Back in 2004, I eagerly sat down to watch the new Battlestar Galactica series. I'd had mixed feelings about the miniseries which had premiered the previous year. While I enjoyed the fast-paced plot of the desperate escape of humanity from the genocidal Cylons, there were some very dark points in the story, like a Cylon murdering an infant and having to abandon families in their escape. But overall, I liked it.
Then I saw the first episode, 33, which I still think is one of the most brilliant episodes of television ever written. Set after days of constant attacks every 33 minutes, it gets right to the heartstrings of exhaustion, persecution, and their effect on people. It's a powerful story that draws the audience in and makes them live it along with the characters.
The first two seasons matched that first episode, for the most part. They made the audience think and question their assumptions and understanding, the characters felt real and three-dimensional and the audience cared about their hopes, pain, and fears. The Cylons weren't a monolithic villain, they had reason and purpose behind their actions.
It was great and if it had been cancelled then, I would have howled to the skies about the greedy networks and their inability to understand brilliant speculative fiction.
But then the third and fourth season happened. And they were dark, going to a place of hopelessness and futility. And they didn't make sense, something that was confirmed when a DVD commentary revealed that the writers chose their storylines based on "what would be the most surprising to the audience." The creator, Ronald D. Moore became angry with the backlash from fans, complaining that he didn't understand why people were expecting a master-arc.
But it was a very simple answer. We expected a master-arc to be running through the series because every single episodes started with this information in the opening credits: "The Cylons were created by Man. They evolved. They rebelled. There are many copies. And they have a plan."
It was downright chilling watching each sentence flash up on screen. It made the Cylons seem incredibly organized and dangerous. But it turned out to be a false premise, because the writers didn't yet know what the Cylon's plan was.
Learning that there was no plan, no grand design, nothing except incomprehensible twists and turns, that was crushing to me as the audience. And it made me determined not to watch anything more written by Ron Moore, since he didn't appear to have any regrets about that and seemed to blame the audience instead of his own writing and plotting.
Then came 2014 and a new Ron Moore series, Outlander. I was conflicted again. People were telling me that it was great, a dramatic romance for the ages. I was intrigued by the concept where a woman from the forties goes back to the 1700s. I thought it was interesting, given that time travel almost always involves one end being the contemporary future. But I also had people warning me that it was dark, with lots of threats of rape and murder. And, of course, there was a bleak outlook for the characters, given the mass slaughter at Culloden only two years into their future. And it was written by Ron Moore, who had disappointed me so badly before.
Eventually I agreed to give it a shot, trying to take some comfort in the knowledge that the series is based on books by Diana Gabaldon and surely she is capable of satisfactorily wrapping up a plot. I found it dark, just as advertised, and had to give credit where credit is due. Ron Moore knows how to draw the audience into the characters' despair. I adored the character of Jamie and while I had some challenges with Claire, it was intriguing enough to keep me watching through the first season.
But now I'm finished the first season and I find myself reluctant to continue to the second. Because I'm waiting for that shoe to drop and all of the enjoyment I felt to disappear into sour disappointment of unfilled potential.
That is the danger of failing the audience, because disappointment will sting and linger a lot longer than any success. While it is important for a writer to surprise the audience, such a surprise should always make them go "Oh? Oh!" and want to flip back to the start or begin watching again so that they can see how neatly the pieces all fit together. It should not, under any circumstances, make them go "Huh?" and be able to walk away from the story because it doesn't make any sense.
To me, that kind of approach shows an inherent disrespect to the audience. It's the clickbait of plot devices, not caring if the audience is satisfied as long as they've provided income for the writer. I've heard advice to authors to always shock and surprise so that the audience is tempted into the next click: to watch or to buy.
But that advice can and does backfire. It might give some short term boosts but it carries a very long term penalty. Because no matter how much you tempt the audience, they will not return after they've been burned. Fool us once, shame on you. There won't be a chance to fool us twice.
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