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Cake day: June 12th, 2023

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  • I kept expecting William Boimler to show up before the end of the season, guess they’re holding onto that thread for next year

    I think it would be pretty funny if they just never picked up that thread again. William Boimler, already presumed dead, joins S31, does ???? because ?????, is never heard from again.

    Then again, this show could do a great job riffing off of how counterproductive and ultimately stupid S31 is, in addition to their absurdly twisted and seemingly inconsistent history. So I'd be perfectly happy to see that too.


  • This was an excellent finale (as all four of them have been, not at all a given with modern Trek or frankly modern television in general), and fully justifies the somewhat weaker setup episode before it.

    "A paywall on a bomb?" might be the best joke this show has delivered in it's whole run. I don't often crack up while watching these episodes, but this one really got me. At the very least it's up there with "It's a bomb! You can only use it once!" from Wej Duj. I'm sensing a pattern.

    In more typical lower key Lower Decks humor, Boimler and Rutherford arguing about if Locarno looks like Tom Paris was excellent.

    I do wonder what the plan is with Tendi. We've seen supposed major shakeups like this dropped into previous finales, of course, with Boimler leaving the Cerritos for the Titan at the end of season one and Freeman getting arrested at the end of Season 2, which were quickly reverted in the first few episodes of the subsequent season. Odds are that's the play here. I hope so, because losing Tendi would suck. She's a delight.

    Why was Boimler the acting captain when the command staff took off on the captain's yacht? There was a full Lieutenant right behind him on the bridge, and surely tens of others on the ship who are more senior and more qualified. A little bit of a main character boost there.


  • This episode was okay, I guess? It feels very strange to be sitting on one half of an obvious two parter from this show, and recent Trek shows have left me with an instinctive suspicion of mystery-related plots. This is a good writing team so I have hopes they'll carry this rather bizare setup into a satisfying resolution that actually makes sense, but I'm much more nervous than I usually am.

    To play it all out: why the heck is Nick Locarno flying around in a little ship capable of disabling the systems on larger warships, transporting(?) the ships and crews to some planet while leaving wreckage behind? If this turns out to be another figurative Kelpian dilithium tantrum I'm not going to be pleased.

    I like what they were trying to do with Mariner in this episode, but for whatever reason it didn't land quite right with me. Her whole pivot into even-more-than-normal overtly reckless behavior three episodes after the supposed precipitating event felt very abrupt, and the scene where she talks it over and appears to resolve her issues with Ma'ah felt rushed, almost forced. The Sito Jaxa makes reasonable sense as a backstory component, but I found it distracting and it does add to the "small universe" syndrome that expanding IPs risk falling into. Further, the "your dead friend wouldn't want you to have emotional problems" bit is a cliche that rarely lands with me, and this time was no different: these aren't problems that people can typically resolve simply by recognizing that their emotional reactions are irrational, so being won over with a rational argument isn't very convincing. It speaks well of Mariner and Rodenberry's future humans that this worked, I guess, but it does make it less relatable.

    Maybe I'll be sold more easily on rewatch. We'll see.

    The B-plot with Freeman and her deception was decent, although as noted elsewhere Rutherford's presence feels oddly tacked on. I guess they wanted an engineer around, just in case?

    The Jaxa connection does give us a better shot at nailing down Mariner's actual age, which was presumably somewhere between 17 and 22 (and likely on the later end of that range) at the time of the Nova Squadron incident in 2368. That puts her in her early- to mid-thirties, and lines up well with her service record. We can also confirm that Mariner was not a young child aboard the Enterprise-D, which launched when she was in her mid to late teens.






  • I dislike cringe humor and watching characters be uncomfortable, so I didn't love the Rutherford/Tendi plotline, but there were enough cute moments in there to make it worthwhile. It feels like the show is openly baiting "shippers" at every opportunity, and this is the most flagrant example yet.

    With that said - and making no claims about if romance is in any way necessary or inevitable here - these two being so close is adorable.

    For a therapist, Migleemo is either really bad at reading other people's emotions, or deviously brilliant at appearing clueless. Possibly both?

    I appreciate the continued development of Mariner as a person who keeps getting in her own way, slowly coming to terms with that and trying to figure out what to do about it. It's a problem I don't relate to at all in the specifics, but the more general "why do I keep doing this" is very easy to connect to, and I know I'm not alone in that. Her Ferengi friend laying it all out for her here seems like an important step, and I wonder where she's going to turn next.

    This probably deserves a deeper dive at some point, but the further we go the more I see Mariner's path as a more realistic and relatable trajectory for Michael Burnham to have taken. Both are superbly talented people capable of great things. Both are also reckless, supremely overconfident in their own judgement, and prone to self destructive behavior, all of which combines to put them and those around them in dangerous situations. Burnham in S1 right before the Mirror Universe jump and Mariner in the first episode of Lower Decks are in fairly similar places, both having been recently bumped down from more senior positions due to major fuckups. This is where their paths diverge: both continue to display all the behaviors that got them in trouble, but Mariner remains a lower decker on relatively unimportant assignments, with both her strengths and weaknesses clearly recognized by her superiors. Burnham, meanwhile, is fully returned to her previous high station and even promoted beyond that because her most problematic behaviors are improbably rewarded by a universe which places her in the middle of multiple extraordinarily significant events. I strongly related to S1 Burnham, and really wanted to see her grapple with her weaknesses and develop into a better person and officer over time. I didn't get that opportunity, but Mariner gives a second chance at telling that slow-burn story and thus far, Lower Decks has done very well with it.













  • I'm honestly disappointed about the double release, because now I have to process two awesome episodes at the same time and I keep getting them mixed up.

    Quick hitters, in no particular order:

    • love Ransom demonstrating competent personnel management, another "surprise" twist of stuff working as it should.
    • the Shax/Ransom exercise scene is fabulous
    • Did that macro virus really get stuck behind a panel on the bridge for a decade (ish), or did curator guy cook it up to enhance the exhibit?
    • the whole Tuvix sequence was the perfect absurdist sequel to the original episode. Apparently T'Lynn and all of the merged persons are also cold blooded murderers in their own special ways.


  • Do they? In the wild, the babies burst out of a host and are immediately capable of running around and spitting on things, which become infected and eventually babies burst out, onwards and onwards.

    The Gorn practice of having separate breeding spaces is clearly an artificial construct designed (presumably by the Gorn themselves) to make it possible to have a functional civilization of adult beings. In the wild, anywhere that has viable hosts is a viable breeding area, and these creatures could not possibly have evolved this life cycle without viable hosts commonly available to them.




  • The Borg may believe in perfection, but I think they are on a fools errand.

    @T156@lemmy.world touched on this, but the whole point of the Borg's search for perfection is that it's an impossible task which will occupy them forever: a perpetual salve against boredom, for an entity which can (or at least thinks they can) trivially accomplish virtually any concrete task they attempt. I believe Seven even refers to this explicitly, although I am unable to find a quote.

    From this perspective, stumbling into the Omega molecule was actually an unfortunate accident. Instead of the slow, inexorable march of incremental progress towards their nebulous goal, the Borg found something so "perfect" that they felt they actually could achieve "perfection" by harnessing it, and will pay virtually any price to get there. The is dangerous both because it risks leaving them without a purpose if they "succeed", but also at great risk from the more conventional disasters that Omega particles are so prone to.


  • There's a couple things here. The most obvious explanation is that there just weren't very many Constitution class ships in service, and their attrition rate was brutal.

    As for why there were so few in the first place, and why more were not built to replace the losses, the conventional wisdom prior to Discovery coming out (and perhaps it still holds) was that the Connie was actually substantially less automated, and less well designed to facilitate automation, than it's rough contemporaries and immediate successors. The Connie refit gives some support to this assertion in that an extremely extensive rebuild was apparently necessary to get the ship to modern standards only 20ish years after their original commissioning. Such an extensive refit process could very well have still fallen short of what a brand new ship designed from the ground up to use the latest tech was capable of, meaning that it was more cost effective to crank out Excelsiors where frontline ships were needed, and far more cost effective to build Mirandas and Oberths to do lightweight tasks in safe areas.

    In other words, the Constitution class was an awkward, inflexible, and inefficient design which happened to be in the right place, at the right time, and just good enough to have a staring role in a key period of Federation history. It carved it's niche and made it's mark, but was rightly supplanted by better ships as Federation technological and industrial capacity progressed into the late 23rd century.


  • I don't think I would agree with the claim that "natural, biological systems are actually often perfect models for ... efficiency." Natural, biological systems tend to get the job done (natural selection at work), but often do so in bizare, highly inefficient ways.

    For example, most of us have eyes. Our eyes generally do an extraordinarily good job absorbing reflected light and allow us to perceive an enormous amount of visual information regarding our surroundings. So far, so good.

    Look a little deeper, though, and the structure of our eyeballs quickly shows the vestiges of it's bogosort design process: vertibrate eyes all have a blind spot where the optic nerve blocks some incoming light from reaching our photoreceptor cells. We generally don't notice this because we have two eyes, and our brains are pretty good at merging the images we get from each one to cover for whatever the other missed (including constructing some outright fabrications where needed). Essentially, the human eye is a camera with the power cord routed across the lens: an obviously idiotic design decision that persists because it wasn't quite bad enough to be completely debilitating and could be mostly compensated for. Cephalopod eyeballs, which evolved independently of ours, do not have this particular weakness (although they do have their own suboptimal quirks).

    It's not hard to look at the bevy of ingenious yet plainly stupid constructs that evolution has created and decide that they fall well short of any idealized standard of "perfection." Why should the Borg accept a visual sensor with such a glaring flaw, when they know they can do it better?