Thursday 16 February 2012

Assimilate this!

So, they're doing a Doctor Who/Star Trek: The Next Generation crossover comic.

Given that IDW holds comic licenses for both franchises, this was perhaps inevitable. True, the two universes go together about as well as a lightning bolt and a cuckoo clock, but I'm reasonably sure that no writer will be daft enough to just say that the Doctor exists in the Star Trek universe – or rather, given the area of the universe covered by Doctor Who compared to Star Trek, that Starfleet et al exist in the same continuity as the Daleks, Cybermen, Ogrons, Axons, Sensorites, Sontarans, Menoptra, Nestine Consciousness, Gods of Ragnarok and Jim the Fish. It's probably going to be a quick jump sideways for the TARDIS or a multiversal voyage for the Enterprise-D.

Which is all fine and dandy and the franchises are at least marginally more compatible than Star Trek and the X-Men. And hey: I once worked out exactly how you could get the Cybermen and UNIT into the Stargate universe with minimal problems and maximum entertainment value, so I'm not about to begrudge some writers having fun with an iconic sci-fi mash up. By rights, this comic should be a ton of fun.

Except…

Except I read on IGN that the story outline for this escapade is the Borg and the Cybermen joining forces to threaten the entire universe. And being a confirmed Cyber-geek, not to mention a big fan of the Borg, I fear it is my solemn duty to rip this premise into itty-bitty bits, jump up and down on it until it’s flat and torch it with the nearest convenient flamethrower. So, fortified with a glass of orange juice and a couple of the Co-op’s finest almond fingers (why I always get the ones the almonds have fallen off, I have no idea), that is exactly what I’m going to do.

If nothing else, it gives me an excuse the do that compare and contrast of TV’s most famous cyborg races I’ve always meant to do…

We have to start with backstory, I’m afraid. Not the entire backstories of Doctor Who and Star Trek, which would be silly and rather pointless. No, I’m talking specifically the in-universe backstories for the Cybermen and the Borg. I’ll cover the Cybermen first, I think. Age before beauty. Well, age before...um...techno-punk fetish outfits...?

The Cybermen were invented by Dr Kit Pedler and Mr Gerry Davis as the villains of the last story staring the First Doctor, William Hartnell. They were designed to play on fears about transplant and organ-replacement surgery, specifically on the fear that artificial organs would dehumanise the recipients. The concept is related to the ‘Theseus’ Ship’ paradox: is it the same ship once every little bit has been replaced with a newer, stronger component? Similarly, is a human still a human once every little organ has been replaced with a newer, stronger version?

The backstory Pedler and Davis came up with runs like this: Earth once had a twin planet called Mondas – literally a twin, identical conditions, even a virtually identical dominant species. A very long time ago however, Mondas’ orbit was disrupted and the whole planet got flung clean out of the solar system. With their world suffering a grimmer version of the plot of Space: 1999, the Mondasian civilisation collapsed. Trapped an ever-increasing distance from the life-giving sun, they began to sicken and die. Being somewhat more advanced than humanity, they managed to prolong their existence by resorting to extensive spare-part surgery. Limbs and hearts and lungs and skin were all gradually replaced. Eventually, either because they thought it would help them survive or because they simply couldn’t cope with what they were doing to their bodies, they operated on their brains too, merging them with computers and eliminating certain ‘weaknesses’. The result was a race of massively strong, tremendously resilient and utterly emotionless beings: the Cybermen.

In their first story, the Cybermen pilot Mondas back into the vicinity of Earth, intent on draining our world’s life force to rejuvenate their own. This goes wrong, resulting in Mondas’ obliteration, but the Cybermen manage to survive the catastrophe and go on to scavenge an existence in the space-ways, preying on humanity, constantly seeking to make us just like them. With no other means of reproduction, the Cybermen are dependent on converting captured humans and make several attempts to conquer the Earth in an effort to transform the inhabitants en mass. Their only goal is survival. They have no other aim – they cannot even say why they should survive. Moreover, they genuinely think that their existence is the better choice, that the things we believe give life its meaning are irrelevant when compared to the durability and strength that Cyber-conversion offers. You cannot argue with them, it’s near impossible to out-logic them and if they get hold of you, you will become like them.

They must be fought, and as time goes on, humanity at large manages to do just that, driving the Cybermen back into the dark corners of the universe, leaving them scattered and nomadic, only intermittently rising up as a true galactic power. There was also that bunch of clod-hopping tin-plated nitwits that Trigger out of Only Fools and Horses created in an alternate universe but that story line culminated in a giant steam-punk robot built by the cast of Oliver! so I suggest we move on quickly.

The Borg are a suspiciously similar looking kettle of fish, being as they are an emotionless race of cyborgs with a knack for converting captured humans. They were conceived as a new ‘Big Bad’ for the second season of The Next Generation, when it became clear that friendly Klingons, invisible Romulans and dumb Ferengi had left the Enterprise D crew woefully short of threatening enemies. They were originally supposed to be an actual hive, a race of bio-mechanical insects intent on ‘assimilating’ every technology they came across. This proved too costly to realise with the existing effects, so they were made humanoid instead (this or a lighting effect being Star Trek’s usual answer to budget short comings). Their modus operandi, however, was kept. First introduced properly in the episode Q Who?, they are described by the titular omnipotent being as neither male nor female and appear as pale humanoids augmented with ugly, asymmetric technological implants (the first Borg drone the crew meet is not particularly hermaphroditic but the intent is there).

The Borg have a hive mind – or, rather, they have a collective mind, the two not being identical. Rather than operating within a clear hierarchy, the Borg exist as a composite entity, thinking and acting as one. The implication is that there is no clear divide between the biology and the technology: Borg children are incubated within cabinets, implants already in place, and when the Borg speak, it is the entire Collective that does so. This can best be summed up by the ‘onscreen’ image of a city of machinery proclaiming in a single, resonating voice, “Strength is irrelevant. Resistance is futile. We wish to improve ourselves. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service ours.”

While the initial concept was that the Borg would ravage worlds solely in the pursuit of new ‘technological distinctiveness’, this rapidly developed to include the assimilation of the biological as well. In The Best of Both Worlds, Captain Picard is incorporated into the Collective as ‘Locutus’ – literally ‘the voice’ – through whom the Borg chose to speak, figuring that humanity requires some sort of focal point for communication. More importantly, this gives them access to Picard's tactical knowledge, which the Borg use to demolish Star Fleet. Interestingly, this is the single instance of a non-Borg being assimilated in the entire run of TNG. It was only in Star Trek: Voyager and the movie First Contact that the idea of the Borg being an amalgam of different species took hold. Before that, the implication had been that the Borg were a single race, existing in unison with their technology, the assimilation of Picard merely a one-off strategy to destroy the Federation’s defences.

Put simply, the Borg are the most powerful, non-transcended race in the Star Trek universe, or at least the most powerful encountered on-screen. While they got reduced to run-of-the-mill threats-of-the-week in Voyager (one of the many flaws with that show), in The Next Generation they were depicted as being practically unstoppable, only luck and quick thinking preventing them from steamrollering their way over everyone and everything in the Alpha Quadrant. Only the Dominion would ever present the Federation with a greater threat and it is little surprise that so many expanded universe novel-writers have favoured Apocalypse Borg as their no-win scenario (to the point that it got extremely boring; but again, an argument for another time).

It’s easy to see why the Borg and the Cybermen get compared so often. Yet the similarities are surprisingly superficial – and I don’t just mean that their respective appearances are so dissimilar. At a conceptual level, almost all they have in common is the idea that they fuse the organic and the technological.

The Cybermen were envisioned as the necessary end of a desire to survive in the cold and dark of deep space. Moreover, as Phillip Sandifer points out in his TARDIS Eruditorum post on The Tenth Planet, they also offer a twisted vision of enlightenment: they are star monks who have succeeded in freeing themselves from the tyranny of the emotional self. In their computerised detachment, they have found peace from both physical pain and mental anguish. It is this state of supreme soullessness that they offer humanity. The horror they bring is the destruction of dreams and desires and ultimately of consciousness as we understand it. There is no going back from Cyber-conversion.

The Borg, by contrast, represent the horror of being subsumed into the workings of a vast machine. Someone who is assimilated still exists – and can be recovered – but their biological and mental distinctiveness is slaved to the Collective’s will. The individual is made a part of the whole, reduced to a tiny component in an immeasurably bigger system. Where the prospect of Cyber conversion is terrifying because it destroys the self, assimilation is terrifying because the self becomes lost in the crowd. If Captain Picard is to be believed, you remain aware of your individuality but are powerless to assert it. Drones are no longer functional individuals; they are instead appendages of decentralised consciousness. This is the nightmare of true mob rule: your lone voice, drowned by the thunder of many thousands speaking as one. The tyranny of the many crushes the needs of the few.

This is, I admit, clouded by the introduction of the Borg Queen as a central authority figure (in complete contradiction of earlier depictions). I'm going to steer clear of that, though, since I'm not really here to complain about Star Trek's inconsistencies. The Queen serves a narrative function rather than a conceptual one, and let's leave it at that.

Besides representing different horrors, the Cybermen and the Borg also differ in their motivations. This can be traced back to their fundamentally dissimilar origins. The Collective is not the result of a desperate struggle for survival (as far as we know, that is. It’s never been canonically confirmed how they began) but instead seems to stem from the realisation that unimpeded cooperation yields the greatest results, be it between individuals or between people and their technology. While this is not an inherently evil concept, finer feelings do not survive this particular realisation of it. They are instead pushed aside by the weight of the Collective’s base imperatives, a billion souls out-weighed by desire and greed echoed a billion times over.

Because let’s make no mistake about this, the driving force behind the Borg is greed. Not for profit. They are not the reducto ad absurdum capitalists the Ferengi are. No, the Borg’s greed is for material things. They are the ultimate realisation of the “gotta catch ‘em all” spirit. It’s right there in their battle cry: “we will add your technological and biological distinctiveness to our own.” The Collective has decided that the only way to grow and expand is to incorporate every last technological and biological form in the universe into itself.

In First Contact, the Queen states that the Borg are attempting to reach perfection, that their campaign to assimilate everything is a quest to perfect themselves. This is a pretty damn solid motivation for their expansion. If a collective mind reaches the limit of its development within its own technological niche, what else should it do but reach outside its borders for new toys. Evolution by parasitism and theft, in the name of perfection.

The Cybermen, on the other hand, have already perfected themselves. They practically say as much in Tenth Planet. They have removed all weakness and are at peace as a result, free of pain or hunger or disease or conflict. There is nothing left for them to pursue except their continued survival and the eventual ‘enlightenment’ of the whole human race (which are pretty much the same goal anyway, since the former depends on the latter).

Obviously, this is an extremely narrow perspective. The Cybermen are very narrow and restricted creatures though. They change, sure, developing new ways to control and conquer and convert and kill, but they do not truly innovate. It is not that they have a horror of evolution in the manner of the Daleks, who hate the unknown and unalike because they fear it. The Cybermen do not fear change, they simply do not consider it necessary. They are satisfied with what they are. The Borg are not. The Collective roams the universe restlessly because it wants to evolve, because it desires perfection, because it can imagine being better that it is. But if the Cybermen had an endless supply of spare parts and was free from the threat of extinction by war or disaster, they would never walk out of the door ever again.

I seem to have gotten all philosophical, probably more so than any Doctor Who/Star Trek crossover comic ever will. The comparison is interesting though and leaves our two sets of man/machines with very different goals. One seeks to perfect its existence, the other merely to prolong itself. More practically – if I can use such a term when talking about make-believe aliens – they exist in distinctly different fashions. The Cybermen, after all, do not have a collective mind. One normal Cyberman is exactly like every other normal Cyberman (and even if this is not strictly true physically, due to variation in the organic components, it is certainly true mentally) but they do not share in a single mind. They are, if you like, identically individual. And authority is invested not in the many but in a specially augmented few, in a Controller, a Planner, a Leader. Cybermen build their own authority figures, investing them with the history of the Cyber-race and an expanded intellect. Put simply, if tongue-twistingly, multiple Borg drones are distinct hands attached to the same body, directed by a single mind, while multiple Cybermen are the same hands attached to distinct bodies, all directed by a separate voice.

The problem this poses for anyone wanting to have the two races work together in a way that makes sense given their canonical natures (and surely that's the most satisfying part of crossing them over) is that these two ways of working are naturally in opposition. You cannot just place the Cybermen and the Collective next to each other and expect them to work together. They simply don't work like that. The Collective does not issue orders outside of itself, the Cybermen do not act as a single entity. The only way in which they could ‘cooperate’ would be if the Borg assimilated the Cybermen.

Which is the real kicker, by the way. This is the reason why the Borg and the Cybermen ‘teaming up’ is so inherently daft. No one ‘teams up’ with the Borg. Ever. ‘Team up’ implies separate entities working towards a common goal. The Collective functions only by integrating separate entities into a common whole. It does not need allies because it can just improve itself by absorbing anything they could offer on contact. In this case, that would mean making the Cybermen into Borg. As in, they would cease to be Cybermen and be integrated as drones servicing the needs of the Collective. The only alternative is that the Cybermen destroy the Borg and take their technology to augment the Cyber conversion process. Because, you see, assimilation would be perceived as a threat to the Cyber race’s survival. That’s the problem with logic. Extremely narrow definitions. A Cyberman that became a Borg drone would cease to be a Cyberman. So the Cybermen’s only choice would be to fight back.

And they would lose.

I am more of a Doctor Who fan than I am a Star Trek fan. This does not mean I think the Cybermen would have a hope in Hades of beating off the might of the Borg Collective. If it had been the Daleks, then there would be no question that the Borg would be reduced to space dust, but the Cybermen have never been the powerhouses of the Doctor Who universe. One on one, they are extremely fearsome, but their collective might (insert groan here) has always been below par. That's why they fight by stealth so often. In the end, they simply lack the imagination and the raw determination that makes monsters like the Daleks into feasible universe conquerors. The Cybermen will forever be a bunch of tin soldiers skulking round the universe in clapped out spaceships. The Borg, meanwhile, never stop growing and evolving. The Borg dominate huge swathes of space with ease, their ships a match for pretty much everything they come across, excepting lost starships that the writers need to survive into next week’s episode. I doubt even the dreaded Cyberbombs could make them pause for long. They adapt. They continue. They persist.

They would beat the Cybermen. They would assimilate them. What would they gain from the attempt? There's the rub. What could the Cybermen possibly offer the Borg that would allow them to conquer the universe in one fell swoop? In the long run, the Borg threaten everything, everywhere anyway. That's part of their appeal as unstoppable monsters. Crucially, it is in the long run. Their advance is inexorable but slow. Adding the sum total of Cyber-technology as seen on screen would probably speed that process up but not by that much. The ability to pilot planets would be useful, of course, as would the mind control technology. But the Cybermen have always been intently focused on conquering and controlling one species – us – and one species alone. Their technology is tailored to humanity and they have never reached the apocalyptic heights of Reality Bombs and Time Destructors. Why would they? So yes, the Borg would take what the Cybermen have to offer. Gotta catch ‘em all, right? I just don't see it being the game changer that IDW's concept writers seem to think it would be.

All this must seem a bit sour. I am thinking this through too deeply, I know – but that’s because I find both the Cybermen and the Borg to be fascinating concepts and I think they work brilliantly as antagonists for heroes who thrive on emotionality and wanderlust. I'm all in favour of throwing the Doctor into the Star Trek universe and watching him merrily turn it upside-down, or chucking the Enterprise (A, B, C, D, E or XI) into the Doctor Who universe and watch it run for its frickin' life. As I say, it should be fun. Thing is, it would also be nice if the threat that necessitates the eventual EPIC TEAM-UP was credible and based on the canonical natures of the baddies involved. A Borg/Cyberman alliance, as I hope I've proved by now, simply isn't.

Besides which, a Borg/Cyberman team-up? That's the best they could come up with? There must be a thousand and one ideas that would have been a lot more fun! I mean, just think. Zygons and Rutans in the Federation Council! Sontarans and Klingons in a no holds barred rugby match! Romulans and Dominators competing to see who has the most over-the-top shoulder pads! Adric versus Wesley Crusher on the holodeck! K-9 vs the Starfleet Computer! Q vs the Celestial Toymaker! The Daleks vs everyone!

Daleks vs everyone. See there’s a crossover comic I’d like to see. The Daleks are just the kind of larger-than-life, completely unstoppable menace who’d be at home in a comicbook crossover. Putting Picard and the Doctor in the same room is like having Hornblower show up at 221b Baker Street or having Mal Reynolds run into Han Solo on a smuggling trip. You need a bigger-badder-bolder threat to justify needing the combined forces of two sets of heroes who've done amazing things on their own.

Ultimately, not only does it not really make sense for the Borg and Cybermen to merge into some universe-conquering, all-powerful allied force, they're just not enough to justify the presence of both the Federation’s finest and the Oncoming Storm. In both universes, discounting higher powers like Q and the Eternals, I’m fairly sure only the Daleks really pose such a colossal threat. And they do have an Expanded Universe record of tampering with alternative universes…

I could be wrong. It’s entirely possible it will all work out for the best. Comicbooks have a habit of taking daft premises and making them into good, wholesome entertainment. I am, when all is said and done, using a three sentence press-release to peddle my personal perspectives on two great science fiction concepts and to take a couple of cheap shots at what I consider to be an unimaginative idea. More details might make this little rant redundant. I hope so.

But if not, if this all ends up going as badly as my cynical side suspects it will, let's at least be thankful that we live in a world in which Doctor Who is well regarded enough that a major publisher is willing to cross it over with the most well-known sci-fi franchise ever created.

Wednesday 15 February 2012

A God, is he?

It’s time to start at the beginning. It’s time to open up the box and take a look at the madman inside.

He is a titan, bestriding the stars. He is the saviour of the universe, plucking thousands from the brink of disaster in the nick of time. He is the destroyer of worlds, annihilating all those who dare to spread the gospels of death and destruction. He is the immortal chess-master, moving pieces to and fro in a cosmic game. He is the last of his kind, a lonely god wandering the universe.

He is the Doctor.

Isn’t he?

There’s something of a debate on this point, you see. There are those who cry foul, who see this mythologizing as completely over the top and, worse, a complete departure from the essence of what makes out favourite Time Lord so compelling. And when we have the Doctor ascending heavenwards in the arms of a couple of (admittedly robotic) golden angels, you can sort of see their point. But – and it is a big but – the Doctor is a heroic character and, more than that, he is a superhuman hero. He is an alien, with knowledge and intellect that far outstrips that of any normal human, a whole host of fantastic abilities and the habit of coming back from death. However you look at it, he is the stuff myths are made of. In fact, that is exactly what he is. At least two species refer to him as the Oncoming Storm, his people were seen as gods by another and there is a whole universe of folklore centred on his actions. He is a legendary figure and has the skillset to match.

And what’s the problem with that? Well: what’s the fun of a character who can do anything? If the Doctor can fix everything with a wave of his hand, nothing matters. Everything will always come right in the end, so why bother watching? Luckily, writers are fairly good at seeing this one coming a mile off, so it is quite rare for the Doctor to pull a solution completely out of nowhere. And, let’s be honest, his frequent feats of scientific brilliance are – now – perfectly justified: as the 7th Doctor once said, it’s easy to rewire a piece of advanced alien technology in five minutes when you’ve had nine hundred years’ experience. In general, the Doctor is portrayed as being extremely knowledgeable with a knack for making things up as he’s going along and reacting to the circumstances, rather than as actually being omniscient. The only real caveat on this is that the Doctor is a time traveller. He knows the future as well as the past – in many cases, the future is his past – giving him an added insight into the events of a story. But this is allowed. After all, it is easy to make it as much a curse as a blessing.

There are, truth be told, very few instances where the Doctor ‘magics’ solutions out of thin air. Leaving aside Deus Ex Machina that come from outside without the Doctor’s direct influence, the endings that threaten to make him into a boring cure-all are blessedly rare. The destruction of the missile in Timelash is the only one that springs readily to mind. But there are many that have skirted close, where even the technobabble is little more than lip service to the idea that we’re not just watching an all-powerful wizard to whom nothing is a barrier. The ending of The Last of the Time Lords, with its ‘sparkly floating Doctor’ might be said to be more a case of ‘the writer spake and thus it was so’ than a well-thought-through ending. Trapped and beaten, our hero suddenly gains a new power that allows him to effortlessly break free and overcome his enemy. In one special effect, the Doctor has gone from a madman with a box (without a box) to physical godhood. And that is somehow less satisfying than, as the same incarnation once rather flippantly said, saving the universe with a kettle and some string.

The 2nd Doctor provides perhaps the best examples of world-saving without resorting to throwing lightning bolts. He fumbles through the denouement to his first adventure, beating the Daleks by pulling every lever on the control panel in front of him until they are all blown to high heaven by an overloading power grid (a trick, it seems, he remembered later). He mocks and undermines Klieg, niggling away at the man’s ego to induce carelessness. He disables the Ice Warrior’s homing beacon without them knowing, dashes about to stop them realising and then tricks them into cutting each other down. He rewires the Great Intelligence’s brain-drain device and would have destroyed one of his most powerful foes if it weren’t for his companions’ well-intentioned rescue attempt. On the Wheel in space, he used the equipment he had available to stop the Cybermen in their tracks, similarly foiling their invasion of Earth by employing UNIT’s vast resources. There were no handy get-outs here, merely honest bodging and a lot of comic antics to cover up a mind like a steel trap. And, fittingly, that is exactly why the Time Lords capture him with such ease. He is no all-powerful superhero – he is a man and, like all men, must be answerable to the higher powers he has defied.

This was not the last time the Doctor found himself helpless before those existing on a truly mythic level. The Pyramids of Mars finds him on the floor at the feet of an ancient and all-powerful god. Before Sutekh, our hero really is a grovelling insect and only eleventh hour trickery saves the universe from being devastated. Later, the Guardians, black and white, would emerge as higher beings; earlier, the Toymaker displayed awesome powers that, one on one, the Time Lord simply could not match. Nothing sums up the limitations of the Doctor in the face of these entities quite so effectively as the words of the Eternal who appeared in the form of Captain Striker during the race for Enlightenment. His response to being informed that the Doctor is a Time Lord? “Are there lords of such a small domain?” Compared to these higher beings, the man who has trounced hundreds of alien invasions is indeed a mere Ephemeral, which of course makes his victories over them all the more impressive.

And here we run up against the reason writers mythologise the Doctor in the first place. He has triumphed over powers far greater than his own. For all he might be the funny little man, the prattling jackanapes, his deeds tell a different story. He is nothing like as stupid as he tries to present himself. He has defeated gods and demons. He has driven back armies and stopped apocalypses. He has saved every planet in the known universe a minimum of twenty seven times. Even we, the viewers, who have seen the events unfold without the exaggeration, have to admit that this madman has done remarkable things. Is it any wonder that UNIT officers treat him with awe or that the Daleks are terrified to be in the same room with him? Frankly, it would be ludicrous if they didn’t. Unrealistic, one might say.

Does that matter? After all, whatever the press, he’s still going to be right there with the kettle and the string, muddling along. Just because people talk about him doesn’t mean that he’s not doing what he has always done: making it up as he goes along. But then you see him annihilating armies at the push of a button and trapping alien murders in mirrors and suddenly it does seem like he is the all-conquering goblin, not a mere wandering eccentric.

This isn’t a new phenomenon, of course. The 7th Doctor gets a reputation as the cosmic chess-master, though this is initially only partially justified. He did set traps and out-manoeuvre foes straight out of the realms of myth and magic but the element of making it up as he went along remained. There was another set of Daleks to deal with, random Nazis and if he knew what was really going on in the Greatest Show in the Galaxy before the final act, I’ll eat my panama hat. The traps were more elaborate but they bore more than a passing resemblance to those sprung by the Second Doctor, replete with amusing buffoonery and funny voices. But thanks to the Hand of Omega, we were introduced to the idea that he was involved with his own people’s past and by the time Fenric springs from his bottle, the Doctor looks increasingly like far more than just another Time Lord. The novels written after the TV show’s original demise reinforced this, painting the Doctor as an all-knowing, not-entirely-moral manipulator and, eventually, the reincarnation of one of the architects of his people’s power. The Time Lords too took on a more mythic edge, less squabbling old men and more asexual elementals, wired in to the heartbeat of the universe. Death Comes to Time went the whole hog and gave them genuinely god-like powers – that they dare not use, naturally. Back then, it wasn’t just what they were called: it meant something deep that should be spoken of with reverence. And the Doctor was the greatest Time Lord of all. His dead body was fought over, his guidance was sought and it was by his hand that his people were destroyed and remade.

With that kind of baggage, it makes perfect sense that he would become the lone survivor of a war that shook the cosmos. The destroyer of worlds, in a war against endless horrors, ending the conflict by wiping it from existence. A far cry from the strange old man in a junk yard with a doorway to adventure but perfectly in keeping with a member of a race that could erase planets simply by ignoring them.

Doctor Who’s mythology – a far, far more apt word than ‘continuity’ – is an unfortunate millstone around the neck of any writer on the series. On the one hand, it is rich and wonderful, full of interesting facets to conjure with. On the other, it lends itself to a lead character far beyond any kind of understanding and totally without decent hindrance. Of course armies run from him. Wouldn’t you? Not dwelling on it means we can have the same kind of adventures we had forty years ago, won by wit and ingenuity and general cleverness. But would that be true to forty years’ worth of depth? Hardly. Incorporating it gives us a richer, fuller universe to explore but risks undermining the very things that make the stories exciting: tension, drama, threat.

I don’t think there’s a solution to this dilemma. Making the foes bigger and badder certainly isn’t the way forward (though it can be done well). Neither is taking away everything that makes the Doctor so powerful a force for good (though this can be chilling). Turning the tables and having his reputation come back and bite him is not a trick that can be pulled too often and remain effective (though it has been done spectacularly well of late). The mythology exists, it cannot be ignored. Addressing it head on is a recipe for the Doctor ascendant. Deflecting it can only last for so long. And undoing it all is simply not an option. All I can say is that any writer hired to write for Doctor Who has their work cut out for them, especially if they intend to use that long and snarled history as part of their plots. If I have any advice, or felt I had a right to give it, it would be this: absorb as much of that history as you can but don’t feel as if you need to reference or explain any of it, don’t be afraid of adding to the history (because you really can’t make it any more complicated and contradictory than it already is) and, most of all, give us a Doctor who is fun to watch.

Because when you get right down to it, that’s the key. That’s why we’re here. Because of that crotchety old man, that cosmic hobo, that dashing adventurer, that boggle-eyed bohemian, that fair-faced Englishman, that blustering humanitarian, that funny little chess-master, that romantic alien, that emotionally scarred northerner, that lonely god, that madman with a box.

He is the Doctor.

And for good or ill, he’s really sort of marvellous.

Tuesday 14 February 2012

Hello World

A long time ago in a University somewhere in the north of England, a couple of  geeks found that they shared a love of Doctor Who, that doyen of long-running fantastical serials. Over time, they gathered a few other geeks and shared their appreciation for the wild and wonderful adventures that made up TV's longest running sci fi show. Over slightly more time, this little group became known (exclusively to its members) as the Bedfordshire Brigade.

The BB is dedicated to exploring every aspect of Doctor Who fiction, no matter how amazing or daft it may be. We’re not looking to explore the deeper meaning of Drashigs and Autons or the complexities of how and why each episode was made (unless it’s amusing to do so) but rather to have some fun with the ideas that the show has thrown up over the years. Be it killer daffodils or giant spiders, Iron Legions or Brain Machines, we play about with it all, seeing what fits together, what doesn’t, and what makes for a really interesting mess when you turn it upside down.

We’re Whovians through and through (or should that be Wholigans?) but we try not to take it too seriously, or to champion it against the other Big Names in science fiction and fantasy (even if it does knock them all into a cocked hat). There is one test for becoming a member of the Bedfordshire Brigade: you have to get the joke. If you do, you’re in. If you don’t, well, keep listening to us long enough and it’s bound to come up eventually.

This blog is an experiment. I started writing ‘Notes from the BB’ on my DeviantArt page a while back but I think the time has come to give them their own home, and to let some of the other BB members get in on the act. We’re probably just shouting into the ether with this but hey, if it makes someone laugh or think, I’ll say it’s been worth it.

Though I should warn you, there will be tangents ahead.