Loyalty Means Everything

I’m pretty sure I could base a whole sociologic thesis off of this show I have so many thoughts this is LONG.

So the fascinating thing about clones is that over and over it’s emphasised in show that they are considered property/cannon fodder/disposable, and at the same time it’s shown that they understand that claim, and still go so far out of their way to control some kind of their own independence.

I occasionally have a hard time separating show and fanfiction (fuck canon it’s my world now) but even in show, the allusions to modern militaries, the decorating of armor, the personalisations such as accents, names, and specific groups (Domino Squad) all point to an entirely unmitigated, completely developed culture inside the Republic. So this is basically a list of things I’ve seen, wondered about, or headcanoned in TCW.

- I would just LOVE to sit down with Filoni or Lucas and a sociologist and just Talk about how, if this army was real, what all would the Kaminoan’s have programmed in their heads (mental stability, coping mechanisms, stamina, self-preservation instinct, etc,) and how would it work in real-time, on and off the battlefield. What kind of programming went on in those eight to ten developmental years that ensured that loyalty was innate, the knowledge of property was omnipresent, and that they believed they weren’t allowed to own anything? What did they do to them to make sure that they would never want to form an uprising???

- “We are only as good as our weakest link” is repeated in team events endlessly, something that can extend to both skill and health. How deeply engrained are checkups, both mental and physical? I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that day in and day out clones, regardless of rank, are able to listen to and watch brothers die and Not have that affect them.

- Were they programmed with “protect the Jedi” in mind, or was it just, “bam. here is your CO, they outrank you so you have to respect/protect them?”,  and then one of them jumped off a building with no armor and their captain had a heart attack? With the whole “Jedi were peacekeepers now they’re generals” thing I feel like the Senate just took two pieces of a puzzle that don’t actually go together but fit anyways and shoved them together and now they’re just kinda staring at each other like “the fuk u doin here”

- HEALTH. IS SO. IMPORTANT. When you know that any injury severe enough or illness overlooked long enough could result in you being swiftly and carelessly replaced by someone who looks Exactly like you, how much more of an emphasis is put on health, bodily wellbeing, and injury prevention? Clones are human, and while they’re very highly trained, strong humans, they’re still human and skin is skin. (Applying real logic to a cartoon) Seeing clones in things like explosions that they potentially survive, but lose a limb or two always made me sad because, to The Republic/The GAR/ Kamino, what good is a crippled clone? To Kaminoans, their life’s purpose is over and you might as well treat them as a lame horse. Fuck Kamino.

- I just realised something. When most modern soldiers deploy, they deploy with the intent to eventually be replaced because they have served their time wherever they are, and are being replaced by a new wave of soldiers. Clones deploy with the intent to die and be replaced until the battle is won.

- When Marines or Infantrymen or Sailors ship out, they always have duffel bags or those gigantic green laundry bag stuffed with clothes and personal items. Now, we know that clones collect personal items, and assumedly have multiple pairs of blacks (or no sweat glands) but I have yet to see any kind of carrying devices other than crates and small backpacks like for small Hutt babies or explosives. Do they have to leave everything behind when they’re op-hopping to their next planet? Are there barracks left behind that hold the ghosts of personal blankets and magazine clippings? Or is there a mountain of green laundry bags just off-camera?

- Naming culture, good god. So, you’re fresh out of boot, and you’ve got your number still. You’re like, “dope. I’m CT-1234. I’m a GAR mortarman. Go time.” Then, some dickhead is like, nah you’re called Sparkles now lets go prank Gogo and Jazz. Naming is WILD, and I’m mostly drawing from fanfiction for this. Either you’re named for some major or heroic or kickass reason like Tracer or Wolffe or Fireball, or you’re named for the most mundane thing like your number ends with 22, so you’re Twos or there are checkers on your armor so now you’re Check. either way it is a personal choice that Specifically defies the number they were assigned at decanting. Even Dogma had one for fucks sake.

- Painting armor. You know that time had to be taken to sit quietly and detail on that eel, or those lines, or that decal. Did it do anything to better the Republic? Did it win any battles or save any precious Jedi? No, but it happened anyways. People like to discuss why we play video games; there’s no societal, familial, or interpersonal benefit, only benefit to the one playing. There’s no societal, familial, or interpersonal benefit to painting armor, only benefit to the one painting. Fuck Kamino. 

- Vocal inflections! The places they’re deployed affecting their speech patterns! I personally have a wild mashup of regional American accents because of the time I’ve spent traipsing, so how does being deployed planet after planet affect clone speech patterns??? Who rolls their r’s and who doesn’t? Are there transfers from other battalions whose accents are indiscernible because of where they were last deployed? Or ones who just have a whole additional vocabulary of local language? I’m three states away and the Louisiana accent blows my mind. Imagine that, but a whole fucking star system away???

- LINGO. Military lingo, planetary lingo (see above), sign language etc. give me different forms of communication outside Basic, used in both the formal and informal settings. (name calling in ASL/BSL during a briefing, talking about shinies in front of their faces in a language they don’t yet understand, talking about Jedi in front of their faces in a language they don’t understand.) Clones are told all that they are is property but damn if that property isn’t going to be able to talk shit about you to your face.

- To add on... Mando’a???? Is it innate? Is it learned? Did Jango Fett personally sit every clone ever down and teach them how to say Cat and Dog and Yes and No? Does every clone know it, or only those who sought it out? Literally it’s the most impersonal personal thing. “You, a thing who was made for combat, who looks exactly like millions of others, know one language of BILLIONS in the galaxy, purely because the man whose hair we based your genetic makeup off of knows it.” like WHAT

- HELMETS. BEING. SO. VERY. PERSONAL. Everything you see, speak, hear, smell is filtered through that bucket on your head. Are HUDs customisable? Is wearing or touching someone else’s bucket a no-no? Who’s watching telenovelas on guard duty?

- Speaking OF helmets: When your waking hours are constantly covered by your bucket, how do bodily “tells” betray what your face can’t? People acclimate. How common is it to be able to read your brother’s emotions like a fucking book based purely on how squared his hip is in parade rest, or which shoulder is higher than the other at attention?

- Or even just armor. Dude, that is literally the only thing between their skin and certain death by laser bolt. You ever talked to an athlete? And how picky they are about what cleats they wear or what goggles they use, or what percentage Gatorade their water is? We’re incorrigible. Imagine that, but the choice made results in how mobile you are, or how much laser to the shoulder you can stand.

- Time is so fucking short and they all must know that. I think I’ve used the line, “the average lifespan of a clone is measured in months, not years,” and boy does that fucking hit. How do you handle life when you were made to be snuffed out by it?

To conclude, I have many thoughts about the minute details of a working army that is comprised of identical people created, raised, and sent off to die for a war they didn’t start. Sounds a little ridiculous when you say it out loud, but between the show itself, fanart, and fucking fanfiction, it’s a little hard not to attribute human nuances to the show that exemplified my childhood. I’m an adult and it is my very highly specifically adult choice to psychoanalyse this show, and you can bet I’ll throw hands with Disney at any time.