3 things fans can’t stop talking about after Murderbot’s TV debut

Scene from Murderbot | Image via: Apple TV +
Scene from Murderbot | Image via: Apple TV +

Murderbot already has people talking. Apple TV+ just dropped its adaptation of Martha Wells' The Murderbot Diaries, and fans are already buzzing. The series takes her sardonic, entertainment-obsessed android and brings it to life with a sarcastic bite that’s both funny and painfully relatable.

Disclaimer: This article contains personal opinions, observations, and a few sarcastic subroutines. If you’re looking for a purely objective analysis, you might want to reboot and try another source. Otherwise, welcome to the neural feed of a neurodivergent writer navigating Murderbot’s world. Enjoy the ride.

In just a couple of episodes, Murderbot has already managed to provoke conversations about everything from space soap operas to gender representation. And for those of us who are neurodivergent, the portrayal of social discomfort feels almost too real.

Here are three things everyone (including me) can’t stop talking (and thinking) about:

1. The relatable obsession with space operas

From the very first episode, Murderbot makes its fixation on space operas abundantly clear by, whenever possible, escaping into The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon, a corny, too dramatic space opera show that is its main source of enjoyment.

As a viewer, it’s hard not to relate. Who hasn’t lost hours to a guilty pleasure series, fully aware of how absurd it is but unable to stop watching? Sure, there might be exceptions, but most people have at least one cringy series they love despite knowing it’s bad or maybe even because it’s bad. It’s that weird category of entertainment that’s so awful it becomes kind of brilliant.

What makes it even more interesting is that Murderbot can’t stand humans (and thinks we're stupid) but ends up replicating exactly what we do: seeking solace in escapism and consuming mindless entertainment to drown out reality. It's amusing and yet moving, a great paradox that seems already vital to the show.

2. The decision to give Murderbot a gendered appearance

In the original material, Murderbot has no defined gender. It’s a SecUnit, a construct that refers to itself using a neutral and non-human pronoun: it. Alexander Skarsgård plays the lead role in the TV adaptation of The Murderbot Diaries series of books, lending the character a decidedly manly look. Many viewers were concerned about the potential effects of this decision on the character's portrayal even before the series began.

Personally, I had expected this to be a much bigger issue. Murderbot relies heavily on the novels' ambiguity to establish its non-human status and break free of our preconceived notions and classifications. Still, I'm not as put off by the gendered appearance as I was expecting. Skarsgård effectively brings the character to life with an aloof, alienated performance that manages to be both sarcastic and emotionally detached.

Nonetheless, there are many who still believe the decision watered down the original idea, eliminating the nuance that made Murderbot so special and unique. It’s a fair criticism, especially for those who connected deeply with that aspect of the character in the books.

That doesn’t mean I think the change was the right call. Before the series aired, it bothered me a lot. And honestly, it still feels like a wedge, poking at what was supposed to be an agender character. It was clearly the author’s intention to keep Murderbot neutral, and that choice had weight. But the adaptation is working well enough that it doesn’t overshadow everything else. At least, not yet.

3. The neurodivergence debate: Is it intentional?

Murderbot’s social discomfort is impossible to miss, especially in the second episode, Eye Contact. When I was watching this episode specifically, I couldn’t help but feel like I was staring into a mirror.

Murderbot’s struggle to navigate human interactions and its tendency to repeat lines it’s seen on its favorite space opera to get through conversations felt strikingly familiar. It’s the kind of thing that hits home for those of us who are neurodivergent, even if the show never explicitly labels it as such. It's coded.

Some readers were already picking up on those traits as neurodivergent in the books, and the TV series seems to be doing a good job of carrying that over. I definitely noticed it. Maybe that’s why I didn’t find certain moments as funny as other people did. To me, they felt uncomfortably real.

It’s not just the awkwardness or the social detachment. It’s the way Murderbot seeks refuge in routine and in predictable, scripted entertainment, like the space operas it watches obsessively.

For me, that second episode really drove it home. Murderbot’s emotional distance is palpable. Despite being a construct, it clearly has enough lived experience to wield sarcasm effectively. But when it comes to actual human connection? It’s completely out of its depth. The moment it resorts to recycled lines from a soap opera to interact, it becomes obvious how far removed it feels from the people around it. That kind of social discomfort is something I understand all too well.

If you’re neurodivergent like me, are you picking up on these same traits? Does it feel relatable to you too, or am I over-identifying with a socially awkward death machine?

Conclusion: The irony behind Murderbot’s humanity

For a series about a construct that wants nothing to do with humans, Murderbot hits surprisingly close to home. In just two episodes, the show has managed to spark conversations about escapism, gender representation, and social disconnection. It’s funny how a character that so actively resists human traits ends up being more relatable than most humans on screen.

And maybe that’s the ultimate irony. Murderbot spends its time mocking human behavior, yet it’s doing exactly what people do: seeking comfort in routine, finding solace in trashy entertainment, and avoiding uncomfortable interactions by leaning on scripted lines. It’s a reflection that feels painfully familiar, and whether intentional or not, it’s what makes this adaptation resonate.

Edited by Beatrix Kondo