Disaster Queers
Book Two: Emmlie’s Eleven

A Queer Heist, Priceless Jewels, and Absolutely No Plan

The Disaster Queers have partied hard since they saved the city from the rampaging ucimoeptrix, drinking away their prize and continuing getting into even more bar fights! But when a memory from Emmlie’s hidden past returns into her life, the opportunity for the heist of a lifetime becomes too irresistible to turn down. It is the perfect job – and it’s not like the last one of those turned out too badly. Right?

But Victoria comes with an agenda of her own. Does she have the success of the team in mind, or is she just out for herself?

Now, the Disaster Queers (and Jolene, the kistune just tagging along for now, until something better comes up – she promises) must break into a luxury casino for the heist of a century!

Expect:
✨ Queer found-family hijinks
✨ Plotting, scheming, and calamity
✨ Shapeshifting shenanigans
✨ Priceless jewels, card games, George Clooney, musical interludes

Disaster Queers—where fantasy meets absurdity, and being a queer disaster is a full-time job.

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Disaster Queers
Book One: Night at the Museum

A Queer Heist, A Prehistoric Egg, and Absolutely No Plan

The Disaster Queers live up to their name—broke, gay, reckless, and fresh off a tavern brawl that landed them a fifteen-thousand-gold fine. When a frazzled professor offers them a way out—steal a priceless gemstone from a fancy museum gala—it seems like the perfect job.

Except the “gemstone” is actually a long-dormant egg, and if it hatches, an ancient murder beast will rampage through the city. No pressure.

Now, Ran (trans elf sorceress, always hungover), Di (deadpan dwarf strategist with zero patience), Emmlie (tiny chaos gremlin, part-time thief, full-time menace), and Leon (horny satyr bard, would absolutely flirt with a guard mid-heist) have to pull off the biggest job of their messy careers.

Expect:
✨ Queer found-family hijinks
✨ Unhinged heist shenanigans
✨ Bad decisions, worse flirting
✨ Magic, monsters, and museum-related property damage

Disaster Queers—where fantasy meets absurdity, and being a queer disaster is a full-time job.

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The Shadow Heart 



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The Shadow Heart has all the ingredients of a grand space opera finale. Decades-spanning continuity. Warring empires. Rogue robots. Returning heroes. Returning villains. Multiple incarnations of the Seventh Doctor running around the timeline playing four-dimensional chess with himself.

And somehow it still ends with me shrugging. That’s quite an achievement.

The story returns us to the Drashani Empire decades after The Acheron Pulse. Following the Sixth Doctor’s optimistic decision to leave Prince Kylo’s robotic army behind as guardians of peace, the robots immediately looked at his instructions, nodded politely, and interpreted “maintain order” as “become an authoritarian military dictatorship.” Doctor Who robots really are incapable of finding the middle ground.

By the time Sylvester McCoy’s Seventh Doctor arrives, the galaxy is under the thumb of these fanatical mechanical crusaders, while a ragtag collection of mercenaries and rebels are attempting to fight back. Joining the fun are the ever-returning Prince Kylo and a cloned Princess Aliona, because apparently nobody in this saga is ever allowed to retire quietly.

The premise is perfectly respectable. The execution… Less so.

One thing the story absolutely gets right is the Seventh Doctor himself. McCoy effortlessly slips back into manipulative mastermind mode, and because this is Seven, no plan is ever allowed to be straightforward. The timeline itself becomes one of his tools. We first encounter an older Doctor who already knows more than he’s letting on, only for a younger version to arrive later, blissfully unaware of events that, from everyone else’s perspective, have already happened. It’s gloriously convoluted. Also completely on-brand.

Watching the two versions unknowingly dance around one another’s schemes is probably the single strongest idea in the entire production, and it’s handled with enough confidence that longtime Seventh Doctor fans will immediately settle into that familiar feeling of, “I’m sure this all makes sense to him.”

The supporting cast are perfectly likeable without ever becoming especially memorable. The mercenary crew have enough personality to keep things moving, but few of them leave much of a lasting impression. Kylo continues his long journey from tragic prince to recurring space menace, while the cloned Aliona exists largely to poke at questions of identity, redemption and whether a copy can ever truly replace the original.

Those themes are interesting. The story simply doesn’t do enough with them. Instead, it falls back on fairly routine Doctor Who adventure plotting. There are battles. Escapes. Last-minute reversals. Secret plans. The occasional bizarre image, including a memorable ride atop a gigantic space snail that somehow manages to be both ridiculous and entirely fitting for Doctor Who. It’s fun. It just isn’t enough.

Thematically, there’s an obvious exploration of unintended consequences. The Doctor tries to create peace, only for his solution to become another form of oppression. That’s fertile ground, particularly for the Seventh Doctor, whose manipulative methods often leave complicated moral debris behind.

Unfortunately, the script never digs particularly deeply into that idea. Likewise, after three linked stories exploring Kylo’s tragic downfall, imperial politics and the corrosive effects of revenge, this finale never quite delivers the emotional payoff you’d expect. It wraps everything up competently enough, but competence isn’t really what you want from the conclusion to a trilogy that’s been building for several releases. You want fireworks. Instead, you get a polite sparkler.

Final Thoughts
An enjoyable enough Seventh Doctor adventure with clever temporal shenanigans, some entertainingly strange imagery and McCoy on reliably manipulative form. Sadly, as the climax to the Drashani saga it feels strangely small, never fully capitalising on the rich ideas and character arcs established by its predecessors. Perfectly serviceable Doctor Who, but an oddly forgettable finale.

2 out of 5 giant space snails that somehow carried more dramatic weight than the trilogy’s actual ending

The Acheron Pulse



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The Acheron Pulse commits one of my favourite storytelling sins: it spends two hours pretending a mystery exists when literally everyone in the audience solved it before the opening credits had finished.

Who is the mysterious masked warlord Tenebris? Who could possibly possess an inexplicable command over fire? Who has a deeply personal grudge against the Drashani Empire after being betrayed and left for dead in the previous story? Well, unless this was secretly Davros wearing a barbecue, I think we can all work it out.

Picking up roughly thirty years after The Burning Prince, the story finds the once prosperous Drashani Empire in ruins. The peaceful reign of Empress Cheni has given way to a devastating conflict against the Wrath, a mysterious invading force wielding the terrifying superweapon known as the Acheron Pulse. Entire worlds have fallen, civilisation is collapsing, and the Sixth Doctor arrives just as everything begins spiralling towards its inevitable conclusion.

Curiously, this sequel stars Colin Baker rather than Peter Davison. And honestly? That turns out to be one of its strongest decisions. Colin Baker once again demonstrates why he could probably read the instructions on a washing machine and make them sound like Shakespeare. His Sixth Doctor attacks every line with the enthusiasm of a man who genuinely believes every conversation deserves to become the defining speech of the century. Even when the script isn’t firing on all cylinders, Colin is.

He almost drags the story across the finish line through sheer force of personality. Almost. And this story is definitely a step up from the previous one. Which… kinda cements my theory that someone at Big Finish must rather dislike Peter Davison, given that he seems to get the weakest of these scripts.

The central mystery simply doesn’t work. The script clearly expects the audience to spend half its runtime wondering who Tenebris really is. Could it possibly be Prince Kylo, who was betrayed and left for dead in the last story? Well, you’ll be SHOCKED to discover that it is! The reveal lands with all the dramatic force of someone solemnly announcing that Darth Vader might be Luke Skywalker’s father. Yes. We noticed. Several decades ago.

That’s a shame, because beneath the predictable plotting are some genuinely fascinating ideas. The story explores the long-term consequences of empire and asks what happens when today’s glorious civilisation becomes tomorrow’s occupying force. The native inhabitants of Cawdor, still developing along roughly medieval lines, view the Drashani less as enlightened neighbours and more as incomprehensible colonial invaders. That’s compelling science fiction. It’s exactly the sort of moral ambiguity Doctor Who often does well.

Then there’s Athrid. Oh, Athrid. Played with magnificent scenery-chewing enthusiasm by Chook Sibtain, he’s essentially Brian Blessed if somebody handed him an axe and declared him King of the Vikings. Every scene he appears in suddenly becomes alive. He bellows. He boasts. He charges heroically into danger with complete confidence that everything will somehow work itself out.

Naturally, this means the script rewards him by having a monster abruptly eat him. Rude.

His absence leaves a noticeable hole in the second half because very few of the remaining supporting characters possess anywhere near the same charisma.

Thematically, The Acheron Pulse wrestles with revenge, imperialism and the corrosive nature of hatred. Kylo’s transformation into Tenebris is hardly subtle, but it does underline how betrayal can twist idealism into fanaticism. Unfortunately, the story never digs quite deeply enough into those ideas, preferring straightforward military science fiction over genuine character exploration.

Which ultimately sums up the whole production. It’s better constructed than The Burning Prince. It’s certainly more entertaining. But despite Colin Baker’s magnificent performance and a handful of genuinely inspired supporting characters, it never quite escapes the feeling that you’ve seen most of its twists coming from several star systems away.

Also, with this story referencing Cawdor (the name of the planet, and mentioned in Macbeth), and the previous story centring around two rival houses and young lovers (a la Romeo & Juliet), I’m wondering why the Doctor hasn’t called out that these all seem to be stylistically influenced by Shakespeare. Would stating it be too much of a fourth wall break?

Final Thoughts
A respectable sequel elevated enormously by Colin Baker’s wonderfully theatrical Doctor and Chook Sibtain’s gloriously larger-than-life Athrid. There are thoughtful ideas about empire, revenge and colonialism buried beneath the surface, but an entirely predictable central mystery and a shortage of memorable moments stop it from becoming anything truly special.

3 out of 5 masked warlords whose secret identities were about as surprising as the Master turning out to be evil again