Why does the Star-Lord/Gamora ship bug me so much?

No, it's not just the mind-numbing predictability of the fact that if the protagonist is male, and a physically attractive female happens to be a major member of the cast, they'll most likely get together - especially if they argue with each other.

Heck, this mandatory component of a happy ending doesn't even require that the female is a major character, or even that she's really a character.

She could be the barely-mentioned non-character who gets handed to him like the prize at the bottom of the cereal box as a reward for his heroics, no relationship development needed, as long as the requirement that a happy ending must include romance is fulfilled.

That pet peeve of mine notwithstanding, the bland obviousness of the couple is forgivable. It's a big obstacle to me actually LIKING the ship, but it isn't what makes me wish the ship would sink.

It was two scenes in particular that ruined the Peter/Gamora ship for me.

​Let's look at the first and worst of them:

Peter: (Pulls Gamora into a dance.)

Gamora: What are you doing, Peter?

Peter: Dance with me.

Gamora: I'm not going to dance with you.

Peter: (Ignores what she just said and keeps dancing with her.)

Well, isn't that cute. He loves her so much that he insists on sharing an activity he enjoys with her, even though she just said "no", to prove to himself that they're compatible.

Maybe you're saying, "What's wrong with that?"

First off, imagine if you were standing in a bar, and some guy just grabbed you and started dancing with you. You told him no, which SHOULD be the end of it... but he just keeps dancing with you.

Granted, Peter and Gamora know each other, so it isn't QUITE as creepy as the stranger-in-a-bar scenario. But it doesn't stop there.

After Gamora threatens to kill him if he ever tells anyone about this (in case you were worried that I was going to focus solely on the man's questionable relationship skills), the conversation continues:

Peter: When are we gonna do something about this unspoken thing between us?

Gamora: What unspoken thing?

Peter: This... Cheers, Sam and Diane... a guy and a girl on a TV show who dig each other... but never say it because if they do, the ratings would go down... sort of thing.

Gamora: There's no unspoken thing.

Peter: Well, it's a catch-22, because if you said it, then it would be spoken, and you would be a liar. So, by not saying it... you are telling the truth, and admitting that there is.

Me:​ Um... WHAT. For one thing, that doesn't make sense. How does her saying there is no unspoken thing constitute admitting that there is an unspoken thing?

​Now you're just twisting her words, and refusing to hear anything but what you WANT to hear, no matter how nonsensical.

And, more importantly, SHE JUST SAID NO. And when a woman (or ANY love interest of any gender or lack thereof) says no, that's the part where you back off.

But what if there IS an unspoken thing, and they just don't know or won't admit to it?
​
Sure, you might be noticing something that they're not. Or you could be projecting your own wishes onto them. Or maybe they really aren't interested yet, but will start to feel differently as the relationship evolves.

But no matter which of those scenarios you're looking at, the basic rule holds: when someone says no, ESPECIALLY in the area of romance, you respect their boundaries and their right to make their own decisions, and you back the heck off.

Does Peter do that?

​No.

And not only does he blatantly ignore her "no" twice in quick succession, but now he's trying to twist her words so that no matter what she says or how clearly she says it, her "no" means "yes" to him.

Now picture that happening in the bedroom.

Are you starting to see how creepy this is? Guess what  - it gets worse.

In case you still think this "no"-defying behavior is romantic or at least OK, I've got bad news:

Outside of sugarcoated fictionland, where toxic relationship behavior is played off as harmless and is even romanticized, refusing to accept a love interest's "no" and disrespecting their physical boundaries are actually signs of a potential date rapist.

Now, you might be thinking, "You're blowing this out of proportion. Peter's a good guy. He would never rape Gamora."

And you're right about part of that - of course Peter wouldn't rape Gamora.

For one thing, he isn't that kind of person.

​For another, she's a highly trained killer who would force-feed him his own penis in less time than it would take to say "I've made a tactical error".

And for a third, like I noted above, this is sugarcoated wish-fulfillment fictionland.

In stories like this, the fantasy that "The woman I want doesn't REALLY mean 'no'; she's just playing hard to get, or she doesn't know what she wants, or she doesn't want to be seen as a slut" is treated as an accurate perception, and violating her boundaries by keeping on pushing when she's already said "no" is treated like it's romantic instead of the warning sign that it is.

And that's where the second ship-killing scene comes in: the part where Gamora says "It's just an unspoken thing".

Because it's not like her "no" actually MEANT anything; she was just a confused, frigid woman who didn't know or wouldn't admit that she really was in love with the guy she was telling to back off, right?

If this were an isolated incident with no real-world implications, it wouldn't bother me as much.

Unfortunately, stories like this are symptomatic of a widespread myth that "no means yes", which causes vast amounts of suffering in real-world people, many of whom probably ignored the warning signs of a potential rapist because pop culture had taught them that continuing to push after hearing "no" is romantic, not threatening.

And it doesn't just affect the recipient of the unwanted attention - it also affects well-meaning non-rapist pursuers who think they're doing the right thing by continuing to push, because that's what they were taught.

All that being the case, I was very disappointed in Guardians of the Galaxy for supporting this myth by rewarding Star-Lord for ignoring Gamora's clearly expressed opinions and desires.

In reality, most targets of unwanted pursuit are not trained assassins who could easily fend off a pursuer who's decided to just keep doing what they want regardless of their love interest's wishes.​

For real people, when someone keeps pushing after they've said "no", it isn't sexy or romantic. It's annoying at best, often scary, and at worst, a sign that they're in danger of suffering serious physical and/or psychological harm.

But what about Gamora threatening to kill him? Why does that only warrant a brief mention?

Because anyone with two brain cells to rub together knows that threatening to kill people is bad.

You don't need an article from me to tell you that, though there is a disturbing trend in fiction where female violence against males is downplayed, probably because women are still perceived (on an emotional level, if not an intellectual one) as being less potent and dangerous than males.

But when it comes to ignoring a prospective or current partner's "no", many people sincerely believe that that's OK or even good.

This results in soon-to-be victims ignoring the warning signs that they were trained to see as a positive, and non-predators inadvertently making themselves look like potential rapists who should be avoided.

The Guardians franchise seriously needs a scene where someone - preferably Rocket - calls Peter out on his boundary-busting crap.

Partly for the reasons outlined above, and partly because a cranky racoon with terrible relationship skills giving Peter relationship advice is a funny mental image.

Are you sick of seeing stories romanticize suitors who ignore their love interests' desires, opinions, and right to say "no"?

Do you think I'm overreacting?

And have you had experiences where people trampled your boundaries and ignored your "no", and seemed to think they were doing the right thing?

I look forward to your comments.

It's not often that I inwardly cheer at the sight of a fictional kiss. The 2014 film Maleficent had one of those rare exceptions.

Those who know me have heard me complain before about how romance - particularly romance between a male and female - seems to be a nearly mandatory ingredient for a happy ending as far as some writers are concerned.

The couple doesn't have to fit well. They don't need to have known each other long, or to have interacted with a way that justifies the swift development of their bond.

They just have to be male, female, and prominent figures in the same story, and there's an excessively high chance that they'll end up together, even if the story doesn't justify it.

Now, don't get me wrong. I have no problem with romance in a story if it's written well.

It's the "if they're male and female, they MUST get together regardless of compatibility, whether or not the romantic subplot is even remotely relevant or necessary, as an obligatory part of a happy ending" thing that bugs me.

This trope seems to be part of a larger societal trend.

Romance is treated as necessary.

Relationships are expected to develop quickly.

And people place so much emphasis on one kind of love that they devalue the others.

How many times have you heard people bemoaning the existence of the dreaded "friendzone"? Yes, being in unrequited love sucks, but comparing an offer of friendship to an offer of a dead dog is pretty gross.

This trend is demonstrated by an argument I recently saw below a YouTube video about Madoka Magica.

I won't name the characters to protect you from spoilers, but suffice it to say, one of them had gone to extreme lengths to ensure another's happiness, and it triggered a debate about whether or not the character in question had romantic feelings for the girl she was protecting.

Some of the commenters made a good point: "If the characters were opposite sexes, a lot of people in our heteronormative society would assume that the protector's feelings were romantic."

I certainly couldn't argue with that.

At the same time, I couldn't help but wonder how much the truth of that statement depended not just on heteronormativity, but on the mindset I mentioned above: that romance is assumed to be the default outcome of close relationships, to the point of devaluing non-romantic bonds.

Some of the commenters scoffed at the idea that a bond so powerful could be anything but romantic. But what does that say to or about asexual and aromantic people?

Does that mean people who can't feel romantic or sexual attraction can't be just as devoted and passionate as people who can?

What about family members? Comrades in arms? Close friends? Nakama?

Can NO other bond besides romance drive a person to go to whatever lengths are necessary to protect a person they love?

That seems to be the assumption.

That's why I found the relationship in Maleficent so refreshing.

The princess is comatose. They've brought in the prince. The three fairies pressure the young man, who has met the princess all of one time, to revive her with true love's kiss.

And, to my great relief... it didn't work.

That's not to say that love at first sight doesn't exist, or that unconditional love for all people regardless of how well you know them wouldn't have been an acceptable explanation for the kiss working. And I certainly don't have a problem with the idea of Aurora and Phillip getting to know each other at a more reasonable pace afterward.

But the expectation that romantic love will blossom after the very first meeting, JUST because they're a male and female of attractive appearance and approximately equal age, is a tired and inaccurate trope that I was happy to see subverted.

And then, to my even greater joy, when Maleficent kissed Aurora on the forehead, the dormant girl stirred.

Now there's a fictional kiss I can cheer for. Because nonsexual friendship and platonic love are just as valid and valuable as romance, and it's high time that more stories - and people in real life - acknowledged that.

Do you think romance has been made too obligatory, at the expense of good storytelling and non-romantic relationships?

Do you have any thoughts to add, or did you notice something I missed?

I'd love to see your thoughts in the comments!

The battle of wits between Scorpius and his new mental sparring partners was fascinating to watch. His devious side is in fine form, executing off-the-cuff bluffs and political maneuvers with the agility of an Olympic gymnast.

But he's finally met his match in the calculating, technologically advanced Kkore, and before he knows it, he's in WAY over his head - as Farscape characters usually are.

His daring nature, resilience, and ability to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat even when he's alone and without resources, are as impressive as always. And I loved the relationship between him and his new pet.

All in all, the comics would have been perfect if it weren't for one little thing... or should I say, one big, huge, HORRIFYING problem that completely ruined the entire series for me.

And that problem was... Scorpius wasn't Scorpius.

His abilities and skill set were there, but his core motivations and personality weren't. It was like half his soul had disappeared, and the resulting empty space had been possessed by the combined spirits of Starscream and Light Yagami.

OK, so I know the comics are canon. The writers can make the characters be whatever they want them to be, and I can't do anything about it.

But I just can't see comic-book Scorpius as the 'real' Scorpius because...

...in my not so humble opinion, NO story that involves the phrase "Scorpius assists in a genocide against the Sebacean race" has any place in Farscape's canon.

Now, maybe you're going to say that looking out for himself at the expense of everyone else is Scorpius' M.O., and that he was only ever using the Sebaceans to get his revenge.

To explore that, I'm going to refer to Incubator, the episode in which Scorpius' backstory and motives are first explored.

In Incubator, as in the comics, we see a young Scorpius being horribly abused by his violent caretaker, Tauza. What he goes through is enough to leave anyone vengeful and messed up in the head, but it's his conversation with Captain Molayne that casts doubt on the comics' portrayal of him.

When the captain finds out about Scorpius' quest for the truth about his parents, he asks if the intention behind his search is "so you can find out who you are?"

To which Scorpius replies, "To find out... who I should be."

Which is to say, he didn't already know.

His motivations were not yet set, whereas in the comics, they showed his vengeful streak as having been established before he ever escaped from the Scarrans.

When Tauza recaptured him, and asked him why he'd rejected the Scarrans, his answer wasn't "because you tortured me and did your best to convince me that I was weak and inferior". It was "you lied about my parents" - a motivation entirely ignored by the comics.

And when she tortured him for information, he laughed at her for her failure. But when she showed him the video of Rylani being raped, THAT was what left him weeping on the floor. When she told him that the Scarrans intended to wipe out the Sebacean race because they were useless as "breeding stock", he struggled to breathe.

He laughed in the midst of his own suffering, but was devastated by the suffering of people he'd never even met, and the prospect of the further destruction that could await them in the future.

That isn't the only time when he showed that he cared about Sebacean lives. In Wolf in Sheep's Clothing, when the Command Carrier was imploding around him, he didn't pull a Javio and try to evacuate right away.

Instead, he fought his way through the flaming wreckage to find a working comms station, so he could sound the evacuation (just in case the PKs hadn't already figured out that it was time to leave), and then hauled Braca's apparently evacuation-incapable ass out of the room.

He performed a similar act of Braca-saving when his favorite lieutenant got shot during the Peacekeeper Wars, despite the fact that the rescue required him to walk out of cover and into the line of fire, where he could have been shot in his unarmored face.

When Drillic sent a pilot into a wormhole prematurely, and the pilot died, he was punished for wasting a Sebacean life carelessly.

And in Season of Death, Scorpius could have allowed Kobrin, who was chomping at the bit to challenge Crais to a space race, to do so right away, thus diverting Talyn's search for them and decreasing the likelihood that they'd be found and killed. Instead, he kept the Moyans at bay until evading detection became impossible, and only then did he send the pilot out, when the Carrier was close enough to give him a fighting chance.

Long explanation short, while his own suffering may have contributed to his desire for revenge against the Scarrans, he seemed much more upset about the suffering and death of Sebaceans.

So when the comics portrayed his desire for revenge as springing purely from his own childhood abuse, and Scorpius himself as not caring about Sebaceans to the point where he'd assist in their destruction in order to increase his political power and save his own skin, it rang completely false.

Now, speaking of political power, that was also problematic. In the comics, he was obsessed with power and control. He couldn't cope with being an underling; he wanted to be on top of the food chain. Not as a means to the end of stopping the genocidal Scarrans, but as an end in and of themselves.

In fact, he wanted it so badly that he assisted a violent race in their quest to take over the galaxy... which is exactly what he spent the entire on-screen series trying to prevent!

So much for "I don't want power, I want revenge". Which is weird, because they actually showed the exact scene where he said that as a flashback in the comics... and then proceeded to ignore it by making Scorpius fixate on his own autonomy and political power above all loyalty, morality and self-preservation, and even above his cherished revenge.

I mean, sure, he got his revenge to a certain degree - by securing the Scarrans' surrender - but when the Kkore decided to go easier on the Scarrans than on the Sebaeans, Scorpius was OK with that.

What the actual frell?

It was like they decided to keep all the stuff that made him a badass antagonist, but completely get rid of everything that justified his ruthless use of his formidable skills.

It would have been easy... SO FRELLING EASY... to keep him in-character.

The fascinating battle of wits could have stayed intact. The displays of badass bravery didn't have to be rewritten. They would barely have even had to change the plot.

ALL they would have had to do was to have his ascent through the Kkore's ranks be motivated primarily by a desire to discover their weakness and destroy them, instead of being motivated by a desire for power, self-preservation and an utterly un-Scorpius-like admiration for a genocidal race.

Sure, the Kkore are "elegant, powerful and rational", as he put it - but the Scarrans could also be elegant, they were more powerful than the Sebaceans with whom Scorpius once sided, and they were sometimes more rational than High Command.

But he didn't side with the Scarrans, even when his deception of Staleek gave him the opportunity to do so. Instead, he joined the losing side in order to resist them.

Not because they abused him as a kid, but because they lied about his parents, let his mom and the other test subjects die, and threatened his mother's species.

All in all, while the character in the comics was a fascinating villain protagonist, he just wasn't Scorpius.

He was the boldness, intelligence, vengefulness and resilience of Scorpius, the self-centered arrogance of Light Yagami, and the power-hungry case of Chronic Backstabbing Disorder that was Starscream, all rolled into a single psychological mutant.

One that, compared to the selfless anti-genocide crusader I came to know and love in the on-screen series, could pretty much be summed up by a Jack Sparrow quote:

So, bottom line: are the comics worth reading?

If you're the type who sees Scorpius as an evil, self-centered villain, and you prefer him that way, go ahead. You'll LOVE these comics.

But if you, like me, find his selfless love for the Sebacean race to be one of the most endearing aspects of him, and you were impressed by the way he could go through hezmana and come out of it still capable of caring about people who would never care about him in return, then watching his body walk around with half of his soul missing will probably be about as enjoyable as receiving half a kitten for Christmas.

As for me, the day when I consider this portrayal of him to be canon will be the day when John uses a wormhole to blow up Earth, and everyone thinks it's normal.

Which is a real pity, because some of his maneuvers were truly brilliant, the hints at the coming plotline were tantalizing, and the relationship between Scorpius and his pet lizard John was absolutely made of cute.

Now it's your turn. Did you read the Scorpius comics?

Did you think they were in-character, or did they bother you, too?

I look forward to reading your comments.

There are several basic components that make up a story. Premise, plot, execution and characters are the four most fundamental ones that come to mind. And it's amazing how much you can get away with screwing up the first two if you can get the third and fourth ones right.

I've been rewatching some episodes of House: M.D. during the last few weeks, and it really serves to highlight what's most important in storytelling.

​The premise, while good, is hardly earth-shattering; it's a show about a doctor who's a brilliant, idiosyncratic jerk, and the plot pretty much always consists of "House and his team make one wrong diagnosis after another while new symptoms rear their heads, until the correct amount of time has been spent, and THEN they get to diagnose them correctly."

So how does a show that's so terminally formulaic get to be so good?

Execution and characters.

While the lines the show is colouring between are almost always the same, the colours they use are so interesting that it doesn't get old.

The patient gets sick, gets sicker, then eventually gets diagnosed - that's a given. But the patients themselves are intriguing and varied, and they always manage to draw out the personalities of the main cast. No matter who the patient is, somebody's buttons are going to be pushed, and the resulting character development is great to watch.

And then there's the execution. By that, I mean the mood, the tone, the lighting, the pacing, the foreshadowing, all the little technical details. This show does them well.

​It draws the viewer into what's happening on the screen, enough that if you can forgive it for the fact that you KNOW when the patient is going to be diagnosed, it's a thoroughly enjoyable watch.

Have you ever noticed a show, book or movie like that? One where the plot was repetitive, or the premise overused, but it still managed to be really good?

If so, I'd love it if you'd name some examples in the comments section. Who knows - you might help someone to find a new favourite, or at least a guilty pleasure. :)

I don’t mind the occasional damsel in distress. The little girl in a house fire, the civilian in a war zone, the badass warrioress who was legitimately outnumbered or outmatched, but still put up a fight worthy of who and what she is before being taken down... those all make sense.
 
But then there are the ones who have absolutely no reason to even need rescuing in the first place. Take this sorry specimen, for example.

I dearly hope that she wasn’t like this in the original books, because the movie version is just forehead-smackingly bad.

“Bernard, help! Wait for me!” she cries pitifully, while attempting to flee from a predator.

What.

To start with, she’s a mouse.

What is a mouse? It’s a small furry animal that tends to respond to threats by running away from them. OK, so it’s not a very badass form of life.

​But still, I think we’ve established that it knows how to run away.

Except for Bianca. Apparently she fails at being a rodent.

But at least she’s only the janitor, right? She’s not a trained agent or anything, so she has every reason to need to be rescued by the... wait.

They’re trying to tell me that the rescue agent - who I HOPE would have had some training, considering the fact that she represents her entire country in a field-work-heavy rescue organization - doesn’t even know how to run away without being dragged by the paw?

(Also, have the makers of this film ever tried to run while holding hands? It’s harder than running with your hands free.)

I don’t mind the Damsel in Distress trope when it makes sense, but... wow.

If you're going to use it, make sure that it makes sense in light of the characters' personalities, professions and abilities. And that it doesn't completely violate common sense.

Is there a shred of logic in this example, of which I’m somehow unaware? Let me know if you could find it!

Have you ever had a time when you watched or read something really popular, and just couldn’t get into it?
 
A little while ago, I watched the “Hunger Games” movie, and as I watched, I waited to be impressed... and waited... and waited... but it never really happened.
 
It’s not that it was a bad movie. The acting, atmosphere, characters and pacing were fairly solid. But I just couldn’t bring myself to care about said characters, and thus the movie, very much.
 
Why not? Well, I think it’s because, between the movie and I, we were approaching the whole thing backward.
 
Most of the main characters are going to die. It’s right there in the premise. And when you know the stakes and the outcome before you even really know the characters, there’s just no point in caring about anyone, except for the obvious survivor-to-be.
 
The movie’s premise, and my resulting expectations, introduced the wrong element first, and thus all but ruined the whole thing.
 
As I contemplated my inability to really enjoy such a popular story, I found myself contrasting it with another popular story, “Puella Magi Madoka Magica”. For those who haven’t heard of it, it’s a magical girl anime that basically takes its home genre and deconstructs it in the most heart-wrenching ways it can come up with.

But it doesn’t start out that way. Yes, it opens with an epic fight scene, but then it moves on to show the characters living their everyday lives. You see their personalities, their desires, their friendships, their loves.

Ominous hints are dropped here and there, but the storytellers played their drama and danger cards wisely; they really made me care about the characters before putting them in harm’s way.

Would I have liked The Hunger Games more if I'd read the books first? Hard to say. I haven't read them yet. Yeah, I know, time to slap me. Maybe someday I'll read them, and write another blog post about that. But in the meantime, I watched what I watched, and thus I write.
 
Have you ever noticed the difference between stories like these?

Have you watched or read a story that was objectively good, but you just couldn’t get into it because it didn’t get you to care about the characters enough before it threatened to kill them?