I'm probably in the minority on this, but I think a god-level replication system is often a massive worldbuilding crutch that writers use to avoid the hard work. It lets you explain away any inconsistency—oh, the protagonist can suddenly do that because the system generated a perfect copy of the lost magic. It flattens stakes. If anything can be replicated, what's truly rare or sacred? The tension in stories like 'The Wheel of Time' comes from saidin being tainted, a unique, irreplicable flaw. A perfect copy-paste system would ruin that.
That said, I've seen it done in a way that creates complexity rather than destroys it. In Rachel Aaron's 'Forever Fantasy Online,' the system replication isn't flawless; it's glitchy. The world is literally breaking down because the replication protocols are failing, creating zones of unpredictable reality. The impact isn't 'look at all this cool stuff I can copy,' but 'the fundamental laws are decaying, and we have to fix it.' That kind of approach uses replication as the central problem, not the solution, which is way more interesting for building a living, breathing world.
Honestly, the best use I've seen is in LitRPG apocalypse stuff where the system is the invasive, replicating entity. The worldbuilding becomes a record of corruption and transformation, studying how the old world's rules are overwritten by the new system's logic. That's a fascinating angle, but it requires the writer to think about the original world as much as the new one.