#and the fact that there's three companions means they're not fighting for a single person's attention

[yesokayiknow]

do you have anything more about the bigeneration au for 12 and 13, I'd love to hear what you think their dynamic would be.

-they take great delight in confusing everyone any time they can. twelve calls thirteen old man and thirteen calls twelve young woman and it makes them laugh every time. while they love the fam equally thirteen tends to end up chatting with graham and (badly) playing footie with ryan while twelve does yaz's nails and hair and it's nice that they don't have to force themselves to do activities that don't feel right

-twelve actually tells the fam things! like still not a lot but at least they hear the name time lord before like a whole year has passed lmao. thirteen really fucking hates it. he's like tough. stop trying to be unknowable bitch. he (pretty vaguely) tells graham about river and the three of them just sort of sit together sometimes reminiscing

-while they generally are pretty chill they also have a competition on who can explain the most things the quickest. every time something new happens they're like standing in the corner visibly shaking waiting for the fam to pick one of them to explain. thirteen starts the points system just so she gets picked more often, and then twelve starts composing little tunes for whoever asks the smartest question. the fam think it's adorable

-twelve convinces yaz & ryan to go to uni. thirteen's like we don't really have time and twelve's like There Is Always Time For Education. unlike thirteen, who would literally die if left alone, he's always trying to gently encourage the fam to have lives outside of the tardis. he's also trying to convince thirteen that being alone's okay at times (it's not going well)

-twelve's still lecturing at st luke's in his spare time (though it's harder, without nardole and bill and missy). whenever he's having a particularly bad day thirteen turns up to his lectures and shouts corrections. he will never ever admit how much it amuses and distracts him

-they still fall out sometimes, because who do they hate more than themselves? they both can be pretty condescending and impulsive and it turns out that it sucks to be on the other end of that. thirteen refuses to take care of herself in a way that borders on obsessive and hates when twelve tries to keep her safe; twelve tends to isolate himself for days upon end and hates when thirteen tries to drag him back into sociability. they usually keep these arguments away from the fam. the first time they really really lose it at each other in a public space is when they first encounter the cybermen. it takes. uh. a while to get back into a good place after that

-twelve mainly gets frustrated with thirteen more than the other way around because she literally refuses to show any pain or negativity Ever until it all explodes. this is partly because a lot of the coping mechanisms she instinctively wants to use are little quirks they started doing due to the loop in the confession dial and she doesn't want to trigger him. when he realises this he's like i'd rather you tapped out the seconds when you feel trapped than yelled at all of us actually.

-sometimes twelve's like hey you're going all cold and weird again. go kick something. and thirteen's like fuck off and then she goes and punches a cushion and yells into a black hole and comes back later like thanks you were right. and sometimes thirteen walks into a room and takes one look at twelve and walks right out and goes and gets his guitar and chucks it at him and after like five hours straight of playing he's like thanks man i really needed that

[infimace-blog]

Okay I have to say it. I have to say it because it passes my mind every single time I see anything remotely related to Baldur's Gate 3.

So there's the first quest, right? There's an idyllic druid glen and you have to rescue the head druid Halsin because the vice head druid is racist against tieflings. And he got captured by goblins so you go to the goblin camp in the ancient ruins, where the goblins are all completely and utterly unsympathetic. And that's racial essentialist horsefeathers but it's a DnD game and you can't rely on Wizards to actually commit to being less racist rather than just saying they will. We knew what we were getting into when we bought the game.

And then you find the head druid and he's stuck in bear form and getting tormented by three kids and their babysitter, and to free him you have to murder every single goblin in the room?? Including the children??? Who are not combatants?????? You can go out of your way to not kill the children, which makes the fight harder because they inevitably call more goblins who can actually fight, but then the noble and progressive head druid you came to save will just murder the children himself.

I'm not trying to turn this into 'every person who's fantasized about a Shadowheart/Astarion three-way thinks goblin children deserve to die'. Disco Elysium is one of my favorite games and I love talking about Tequila Sunset and Kim, the World's Most Perfect Man, but also Measurehead exists and I hate him and everything about his writing. But also I bring up Measurehead more than I normally would when I talk about Disco Elysium because the weird way his race is handled in the game compels me, and no one does that with the goblin children murder? It's not an obscure part that no one sees. Rescuing Halsim is one of the easier routes in the first major story quest, he can become a recruitable companion, and the first I heard about the game was 'hey, there's a druid companion and you can bang them while they're turned into a bear'. The game pointedly glosses over the fact that you murdered three children for the crime of being jerks to an animal, and I guess that means the playerbase did too? Even I had to do a double-take because I initially assumed that I screwed up the encounter and that the correct way would have let the goblin children live (and probably give me an easier fight to boot). But no, unless you're handling the quest in some really unintuitive way (maybe you can knock them out?????), you gotta kill the kids to get the bear sex.

I guess some players just agree that there's nothing wrong with killing children as long as they're goblins and categorically evil. But I feel like the overlap between that kind of DnD player and the kind I occasionally see posting shipping art of BG3 isn't that large. Hopefully.

And it bugs the hell out of me because the biggest game of the year, based on one of the most popular TRPGs of all time, just goes 'yeah, we're going to put child murder in one of the good routes to complete this quest, but it's fine because they're the wrong race and they're kind of dicks' and it's not news. Wizards has spent years trying to do a soft rollback on all the racial essentialism in its worldbuilding, up to and including retroactively making a type of good drow so they can get off the hook about making an entire race of dark-skinned fantasy creatures evil. Sure, Wizards cares about fixing the obsession DnD has about race performatively half the time, but it does try. And now Wizards knows that it doesn't even need to care performatively anymore. If the product's good enough and the racism is subtle enough, it just goes forgotten.

I don't even, like. Need this to be universally condemned by the fanbase. But at least talked about more? I'd have preferred it if I knew about the goblin children murder *before* I bought the game and played enough of it that Steam won't refund me.

[scifinal]

DW s12e10: It's Quite Unfortunate That This Child Keeps On Regenerating

It's only fitting that the first post on a blog called "SciFinal" should be about a season finale.

Not that fitting is the fact that in said post I'm going to begin where it all started for me.

Part One: How I Even Got into This Mess of a Show in the First Place

While I call myself a huge Doctor Who fan, even a – *gasp* – Whovian, I must admit I am not as familiar with the franchise as I would like to be; I've seen the new show, I've seen Torchwood (though, admittedly, I had to force myself to finish the fourth season – but that's a story for another day), I've listened to a handful of audio dramas (including Kaldor City, which I consider to be canon for both DW and Blake's 7) – mostly Torchwood audio dramas, but who cares, – I've read a couple of comics, I've got a novel or two somewhere on my bookshelf, I've seen the first couple of seasons of the classic show, but that's about it. I can't say I grew up with it – it wasn't on TV when I was a kid, there isn't an official Ukrainian dub, et cetera, et cetera. I first heard about it when I was about thirteen, when my classmate did a project about something they liked – and was pretty dismissive of my peers' hobbies at the time, believing myself to be somewhat above them, so I didn't pay much attention.

Then somebody finally pressured me into watching it (I believe I was fifteen or something back then) and I loved it. The first two episodes of the first season, I mean. I watched those, texted my friend something like "consider me a Whovian now!" and abandoned the show completely only to return to it maybe several years later.

I loved it. This time, for real.

Doctor Who has been with me ever since that time, it has a big soft spot reserved for each and every Doctor ever in my heart, and for each and every companion. I know full well it's cheesy, and it's stupid, and it's technobabble-y, and it's glorious in all of its cheesy technobabble-y stupidity.

And I hate this finale.

Part Two: Doctor, Why

I hate this finale – because I hate Chris Chibnall. Mind you, not the gentleman himself (I don't even know what he looks like, and I can't be bothered to Google), I hate what he did to Doctor Who.

Now, when it was revealed that the would replace Steven Moffat I felt... nothing. What did you expect? I had no idea who the man was. I know now he's made Broadchurch, and I know he wrote a bunch of stuff for Torchwood back in the day, including Cyberwoman. I had to drop Broadchurch because of how well-handled the depressing atmosphere was, and I love the flawed, dumb, sexy-cyber-bikinied, almost-fifteen-minutes-of-Ianto's-whining-including (I know because some time ago I literally cut almost every single moment of Gareth David-Lloyd whimpering, moaning, groaning, screaming, and mugging at the camera out of the episode and made those bits and pieces into a beautiful clip show called "I HATE THIS" to explain exactly why his face was and still is so punchable) mindless fun that is Cyberwoman (this is also one of the two episodes in which they actually do something fun with the pterodactyl living inside Torchwood's underground base). The latter also led to the creation of one amazing in how it develops Ianto's character audio drama entitled "Broken". I love Broken. I am now forcing you to look at its cover because of how much I love it.

Here we go. Now, back to the point of me rambling pointlessly

In his video "Sherlock Is Garbage, and Here's Why", a well-known YouTuber hbomberguy pointed out how Steven Moffat's problem is that he is more than capable of writing a good one-off episodes, but ultimately fails at managing multiple complex, overarching stories, as visible when you look at the difference between Moffat's individual episodes and his run on the show.

Now, I believe that Chris Chibnall suffers from the same affliction: he's a good screenwriter but a terrible, terrible showrunner. Sure, he's made Broadchurch, but Broadchurch, in its essence, was a complete singular story with a beginning, a middle, and an end. There were no bigger, incomplete arcs expanding at the expense of other episodes, and the show did exactly what it was originally designed to do: it told an uninterrupted story.

Here comes Chris Chibnall's run on Doctor Who.

Now, while Steven Moffat was ultimately not very good at managing overarching stories, he tried to do so nonetheless, and the fans seemed to like his attempts. And while I can't be sure as to whether it was Chris' original vision for the show or he and his co-writers were merely trying to emulate Moffat, he attempted the same. A friend of mine has even pointed out how, to her, it was painfully obvious how the writers of the finale were desperately trying to copy Moffat's style (to give you some context, she grasped it from a 30-second clip of the CyberMasters' reveal, and that clip basically consisted of me filming my laptop's screen and laughing at their design, making the video wobbly and the audio distorted). At the time of writing this post this friend hasn't seen a single episode of Chibnall's era and, as far as I know, has no wish to do so – mainly because of two reasons that both have something to do with the finale:

Somebody's already spoiled it for her, so who cares;

I ranted to her about how shit this finale is and now she hates everything about Chibnall era.

I am very sorry for the latter, since I genuinely believe there are some nice episodes in these seasons, and I especially like the "historical" ones, they really are quite a lot of fun, I like Nikola Tesla and Thomas Edison fighting badly CG-ed alien scorpions, I love Lord Byron and Mary Shelley running around a haunted house trying to escape from a Cyberman (even though it's all too similar to the Agatha Christie episode from Russel T Davies' run), I adore that episode about Rosa P–– oh, wait, no, that one was crap and ripped off Blake's 7... Anyway, I love Jodie Whittaker's Doctor, I am a big fan of Graham, I like Ryan just fine, and I can put up with Yaz, even though it's been two seasons and I've still got no idea what's her personality supposed to be, and I absolutely love the new Master (he reminds me of a cute little pug with a big Tommy gun). There is plenty of good stuff in these two seasons, they are lots of fun to watch, but this finale... Oh god, this finale.

Part Three: We Had All of Time and Space at Our Fingertips and We Ended Up with This

We are getting to the point of this whole thing. I would love to begin with the obvious, the twist, but there's so much wrong with this who-cares-how-many-parter than this one big thing.

It is inept. It is impotent. It is incompetent. It is bad at almost everything except its okay camera work, somewhat good (for a British TV show, I mean) effects, and its really solid performances.

Its editing is tone-deaf to the extreme. There is a moment in the final episode where Ko Sharmas asks who will be the first to cross the Boundary and step into the unknown, and immediately it cuts to Yaz walking towards it, all fast and silent. I would love to show you a clip of it, but I don't have one and I can't force myself to download the episode and sit through this shitshow again just to present you with a ten-second clip. Nonetheless, that part is not edited like a dramatic moment. You edit comedies this way. Bad comedies. Bad editors edit bad comedies this way.

Its plot is incoherent. There are several plot threads in this finale, and they're managed in a way that doesn't make the viewer care about all of them at the same time, rather the viewer goes "oh, I've completely forgotten this was happening" and then, before they can even begin to care, the show cuts to something else. It's all over the place and oh so annoying.

The plot armour is painfully obvious despite every attempt to disguise it. There wasn't a single, solitary second when I believed the Doctor was really going to sacrifice herself and, lo and behold, here comes the old guy ex machina to do it for her. The only questions I was asking at that moment were "How are the writers going to prevent the Doctor's death now that they've seemingly created themselves a way to go on forever?" and "How can Whittaker care so much about her performance in this scene she's literally almost crying?". I wholeheartedly related to the Master asking "So why are we still here?" and shout–– hiss–– mumbl–– whatever-ing "Come on, come on, come on!" – at that point I've suffered through at least forty-five minutes of utter nonsense, people going preachy, religious Cybermen with Dalek motivations, that absolutely ludicrous scene in the previous episode when the show was trying its worst to make me perceive autonomous flying Cyber-heads with laser eyes as a serious threat, a shit twist and... Oh.

I've got to finally touch on the shit twist, haven't I?

It doesn't make sense. No, I mean it. I guess it makes sense from the show's writers' standpoint to retcon everything in a way that would allow them to go on forever without having to come up with a way to circumvent limited regenerations, yes. And I won't be touching upon all the lore people say this twist has ruined. No. It doesn't make sense as it is.

The twist is revealed to us by a madman that claims to have hacked into a database, claims to possess control over the Doctor's mind, and gives the Doctor and the audience no actual solid proof that the Timeless Child is, indeed, the Doctor. We have Ruth, sure, and she's nice enough (damn, I want that vest), and she's a Timelord that happens to own a TARDIS that looks like a blue police telephone box, and she calls herself the Doctor. Here's Ruth:

I really like Ruth. She also makes no sense from the show's timeline standpoint, since the Doctor's Type 40 TARDIS only got stuck looking like a police box in 1963, so there's no reason for the Doctor to not remember being her.

We also know that the Judoon have identified Ruth as "the Fugitive"... except in one of their previous appearances in the show they weren't able to identify their targets exactly and thus were seeking out non-humans. There is a possibility that they were only looking for a Time Lord on Earth.

You know what? It's possible that Ruth is actually the Master messing with the Doctor. I have just as much proof of this as I have of the fact that the Doctor is some kind of an endlessly regenerating superbeing.

But this is not the most maddening thing here. I loathe it, but I don't loathe the twist itself: I loathe its lifelessness, I loathe how empty, how unemotional, almost robotic it feels. When somebody'd spoiled the finale for me, I got angry, and I started asking questions, and when later I saw the actual thing...

This gif. I can't even explain how accurate it is. I stood there, in the middle of my kitchen, episode paused, holding a cup of cold tea and desperately looking around as if in my surroundings I could somehow find that emotional reaction that this show failed to evoke. I was ready to burst into tears of how empty it felt, and how empty I felt, and how the same show that has Christopher Eccleston go from literally foaming at the mouth with pure hatred to shocked silence in a matter of second because of one sentence that you, a viewer, can't help but be astonished by failed to make me feel the tiniest speck of literally any emotion. And slowly, I felt that vast void in my chest fill with sheer, pure, flaming hatred for the person who made me feel nothing, for the story that left me not bored – but empty.

And the next moment, in its own unique way of being absolutely tone-deaf, the show introduces the CyberMasters, looking ridiculous, being asinine in concept, making me burst into laughter with their dumb design. Wow.

So.

Chris Chibnall's Doctor Who is no longer a show. Chris Chibnall's Doctor Who isn't even, as somebody on Stardust said, a fan fiction. It's a rollercoaster. A lackluster rollercoaster that lifts you from the vast caverns of frozen hell, devoid of any life whatsoever, soulless and abandoned, to the heavenly torture of being so bad, so utterly awful and ridiculous, that you can't help but laugh as you watch something you used to love be distorted and deformed to the point where you can't recognise it anymore nor really care. This is what Chris Chibnall's Doctor Who has become. And I'm going to continue my ride on that grotesque rollercoaster. I'm going to pirate that ride and get on it again. Because I'm a masochist. Because I want to feel something, even if it's hatred towards those that make me feel nothing.

Because some time ago my fifteen-year-old self watched the first season and learned a lesson that I hold dear after all these years – that I can't abandon hope, and that someday, somehow, things are going to get better. That the future is being written right now. That the future can change.