The Bad Batch – A Good Start – The Clone Wars Season 7 Episode 1 Builds a Beautiful Launch Platform


Hello my wonderful viewers and welcome to another episode of Betty Adams over-analyzes. Today we look at the first episode of Star Wars The Clone Wars First episode, “The Bad Batch”.


The episode opens with a pale and haggard General Anakin standing stiffly beside a grim and determined Mace Windu. They are too far apart. Cody and Rex approach, and for a moment Anakin’s face flickers with, concern, compassion, for a moment he pulls himself out of his selfishness and self pity to, at least, attempt to care for his friend.
Not to bury the lead, I enjoyed the episode. “The Bad Batch” is a solid platform to launch the final season. It had all the elements that made the first six seasons of The Clone Wars so beloved by the fandom. It had the same rough and gritty magic that so firmly established this animated spin off as more solid cannon than the prequel trilogy in the minds of the public. It had the heart of that magic and the creators clearly understand what made The Clone Wars so special. To wit, any of your beloved characters can, and will die.
You care about the clones, and you know kriffing well that they have no plot armor. Any one of the main characters might die at any moment. Not only is that a possibility it is a probability. The show can afford to spend episode after episode getting you attached to a clone and then have this beloved fictional friend you’ve made quietly shanked in the neck two episodes before the season's end.
They can do this because there are always more clones for you to transfer that attachment to. You are presented with a team of brothers, each made individual in some way, each one you care about, and you know that some of them are going to die. You just don’t know who. This is not something they can risk in most shows. To kill a main character is too much of a risk. A waste of an expensive CGI design, a waste of a voice actor, but here, there is one voice actor and the designs are meant to be interchangeable. The viewers are meant to imprint on the characters actions, not their appearance, and that gives the show a massive amount of creative freedom and keeps the audience in true fear for the lives of their favorite characters.
But for all that, I don’t think that the battles, the war Rex and company are fighting is going to be the focus of this season.
This looks like it’s going to be about the dying of the light. Or rather, the last stand of the light before it goes dormant.
The opening scene is brilliantly staged. Anakin and Mace Windu are framed to illustrate their strained and broken relationship. They are clearly working together but there is little to no camaraderie left between them. They are presenting the perfect united front to the clones. Or at least they are trying. In season one Anakin would have been smiling, pushing into Mace’s personal space. Mace would have been accepting the boisterous young knight with his usual brand of gruff care. But now disrespect and loathing fill the space between them.
Anakin is pale, sickly, gone are the warm golden tones of season one. His light is dying, unable to pierce the darkness and warm everyone around him as it once did. But it is still there, in a touching moment Anakin’s face softens and his light tries to glow again. Tellingly it is when he reaches outside of his own misery and tries to do something for Rex. There is a flicker of Anakin’s legendary compassion as he tries to actively express care and love for another. But this is a wartime scene, and a battered and tired Rex refuses the extended hand. There is no time, he doesn’t want to bother General Skywalker with his personal problems, he has to keep soldiering on for the greater good. And Anakin’s light flickers down again.
All this happens in moments in the opening scene, and then the show moves on to its meat. The Bad Batch show up and take Rex and Cody on an adventure. The main plot point is teased, explored, and revealed. The landscapes are beautiful, the movements are smooth. The human characters move more like humans and less like robots. The tech has clearly advanced in the years it took to bring the seventh season to completion and it shows. The explosions are sparkling and the foliage is lush.
And the beauty of the natural world depicted is used as an excellent contrast to the graying, aging clones. It hangs over the heads of the audience that these supposed men of war are at the oldest fourteen years old. They are boys. But they are gray, scarred, and wrinkled. In their short lives they have seen more death and destruction that most sentients see in a hundred years.
Rex and Cody take a long moment to linger over a photo capture of some of their departed brothers. Boys who may have never made it into their teens. This sets up the main plot point of the season.
And so the show is set up. The brutal cost and grim reality of war, forced on children who grew up too soon. Friends trying to keep each other alive even as they themselves fall apart. The story is looking to be good. The aesthetic is beautiful. The first episode skillfully sets up both the greater conflicts that the Jedi are facing and the similar and more intimate conflicts the clones face on a daily basis. And while it is hard to care about the great conflicts whose ends we have known our entire lives, it becomes all too easy to care about the clones, whose fates we are unsure of.
There is unfortunately a dozy of an albatross hanging over the neck of this first episode. Namely that half formed creation that was released on the internet several years ago that spoiled the major plot points and left a poorly rendered afterimage on the mind of the fandom. However if you can ignore or forget that this episode is a solid start.
It wasn’t anything ground breaking or mind blowing. It was however extremely satisfying. It felt like a well constructed base for the show to launch from and I am looking forward to more episodes.
Peace out my wonderful viewers.  

 Humans are Weird – A Little Punchy


“Yes Sir,” Human Friend Drevven said grimly into his communications unit. “Of course Sir!”
Seventh Flap paused in his flight to listen to the conversation. The human on the other peak of the wave was simply giving a series of orders in a calm voice but Human Friend Drevven seemed to be growing increasingly more agitated. His furless skin was flushing as the blood rushed to the surface and his body began to radiate heat into the chill air of the base, enough heat that Seventh Flap was tempted to forgo propriety and snuggle up against the back of the human’s neck, but he restrained himself and waited for the human to finish his call.
“Goodbye,” Human Friend Drevven finally concluded in a tight voice.
He dropped his arm to his side and spun away to march toward the door. Seventh Flap thought about calling out to get his attention but shouting in the human hearing range was difficult and if he circled around Seventh Flap could catch Human Friend Drevven’s eye just as he came into the full sunlight. Then he could get permission to land right on the human’s collar and get both the warmth from the local star and the local large mammal. He prepared to swing around between the human’s head and the door frame but stopped suddenly as the human gave a low snarl and swung his fist forward in an almost painfully slow arc.
Seventh Flap gave a pip of panic and darted forward in an attempt to stop the vector. He logically knew he could never hope to redirect even the mass of the human’s hand, let alone the applied force of the muscles but he acted on instinct. He did manage to reach the hand before it struck the wall and latched his winghooks into the soft flesh on either side of the bony framework. A moment later however the fist impacted against the wall and Human Friend Drevven gave a small grunt.
“What the-” Human Friend Drevven barked out, jerking his hand back.
Seventh Flap clung trembling to his hand, his sensory horns ringing from the force of the blow that had transferred backwards through the human’s hand. When he reoriented he realized that Human Friend Drevven was holding the hand that had struck the wall against his chest. The human’s other hand was cupped under Seventh Flap’s perch as a safety net. Human Friend Drevven was speaking to him in a soothing tone.
Seventh Flap shook out his head and instead of dropping to the offered hand quickly scrambled up and peered down at the human’s knuckles. He winced at the damage he saw but breathed easier when he noted that the blood was only seeping out from the skin and not surging as he expected from the force of the blow. Human Friend Drevven was getting more insistent in his demand for Seventh Flap’s attention.
“What was that about?” Seventh Flap demanded.
He whipped around and gave the human his best glare. It still amazed him that his comparatively tiny mass could intimidate the massive predatory species but apparently when a Winged glared they resembled some human nightmare or the other. It certainly caused Human Friend Drevven to stop talking and jerk his head back a few inches.
“What was that about?” Seventh Flap demanded again.
Human Friend Drevven glanced between his knuckles and the wall and then shrugged.
“I was frustrated,” he said.
Seventh Flap stared up at him trying to make some sense out of that.
“So you punched the wall,” he said, “you punched the plasicreet wall, with you primary gripping appendage with enough force to damage it…”
“Oh no,” Human Friend Drevven said, his face brightening up. “The wall’s fine.”
Seventh Flap serious thought about biting the human in that moment but he settled for reinforcing his grip on the flesh of his hand.
“Medical ward,” Seventh Flap snared out.
“What?” Human Friend Drevven suddenly sounded concerned. “Are you hurt?”
Seventh Flap stared down at the seeping blood and tried to fight down a sigh.
“Take me to the medical ward,” Seventh Flap said as firmly as he could, “and on the way tell me what the connection is between frustration and punching a wall.”  



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Humans are Weird – Nap Time

The afternoon sun gleamed pink on the various species using the recreation area by the gently flowing creek. One human lay sprawled in the silty sand and a pair of Undulates were shuffeling busily around in the water a few meters from her.
“Is it really wise to interfere in this matter?” Rollslowly asked.  
“Human Friend Sally specifically requested this,” Shiftsleft replied as he adjusted the throwing stick in his appendages.
“Regardless,” Rollslowly said, “this seems unsafe.”
“I told you,” Shiftsleft replied. “That is why I am using globules of filtered clay. The density is so low that it could impact her in an open eye and not cause permanent damage. In fact it is the temperature differential caused by the water that will cause the useful discomfort.”
“I was not referring to her safety,” Rollslowly interjected,  “have you read the profile for a human coming unexpectedly out of sleep state?”
“Yes, yes,” Shiftsleft said with a dismissive wave of one of his few appendages not involved in the aiming process. “Five seconds is the absolute maximum danger time. At this distance we are so far out of her strike range that she would be fully awake and aware long before she could get her hands on us. And I don’t need to mention again that this service was a specific request on her part as  one friend to another.”
“No you don’t need to mention that yet again,” Rollslowly admitted with a little groan as he saw that the throwing stick was finally aligned to Shiftsleft’s liking. “I still maintain that she was simply making a humorous and rhetorical comment.”
“Sound this,” Shiftsleft said. “We both know that a nap this late in the circadian cycle will throw off Human Friend Susan’s sleep cycle for days.”
He spasmed around the throwing stick, launching the blob of wet clay on an arc into the air. Rollslowly shuddered at the unnatural movement both of his friend and the clay. It splatted down on the other side of the human earning only a slight twitch on her part.
“Less power,” Shiftsleft observed. “As I was saying. When a human’s sleep cycle is disturbed they become not only less of an asset but nearly a liability.”
“That can be true,” Rollslowly admitted as the second glob of clay fell on the near side of the human.
“Human Friend Sally knows this,” Shiftsleft went on, “and thus requested that we wake her very specifically from ‘outside of her strike range’ if she fell asleep in the afternoon again.”
“This still seems wrong somehow,” Rollslowly said as Human Friend Sally began to shift and turned to stare at the place the last glop had fallen.
The final glop arced into the air and fell with a plop onto her nose. Her reaction was fascinating. She spasmed once, her hands came up to claw at her face in an attempt to removed the glop, and she emitted one of those predatory sounds that were so universally feared. Rollslowly believed it was called a snarl. He noted that Shiftsleft was slowly easing back into the deeper water of the stream.
“Are you not going to wait for Human Friend Sally to acknowledge her gratitude?” Rollslowly asked as he followed his friend.
“I think it would be best to accept that gratitude from out of strike range as well,” Shiftsleft replied.
“It has been far longer than five seconds,” Rollslowly observed. “In fact I think she does not even know we were the source of the action.”
“I have been told humans like mystery,” Shiftsleft said.
“Then by all means,” Rollslowly said watching as Human Friend Sally was vigorously cleaning her nose in the water of the shallows, “let’s leave her with the mystery.”

Thank you all so much for your updoots and feedback. It gives me the will to go on. Want to see more? Think about becoming a Patreon.  Tea refuses to buy itself and the more time one has to spend on a day job the less time there is for befuddled aliens. 

Humans are Weird – Fluffel Bums


“The last shipment of feed was contaminated,” Human Friend Ellen announced as she joined them at the table.
The gathering of Trisk turned towards her in varying degrees of annoyance and perturbation. One the one leg that was a very concerning state of events for the complication plagued research station. On every other leg, Human Friend Ellen had worked with the Trisk for more than long enough to know and respect their taboos on interrupting. However as she slung her leg over the bench her bi-focal gaze was fixed grimly on the tablet she had dropped on the surface. Grs’tkr mimicked a sigh to the best of his ability and took the situation in his gripping appendages.
“We would appreciate the details of that statement,” Grs’tkr said.
“It’s the grains for the fluffel bums,” Human Friend Ellen said. “A silicate fungus got past the quarantine somehow. Seventh Sister discovered it while it was still in quarantine so it hasn’t affected our existing stores but we don’t dare use any of the shipment now. It’s jumped three bulkheads that we’ve seen so we have to assume that the whole shipment is contaminated.”
The table fell into silence as the gathered agricultural experts considered this. Half of them were clearly bristling at Human Friend Ellen’s rudeness. Finally Grs’tkr spoke.
“Human Friend Ellen,” he said in careful tones, “I have a question.”
“No, we can’t feed it to the fluffel bums anyway,” she interjected. “The fungus won’t kill them but the build up over time will cause impaction in their guts.”
“But Human Friend Ellen,” Grs’tkr tried again.
“And we could try sprouting the so-far-untouched grains but we think that will only increase the growth rate for the fungus,”  Human Friend Ellen went on.
The gathered Trisk waited for her to gather her thoughts, watching her will all of their forward facing eyes. Humans really were a force of nature. Nothing stopped them.  Finally Grs’tkr spoke, firmly and quickly.
“Human Friend Ellen! What is a fluffel bum?” he demanded.
“Huh?” Human Friend Ellen stared at him and blinked a few times.
“What is a fluffel bum?” Grs’tkr asked.
“You know,” Human Friend Ellen said with a vague wave in the direction of the coops. “The chickens.”
“If you meant the chickens,” Grs’tkr said carefully, “why did you call them fluffel bums?”
“Just look at ‘em,” Human Friend Ellen said, her face spreading into a grin. “Their bums are like seventy percent fluff!”
The Trisk continued to stare at her waiting for explanation, but her eyes had dropped down to the tablet and she began muttering to herself about desiccants and grain yield. 

Thank you all so much for your updoots and feedback. It gives me the will to go on. Want to see more? Think about becoming a Patreon. Tea refuses to buy itself and the more time one has to spend on a day job the less time there is for befuddled aliens.

Okay. FIRST. I do not, nor does anyone I know. Have the corona virus. 
That out of the way. My "Day Job" as it were is teaching English to Chinese children. I do this online and life now involves a lot of figuring out how to calm frightened kids who can barely speak English, and the ones who are actually quite good at it make the situation more complicated by asking deep and relevant questions.. 
Now the kids over there just had their winter break and were headed back to school. However the Chinese gov decided to give them an extra week to let things settle. So a lot of parents want to keep their kids calm and busy and my company is getting flooded with new clients. The company sent out a plea for teachers to open class times during regular school hours. Something most of us never do for obvious reasons.  For me that means midnight to six am. 
Suffice it to say between worrying about my precious little regulars, figuring out what to say, and going back to a sleep schedule I haven't worked since 2008 i the bush Alaska my creative juices are low and my will power is weak. 
Look at the pretty picture and see if you can figure out where the raptor is hiding.