On Mass versus Worth

“The world is a pretty big place, but when you compare it to the rest of the universe you realise just how insignificant you are.” —a silly idea, via  http://blazepress.com/2014/11/23-pictures-will-make-realise-insignificant/

It seems every time I encounter this idea I feel a need to rant against it: yes, materially—in terms of mass, volume, and density—we are pretty much inconsequential in the scope of the unthinkably vast universe. But since when is the worth or value of something determined solely by its dimensions or mass? The notion that nothing really matters because we are so unimaginably small is just flat out wrong. Because as massive and awe-inspiring as VY Canis Majoris may be, as long as it can’t think or feel, it’s less important than you are. In that, you know, you can think and feel. The Crab Nebula wouldn’t mean a thing if there weren’t someone sentient to see it and find it beautiful and inspiring. I guess it’s an extension of the old question about a tree falling in the forest, but with a finer point on it: if a tree falls in the forest and nothing sentient is around to care, does it matter?

Sentience is what imbues significance. Until we find evidence for other sentient life in the universe (which, given the infinity that is the universe, I think is probably pretty likely), I don’t see any way to justify considering humanity anything short of the most important thing in the known universe. So to that clever YouTube video or pop Internet article or 9gag philosopher that compares increasingly massive objects with Earth and then concludes, “NO, YOU ARE NOT THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE,” I answer, “YES, I AM.”

And you know what? VY Canis Majoris has never once tried to contradict me.  

Editorial: Moffat and the Doctor, a Love Letter to Humanity

This editorial, written prior to the release of Doctor Who Series 9, was originally published in UGeek Magazine, Issue #6. 

Maybe the only universal to Whovians is that there are no universals. Take any two fans of the show and ask them about Ten–Rose, Amy Pond, Clara Oswald, and Steven Moffat. At least one of those will become an impassioned, potentially friendship-destroying argument. Yet, whenever I let my big trap start flapping to other Whovians, I’m almost invariably on the defense.

You see, I adore Steven Moffat.

There. I said it.

I love Moffat, who succeeded Russell T. Davies as showrunner at the start of Series 5. And a very vocal, passionate segment of the fanbase will argue, with the conviction of Saint Ignatius punching the lions in the face, that Steven Moffat is the television equivalent of Satan. I’ll briefly summarize the three primary complaints against him I have heard:

1.      He is sexist.

2.      He can’t write female characters.

3.      His female characters are defined by their relationship to the Doctor.

4.      His plots are incredibly convoluted, and betray his smugness and arrogance. Worse, he recycles his own plot points.

5.      He’s ruining the show. Ever since he took over from Russell T. Davies, ratings have steadily dropped.

I’ll just briefly mention that points 1 and 2 can be leveled just as easily (and unfairly) against Russell T. Davies. And to allay fears about the supposed ratings drop: the BBC is quite confident in the popularity of the show—television ratings do not reveal the whole story. Combined with online streaming statistics and with its current 91% on Rotten Tomatoes, the show is going stronger than ever. But deeper than popularity, I insist that Moffat is not ruining the show.

He is saving it.

Don’t get me wrong; the Russell T. Davies era was fun. It was energetic and exciting. Eccleston and Tennant were dashing leading men. The electric charisma of the weird show about a rebel alien and his friends flying through time and space in a phone box recaptured the hearts of people around the world. It had farting aliens, space rhinos, and a cackling bleach-blond John Simms.

It was quirky, challenging, scary, funny, and put some of the first LGBT characters and storylines in mainstream television. But Davies’ philosophy went beyond tackling issues of gender and sexuality. The emotional core of his Doctor Who was something that, on investigation, felt surprisingly dark and bleak: humans are bad. Evil humans. Stupid apes. We find something beautiful and we destroy it. We tear each other apart for being different. Every one of his visions of humanity’s future shows it in a pretty bleak light—plague creatures, pettiness and idiocy stretched on a canvas of flesh, enslaved to its television in its demand to be entertained, an errant and arrogant species in constant need of discipline. Truthfully, in my opinion, the best parts of the Russell T. Davies era were the Steven Moffat episodes: “The Empty Child / The Doctor Dances,” “The Girl in the Fireplace,” “Blink,” and “Silence in the Library / The Forests of the Dead.”

Moffat’s Doctor Who is just the opposite. In Series 7, episode 4, the Doctor faces a Shakri, who considers itself a pest killer, freeing the universe of these dirty, stupid apes. The Doctor defends humanity in a speech that, though not written by Moffat himself, well represents his Doctor’s philosophy: “[Humans are] not pests or plague; creatures of hope. Forever building and reaching. Making mistakes, of course; every life form does. But they learn. And they strive for greater, and they achieve it. You want a tally? Put their achievements against their failings through the whole of time. I will back humanity against the Shakri every time.”

The Doctor still scolds humanity and saves the planet, but this time, he shows us what he sees in humanity that’s worth saving. Humanity is not a species of stupid apes who ruin everything; it’s a people of hope and vast potential. Future humanity, we see on the fields of Trenzalore, is strong and brave. With the Doctor’s help, it holds off every other force in the universe to protect something it holds sacred. It does questionable things—the curious theology of Papal Mainframe, the use of the Headless Monks, and the sect of the Silence. But ultimately, as the Doctor says, stacking the good against the bad, humanity’s goodness ultimately shines through, superior to its badness.

Throughout the era, we see the glory and the agony of the human experience play out in an intergalactic space opera that ultimately boils down to the story of a group of people who love each other, trying to work through life together. In short, a family. The core of the human experience.

Which turns out to be a nuclear family, as we learn that the Doctor is married to River, who is actually a time lady because she was conceived by Amy and Rory while the TARDIS was in the time vortex.

Yeah, okay, so maybe Moffat is a little convoluted. At least he doesn’t have farting aliens.

Far from destroying the series, I argue Steven Moffat is saving it from its former message of human depravity by replacing it with one of human potential. This isn’t to say that Moffat doesn’t face some major hurdles.

Davies did away with all the other time lords gallivanting around the universe, and avoided going too deeply into the Doctor’s own life, focusing instead on the lives of those around him, and keeping his stories grounded on Earth so as to avoid the convoluted mess that led to the demise of the original Doctor Who in 1989. Moffat, since becoming showrunner, has begun to pull things in the opposite direction, focusing on the Doctor’s own life, his past, and his future. Gallifrey may be back, and all the time lords with it. For all my complaints about Davies’ philosophy, his formula was sure successful, and Moffat is taking risks by messing with it. But then, isn’t that what the show has to do—reinvent itself, like the Doctor himself?

Its great strength is that it has regular opportunity to essentially become a new show. Moffat has reinvented the show twice, first with Matt Smith’s space opera and again with Peter Capaldi’s as-yet mysterious arc. I eagerly await Series 9, with its shocking changeup to everything the show has led us to expect thus far (spoilers, sweetie), to see what direction Capaldi’s “darker Doctor” will go. This autumn alone can tell what lies in store.

Editorial: The Force Awakens: Let's Speculate

This entertainingly inaccurate set of speculations was first published August 2015 in UGeek Magazine, at http://utahgeekmagazine.com/force-awakens-lets-speculate/ 

So there’s a new Star Wars trilogy coming out, and it will have nothing to do with the Expanded Universe continuity. Disney and JJ Abrams have been keeping the story behind The Force Awakens under tight, jealous wraps. Sure, Abrams has been teasing us lately with a few choice, juicy details. But it’s just spattering blood into shark-infested water. It doesn’t tell us what has been going on since Anakin Skywalker brought balance to the Force and the Ewoks sang “Yub Nub” (prior to the most un-wizard special edition release, that is).

Or rather, it wouldn’t be much to go on unless everything he has been saying had confirmed your months-long speculation and guesswork. As it has mine. At the risk of sounding vain, I want to go on record for having speculated these plot threads before they were confirmed and to put forth the rest of my guesses to see how well they fare against the actual film.

If you are spoiler-phobic, nothing I am about to say is a spoiler. Just speculation. I think, though, that it’s pretty decent speculation, seeing how a major aspect of my hypothesis—something that was quite a long shot—was confirmed by Abrams in a recent interview with Empire. Guesses I made that were confirmed by Abrams are noted in parentheses. Let’s see what you think:

So. A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, the Second Death Star blew up. What happened after that? Well, as far as we know, Mara Jade never existed, there was no Sun Crusher, Jorus C’baoth probably never existed, there were no Emperor clones, the Yuuzhen Vong are just a silly name, and there may be no Solo twins or children of any sort. There may have never been a New Jedi Order. I’ll be writing another post about that, and I don’t think you’ll like it. But that’s another day’s battle.

I think one major way this new continuity will be different from the previous Expanded Universe continuity hinges around one point: the New Republic failed.

It makes sense. The Empire, as we learn in A New Hope, had done away with the Senate, replacing it with a regional hierarchy of command tracing back to the ultimate authority of the Emperor. The infrastructure and political system of power shifted into a thoroughly despotic system. Most policy- and decision-making power rested in the single person of the Emperor. The big draw for a system like this is things run smoothly. Brutally, but smoothly.

Sure, the Rebellion was formed around big names in the former Republic, but it was a ragtag group of former senators like Bail Organa and Mon Mothma, not really enough to restore the Senate and effectively change the system of government. You can’t count on citizens to happily adopt the new system because of its ideological superiority. Even if they want to, their support will quickly wane when they discover the new government can’t dispose of the trash or protect the streets like the old one did. When a system is designed to be run by a dictator, eliminating that dictator will create instability unless you have virtually unlimited manpower and means in addition to popular support. Which the Rebellion did not.

So my hypothesis is that the New Republic was founded after the destruction of the Second Death Star, but (a) the Empire was not completely destroyed, remaining a major force to be reckoned with, still controlling large swaths of the Galaxy, and (b) the New Republic’s administration was, frankly, poor. Driven by good intentions, of course, but incapable of effectively replacing the iron grip with democracy to keep order over half a galaxy’s worth of star systems. However, after striking so many grievous blows to the Empire, it showed that it stood a chance of winning, encouraging would-be allies to join, and nothing strengthens a rebellion better than a bandwagon.

Fast forward twenty years. The galaxy is torn and war-weary after more than three decades of the Galactic Civil War. With the fall of the Second Death Star, the Rebellion began to attract any group wanting to see the downfall of the Empire, not just idealists and former Republic sympathizers. And after their losses over Endor, they had little choice but to accept anyone who would stand with them. After selling their soul for more firepower and star systems, the Rebellion has become the blanket organization both for the New Republic and their many allies, including the unscrupulous crime families in the galaxy and the remnants of the CIS of the Clone Wars. After ceaseless war, both sides are wearing thin, deeply in debt, lacking public support, and on the verge of collapse.

The common people of the galaxy are no longer sure which cause is right. With the Sith extinct, the Empire looks less evil; after Luke’s disappearance and the arrival of assassins and gangsters, the Rebellion looks less good. And at long last, the day of reckoning has come: the Empire and the Rebellion find themselves forced to engage in what they both know will be their last battle. This is their Armageddon, the Battle over Jakku. The battle is terrible and devastating. Both sides limp away broken. They finally collapse, leaving the galaxy in chaos.

In the vacuum of power and order are many disgruntled, angry people. They look back at what happened and begin to ask some very dangerous questions: was the Empire so evil? Were the Sith really the villains of this struggle? Surrounded by chaos left behind by the Galactic Civil War, it looks to them an awful lot like things were golden under a strong rule of law and a powerful galactic civilization until the jealous former rulers of the galaxy, the Jedi, plotted the downfall of everything.

With Luke’s disappearance and Anakin’s death, there are no more Jedi or Sith. But they begin to wonder if perhaps they might not be able to resurrect the dead religion of The Force and in some way restore order and civilization to the galaxy. They band together and call themselves the Knights of Ren (confirmed and named in recent interview with Abrams; prior, I just guessed they would be some sort of quasi-religious paramilitary group).

A movement began, driven by memories of prosperity and order under the Empire, rather like ISIS or the Third Reich, which saw themselves as the restoration of a golden age that, in reality, never really existed (also confirmed in a recent interview with Abrams). This group could be made up of former Imperial leaders and soldiers as well as former Imperial citizens.

This movement believes that order and prosperity have always followed when the galaxy was in the control of the original, pure religion of The Force, the First Order of the Force, the original wielders of the Force—the Sith, from which the Jedi split off anciently (remember that only the post-Return of the Jedi Expanded Universe was declared non-canonical). Hence, the movement calls itself the First Order. It is something like a religion of fanboys of the Empire and the Sith. They have a temple dedicated to relics of the past, including Vader’s helmet, and are on a hunt for everything pertaining to the Sith or even the Jedi, and have been raiding Yavin’s Massassi temples and anywhere else they suspect might hold these relics.

Fast forward eight years. The planet Jakku has become a haven for pirates, scavengers, and traders, making a handsome living off of the scrap and tech deposited in the deserts: fleets of ships, weapons, and transport, both Rebel and Empire, that fell in the battle. But something is stirring on the planet’s surface that attracts the attention of the First Order.

Princess Leia’s movement is now only a shadow of its former self, having jettisoned or lost most of its former allies, and is called the Resistance, in conflict with the First Order. Both movements are smaller and growing, as opposed to the behemoths that were the Rebellion and the Empire.

And somewhere, hidden in the vast recesses of the galaxy, an old threat emerges: the last vestiges of the old Empire, which gladly aligns itself with this First Order. This was actually not part of my original speculation, but came from the Dark Side cover of Empire magazine’s Star Wars issue. If you look carefully, the stormtroopers to the right are Empire, not First Order. And Disney doesn’t make mistakes like that.

Kylo Ren, the best of the Knights of Ren, has constructed a functional lightsaber out of scrap. He has begun to discover the Force awakening in himself. He is a young idealist, not really evil but dedicated to his belief that the First Order is a force for good, which will bring about the prosperity of days past. He is the young, charismatic hero of the movement. He wears a mask (with voice modulation!) to invoke his hero, Darth Vader.

A young, hitherto unimportant First Order stormtrooper named Finn also begins to feel the stirrings of the Force within him. Only he has never been a Knight of Ren. His new powers amount to blasphemy and will threaten his life, so he must run away to save himself, suddenly feeling lost and betrayed by the First Order, which he had truly believed in and dedicated his life to.

And suddenly, rumor spreads that Darth Vader’s original lightsaber has been found. The First Order desperately wants it and dispatches their best and most loyal convert, former bounty hunter Captain Phasma, to retrieve it.

Beyond that, I have nothing. There are still a lot of mysteries. Who is Supreme Leader Snoke? That’s my number one loose end. Is he a Sith or just another fanboy? Is either Finn or Rey a descendent of someone in the original trilogy? Who is Captain Phasma and why have we never seen her face? Will she be this trilogy’s Boba Fett? Where has Luke been all this time? Is the Starkiller base on Hoth?

Wild guess: Captain Phasma or Kylo Ren is Luke’s daughter/son.

But all that aside, I suspect my plot outline here is something like what we will be seeing in the text crawl as we are blasted by the glorious strains of John Williams come December 18th. Or I could be totally wrong. So, any bets? What do you all think?

UPDATE (1 September 2015)

After an official news release by the Star Wars Battlefront website, I have learned that the Battle of Jakku takes place 29 years before the start of The Force Awakens. That means two things for my above theories: (1) my timeline is off (I had assumed that The Force Awakens would take place 28 years after Return of the Jedi since 28 years have elapsed in real time since the release of that film, and that the battle over Jakku would be many years after the fact), and (2) it suggests the Galactic Civil War will be settled very quickly indeed after the events of Return of the Jedi, since the Battle of Jakku is described as a pivotal battle that possibly spelled the end of the Empire and the Rebellion. Further suggestions of this are the fact that the same website declared that a new, never-before-seen planet would be featured in the new Battlefront game: Sullust. Now, Sullust was previously supposed to be the site of Obi-wan and Anakin Skywalker’s fateful duel, prior to the release of the prequel trilogy. It has been described as a volcanic planet, and is mentioned in the original trilogy as a place where the rebel fleet gathers. As far as I know, there have been no major battles in the Galactic Civil War on Sullust, suggesting this will be a new battle, before or after the battle of Jakku. In short, it looks like the Galactic Civil War will come to a head very quickly, leaving most of the 30 years intervening between the films for groups like the First Order to fester and for the names Han, Luke, and Leia to fall into myth rather than fact.

TV Review: Star Wars Rebels “The Siege of Lothal”

This review originally appeared in UGeek Magazine at http://utahgeekmagazine.com/star-wars-rebels-the-siege-of-lothal-review/ 

The wait is over, fellow rebels. At long last, the hour-long special “The Siege of Lothal,” the harbinger of Star Wars: Rebels Season 2, has aired on Disney XD and is available for streaming on iTunes, Amazon, and probably elsewhere. Which is unfortunate, because that means the foreboding trailers’ treachery is revealed. Despite the buildup and the anticipation, “The Siege of Lothal” does not really live up to its name.

Let me explain: a siege consists of a heavily armed force entrenching around a heavily fortified enemy with the intent of conquering them either by starvation or by constructing siege weapons that can penetrate the defenses. The natural insinuation is that one of the galaxy’s factions has fortified Lothal while another faction attempts to break through and claim the planet for itself. What actually happens is the Empire tightens its grip on Lothal, a planet already controlled by the Empire, by surrounding it with a greater Imperial presence. So what we actually have is “The Reinforcement and Tightening of Security of Lothal,” which is noticeably less fun sounding, but at least it wouldn’t build unrealistic expectations.

To be fair, the episode itself isn’t bad. The story revolves around the change in dynamic after the Ghost and her crew transition from being a small-scale rogue operation to a part of a loosely-organized militant precursor to the Rebel Alliance. Kanan misses the Robin Hood-style missions and is uncomfortable with the way the situation is becoming more like a military preparing for war. He wants out; his crew wants in. They are eager to engage in a full-scale rebellion, most of them never experienced in a real war before. Kanan must either get involved in another major war—after his trauma in the Clone Wars just fourteen years ago—or risk losing his new family. He agrees to one final mission before they must all make their choice: to rescue a former enemy on Lothal who contacts the rebels with the intent to defect.

It’s a good story. The problem is that everything promised in the trailer feels tacked on in the last fifteen minutes, after thirty minutes of an uncomfortably high ratio of dialogue to action. This would be all right if the dialogue really shimmered. Except it doesn’t. It’s not awful, but it’s nothing special. No one-liners that stuck with me. A few chuckles from a few well-timed jokes, but it wasn’t stellar. Nothing to warrant the amount of it in this episode. In all, I felt like it would have made a decent regular-length episode. It didn’t justify its runtime, which had me checking how much was left at regular intervals, wondering how they were going to resolve the major plot lines of the episode in the remaining time.

Especially wounding to me was how little Ahsoka was in the episode. The trailer insinuated she would be around for much of it when she, in reality, only tags along for maybe ten minutes at the end. And spends some of that time unconscious. I definitely didn’t get the Ahsoka fix I was promised. It is suggested in the final lines of the episode, however, that we might just get more Ahoska in the coming episodes, so this point may be forgivable.

In all, it wasn’t a stellar comeback. I wouldn’t, however, call it a failed one. It planted the seeds for a great second season: Kanan and his crew torn between the nostalgia of simpler times and the excitement of what is becoming the rebel alliance, the Empire sending out an army of Sith Inquisitors to hunt down the Jedi presence in this new rebellion, and the inevitable confrontation between Ahsoka and her former master. I would say that Season 2 is off to a rough start, like any rebellion, but it has the potential to be a truly great addition to the Star Wars universe.

It is worth pointing out that there is one thing on my wishlist for this season that would completely negate my negative reaction to this first episode: that Darth Maul be utilized as a Sith Inquisitor. Remember Palpatine telling him at the end of Clone Wars that he wouldn’t kill him, that he had another use for him? I’m just saying.