My unpopular opinion is that in languages with grammatical gender like french, it does make sense for Murderbot to be referred to by whatever pronoun is usually used for robots or constructs. (In french, therefore, grammatical masculine.) Because there are no traditional « it » pronouns in these languages for objects, and while there are neo-pronouns, they are things one must choose for themselves. Do you honestly think MB actually spent time thinking about its pronouns?! No it didn’t. On forms it picks « non-applicable ». When people ask it what pronouns they should use, its honest opinion is « why do you even need to talk about me. Just don’t fucking do that. Don’t think about me either. Just fucking stop perceiving me altogether! »
Thinking about what pronouns to use probably makes it way more uncomfortable than letting people call it what they’ve already been calling it. Making a conscious choice about its identity? And telling other people about it??? No thanks bye, it’s just gonna walk into the ocean now, see you never.
Lbr it probably thinks the only bots that get fancy pronouns are comfort units, and the pronouns are probably shoved into them by humans same as everything else. MB would meet a bot using a neopronoun and it would wish it could barf. Because in a language like french, he/him and she/her, when applied to objects, ARE fulfilling the function of the english « it ». Nobody is saying the table is a woman or related to feminity in any way outside of stand-up comedy; when it comes to objects grammatical gender really has fuckall to do with human gender even if we use the same words. Even animal species names have grammatical gender and everyone gets that there are male and female turtles even if the word « turtle » is a female word, it’s not that confusing.
(I know this is strange when your language has different pronouns for people and for objects, but understand that english uses the same word to indicate if I’m addressing one or many people, and that is confusing to me.)
TL;DR; stop harassing international fans for not getting the correct MB pronoun in english right off the bat. Yes in english calling it « he » or « her » or « them » is upsetting because it’s projecting an identity unto it. But same goes for trying to get a foreign language translation to use a pronoun intended to express or showcase an identity (or even a lack of one!). Murderbot has not thought about it this hard, refuses to think about it this hard -> and that is its only canon accurate gender identity.
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@theminecraftbee ‘s ficlets about Decked Out eating Tango have been living in my head rent free so here’s a little post-do thing of my own.
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“The server resets tonight.”
It’s been just over two months since Decked Out finished. Just over two months since anyone has seen or heard from Tango.
Zed knows what happened. Not the details. And he certainly couldn’t explain it to anyone else. But he knows.
And the gnawing feeling of guilt has kept him coming back to the dungeon. Every day.
Decked Out is asleep. Zed can walk through the citadel without a desperate need to throw himself to the ravengers. He can even wander below, into the redstone, without being electrocuted to death. Maybe it’s dead, but Zed doubts it. He knows it’s just sleeping. Eventually, it will wake up. It will be hungry and will lure whoever enters this world into its depths.
Maybe that’s when Tango will wake up too.
Zed won’t be here to see it.
“Who knows when you’ll be able to eat again?”
His voice is quiet but he knows the whole dungeon can hear him. He plays with the clasp on his gas mask. Tango’s storage room, where he lays on the dusty floor, has enough oxygen flowing through it still to allow him to breathe without the mask, though he’s already getting a bit of a headache. He’ll put the mask back on soon. Eventually.
“One last snack?”
He’s offered the dungeon himself hundreds of times these past few months. As a player, when it was live, hoping to spark a bit of his friend’s life back into him. Then after. Hoping for something. For a glimpse of flickering blue flame and wide eyes that had long since given up pretending to see.
There’s quiet.
There’s so much guilt in the quiet.
Don’t worry, Zed. Just a few months. Not too big of a project.
All good here. With level one done, the rest will go a lot quicker.
Yeah, level three got away from me a bit. Level four will be smaller, don’t worry.
Audio needed to be reworked, you know how it is. Soon.
Just tired, lost track of time last night.
Not too much longer now.
Don’t worry, I’ll be back to normal when the game’s done. Promise.
Did Tango know he was lying?
Zed is well aware that what he’s doing isn’t good for him. It’s ironic, how Tango pulled away from everyone, to eventually disappear in this cave. And now Zed’s doing the same thing.
It was always Tango pulling Zed out. Into the sun for a stupid game or a ridiculous project. So it makes sense that without him, Zed can’t bring himself to leave the hole.
“I could break more redstone.” Zed offers the dungeon. “Really get you mad.”
He’d done that. About two weeks after Decked Out went dormant. He hadn’t gotten a reaction at the time. But the next day, everything was repaired.
That had spurred Zed into doing a stakeout. Break some stuff, sit and wait until the dungeon brought Tango out to fix it.
Zed had died down in the redstone, waiting. It hadn’t been a pleasant death.
That’s when Impulse had stepped in, staging his own intervention. But all it had done is make Zed feel more guilty.
An intervention for the guy who failed to do an intervention when Tango needed it most.
See? Ironic.
His head is starting to pound. He puts his mask back on.
“I want my friend back, you stupid castle,” He says through the mask. The dungeon understands him anyways.
He won’t be getting Tango back. He’s known that for much longer than he can admit.
Time passes. His phone dings a few times. It’s just the others. Making preparations. The server resets in just a few hours.
“Was it worth it?” Zed asks. “Not you, dumb dungeon. I’m asking Tango. Was it worth it? Did you make this choice? Did you know the consequences?”
Silence.
“Did you ever consider saying goodbye?”
The thing is? Tango was saying goodbye. In the only way he could. It was in the heartfelt artifacts crafted for each hermit. It was in his own voice, echoing words throughout the dungeon long after his own voice left him. It was in every ounce of the game.
None of them saw it until it was too late.
Zed stands. He has to be at spawn soon. He has stuff to pack. He has his own hole in the ground to say goodbye to.
He takes the long way out. Up into the main room of the citadel.
There’s a small part of him that hopes to see a glint of Tango. That’s what’s supposed to happen, right? A little wisp of blue fire. A soft voice. A gust of wind blowing a loose piece of paper across the floor. Something he can look at and be comforted by.
Nothing happens.
Zed knows that Tango’s gone.
He stands at the door. It’s open just a crack, just like he left it.
The night is clear.
“Goodbye, Tango.”
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