Halo, Witcher, Obi-Wan: Should TV Adaptations Bother Appeasing Legacy Fans?

Adaptation is a tricky business. When moving a story, world, and characters from one medium to another, something is likely to get lost in translation. When you’re moving from books to film and television, for instance, you’re taking what existed in people’s imagination and creating an audiovisual canonical existence for a broader public that will likely cut away details or change the focus of some arcs. Comic adaptations try, with mixed results, to ground outlandish sci-fi and fantasy, often with silly costumes attached. Videogame adaptations try to bring wider resonance to stories that are very frequently generic action frameworks targeted at a 14 to 24-year-old male demographic. All these processes tend to make self-proclaimed nerds fussy, so one wonders: Is it worth it? There tends to be an obvious financial reward for the corporations involved, so it’s going to continue regardless. But can modern adaptations ever make fans happy, and should they try?
Self-proclaimed nerds (many of whom seem to believe they’re living in a 1980s coming-of-age narrative, even though the biggest movies in the world are now based on comics) are famously, often caustically, precious with their favorite IPs being adapted. I’m not sure how abrasive and corrosive people were when classic novels and the works of Shakespeare were first turned into movies, but they also didn’t have Twitter and Reddit and YouTube to complain on, whereas now every shade of big-budget pulp genre work has several factions of loud, angry fans.
I found this jarring with Paramount+‘s Halo TV show because, despite Microsoft subsidiary/Halo game developer 343 Industries letting everyone know in advance that the show was going to be a separate timeline from the games, many fans were outspoken about being shocked by continuity changes. Halo tries to build a story around the character of Master Chief and the people who make up his world, giving greater interiority than the games (outside of perhaps Halo: Reach) have attempted. Building a human story took precedence over slavish commitment to replicating the plot of the games.
I’m a casual fan who is skeptical of fan overreactions. Nothing can hurt me but Star Wars and my sports teams, and even those are losing that power because I’m now an adult with real problems. At the end of the day, sequels, prequels, and adaptations shouldn’t be able to hurt any of us because we usually still have access to the original works, be they novels, comics, other films or television shows, or videogames.
My own appraisal of Halo fluctuated over the season. The first two episodes provided very different perspectives on the universe—a pirate kingdom and rebel colonists—both contrasted with the center of human power in the United Nations Space Command centered on the planet Reach. By Episode 4, the pace was slowing, but the show bounced back by endearing fans to Kate Kennedy’s Kai, and by the end of the season had further invested in the story of Kwan Ha, heir to the rebel army on the planet Madrigal. As it concluded, my biggest aesthetic complaint remained that they made the Sangheili (Elites) too big, reshaping the scale of battle, and my main storytelling complaint was that Kwan Ha’s arc just disappeared—we could have used another episode to further develop Kwan Ha, Soren (Bokeem Woodbine), and Vinsher Grath (Burn Gorman).
Much to my surprise, the loudest, most upset responses seemed to be in response to Master Chief having sex. The idea that Master Chief and the Covenant’s “Blessed One” (Charlee Murphy’s Makee) would sleep together after discovering they’re kindred spirits so connected by space magic that they share vital signs is easy to understand. I can think of other problems with it happening—like that she died too quickly for me to get particularly attached to the character—but the relationship itself is too quick and too chaste to be upset that it happened. That it affected the plot seems like it should be a point in favor for those of us with strict requirements for the introduction of sex into non-erotic film and television. The fact that the UNSC doesn’t trust her and treats her with violence that leads to her responding in a way that brings the Forerunner artifacts back to the Covenant also follows straightforwardly. And, at the end of the season, Master Chief is a silent protagonist whose body has been overtaken by the A.I. Cortana, at his behest. Maybe next season, as the show approaches the actual Halo installation, fans will be happier with the depiction. And this isn’t to say the show is without problems, I just don’t think Master Chief sleeping with someone is among the biggest. I find the videogame-like recruitment commercials for the real life U.S. Marine Corps more offensive.