10 Crazy Things Resulting from Hidden Contract Provisions

We often scroll past pages of endless fine print and click “I agree,” never imagining the bizarre, life-altering consequences buried within. These legal documents—from software End-User License Agreements (EULAs) to celebrity film contracts and even property deeds—are crafted to grant sweeping power to the issuer. But what happens when companies slip absurd demands, perpetual rights, or lucrative prizes into this contractual abyss?

This list reveals ten of the craziest, most unbelievable things that actually transpired because someone either signed away their rights or, in one rare case, was rewarded handsomely for daring to read the hidden terms.

Related: 10 Creepy Curses Hidden in Hieroglyphics

10 The Unwitting “Landlord” Clause

In late 2012, Instagram ignited a massive public relations firestorm when it quietly updated its Terms of Service (TOS) to include a clause that, in essence, transformed the platform from a photo-sharing site into a potential photo broker. The controversial provision granted the platform a “perpetual, irrevocable, royalty-free, worldwide, transferable, non-exclusive, fully paid and sublicensable license” to all user content. The legal implication of this dense phrase was that Instagram could legally take any picture uploaded to its service—from a professional photographer’s portfolio piece to a casual celebrity selfie—and sell it to a third-party advertiser for commercial use without offering a single cent of compensation to the creator.

The immediate consequence was a widespread and furious user revolt. Professional photographers, who relied on the platform to display and protect their work, saw the clause as an egregious rights grab that undermined their entire business model. Prominent users and celebrities began posting warnings, and threats to delete accounts became viral, leading to an immediate, dramatic drop in traffic and engagement. The backlash was so intense that media coverage framed it as a betrayal of trust, with many users feeling they had unknowingly signed away the copyright to their life’s work simply by agreeing to an update notification.

The pressure mounted so quickly that Instagram was forced to issue a rare and humbling public apology and completely retract the controversial clauses just 72 hours after they were announced. The incident permanently damaged public trust in social media TOS agreements and served as a powerful, real-world lesson that even the most obscure contractual language can trigger profound, immediate, and business-altering consequences when discovered.^[1]

9 The $0.67 Residual Check

Residual payments in the entertainment industry are complex contractual necessities, ensuring that actors and creators receive a small share of profits each time their work is licensed, rerun, or broadcast. For actors in blockbuster hits from decades past, the persistence of these contracts can lead to bizarrely small yet legally mandated payouts. A prominent and almost legendary example is actor Jeff Cohen, famous for playing the beloved character Chunk in the 1985 classic adventure film The Goonies.

Decades after the film’s release and after Cohen had largely retired from acting to become an entertainment lawyer, he became well known for showcasing the absurd reality of these ongoing, contractually obligated payments. Specifically, he would share copies of residual checks for the film that were reportedly worth as little as $0.67—or sometimes even less than a single dollar. These checks represented a legally entitled fraction of a penny’s worth of profit generated from a specific, tiny licensing deal or broadcast airing during a quarterly period.

The cost of postage, paper, and bank processing for a $0.67 check far exceeds the check’s actual value, making the entire exercise an almost insulting, bureaucratic reminder of the film’s longevity and Cohen’s role in it. These checks serve as perfect physical evidence of an immutable contractual right—a right that, while technically honored, results in a tangible piece of paper worth almost nothing.^[2]

8 The AI Voice Doppelgänger

The rapid rise of AI technology has exposed devastating loopholes in standard freelance contracts, particularly for voice actors. In a case highlighting the immediate danger of ambiguous language, voice actors Paul Lehrman and Linnea Sage were contracted by the company Lovo for a series of recordings in 2024. Crucially, their initial contract explicitly limited the use of the voice samples to “internal, academic, or test purposes only,” offering a low rate consistent with those restricted, non-commercial uses.

The devastating contractual trap, however, was revealed when Lovo began using the recordings not for internal testing but to train a generative AI model. This allowed the company to create commercial AI voice clones of the actors’ unique vocal personas. The immediate and frightening consequence was that Lovo began selling these synthetic voices—marketed as commercial products named “Kyle Snow” and “Sally Coleman”—on their platform, effectively turning the actors’ identities into competing software products.

This action violated the spirit, if not the letter, of the original contract’s purpose limitations, forcing the voice actors into a high-profile lawsuit. The legal fight centered on the protection of the actors’ fundamental “right of publicity”—the exclusive right to license one’s own identity—against the unauthorized, perpetual exploitation enabled by a small, technical clause that permitted initial “testing.” The case became a landmark example of how ambiguous fine print can be exploited by tech companies to create an intellectual property crisis for artists.^[3]

7 The Unexpected Property Maintenance Job

Property deeds often contain covenants and restrictions that are passed down through generations of ownership, binding new buyers to obligations they never consciously agreed to. While most restrictions are negative (e.g., prohibiting certain structures), one New Jersey homeowner discovered a decades-old deed restriction tied to their property that led to a bizarre civic duty.

The hidden clause in the deed mandated that the property owner was permanently responsible for the maintenance, repair, and upkeep of the public curb and sidewalk adjacent to their home. This was not a general municipal requirement but a specific, contractually bound duty inherited with the land itself, making the homeowner a quasi–public works contractor for a tiny piece of town infrastructure.

The crazy consequence was realized when a section of the public sidewalk fell into disrepair due to weather and public use. The municipality informed the resident that they were legally obligated to fund and manage the work—a duty typically handled and paid for by the town government. The homeowner was left with the responsibility and cost of public sidewalk repair simply because a forgotten, century-old clause was perpetually tied to their land, overriding standard municipal practice.^[4]

6 The Celebrity’s Forced Flop

Early-career contract options are a common but often treacherous feature of celebrity contracts, giving a studio the right to “option” an actor for future projects at pre-negotiated rates and terms. Actress Emily Blunt signed such a multi-picture option contract early on with 20th Century Fox—a deal that later came back to dictate a major, negative career choice.

The contractual provision’s power became apparent in 2010 when Blunt was offered the highly coveted, career-defining role of Black Widow in the Marvel Cinematic Universe’s Iron Man 2. However, before she could accept the Marvel role, Fox exercised its option clause. Despite the monumental opportunity offered by Marvel, Fox’s contract reportedly compelled Blunt to fulfill their option, forcing her to accept their project instead.

The devastating consequence was that Blunt lost out on what became a multi-billion-dollar, decade-spanning franchise, all because she was contractually obligated to a rival studio. Instead of joining the MCU, she was forced to star in the fantasy comedy flop Gulliver’s Travels opposite Jack Black. This case perfectly illustrates how a seemingly innocuous clause in an option contract can become a career-altering obstacle, dictating a celebrity’s professional life for years after the initial agreement was signed.^[5]

5 The Brown M&M’s “Sanity Check”

The legendary rock band Van Halen famously included a famously specific, seemingly ridiculous demand in its 1982 tour rider: a large bowl of M&Ms backstage with the explicit contractual warning, “(Warning: absolutely NO brown ones).” If a single brown M&M was discovered by the band or their crew, the clause permitted them to immediately cancel the show, collect their full pay, and demand reimbursement for any costs.

The crazy thing that happened—in a widely documented event in Puebla, Mexico—was that the band did, in fact, find brown M&Ms and, rather than just complaining, promptly enforced the penalty, causing extensive damage to the dressing room and canceling the show. This incident was widely reported as an example of celebrity arrogance, but the band’s intentions were rooted in safety, not candy preference.

Lead singer David Lee Roth later explained that the clause served as a crucial contractual “sanity check.” The band’s stage show was enormous and technically complex, requiring massive electrical loads and specialized rigging. The contract rider was hundreds of pages long, filled with critical technical specifications. Finding brown M&Ms indicated that the local promoter hadn’t read the rider at all, signaling that critical, safety-related requirements—like proper stage load-bearing capacity or electrical grounding—were likely also ignored. The clause was a life-saving enforcement mechanism buried in an absurd demand.^[6]

4 The Crispin Glover Likeness Loophole

The production of Back to the Future Part II ran into a contractual hurdle when actor Crispin Glover, who played George McFly in the original film, declined to return for the sequels due to creative and salary differences. Universal Studios, however, was contractually determined to include the character, leading them to exploit a loophole in Glover’s original agreement concerning the use of his image.

The studio hired another actor, Jeffrey Weissman, used heavy facial prosthetics and makeup to mimic Glover’s features, and, most controversially, spliced in old footage of Glover from the first film to create a new simulacrum of the character. This entire composite performance was achieved without Glover’s permission and without paying him for the use of his likeness, effectively using his identity against his will by exploiting vague contract language.

Glover swiftly sued the studio for misuse of his identity and right of publicity, arguing that the studio had knowingly circumvented his control over his own image. The legal consequence was momentous: Glover successfully settled his lawsuit, and the resulting decision led to the creation of the “Glover Rule” by the Screen Actors Guild (SAG). This new standard prohibits studios from using an actor’s likeness, voice, or old footage to create a new character without direct consent and proper compensation, closing the loophole permanently.^[7]

3 The Forgotten Naming Rights Contract

A hypothetical but legally plausible example in estate law involves the “right of publicity,” the exclusive, inheritable right a public figure has to license their name and image. If, early in their career, a young public figure signed a contract granting a small company “exclusive, perpetual, worldwide rights” to their image for a seemingly minor product (like a comic book endorsement or regional advertising campaign), those rights would be permanently and immutably transferred.

The chilling contractual consequence comes decades later, after the celebrity has passed away, when their heirs discover they no longer control the public figure’s image. Those rights could now be owned by a massive corporation that absorbed the original small firm through mergers and acquisitions.

This reality means the family could be legally prevented from using their relative’s image on a charitable poster, in a documentary, or for a family-sanctioned biography or product. The deceased’s image becomes intellectual property belonging to a distant corporate entity, all because of a small, perpetual clause signed decades earlier.^[8]

2 The Great “Soul” Grab

In a clever, if ethically questionable, experiment designed to prove a point about user compliance, UK video game retailer Gamestation updated its Terms & Conditions on April 1, 2010. The company deliberately buried a startling, unambiguous, and legally void clause deep within the fine print, betting on the widespread practice of users clicking “Accept” without reading.

The hidden contractual clause stipulated that by clicking the agreement button, the user agreed to “irrevocably agree to grant Us a non-transferable option to claim—for now and forevermore—your immortal soul.” This absurd term was included solely as a test of consumer attention, with a small section later asking users to tick a box if they did not wish to agree to the “Soul Provision.”

The crazy thing that happened—which dramatically proved the retailer’s point—was that a staggering 7,500 people clicked “Accept” and technically signed over their immortal soul to a video game store in just one day. The vast majority of consumers blindly agreed to the bizarre term, highlighting the automatic nature of contract acceptance online. Gamestation later voided the clause, stating tongue-in-cheek that it did not believe its customers “had an immortal soul which they could validly grant.”^[9]

1 The $10,000 “Pays to Read” Prize

In 2019, travel insurance company Squaremouth launched a contractual experiment titled “Pays to Read,” designed to expose the consumer habit of skipping the fine print. The company deliberately buried a simple, nine-sentence clause on page seven of its 7,000-word policy document, betting that no one would find it within the planned year-long contest period.

The hidden clause was a clear, unambiguous promise: the first person to email the company’s CEO, stating they had read the clause, would be awarded a $10,000 cash prize and have their insurance policy fully refunded. The company believed the contest would serve as a long-term, low-cost marketing gimmick, designed to go unclaimed for months while proving their point about consumer negligence.

The incredible consequence that immediately shattered the company’s timeline and perfectly demonstrated the power of the fine print was that a high school teacher from Georgia, Donelan Andrews, found the clause and claimed the prize within 23 hours of purchasing her policy. During that brief period, Squaremouth had sold 73 insurance policies to customers who had all clicked “Agree” but rushed past the hidden clause that would have made them $10,000 richer, turning a year-long contest into a one-day success story.^[10]