Written by Anthony Burch

 

According to Wikipedia, a “cult” is defined as “a group of people devoted to beliefs and goals which may be contradictory to those held by the majority of society. Its marginal status may come about either due to its novel belief system or due to idiosyncratic practices that cause the surrounding culture to regard it as far outside the mainstream.” While we might be quick to use the word “cult” to describe maniacally violent groups like Heaven’s Gate or the Church of Scientology, the actual definition is much less exclusive: any group that exhibits a great deal of unpopular belief and zeal in something is, by definition, a cult.

It is with a great deal of pleasure, then, that we count up some of the cultiest cults in all of television fandom: those cults that follow shows which, for some reason or another, inspire belief, faith, anger, love, action, and unwavering dedication – all at the same time.

Every cult will be described in relative detail before being awarded with a Gay, Pornographic Fan Fiction Quotient (GPFFQ): this numerical score serves as a system of measuring how widespread and/or unusual the cult may be in relation to others. The GPFFQ is calculated by an extremely sophisticated and scientific process whereby I type “[name of show] slash fanfiction” (“slash” being a synonym for “gay pornography” in the fan fiction world) and write down the number of results. Patent pending.

 

Doctor Who

 

Considering its status as the single longest-running television program of all time, it may not be particularly surprising that Doctor Who has achieved significant cult status all around the world. What Star Wars is to film, Doctor Who is to TV: there are more extended universe Doctor Who novels than you can shake several sticks at, there have been roughly four decades worth of TV shows, and the new series is still going strong. As a dedicated Who fan myself, I admit that it’s easy to take adoration of the series too far: as of now, I believe I’ve made at least one mention of Doctor Who in every one of my articles here are Tubewad. Slightly embarrassing.

But since the show has been going on for so long, there is literally a universe of fiction for those fans totally devoid of social life: the amount of regular, non-pornographic fanfiction is astounding – reunions of all ten Doctors, ultimate fights between Daleks and Cybermen and Ice Warriors, and even an official (but silly) spinoff of the regular series, Torchwood. Doctor Who has become so ingrained in the collective British subconscious that seemingly everyone in England knows what a TARDIS is, and what it stands for, despite the fact that such knowledge serves no practical purpose whatsoever. Fans endlessly debate over whom the best companions were, which versions of the Doctor would be the most fun to hang out with, how Romana could have chosen what form she regenerated into, and so on. 

In other words, that shit be nerdy. Even though many die-hard fans of the classic series abhor what script editor Russell T. Davies has done with the show (namely, making the characters behave realistically despite the sci-fi atmosphere), they watch it anyway: the show has become so important that watching it is not a point of enjoyment, but an outright obligation. That is some cult-like devotion if I’ve ever heard of it.

GPFFQ: 340,000

 

Jericho

 

“Nuts.”

Did Jericho fans see the irony in sending over 20 tons of nuts to CBS headquarters after the cancellation of their beloved show? Yeah, the massive surge of foodstuffs was in reference to one of the final lines of the then-final episode (a line which, in itself, was a reference to General Anthony McAuliffe's utterance of "Nuts!" during the Battle of Bastogne), but it also serves as a more than fitting classification of the show’s fans.

It’s been said that the fans need to be sent to Guantanamo, but you’ve gotta admire their tenacity and originality: not only did they single-handedly save their show (TV un-cancellation is about as rare as a day without a Lindsay Lohan nipslip), but they did it in an organized, intelligent, and generous way (after their squabble was done with, the fans donated their nuts* to charity).

Even ignoring the stuff with the nuts, there are several odd things about Jericho fans: firstly, that the show they fought so hard to protect isn’t that great; and secondly, that they remained more or less completely silent about the show until it got cancelled. The show has its moments, I’ll admit, but it’s hard to ignore how truly low-budget it is, and how stilted the dialogue occasionally feels (“We were both born on third base, quit pretending you hit a triple”).

And beyond that, how many people personally watched, or know someone who watched the show before all the hubbub with the nut shipment? While Veronica Mars and Firefly fans campaigned tirelessly for more viewers and a better timeslot even when their shows were still on the air, Jericho fans seemed oddly silent about the fact that their much-loved show was up against Lost and South Park. Jericho’s timeslot placement was almost suicidal in its stupidity, but the fans didn’t raise a significant stink about it until it was (seemingly) too late. They made up for all this inaction with their successful peanut campaign, but still: if you’re going to be a crazy, overzealous cult of TV fanatics, be a consistently crazy, overzealous cult of TV fanatics.

GPFFQ: 40,000

 

Lost

 

For all the illogical plot “twists,” the inconsistent characters, and overabundant flashbacks, there’s something to be said in the fact that Lost has still managed to maintain a dedicated, reliable audience throughout its three years. Granted, more and more viewers (myself included) got tired of the writing team’s bullshit a year or so ago, but there will always be a significantly large group of people who will, without fail, sit through every episode and allow themselves to literally be tortured with absurd, enigmatic mysteries surrounding the island and its inhabitants that may never be fully answered to their satisfaction.

The cultish nature of Lost fans is derived not from any unreasonable love for the show (with certain exceptions, most fans of the show are willing to admit that it gets very frustrating at times), but in their never-ending patience and faith in a series that has proven, time and time again, that it cares more about confusing the audience for years and years rather than explaining anything at a reasonable rate. This belief that the series will eventually explain itself in a massively satisfying finale, this faith that the show does indeed have a planned endpoint, takes on an almost religious degree of self-delusion. In roughly the same way that most people believe in God due to Pascal’s Wager (there is no punishment for believing in a God if there isn’t one, but not believing in Him if he does exist results in an eternity of torture), many Lost fans watch the show just in case it turns out well: the possibility of being rewarded with a fantastically climactic ending after six years of total confusion will yield a much greater reward than choosing not to watch the show, and having a possibly amazing ending spoiled for you with none of the appropriate buildup.

Hence the immense amount of pride and countless “told-you-so”s after every great season finale: Lost fans search desperately for evidence that the show will turn out great, and every halfway-decent conclusion adds just a little bit of support to their beliefs. Of course, this sudden optimism inevitably declines once the next season begins and more and more questions are proposed without answer.

Given that creator Carlton Cuse cites “faith” as one of the most important themes in Lost, it’s not difficult to see why the show’s most devout followers seem more than a bit religious when it comes to the series.

GPFFQ: 828,000 (though to be fair, the word “Lost” is also present in other gay fanfiction like “The Lost Boys” or whatever.

 

Veronica Mars

 

Take the Jericho fanbase, make it a bit larger, add a few celebrities but take away all the pesky success, and you’ve got the Cloud Watchers. While I can’t personally speak to Veronica Mars’s actual quality, Kevin Smith called it “the best show on television,” Stephen King said he “[couldn’t] take my eyes off the damn thing,” and, as Joss Whedon succinctly put it: “Best. Show. Ever.”

If these considerable talents are to be believed (and I’d assume they are), then Mars gains its culty following for the same reasons as Firefly: despite its distancing, seemingly-cheesy surface appearance (that of a quirky, So-Cal, high school Nancy Drew solving crimes with her dad), it contains unusually mature dialogue, characters, and situations. And like Firefly, it ostensibly melds two seemingly-opposite genres together: high school drama and film noir. Though I haven’t seen the show, the only other example I know of this type of fiction is Brick, which kicked total ass; any show even remotely similar to it in amount of said asskickery would understandably be shunned by the vast majority of the unwashed masses.

Yet perhaps it’s unfair to write the Cloud Watchers off as “just another cult”; while they did technically fail in the end, they did muscle the CW into producing another two seasons of the show thanks to their original methods of persuasion: in 2006, the Watchers hired a plane to fly by the CW offices, pulling a banner that exclaimed, “RENEW VERONICA MARS! CW 2006.” Even after it was renewed, the fans kept trying to increase the fan base of the show, this time by donating DVD sets of season one to various libraries across the US. While they met their goal of having at least one DVD set in every state of the US, it didn’t do much to increase the fanbase and resulted in a reduction of season 3’s episode order from 22 to just 20.

Unfortunately, for all the Cloud Watchers’ tenacity, originality, and steadfast dedication to their favorite show, they were forced to copy the tactics of another rabid fanbase on this list when the time for a fourth season renewal came around. Upon hearing that Mars might not get a fourth season, the Watchers took a page – if not an entire chapter – from the book of Jericho fans and decided to send thousands upon thousands of Mars Bars to CW headquarters before they were to make their official decision concerning the future of the show. Unfortunately, the ploy failed, and Mars is now more or less dead: creator Rob Thomas made vague references to a feature film conclusion to the series (a la Serenity), but at this point his statement amounts to little more than wishful thinking.

GPFFQ: 377,000

 

Firefly

 

Lord, lord, where does one start? The Browncoats, while a group I must inevitably consider myself a member of, may well be one of the most frighteningly enthusiastic cult groups in all of TV land. Not only did they engage in the same sort of behavior as the Cloud Watchers (purchasing tons upon tons of DVD sets and giving them away, starting a postcard-writing campaign to UPN), but they were one of the first groups to do it, and they took it one step further: when the feature film Serenity was created out of the ashes of the cancelled series, the Browncoats spent hundreds – in some cases, thousands – of dollars on tickets, and, once again, handed them out to complete strangers just in hopes of spreading the word.

While their mania helped the show achieve small victories in the short run (fan enthusiasm led to a DVD series, but, despite popular belief, the decision to produce the feature film sequel Serenity came more out of Joss Whedon’s pitch for the film than any amount of fanboy insanity), the poor Browncoats ended up shooting themselves in the foot: their hysterics when it came to Firefly and Serenity alienated more potential new fans than it roped in. When perfect strangers started walking the streets of LA handing out free tickets and encouraging people to see a film they knew nothing about, such propositions sounded more like Scientology-esque trickery than a legitimate desire to share something awesome with another person.

As it turns out, however, the Browncoats weren’t trying to convert anyone to a particular religious belief: they just wanted to share what may have been one of the single greatest and most underappreciated sci-fi franchises of all time. Granted, their enthusiasm may have bordered on the obsessive (one only need watch the fandom documentary Done the Impossible to see the best and worst of the Browncoat base), but it was completely warranted: Firefly melded horror, noir, comedy, western, sci-fi, and martial arts into one smorgasbord of awesomeness. A smorgasbord that was then immediately pre-empted by Fox, then crappily marketed, then shown out of order, then cancelled. I can’t blame the Browncoats, but I can fear them: while their numbers weren’t numerous enough to turn Serenity into anything approaching a box office hit, the Browncoats seem the most willing to go to the mattresses for their show against any and all who might speak against it.

With all that said, watch Firefly and then Serenity. They’re really good. Had the show continued, it would unarguably be the single greatest sci-fi TV series ever made. As it stands, we still have to argue about it.

GPFFQ: 265,000

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Let it be said that I do not consider any of these cults pathetic, nerdy, dorky, or harmful in any way: while some might argue that such fervent worship of fiction makes people ill-equipped for the real world and its troubles, I belong to the school of thought that says anything -- no matter how mocked, shunned, or ignored it may be by the outside world – that allows people to connect with one another on a common, personal level is a good thing, so long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else.

Again looking at the Browncoat documentary Done the Impossible, the important thing isn’t necessarily the show they follow, but the discussions, friendships, and shared adoration between the members of the cult. If a cancelled sci-fi show can bring together so many people for one benign purpose, who are we to say that that’s a bad thing?

*Hehe.