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Okay, buckle in, because The Shadow of the Scourge is that weird frat party you attend at a multi-genre convention: Bug-demon worshippers, occult cross-stitch, a wounded Doctor in existential free fall—and Benzie Summerfield just strolling around dropping archaeology hot-takes. Somehow it mostly works, even though it’s a shaggy mess shoved into a five-disc set.
First off: Ace. She’s got less to do than Siri in airplane mode. She spends half the story wandering around deaf, playing the world’s worst game of ‘Guess Who?’ while yelling, “WHAT DID YOU SAY?” It’s supposed to be funny. It’s not. It’s like someone stuck a whoopee cushion on the waking-up scene during a séance. Meanwhile, Bernie (yes, that Benny) absolutely steals the show with sarcasm, brains, and just enough sass, breezing past Ace like an archaeologist who booked first-class.
The Seventh Doctor starts in full Wheel-Within-Wheel mode—cryptic, proud, impatient, yelling about betrayal like he’s auditioning for a Shakespearean villain. But then: BOOM the big plan fails, the wheel shears off, and he’s lying in a hospital radiator pretending he’s never heard of regeneration. It’s glorious. That moment where the Doctor loses? Priceless. He’s human-sized for once, and it hits harder than a volcanic ash cloud.
When he’s knocked out, we get some trippy mind-palace sequences: abstract little vignettes of guilt, memory, time shadows, enough weird to give you chills. It’s experimental in the best way, like David Lynch getting a Dalek cameo. That section actually lands—poetic, strange, interesting. We need more of this punk surrealism in Doctor Who.
Then comes the Scourge—giant mantis-demon fanatics with eight legs and Broadway villain energy. They’re meant to be terrifying but end up feeling like pantomime actors in a bug costume shouting, “FEAR ME, MORTALS!” Not great. And their origin as metaphors for religious fanaticism? Heavy stuff. But the script fumbles it, tipping between sarcastic, scary, and sitcom in sixty seconds flat. It’s tonal whiplash designed to make your ears bleed, not your soul feel.
Best part? The audio design when the Scourge possess people: breathy whispers, weird chanting, melodic distortion—woah. That’s the venom. That’s the savor of weird I came for.
And despite everything, the trio works. The Doctor’s desperate. Ace’s stubborn toughness flickers through, even as she’s reduced to deaf jokes. And Benny? She’s a badass with split personality and spunk, never overshadowed. Plus, hearing McCoy revert to cracked-the-surface fragile is rare—and so satisfying.
Final Verdict:
It’s messy. It’s tonal. It’s not always fun. But it’s also weird, brave, and unevenly brilliant. If you can stomach the whiplash, there’s enough weirdness and pathos to make you glad you didn’t skip disc four.
3.5 out of 5 interdimensional mantis-mayhem