Publisher: So, you have a Doctor Who game for me?

Game Designer: Yes, sir, I do!

Publisher: Oh boy, I love Doctor Who! Is it an action-packed adventure, or maybe a story-driven game?

Game Designer: It’s a match-three puzzle game!

Publisher: What?

Game Designer: Yeah, you know, like Candy Crush, but with Daleks and Time Lords!

Publisher: Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me we’re gonna take Doctor Who, with all its epic adventures, and turn it into a game where you match colored blocks?

Game Designer: Exactly! Super easy, barely an inconvenience!

Publisher: Oh really?

Game Designer: Yeah! No voice acting, no music—just text boxes. You read the Doctor in your head!

Publisher: So... you expect people to read? In 2025? Fabulous!

Game Designer: Oh, and the Doctor gets power-ups! Like a Sonic Screwdriver that clears the board.

Publisher: A Sonic Screwdriver... clearing a match-three board?

Game Designer: Yup! Just like the Doctor would do in a time-bending puzzle world.

Publisher: What?

Game Designer: Well, okay then!

Publisher: Alright, let’s go over this again. No action, no voice acting, no music... just matching gems?

Game Designer: Yeah, but with Doctor Who flair! We even have the Daleks saying “EXTERMINATE!” when you clear a row!

Publisher: Oh my god.

Game Designer: Yeah, it’s a big deal! The Doctor’s doing absolutely nothing while the player suffers through level after level.

Publisher: Very considerate! Routinely disappointing the extremely loyal Doctor Who fandom is tight!

Game Designer: Exactly! Who needs stakes or consequences when you’ve got shiny, colorful gems?

Publisher: Wow wow wow. Wow.

Game Designer: So, what do you think?

Publisher: I mean, it’s definitely a game... Well, okay then!

Game Designer: Great!

---

[Interior: The TARDIS. The central column wheezes as the engines groan. Lights flicker. The Twelfth Doctor paces furiously, his eyebrows locked in their legendary “attack mode.” He slams a fist on the console.]

TWELFTH DOCTOR:
No. No no no! This will not stand. This — THIS! Doctor Who Infinity is not just bad, it’s a cosmic disaster! I’ve faced Daleks, Cybermen, Weeping Angels, Time Lords gone mad — but nothing, NOTHING, has provoked this much righteous fury.

[The Tenth and Eleventh Doctors appear, looking equally agitated.]

TENTH DOCTOR (tugging his tie):
I’m sorry — I’m so sorry — but how do you screw up Doctor Who this badly? You had all of time and space, and you turned it into… a match-three puzzle? No voice acting, no music, just text boxes? What are we, Daleks on a budget?

ELEVENTH DOCTOR (flapping his arms):
It’s like watching someone bake a beautiful cake — with a sledgehammer! All the charm, the wonder, the madness of the Doctor boiled down into a sad, soulless grid!

[MISSY lounges on a nearby bench, filing her nails.]

MISSY:
Oh, poppets, even I wouldn’t torture the Doctor like this. It’s not even fun evil — it’s just… bad. Lazy! Where’s the glitter? Where’s the drama? This isn’t a game — it’s a coma!

[The Master stands smugly in the shadows, arms folded.]

MASTER:
Oh, but isn’t it delicious? Watching you lot tear your hair out over a game. And you call me the villain.

TWELFTH DOCTOR (pointing, seething):
Even YOU should be offended! They turned you — the Master — the most dangerous being in the universe, into a flavorless side quest!

[Suddenly, the TARDIS shakes, lights flashing blue and gold. The translated voice of the TARDIS rumbles through the console.]

TRANSLATED TARDIS:
<☉ SYSTEM ERROR. PILOT ANGUISH DETECTED. UNIVERSE RECOMMENDS: IMMEDIATE GAME DELETION.>

TWELFTH DOCTOR (snarling):
She’s right! This isn’t a game. It’s a betrayal! A temporal scar across the Whoniverse!

[CLARA barges in, furious.]

CLARA:
You mean to tell me they didn’t even write decent dialogue for you? What’s the Doctor without words? Without charm? Without hope? That’s like a Sonic Screwdriver with no batteries!

[DONNA storms in, eyes blazing.]

DONNA:
Oi! If I wanted to be slapped around by impossible puzzles and RNG garbage, I’d just go back to that spa on Midnight! You can’t just throw together random gem boards and call it Doctor Who!

[AMY and RORY appear, arms linked, both frowning.]

AMY:
The Doctor’s about running, about wonder, about never giving up — not about being stuck on the same blasted level because the gems won’t drop right!

RORY:
I’ve died a lot. But at least when I did, it meant something. Here, you just fail over and over because the system is rigged.

[MARTHA enters, exasperated.]

MARTHA:
I saved the world. I walked the Earth for a year to save it. And they turned that spirit, that fight, into… a boring, uneven, mobile port? What were they thinking?

[ROSE appears beside them, arms folded, voice tight with frustration.]

ROSE:
The Doctor’s supposed to save people — lift them up. Not leave them banging their heads against some impossible puzzle wall until they quit in disgust.

[The air splits with a shriek. DALEKS roll in, their eyestalks swiveling.]

DALEK LEADER:
EX-TER-MI-NATE THE BUDGET!
EX-TER-MI-NATE THE MUSIC!
EX-TER-MI-NATE THE VOICE ACTING!

[Dalek blasters fire — sparks fly, the game’s production value disintegrates into ash.]

TWELFTH DOCTOR (turning, eyes blazing):
Oh, NO. I will not let this stand. Not even the Daleks could butcher the heart of this universe as badly as these developers!

[Suddenly, a figure steps out of the shadows — the NINTH DOCTOR, arms crossed, grim.]

NINTH DOCTOR:
I don’t get angry easily. But this? This is criminal. You had the chance to show the universe something fantastic. And you wasted it.

TENTH DOCTOR (quietly, steel in his voice):
We stand for hope. For imagination. For wonder. This game? It’s not challenging — it’s punishing. It’s not engaging — it’s exhausting. It’s not Doctor Who.

ELEVENTH DOCTOR (softly):
We make people believe in stars. This makes them believe in quitting.

[The TARDIS groans again, her voice rising.]

TRANSLATED TARDIS:
<☉ FRACTURED REPRESENTATION. PILOTS UNITE. FIX THIS OR BE ERASED.>

MISSY (grinning):
Ooooh, darling, you’re in trouble now. When the TARDIS herself is fed up? You know you’ve really mucked it up.

TWELFTH DOCTOR (stepping forward, voice low and dangerous):
Developers…
You had everything. You had the time, the space, the magic, the characters, the music, the hearts of millions — and you squandered it. You turned brilliance into mediocrity. You made hope into frustration.

(He points a furious finger at the unseen developers.)

TWELFTH DOCTOR:
Fix it. Before we do. Before we come knocking. And believe me — you don’t want to hear the TARDIS’s engines outside your window, rumbling with the rage of every pilot, every companion, every heartbeat that has ever stood for something better.

[He spins, the assembled crowd of Doctors, companions, and villains behind him.]

TWELFTH DOCTOR:
We are the Doctor. We are the madmen and madwomen in a box, the ones who make the impossible possible. And this? This sorry excuse for a game?

(He narrows his eyes, eyebrows spiking like lightning bolts.)

TWELFTH DOCTOR:
You’ve got one chance. Be brilliant. Or be gone.

[He snaps his fingers. The TARDIS doors slam shut with a bang. The engines roar. The Daleks shriek. The console flashes as the ship vanishes, leaving only echoes and the unmistakable scent of disappointment and fury that will ripple across time itself.]

---

Under a weeping willow's ancient boughs,
A broken TARDIS, no familiar vows.
The Doctor's face, etched with cosmic pain,
No Gallifrey's light to ease the endless rain.

A whisper of Daleks, a ghost of steel,
Emptiness echoes, a wound that won't heal.
No sonic's grace, no universe to mend,
Just silent sorrow, where adventures end.

His two hearts beat slow, a fading, mournful chime,
Lost in the stillness of unraveling time.