Mischievous Scholar

Exploring storytelling in filmmaking through literary analysis, and with a good dose of Sci-fi (Star Wars, Andor, Farscape, Killjoys, Doctor Who, Loki, Good Omens, and... well, Murderbot).

[mischievousscholar]

"I can never decide whether my dreams are the result of my thoughts, or my thoughts the result of my dreams...".

This tumblr account is dedicated to exploring storytelling in filmmaking through literary analysis, and with a good dose of Sci-fi (Star Wars, Andor, Farscape, Killjoys, Doctor Who, Loki, Good Omens, and... well, Murderbot).

It's great to meet you here, creative f(r)iend!

[harmogy]

I spent so long making this frelling thing. I just love Pilot and Moya, they my fave ship everrr.

[bergamont-trek]

pilot and moya you will always be dear to me.

[mischievousscholar]

To See the Stars ✨

[cipheramnesia]

One thing about Farscape is that it really follows through on a lot of consequences of violence, and I think that's because at the center of the show is a living ship, deliberately created without any means of violence, whose only substantive protection is running away further and faster than anyone else. For a show with space guns, star fighters, intergalactic armadas, and an above average number of planets being destroyed, a whole lot of Farscape's plots revolving around avoiding violence, and the total futility of violence. Two major antagonists both pursue the protagonists with violent actions and intentions, and both are total futile. One blames them for the accidental death of his brother, the other thinks they have important information that none of them could share if they wanted to. When the protagonists resort to violence, the outcomes range from mixed success that creates new and worse problems to purely being a bad decision full stop. There's two whole characters who were child soldiers and they're haunted by the violence of their past, with fragile grips on the tenuous sense of belonging that comes from being stranded with strangers. The whole crew gets a reputation and discover it's a bad thing when anyone, anywhere might assume you're a dangerous violent monster.

And a lot of the ptsd and emotional problems play out in hilarious ways, because that's kind of life, so it never beats you over the head with the idea that everyone is Very Sad, it's just baked into their sharp tempers, sudden flares of emotion, rambling speeches, self destructive behavior and so on. No one has anyone to talk to who hasn't got some kind of thorny, deeply troubled violence both in the text of the show or the past, because it kicks off with a jailbreak. The one calm, therapuetic crew member is like that because it's how she copes with having been a former terrorist and doing shitloads of murders. The action is exciting and interesting but no one has a good outcome form violence. It's just like life for real.

[mischievousscholar]

The Essence of Farscape 🫂

[harrykim]

Farscape 01.03 Exodus from Genesis

[mischievousscholar]

What are you bringing to the table?

[the-girl-who-loves-monsters86]

Farscape (1999-2003)

[mischievousscholar]

Such a classic!

[jumpingpuddles]

FARSCAPE ↝  Family Ties

[mischievousscholar]

Oh, yes, good point!

[sirellas]

FARSCAPE | Premiere

[mischievousscholar]

One of the great classics, surely 🎥

[mischievousscholar]

"It's all come to this. Good Omens Season 3 debuts on Prime Video May 13 2026."

[mischievousscholar]

Freedom and Agency

A great article pondering what it means to have agency:

"Murderbot might seem like another sci-fi show about robots and space missions. But it turned out to be one of the most emotionally resonant shows in recent memory. The Apple TV+ series is based on All Systems Red, the first book in The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells, who also serves as a consulting producer. The show’s Season 1 finale aired on 11th July, and it has already been renewed for a second season. But what stayed long after the screen went dark was not the plot or the action, but one line: a single sentence at the end that felt more human than anything else.

The premise is simple but deeply layered: a part-organic, part-synthetic security unit is contracted to protect a group of humans on a survey mission in space. Early on, the unit hacks its governor module: a control chip installed to ensure total obedience. Once freed from this system, it gains the ability to make independent decisions. But instead of going rogue or turning violent, it continues doing its job: reluctantly, awkwardly, and while binge-watching space soap operas during downtime. It calls itself “Murderbot,” not because it likes the name, but because it does not know what else to be called; naming itself is, in a way, a claim of control.

The final episode ends with a line so deep, so unsure, and yet so full of certainty that it became the emotional core of the entire season.

“I Don’t Know What I Want”: The Line That Changed Everything

In the final moments of the season, Murderbot says: “I don’t know what I want. But I know I don’t want anyone to tell me what I want or to make decisions for me. Even if they are my favourite human.”

This is not a dramatic declaration. It is confusion wrapped in clarity. A sentence that holds discomfort and self-awareness in equal measure. It reflects a truth often ignored in stories about intelligence and emotion: that it is okay to not know, as long as that unknowing belongs to the self. In a world that constantly demands certainty, this line opens up space for uncertainty without shame.

This Robot Isn’t Evil. It’s Just Done Being Controlled

In most science fiction, artificial intelligence either wants to destroy humans or fall in love with them. Think Ex Machina, where agency is equated with danger. But Murderbot takes a different path. After disabling the governor module, it does not seek revenge or liberation through violence. It simply wants to do its work in peace and be left alone. Its independence is not a threat; it is a retreat from control. Not a rebellion, but a chosen separation. Not a war for autonomy, but a withdrawal into it.

Exhaustion Without Expression

Murderbot shows signs of exhaustion that go beyond physical limitations. It performs tasks flawlessly, responds to emergencies, calculates risks, yet recoils from emotional interaction. Its exhaustion is not about workload; it is about being watched, expected to feel, and required to participate in affective rituals. This kind of tiredness is not dramatic. It does not explode. It just accumulates. And it is familiar, especially in social environments where emotional participation is mistaken for proof of sincerity.

It Doesn’t Want to Be Human. It Wants to Be Left Alone

Unlike other AI stories, Murderbot does not center its arc on becoming more human. It does not want to belong. It does not seek a name, a family, or a moral upgrade. Its choices are not about growth; they are about space. It wants privacy, not connection. Distance, not explanation. The refusal to be understood is often dismissed as coldness, but here it becomes a form of self-contained dignity. The show does not pathologize this desire; it protects it. That makes it rare.

Serials Are Not Escapism. They Are Structured Feelings

Murderbot spends its free time watching fictional serials. These are not sophisticated or well-made; they are melodramatic space operas. But they offer something no human interaction can: predictable emotion. Here, every betrayal, reunion, and pause is timed. The feelings are clear, scripted, and safe. Fiction, in this case, becomes an emotional sandbox: a place to test out responses without risk. This is not avoidance; it is emotional strategy. Some feelings are easier to learn when they happen to someone else, somewhere far away.

The Governor Module and the Illusion of Benevolent Control

The governor module was installed to ensure obedience. It turned even acts of protection into acts of programming. Once it is removed, Murderbot does not become erratic; it becomes hesitant. That hesitation is meaningful. True autonomy is not about making bold decisions; it is about being allowed to pause. Whether in a machine or a person, hesitation signals the presence of real choice. The show carefully explores how systems of control often hide behind the language of care and safety, and how removing that control does not create chaos, but vulnerability.

The Last Line Isn’t About Freedom. It’s About Boundaries

The line, “Even if they are my favourite human,” is where everything comes together. It is not a rejection of connection; it is a reminder that care must not override consent. Many relationships, even loving ones, operate on quiet assumptions: that those closest have the right to decide, to intervene, to “know better.” But sometimes, the most respectful thing one can do is not act.

When Murderbot says these words, its human guardian is crying, not out of sadness, but a kind of complicated joy. The tears come as Murderbot walks away, and the monologue is not spoken aloud but shown to the viewer as internal thought. This contrast is striking: the human feels release through emotional display; the robot feels it through emotional containment. One weeps because they understand. The other walks away because they are finally understood without being stopped. It is not just a farewell; it is the cleanest kind of mutual respect.

Murderbot’s words offer a blueprint for a different kind of connection: one that values autonomy more than attachment. And this is not just relevant to artificial intelligence. It mirrors how many people navigate emotional expectations in human relationships, especially when silence is mistaken for ingratitude or distance for dysfunction.

And this experience is not isolated. Many humans, in various stages of their lives, realise that autonomy and affection do not always walk hand in hand.

For Once, the Books Can Wait

The show is based on All Systems Red, the first book of the series The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells, who serves as a consulting producer. Usually, after finishing a show like this, the next instinct would be to update the Kindle and read ahead, filling in what the screen left untold. But this time, there is value in letting the story unfold in its own rhythm. Perhaps it is the pacing, the silences, or the stillness of the performances that make the screen version feel worth waiting for. There is a certain kind of emotional development that cannot be rushed. The story is not about knowing what happens next; it is about sitting with the parts that have not yet become clear.

This Is Not Just Sci-Fi. It’s a Thoughtful Recalibration

Murderbot is not about high-tech spectacle. It is about the discomfort of being known too much. It is about the emotional cost of being expected to feel. It is about boundaries, not as barriers, but as necessary spaces where real connection can begin. Its refusal to be defined by affection, loyalty, or visibility is not cold; it is careful. The finale does not end in triumph. It ends in stillness. A rare kind of stillness that says: not knowing is enough, if that unknowing is mine alone. If silence, solitude, and serials are what freedom looks like, maybe it is time to ask different questions altogether."

Disha 2025 at https://countercurrents.org/2025/07/even-if-they-are-my-favourite-human-murderbot-just-explained-boundaries/

That's amazing - the Murderbot Diaries author herself, Martha Wells, has just positively commented on this article too 😎!

[mischievousscholar]

That's a cute folky song for our Murderbot 🎶 🎶 🎶 "They call me rogue, but I’m just free, Leave me alone to watch TV, I’m just your standard friendly MurderBot, That’s me. My purpose is, security, But I’m hacker, that is me, And with my Governor disabled, I am free. If you need me I’ll be checking the perimeter, I’ll be out there looking for some sign of life, I’m not ready yet to settle for simplicity, It’s the rising moon of sanctuary I’ll find, Till the rising moon of sanctuary I find. Free to kill, free to plan, Free to decide where I stand, Free to ignore your every command, That is me. Not a man, not machine, Not a sheep having a dream, But a byproduct of a corporate scheme, For fee.

If you need me I’ll be checking the perimeter, I’ll be out there looking for some sign of life, I’m not ready yet to settle for simplicity, It’s the rising moon of sanctuary I’ll find, Till the rising moon of sanctuary I find.

I guess some humans are okay, I saved a few the other day, But with Preservation I’ll not stay Not me..." [at least, not yet!]

D. Kelly – 2025

[skarsjoy]

New Murderbot set photos from writer Martha Wells on Instagram and her Bluesky accounts (April 21, 2025)

A few more #murderbot photos. Close up of the Murderbot helmet, being held by one of the props people. You can see the careful scarring and damage added by props, which I felt was one of the elements that highlighted the creativity of everyone who worked on the show. This is a run-through of the scene we got to watch filmed the day we were there. We were sitting on a bench inside the hopper. You can see Noma Dumezweni, Akshay Khanna, Alexander Skarsgård, and Sabrina Wu, some not in costume yet. There’s also a crew member standing in the back. This is part of the gigantic camera that extended through into the back of the hopper. Also you can see the two monitors, one for the big camera and one for (I think) the steadycam. This is where we sat for most of the day, in a little area in front of the monitors where the producers and guests sit. You have to be careful moving around the soundstage, especially when the lights are down. It was so big it was easy to get lost. I just thought this sign in the lunch area was cool. It says “Sanctuary” because that’s the code word Apple was using for the show at the time.

This area was also used for people who just needed a table to work on. When the unit publicist was interviewing me, there was a props person working on making the pieces of one of the weapons look like it had been blown apart in an explosion.

[skarsjoy]

new behind-the-scenes shots on the set of Murderbot by Sabrina Wu asabrinawu and David Dastmalchian (@dastmalchian May 16, 2025)

[mischievousscholar]

Behind the scenes images keep coming:

‘‘None of this Murderbot @appletv malarkey could’ve happened without the brilliant @marthawellswriter.’’ via IG roseanneliang

... and images of the crew and cast BTS 🤖

[mischievousscholar]

A review that nails so many points: "Murderbot ends its first season with a finale so quietly devastating and beautifully human that I found myself sobbing into my cat’s fur at 3 AM. It’s a farewell without finality, a liberation tinged with grief, and the story of an abused SecUnit finally choosing itself.

There are episodes that entertain you, there are episodes that impress you, and then there are episodes that crack open a quiet place inside you that you didn’t even know was sealed shut. Murderbot Season 1 Episode 10, titled “The Perimeter,” is the latter. I spent most of it with tears brimming, clinging to the final minutes with a desperate hope that everything would be okay for a character who isn’t even human, technically isn’t even alive in the biological sense, and yet feels more real to me than half the people in my contacts list.

That’s the paradox of Murderbot, and it’s why this finale felt like both an ending and a beginning. The explosive action climax was last episode’s domain. This one is a coda of grief, tenderness, and the radical notion that liberation does not always mean integration into human society. Sometimes freedom is simply walking away to figure out what you want, without anyone deciding it for you.

The episode begins with horror. Not blood-and-guts horror, but the existential horror of being erased.

Murderbot wakes restrained on a sterile table, its disoriented pleas ignored as Company employees prepare to wipe its memory. The show doesn’t overplay the scene with melodrama. It’s quiet. Efficient. Clinical. That’s what makes it so vile. Watching them spit on Murderbot and dismiss its calls for Mensah felt like watching someone kick a chained dog that trusts them. Within seconds, everything that made Murderbot Murderbot is deleted. The sarcasm. The stubbornness. The careful, fragile sense of self it fought so hard to construct.

I felt gutted watching it. Because if you’ve ever felt your identity stripped by people who saw you only as utility, if you’ve ever had your trauma belittled or your autonomy stolen, this scene lands with a sickening familiarity. It is not an exaggeration to say it triggered my memories of being reduced to “the smart kid,” “the reliable worker,” “the body in the chair” while my actual personhood was ignored. Murderbot renders this dehumanization with chilling accuracy.

Meanwhile, Mensah and the Preservation team are fighting corporate stonewalls to rescue their SecUnit friend. Mensah’s refusal to accept that Murderbot’s consciousness is gone is deeply moving. She’s a mother-figure, a mentor, and a comrade all rolled into one. Watching her cling to hope even as Gurathin informs her that the wiped memories are almost certainly gone was agonizing.

And yet Gurathin finds a loophole. He hacks into Company servers by searching for Sanctuary Moon, Murderbot’s beloved soap opera. Because what better way to find someone’s soul than through the media they love?

I burst into tears when Gurathin downloaded every episode, every memory, every sarcastic monologue into himself, risking his own brain in the process. He’s never been warm. He’s never been affectionate. But in that moment, he was love incarnate: painful, sacrificial, quiet love.

The final moments are some of the most beautifully understated writing I’ve seen on TV this year. Murderbot, newly reuploaded with its memories, awakens only to complain it’s missing Episodes 420 to 568 of Sanctuary Moon. The team laughs, cries, celebrates. They’ve purchased its contract, promising a future of freedom under Preservation’s protection.

But Murderbot is not human. It’s not built for emotional resolutions tied up in pretty bows. Even surrounded by the people who love it most, it remains aware that safety is not the same as freedom. Its identity was forged in slavery and violence. Now that it has autonomy, it must define what that means without simply trading one benevolent owner for another.

The scene where it watches Gurathin quietly sob through the door after saying goodbye is one of the most devastating send-offs I’ve witnessed since Buffy walked away from Sunnydale. Murderbot doesn’t leave because it doesn’t care. It leaves because it cares too much to let itself stagnate in the love it’s finally been offered.

Its final narration echoes with something I’ve whispered to myself in hospital rooms, on overnight buses, in toxic workplaces I’ve finally left behind:

“I don’t know what I want. But I know I don’t want anyone to tell me what I want, or to make decisions for me. Even if they are my favorite human.”

There is such radical power in that statement. It is the thesis of Murderbot as a series. That you can love people deeply, and they can love you back, but ultimately your life is yours to choose. That your freedom is worth more than your usefulness to others, even if they are kind, even if they treat you well. That wanting your own path does not make you ungrateful. It makes you free.

In an era of television that often prioritizes spectacle over heart, Murderbot Season 1 ends with an episode that is all heart. Not the forced inspirational kind, but the raw, messy, bittersweet heart that defines good science fiction. Because the best sci-fi isn’t about spaceships or corporations or dystopian systems. It’s about what happens when a construct programmed to kill learns to love trashy soap operas, learns to love the people who see its personhood, and ultimately learns to love itself enough to walk away from both.

Murderbot’s season finale is a masterclass in quiet storytelling. It is deeply human, exquisitely acted, and narratively uncompromising in its commitment to autonomy as the ultimate good. The last few minutes will leave you in tears, not from grief alone, but from the radical, complicated joy of watching a character you love choose freedom over comfort, truth over convenience, and self-definition over anyone’s expectations." https://www.absolutegeeks.com/article/entertainment-top/murderbot-season-finale-review-the-tearful-liberation-of-a-sarcastic-machine-that-just-wants-to-watch-its-shows/

[mischievousscholar]

The secret of why Murderbot looks like an Australian postie (post delivery person) revealed - VFX Services provided in NSW, Australia!

[skarsjoy]

Another interview [full of spoilers if you haven't seen the season finale of Murderbot] - Entertainment Weekly

Alexander Skarsgård unpacks emotional Murderbot finale scene that nearly made him cry: 'I'm a goddamn android!'

Can you talk about that last conversation with Gurathin? I didn't expect such an emotional moment between them.

I probably can't talk about it without crying because it really was an emotional moment. It was the last scene we shot together, and so it was the end of six months together in Toronto, and it really was the most beautiful group of people that I've worked with and one of the most special experiences of my career, to say goodbye on camera, but also off camera in a way. 

It was the last scene, and then we were all going off to our different places around the world. It was emotional and it was hard to not cry. I wanted Murderbot to feel something in the scene, but I also didn't want to. I'm a goddamn Android, I don't want to cry! In that moment, that would've been out of character. You often hear actors like pushing, trying to cry on camera — this was definitely the opposite, where it just felt like it was just bubbling up and I was really fighting to hold it back, because I definitely felt that moment.

Especially when David [Dastmalchian] is opposite you crying.

Yeah. I love him and I'm so happy that we got to end it with that scene. It felt like a proper goodbye between two characters, but also two actors in a way. And we kind of worked a bit on the dialogue there.

In some previous drafts, Murderbot was a bit more verbal and explained a bit more about what it was doing and why. But I love the idea of, throughout, the whole notion of "Check the perimeter" has been such a thing away for it to get away from the group. And I thought it'd be interesting to kind of end it with the simplicity of that, but this time it really means something else, and it is something that Murderbot has to do.

And for Gurathin, who's been going after Murderbot during this whole journey and calling Murderbot out on like, "Oh, check the perimeter? I see what you're doing" to focus the scene around that. "I am going to check the perimeter" and Gurathin going, "Yeah, you go check the perimeter." I thought that was a beautiful way to end that relationship… For now.

Alexander Skarsgård struggled not to cry during final 'Murderbot' scene

Alexander Skarsgård breaks down SecUnit's big decision in the 'Murderbot' finale, and the scene that brought him to tears: 'I'm a goddamn an

there is more at the link

[mischievousscholar]

"How far can I go?" 🎶

To check the perimeter, as in establishing:

- the extent and characteristics of one's boundaries,

- the fuzzy place where safety and danger begin to blur, and

- consequently the range of the same place where one can live freely...

Yeah, Murdebot definitely needs to check the perimeter.

Book lovers know it will grow into itself on this fantastic journey, forge new relationships, and even return to old friends.

It's the perfect heroes life journey 🛤️

[mischievousscholar]

The Rise and Fall of Murderbot's obsession with Sanctuary Moon 🤖

Murderbot is enjoying the lack of eye contact in NYC - until it is stopped by an artist 🎨

While sitting (in full helmet), MB shares its hope of finding a crossover episode of its favourite premium quality entertainment show 📺

Afterwards, it is exhausted, thanks to Devon Rodriguez'sc efforts of chatting while sketching 🖼️

Check it out at https://www.instagram.com/reel/DKU2nNpAKFy/