A Special Guest Big Finish Friday by Will Martin
“Love! Pride! Hate! Fear! Have you no emotions, sir?”
The Cybermen occupy a curious place in the Doctor Who mythos.
To dispute their status as one of the “Big Three” villains, alongside the Daleks and the Master, is almost unthinkable. Yet, at the same time, it is difficult to see them as anything other than second best when a direct comparison is made. Reception of their appearances post-1968 range from forgettable to outright laughable, but most fans will freely admit to being absolutely terrified of them.
Despite their unimaginable potential, it seems the metal men from Mondas are merely meant for mediocrity. This leads us to Cyberman (2005). Created as an attempt to recreate the success of earlier series Dalek Empire (2001-2008), it is frequently hailed as one of the best things that Big Finish has ever done. High praise indeed, and the fact that it manages to live up to the hype is remarkable in and of itself. The question is, therefore, how this one miniseries manages to succeed, where so many have tried and failed?
The most striking answer is that Cyberman is the subject of an unexpected genre shift. This is not a cheerful adventure, with a dashing Time Lord swooping in to save the day. Instead, Cyberman is a political thriller, and a brutal one at that.
Building on the world established in the eighth Doctor audio Sword of Orion (2001), Cyberman takes the world and it’s themes to their logical conclusions. Caught in a seemingly endless war, the human race is tired. Its military is becoming ever more ruthless in its fight against the android hordes, and its leaders are subject to the ever-changing whims of popular opinion. As the situation only begins to worsen, humanity is forced, over and over, to ask itself what price it is willing to pay for victory, or if victory is even the answer.
In this regard, Cyberman does what all great science fiction strives for. Underneath the outer layer of sci-fi trappings, this is a deeply human story.
Everyone involved is as flawed and fallible as anyone in the real world. The slow corruption of Karen Brett, for example, demonstrates this perfectly. As she rises from high-ranking war hero, to president of Earth, to unwitting, soulless pawn of the Cybermen, her steps are completely understandable. Her arc through the first episode is marked by straightforward human failings, and her decision to finally give in to the Cybermen’s offer is done in the wake of losing her own parents–arguably the most relatable tragedy of all. Throughout the whole series, it never stops reminding the listener that, if placed in similar circumstances, it is wholly possible that you may also decide to become a Cyberman, if only to ease the pain.
Furthermore, the series does not simply imply that there could be advantages to an existence as a Cyberman, it actively revels in the possibility. From the moment they appear, there is no doubt that the Cybermen are simply better. They easily outmaneuver trained government security, and withstand conditions that would rip a human being to shreds–all the while displaying phenomenal intelligence, borne of a purely logical mindset. As amusing as it may be to picture an actor in a tinfoil suit rampaging through the White House, here such a thing is treated with the weight and gravitas that such a concept deserves.
In the unconstrained medium of audio, the Cybermen are finally free to be what they promise. When they present themselves as the solution to a war against humanity’s ultimate equals, it isn’t a question of if their offer is accepted, but when.
Similarly, the series also does the opposite when it comes to its view of humanity. There is not a single human character that does not spend the majority of the story as a frightened, stressed wreck, constantly forced down by the weight of the world and their own place within it.
However, the problems they face are utterly human ones, that an adult audience could almost certainly empathise with. There are no clearly bad people in this series, but a few of them make a bad choice, ultimately cracking under the pressure of human existence. It is this simple reframing of human nature, from a saving grace to an unbreakable shackle, that allows Cyberman to be as terrifying as it is.
Despite this, however, the story clearly sees human nature as something precious, even as it reveals itself to be almost irredeemable. Attention is frequently drawn to the similarities and differences between the androids and the Cybermen. “An android is exactly like a human,” it is explained in the second episode, “and a Cyberman is nothing like an android.” Human nature leads us to try and create life in our own image, yet that image disgusts us enough that we are willing to lose ourselves in order to distance ourselves from it.
There are constant contrasts drawn between human nature as a virtue, and human nature as a failing. Following the first stage of Cyber-conversion, Earth Commander Barnaby is only returned to his senses through his sexual attraction to the android he has recently been forced to work with. It is possible, and understandable, for the listener to find the extended kissing noises awkward, or even disgusting, but it is that sheer emotional, human reaction that brings Barnaby back to the land of the living.
Emotions of any sort, positive or negative, are a fundamental part of what makes a human a human. Even this rough, imperfect aspect of life is enough to defeat the Cybermen, yet it is fallible enough that we can be convinced it is something to be thrown away.
This theme of fundamental, basic human processes as great strengths is so central to the story of Cyberman that it extends to the story’s structure. From the very beginning, the story makes frequent use of internal monologues, to an almost distracting degree. The characters that have these internal monologues are all, distinctly themselves. The very first words of the first episode are spoken in the mind of an android, the series cementing the similarity between the two races from the very start. In contrast, the closest that the partially converted Paul Hunt comes to getting a look inside of his head are the scenes in which he converses with the Cyber-Planner. He may appear to be human, but his mind has been long since taken.
Arguably, the biggest problem with Cyberman is that it does, eventually, have to end. A rather cliche way of pretending to criticise something nigh on perfect, but an apt one. After almost four hours of exploring human nature, and the fundamental necessity of things we may deem undesirable, the story reverts to a familiar solution: blowing up all of the Cybermen.
This climax is in no way badly handled–like the rest of the series, the writing is enjoyable and the performances are phenomenal – it is simply a disappointment to see something that managed to venture so confidently into uncharted territory come to a close in such a familiar locale. Although, perhaps that is the point. The wanderer returning home in a moment of clear, primal catharsis, like a final cherry on top. Yes, perhaps.
So then, could Cyberman be used as a potential road map to greatness for future Cybermen stories?
The answer, unfortunately, is no.
While the series’ concepts are undeniably wonderful, the way it goes about exploring them is almost completely antithetical to how Doctor Who should be. This is clear from how both the Doctor and this series show why the Cybermen are a thing to be hated. While the Doctor pleads for the positives in life, the pleasure of smelling a flower, or a well-prepared meal, Cyberman does the opposite.
It reminds the listener of the painful aspects of life: of deep, unpleasant emotional responses; of love, pride, hate, and fear; and it tells us why these are things to be celebrated, too. Even as the Cybermen are more formidable than ever, they are nothing compared to even the most undesirable aspects of humanity. Even as they loom above us, strong, infallible, stainless steel mirrors of what we could become, we can stand up, and defeat them with one simple question:
Have you no emotions, sir?


