"The Fault In Our Fans," by Paul Whittaker

It’s easy to pick on network executives for prematurely cancelling some of the greatest sci-fi shows on television, such as Firefly, Almost Human, Doll House, Caprica, and The Sarah Connor Chronicles. Read the user-generated reviews for any of these shows, and you’ll see phrases like, “Fox sucks,” and “The executives should be fired,” and “What do they even know about sci-fi?” This all may be true, but there are a lot of people to blame for the demise of these shows—creators, actors, advertisers, and sponsors—but surprisingly, some of the people most to blame are the fans themselves.

For decades, movies and TV shows have painted the portrait of a very unflattering, two-dimensional sci-fi fan, wearing his Ben Kenobi robes, pushing up his glasses, popping his zits, not getting laid, and freaking out if you use “the force” and “Captain Kirk” in the same sentence. This might be an accurate portrait of one or two fans out there, but there are millions of others who defy this description. Though each sci-fi fan is unique in his or her own way, most fall into one of five categories: The Purist, The Waiter, The Fanboy, The Closet, and The Newbie. As I discuss the characteristics of these types of fans, my aim isn’t merely to show how they differ but to highlight one important similarity between them: that they all, in their own way, pose a real threat to the health and longevity of the sci-fi television shows they cherish.

We’ve all met that guy—or maybe you are that guy—who can’t say anything nice about The Arrow or The Flash because of some discrepancy between the show and an obscure story line from the comic book forty years ago. The outfits are all wrong. She would never say that. He doesn’t appear until years later. Those two aren’t even from the same universe. That’s not how he would use his power. We get it. The creators take some liberties—perhaps too many liberties—in converting the story from the medium of a comic book to that of a television show. That’s not only to be expected, but there’s no way around it. You simply cannot adapt material into a different genre and medium without changing some key aspects.

The purists hold creators of sci-fi television to a higher standard, and for that they should be applauded, but they also hurt the industry in a couple ways. First, they alienate a lot of would-be fans. Some people just don’t want to be associated with the purists, so they stay away from the genre altogether, which seriously depletes the viewership needed to keep these fledgling sci-fi series afloat. And second, they hurt the industry because they can lead to irreconcilable creative differences between producers, actors, writers, and advertisers. A lot of compromise is required to create a television show, especially when adapting the material from a different medium, and a few purists who refuse to budge or compromise can shut down the entire enterprise. Many great sci-fi shows have died at the hands of purists demanding absolute virtue. It’s a travesty.

Sci-fi television has always suffered from those fair-weather fans who wait to watch the show, but the problem has reached new heights as so many shows are made available online through such platforms as Netflix, Crackle, and HULU. The reasons for waiting are varied. Some people don’t like to deal with the week-or-two lag between episodes or long breaks between seasons. Some people don’t want to get invested in a show only to have it cancelled. Some people want confirmation that it’s great before they’ll commit. Whatever the reason, they wait until entire seasons have been produced before even watching the pilot, but by then it’s often too late: the show has been cancelled due to low ratings. Networks don’t care how many people will eventually watch their show on Netflix, they want to know how many will watch it this week on their channel with their sponsors. That’s where the numbers come from. That’s where the money is made. And that’s why the waiter is a threat to your favorite sci-fi series. If you meet a waiter, tell them to stop waiting and start watching!

Perhaps this is the closest thing to that oft-parodied version of the sci-fi fan. Fanboy is a bit of misnomer in that he or she can be a boy, a girl, a man, a woman, a cyborg, an android, an alien, or anything in between. What unifies fanboys is their love of the sci-fi series. Some fanboys are purists, but only a few. Most fanboys would rather celebrate what’s great about their beloved show than to rail on what’s wrong with it. If the purists are the haters, the fanboys are the lovers. Often seen in full costume on Halloween or at comic-book conventions, fanboys enjoy emulating their favorite characters. Often, too, they decorate their cars and cubicles and bedrooms with trinkets and memorabilia of their shows: sonic screwdrivers and light-sabers and space ships and ray guns and full-size cut-outs of Princess Leia or Captain Harkness.

It’s difficult to accuse fanboys of hurting their favorite sci-fi series in any way—they are, after all, the biggest fans—but the reality is that they, too, tend to alienate potential fans of the show by being perceived as obsessive, geeky, or weird. Just as would-be fans are turned off by the purists, they also fear being mistaken for a fanboy (or eventually turning into one).

If you’re a fanboy, that’s okay. Just be cool about it.

Almost as irksome as the waiter is the closet: the person who loves (LOVES!) a particular sci-fi series, but who will never admit to it. I haven’t actually met one of them, because by their very definition they are not going to tell me they are a closet fan (else they would no longer be in the closet). But I know they’re out there. I know because I used to be one, watching Doctor Who at two in the morning while my wife was asleep, wishing I could carry a sonic screwdriver around or put a miniature TARDIS on my nightstand. Eventually, I got over my anxiety of being discovered. I declared to all my friends on Facebook that I was a lover of not only Doctor Who, but all things sci-fi, and I was pleasantly surprised to discover that so were most of my friends and family. Even my mom, who never talks of such things, declared her love of David Tennant, the tenth doctor.

So if you’re in the closet, come on out. Openly support your show and get others to support it too. Network executives need to know you’re out there. They won’t continue broadcasting the show if they think you’re not watching.

God bless the newbie. They are the uninitiated who have stumbled upon the wonders of sci-fi television. Perhaps they accidently stopped turning the channel on an odd-yet-compelling show and left it for a moment, “just to see what it is,” and then found themselves, an hour later, unable to turn it off. Maybe they were forced to watch a few episodes with their boyfriend. Maybe they grew up in a cave and only now have discovered how great Firefly is. Whatever the reason, they—like all of us—have to start their sci-fi journey somewhere.

Embrace the newbies around you. Mentor them. Guide them. Teach them the ways of responsible sci-fi viewership. Don’t let them become purists. Don’t let them recede to the closets. Don’t let them become a fanboy stereotype. Unite with them in forming the strongest fan-base in the history of the planet!

Whichever type of fan you are, all I ask is that you be the best fan you can be. If you’re worried about your show being cancelled, don’t be so quick to blame the network executives. Take some responsibility for what is going on. Be part of the solution. Love your show. Watch it. Cherish it. Share it. Promote it. But don’t be the reason that it gets cancelled.

Please watch responsibly.