Taking some time off

So it seems like I have been busy lately which was rather unfortunate and I do apologies for and I was away with a lot of stuff and I wanted to talk of more but due to my life and getting a burnout from the summer has affect me. 

I haven't thought of posting much as if i don't have time to been busy with everything and i have planning to post whichever i can. Still, lately this summer hasn't been great mainly due to being a dry summer with no rain. I suffer one or two headaches and marginas too which resulted of me to stay home and do whatever i can in the house and i'll be going back to study back in college too mainly a trade in or apprenticeship. However, I don't think I'll have the time to write any blog posts, which means there'll be fewer posts around here. I did have plans to post more and had ideas that I thought about and plan to post one day, but they'll be on hold for a while and i'll be away to be take things slowly. 

Sonic vs. She-Ra: A Tale of Two Reboots — and Two Very Different Reactions to Backlash

In the last few years, we’ve seen legacy characters brought back to life through reboots, remakes, and reimaginings. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it crashes and burns.

But when fans speak up, how studios respond can make or break everything.

Take Sonic the Hedgehog (2020) and She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018) — two reboots that sparked intense backlash. One became a redemption story. The other, a cautionary tale.

Sonic: The Backlash Heard Around the Internet

When the first trailer for the Sonic movie dropped in 2019, fans immediately recoiled. Sonic’s design looked... horrifying.

Human teeth

Tiny eyes

Long, awkward legs

None of the charm or fun of the classic game character

It was so universally hated that the outcry became a meme. But instead of digging in or dismissing fans…

The studio listened.

They delayed the film, redesigned Sonic into something that honored the original, and the result?

Fans praised them.

The movie was a box office success.

It spawned a sequel, merch, and goodwill.

She-Ra 2018: The Wall of Denial

Now compare that to She-Ra and the Princesses of Power.

When Adora’s redesign leaked before the 2018 reboot aired, fans had real concerns:

Why does she look so androgynous?

Why remove her classic femininity and strength?

Why does she look more like a teenage boy than a 14-year-old girl hero?

The backlash was loud—but instead of listening, the creators and defenders:

Accused fans of being sexist

Dismissed criticism as “toxic”

Used LGBTQ+ representation as a shield from all artistic critique

The result?

No redesign.

No accountability.

No respect for the source material.

And a fandom divided by identity politics.

Why One Listened and One Didn’t

The difference is simple:

Sonic’s team respected the fans.

She-Ra’s team insulated themselves with ideology.

Sonic was treated like a character. She-Ra was treated like a statement.

And that’s the problem.

Lessons from Both

Fans don’t hate change. They hate being ignored.

If you want to modernize a legacy property, respect what made it iconic—don’t replace it with a lecture.

If you hide behind identity and refuse critique, you’ll lose the fans who made your property worth rebooting in the first place.

Final Thought

Sonic got hated—and got better.

She-Ra got criticized—and labeled the critics as haters.

Which approach built trust?

Which one burned bridges?

The answer is obvious. And it’s a lesson every studio, showrunner, and “progressive” writer should keep in mind before the next reboot drops.

The Truth About She-Ra 2018 – What Everyone’s Too Afraid to Say

When the 2018 She-Ra and the Princesses of Power reboot was announced, fans of the original were excited—finally, a modern update to a beloved, iconic heroine. But when the first character designs leaked, that excitement turned to confusion, frustration, and for many, disappointment.

And when those fans voiced their concerns? They weren’t met with answers. They were met with labels. This post isn’t about hate. It’s about what went wrong, why people were afraid to talk about it, and why it matters that we do now.

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The Redesign That Sparked a Firestorm

Let’s be blunt: the new Adora didn’t look like She-Ra.

She looked like a gender-neutral athlete, stripped of all femininity, grace, or heroic appeal. Gone was the strong, regal warrior—replaced with a boxy, flat, indistinct figure that, to many, resembled a young boy or a transitioning teen more than a 14-year-old girl with destiny on her shoulders.

People asked:

“Why does she look so masculine?”

“Why erase her femininity?”

“Is this even She-Ra anymore?”

And rather than engage with those questions… the creators and defenders shut them down.

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The Wall of Defense

The response from the show’s team and parts of the media was swift—and condescending.

“You’re just mad she’s not sexualized.”

“You must be sexist.”

“You just can’t handle progress.”

No acknowledgment of legacy. No engagement with the actual critique. Just political shielding. As if to say:

> “If you don’t like it, you’re the problem.”

With that being said and we look at the artistic integrity and ideological arrogance.

Why So Many Fans Stayed Silent

So why didn’t more people speak up?

Because they were afraid. In a time where disagreeing with a design choice could get you branded a bigot, sexist, or worse, many fans chose to stay quiet. Others watched the trailer, enjoyed the animation, and convinced themselves it was "fine." Even if the design still felt off, they let it slide to avoid the online mob.

But Now There’s a Shift

Videos like:

Jayne Theory’s takedown of the Netflix reboot

Analysis of why people actually hated the design

Fans are cheering the Amazon reboot for not following 2018’s direction

…are showing that fans are ready to speak the truth.

The Amazon live-action reboot is confirmed to be a clean slate—it won’t follow the 2018 version—and fans are relieved. Because finally, someone’s listening.

What About Catra?

Let’s not forget Catra’s arc. A character who:

Tried to destroy the world

Betrayed everyone she cared about

Emotionally abused allies

Was complicit in war crimes but she gets a redemption arc with no real consequences, and ends up kissing the protagonist. So was this about storytelling? Or about pushing a symbolic queer romance?

It felt less like justice and more like agenda-driven immunity.

The Real Message

This isn't about being anti-progress. It's about fair storytelling. If a character does wrong, they should face the consequences—no matter their gender, race, or sexuality. If a redesign removes everything iconic about a character, it should be open to critique. And if studios can’t handle feedback, they shouldn’t be making reboots.

Final Thought. 

The She-Ra 2018 reboot didn’t fail because fans were hateful. It failed because the creators refused to listen—and shielded weak design behind politics. Art thrives with accountability. And that’s why the Amazon reboot has a chance to get it right. Let’s hope they do. In other news i got one post coming soon of a tale how a bad design got backlash and managed to fixed it while the other is the opposite. 

The Cult of Community: Why the Show Should've Been Canceled Sooner

There was a time when I watched Community and thought, "Hey, this could go somewhere." But then, the show took a nosedive into something unrecognizable. What began as a quirky, slice-of-life comedy about a group of misfits in community college quickly mutated into a chaotic, self-absorbed satire that lost any shred of emotional core it once had.

And you know what? I never found Dan Harmon funny or brilliant. Not once.

Let’s not sugarcoat this: the show became cringe. A Frankenstein of genre parodies, meta commentary, and smug inside jokes that catered more to internet forums than actual human viewers. The writing leaned so hard into clever-for-clever's-sake that it forgot to be relatable or, frankly, entertaining.

Fans often defend Community with lines like "It was ahead of its time!" or "It was a masterpiece of meta-comedy!" But let’s be real—most episodes in the later seasons were so far up their own creative backsides, they forgot the point of television: to connect with people.

Ratings? Dead. The audience? Bleeding. The tone? All over the place. Yet somehow, it dragged on. NBC should have pulled the plug, and fast.

The reason it didn’t? Loud internet fandoms and the "six seasons and a movie" meme. It became a brand, not a story. A movement, not a meaningful series. And Harmon? He shouldn't have been anywhere near a writer's room. His drinking, missed deadlines, and reputation for toxic behavior are well-documented. Yet studios gave him a free pass in the name of "creative genius."

But I never saw that genius. I saw a showrunner who cared more about flexing his ego than developing characters. I saw a show that abandoned its soul in favor of gimmicks. And I saw fans latch onto it not because it was good, but because it felt different—and different, unfortunately, got confused for deep.

This wasn’t a slice-of-life series. It wasn’t a coming-of-age story. It was a parody of itself, trapped in a loop of diminishing returns.

Community should have been canceled. Not out of spite, but mercy. A once-promising premise buried under layers of noise, chaos, and self-indulgence. Some call it a cult classic. I call it a cautionary tale.

Lock it up. Shelf it for good. And next time, let’s make sure the emperor’s actually wearing clothes before we hand him six seasons and a movie.