edition comic or bingeing the animated version at 2 a.m., you’re part of the same creative lineage, a living dialogue that keeps imagination evolving.

Because in the world of animation, no story truly stands alone. It lives, breathes, and transforms, often carried forward by two fandoms, one love, and countless interpretations.

In what ways have you been part of fandoms and wished for a different or same direction for an adaptation? Let us know in the comments