#bedlam reads the high republic

[kyndaris]

A New Hope

As we all know, 2023 was a messy year in the history of the world. While I know humans are not liable to change just because time has ticked over to 2024, I cannot help but hope for a new beginning. Even as remnants of the past year remains with us.

Much like the games I've been playing in the lead-up to the holiday season. And the fact I schedule these posts up to 5 to 6 weeks in advance.

Still, I feel like the themes within Star Wars Jedi: Survivor are particularly apt for a year where we've seen the Voice Referendum fail and a renewal to the conflict on the West Bank between Israel and Hamas. As someone who has dabbled a little in reading the histories and likes to think they're up to date on global events, it's saddening to see ongoing cycles of hatred with no-one party wishing to break it. After all, the game itself sets itself on the story of Cal Kestis, one of very few survivors of the great Jedi purge after the end of the Clone Wars. Throughout the game, he must reckon with his own need for vengeance when it comes to the Empire and a betrayal near the end of the game, which hits closer to home with his found family.

But as most people know, an eye for an eye only serves to make the whole world blind. Blood begets blood and we are trapped in a vicious cycle of revenge.

Of course, the question arises: how can one forgive such heinous acts done against them by senseless violence and move on?

Although I would like to say I have the answers, I don't. The entirety of human history is a back and forth of grievances, fuelled by fear, anger, hatred and greed.

And this is something the characters in Star Wars Jedi: Survivor are intimately familiar with.

The game itself starts a few years after the ending of the first in the series. Instead of being accompanied by Cere, Greez and Merrin, players find Cal Kestis running with a new group as he continues his work with Saw Gerrera to hurt the Empire in any way he can. His current mission? Stealing information held by a Senator on the planet of Coruscant.

Indeed, the very thing players see is the old Jedi Temple, taken over by the Empire. The very sight of it sets Cal's teeth on edge.

But as with all things, the heist goes wrong and many of Cal's friends are killed in the escape from Coruscant. Cal, the playable character, manages to make it to hyperspace before learning of a gyro malfunction. This leads him to crash land on Koboh where we soon learn Greez has set up his own cantina and is living a rustic life on an Outer Rim planet.

From an exciting beginning, the game meanders a little as it introduces new threats such as the Bedlam Raiders and their leader, Rayvis, before pivoting a little to some High Republic history with the likes of Dagan Gera. And while the Empire is an ever present threat to Cal and his crew in this far, far away galaxy, it felt mostly peripheral to a very contained story about finding the mystical planet Tanalor. In fact, I was surprised how much Cal didn't seem to feel compelled to make contact with Saw again, or to take the fight back to the Empire except near the end when he stormed an Imperial base at Nova Garon.

In fact, so enraged is Cal by a betrayal close to him, he reaches out to the Dark Side of the Force for power. It is only when Merrin is there to calm him down that Cal relents and tries to take a step back from his destructive path.

While the Star Wars universe tends to make many things black and white, with Force wielders seemingly being corrupted as soon as they tap in these 'dark side' emotions, it should be noted that Cal being angry and hurt are valid. Just because he is a Jedi does not mean he can't feel loss or a need for revenge.

And anger and pain and fear aren't bad.

They simply make him human.

But the most important thing I found when I played through those last few hours was how Cal didn't allow his need for revenge to consume him. With a little help from Merrin and the presence of Kata to steady him. So, instead of killing the man who had betrayed him and ripped away most of his found family, Cal offered Bode the chance to live.

Of course, this isn't something most people can do when something horrifying rips their family apart. There's trauma, there's fear, there's anger. It isn't easy to let bygones be bygones when everything is so real and visceral and immediate.

True, Israel's actions have only let to more civilian casualties and the loss of many innocents, but they're only acting like a wounded and desperate beast after the events of October 7th when people were killed and hostages taken. And yes, the Palestinians also deserve their pound of flesh too after seeing children and loved ones die because of aerial bombardment as Israel attempts to smoke out Hamas.

Hopefully by the time this post goes up, a ceasefire has been declared. But the bigger question remains of how to settle the bad blood between these two peoples. Forgiveness is not an easy thing to grant when war crimes and other atrocities have been committed against each other.

And as other countries have shown, such humiliations can be century long grudges. Look no further than China as it tries to assert its dominance in the Pacific region.

From a gameplay perspective, Star Wars Jedi: Survivor presents more of the same but with a more additional flourishes. Since Cal has relearned many of his Force abilities like Force Jump, Force Pull and Force Push, Respawn Entertainment has introduced a few more things to play around with such as Force Lift and Force Slam. Even better, it also adds in new stances like dual wielding, blaster stance and even a crossguard lightsaber - ripped straight from the Sequel Trilogy.

These all add a bit more flavour to the game although I primarily stayed with the single blade as it was the most versatile. Now I need to remind myself to use more Force powers on the regular to deal with my enemies instead of simply toughing it out with only blade work.

Oh, but I cannot talk about Star Wars Jedi: Survivor without also talking about the jump in graphic fidelity when I played on my PlayStation 5. From the first cutscene to the very end, Jedi: Survivor was beautiful. True, sometimes the textures took a while to pop in even though I played the game six months after launch, but the panoramas I saw while gliding or just climbing up a mountain were a sight to behold.

Then, of course, there was the music as it took cues from the score of one John Williams. One tune that stuck with me throughout the game was the little ditty that played whenever I opened up a Stim chest. Instead of Star Wars, it almost had a Hogwarts ring to it. After all, John Williams was also the composer to the Harry Potter films. Is it any wonder some of the motifs and cues are shared?

In any case, after finishing Star Wars Jedi: Survivor and nabbing the platinum trophy, I look forward to see what Respawn Entertainment will go next (even as I hope they'll ditch the Dark Souls-esque nature of the meditation points and the loss of experience points should you fall in battle). It'll also be interesting to see where Cal's journey take him next. Especially as we head closer and closer to the events of the original trilogy where the Empire is defeated by upstart rebels.

Also, here's hoping poor Cal gets to wear his lovable poncho again from the very start of the game instead of it being gated behind an annoying boss battle.

On that note, it is also my most heartfelt wish for the world to find some semblance of balance and peace. Change needs to happen. It is inevitable. Yet, sometimes it's okay for it to take a bit longer to do so.

As long as it does.

[bedlamsbard]

VERY SCATTERED thoughts on Star Wars: The High Republic: Light of the Jedi by Charles Soule -- not terribly spoilery, but probably there’s some if you don’t want to not be spoiled at all.  I’m just going to copy and paste from last night’s Twitter thread(s), so this is definitely not in the top ten most coherent things I’ve ever written.

Under a cut for anyone who is avoiding spoilers.

Light of the Jedi is fine. Weirdly paced, probably a nightmare to read if you're going to read it over several days rather than in one day because of the size of the cast of characters (go back to doing those, Lucasfilm), very much a Western. 

I will say this, as someone who came out of the EU: this book is REALLY jarring to read if you're familiar with the EU, especially the Old Republic era but quite a lot of the later-set stuff as well. It's essentially a reset, but there are things in there that are just ???? like, okay, we're going to change where bacta comes from, sure...? why...?  hyperspace is weird and scary a mere two hundred years before TPM.  why...?

I had this vibe from A Test of Courage (which I read first), but I'm getting it here too -- the Jedi seem more...Christian. It's not something I can put my finger on or point to anything really specific, but something about the approach feels far more Western. I know the promo and publicity for the High Republic series leaned hard into the Knights of the Round Table vibe and it's very...I mean, I can't argue?  I'm not totally comfortable with it?

Coming out of the PT/TCW era as well, these Jedi seem more...what's the word I want. They're not necessarily different philosophically (except for the fact they read more Western-influenced than Eastern), but they're...smoother. That's not a great descriptor. The PT era Jedi feel scrappier, and I don't necessarily mean that just because we mostly see them in the midst of the Clone Wars. (I came out of the PT-era EU, not just the Clone Wars era.) Maybe this is the event that's going to scrape the Jedi down to bare bones and sharp-edged teeth. Maybe I missed something not having read the PT-era new canon. Again, like, I don't think they're philosophically different, they're hmm. less...desperate?  and certainly part of that is that the PT Jedi are in their twilight, even before the Clone Wars, and the High Republic Jedi are at their height, but... *flips hands* I don't know.

also I'm going to be honest if I saw the words "we are all the Republic" one more time I was going to lose my mind. this is particularly noticeable because the government is apparently just the Chancellor and two ministers. you are telling me the Senate doesn't care?  perhaps I am particularly sensitive to this because of the U.S. politics we are all suffering through but WHERE WAS THE SENATE.

the Nihil are whatever.

a lot of the design choices in this book feel very Rule of Cool, which going by the way that the designs seem to have been done may actually be true. (lightsabers...holstered?)  (honestly I have my back up with how SW introduced them by basically going "ALL RIGHT COSPLAYERS HAVE AT."   and I feel kind of weird about the fact they went for the blonde white woman as their main Jedi.)  just a lot of this feels very "okay what if we do THIS because it's COOL" which like as a fic writer sure! fine! that's great! I'm tired.

I can't believe we have to live through three phases of this for at least the next three years.

anyway it's fine. the pacing in Light of the Jedi is fucked up -- mostly it's fine but then there's the back third and that's...not...great. especially if one is trying to apply timeline logic.

***

[this is a separate thread I wrote about the same book]

was not expecting the trend in new canon Star Wars to be authors being really weird about writing nonhumans but whatever like, they're doing it, but the descriptions are...weird.  it's the less fucked up equivalent of "she breasted boobily"

this is something I think about a lot because I write from Twi'lek POVs all the time, so I am probably more sensitive to it than average

would you describe a human in this way? no? then don't do it. (I should specify because lolsob people, would you describe whatever your idea of a Standard Person is in this way? no? then don't do it. because people are also weird about describing, amongst others, women and POC.)

this sort of thing isn't, like, BAD but it also feels very...unnatural.

IDK, this is one of the Star Wars things that I'm unusually sensitive about.

the author is less weird about describing some of the other nonhumans so I think it's entirely possible he doesn't think his audience knows what the fuck a Nautolan is

um.

if you didn't already know what Togruta looked like this description would make zero sense so it's kind of just reading like the author going "Togruta are sexy, check."

(I swear I'm getting other stuff from this book too, it's just the description thing is what I'm attuned to so it's getting the most commentary from me.)

[subthread in response to a question I got about this sort of thing]

I don't know that there's a pattern -- I'm not doing much SW reading because I don't generally find it enjoyable anymore, but what I usually look for are 1) in a close third person POV how is the author having the character describe themselves?

and then, is that described in a way that feels natural? (thinking about Freed having Hera call her skin "jade-colored" or here "tentacles emerging from the back of his skull.") is there an ever-present awareness from within the character that they're not "human-standard"?

2) how much does the narrative exoticize their non-humanness -- Soh talking about Togruta in this thread is a very obvious example, even if that's not a Togruta describing themselves.

if it feels like the narrative is going "LOOK! THEY'RE NOT HUMAN!" and then lays out the ways how based on their physical characteristics. and what the narrator chooses to describe and not (skin color, lekku, horns, etc.)

there can also just be some REALLY weird phrasing around the way authors choose to describe nonhuman characters -- thinking about EKJ's Ahsoka talking about how "her head had grown again", that'a a phrase that lives rent-free in my brain.

also Soule has a weird quirk I've noticed where nonhuman characters are not described as being "a Twi'lek" or "a Tholothian" but as "Twi'lek" or "Tholothian" -- using the species as an adjective rather than a noun, which grates a little on me because it's not SW standard.

and then also the decision about what's being described sometimes just feels WEIRD in a Star Wars setting, and it's particularly glaring here because there are some species Soule's singling out to describe and some that are just allowed to exist.

*snaps fingers* and also if the author will identify various nonhumans as their species, but never specify that humans are humans, even while describing skin tone, eye color, etc. (I mention this because I JUST ran into this in the book.)

the human default is really jarring in this book even if there are a ton of nonhuman characters, because he tends to not specify that the humans are human. like, I'm more attuned to it than most of the audience for various reasons, but. *flips hand*

like, this is definitely a thing I'm unusually sensitive to because of Backbone, so. *shrug*

[qqueenofhades]

Friend! Out of curiosity, as Resident Historian, do you have any thoughts on historical ableism and acceptance/non-acceptance of disability? (Ideally especially during the Golden Age of Piracy but I'm also generally fascinated)

Hehe. Of course I have Thoughts. When do I not have Thoughts.

Medieval disability studies have started to become a considerable trend in just the past 10 years or so, and that link above provides a brief overview and several selections for further reading. The medieval era is obviously the one I know most about, and there was – if no form of institutionalized or regularized medical care for the disabled and ill – not total ignorance of it either. Almshouses (essentially charity homes for the sick and disabled) and leper hospitals were increasingly common in Europe from the eleventh century on. Leprosy was associated with the crusades, and the founding of hospitals for them was viewed as both a social necessity, to segregate those with a highly visible, contagious, and debilitating disease from others, and as a charitable duty for the care of holy people (crusaders) who had achieved some virtue by their actions. There was considerable influence in ideas about the holiness of suffering, and that those who did so were closer to God. In fact, medieval care of the disabled was strongly influenced by classical Christian ideas of piety: care for the sick, feed the hungry, etc, and there were orders of monks and nuns dedicated to it. 

As ever, your class was the strongest determining factor of the care you received: if you were wealthy, you could pay for servants to tend your needs, and live fairly comfortably in your own home. Disability and illness was not a disqualifying factor from attaining high office (as you might expect in a world without modern medical care – everyone would be subject to the same things), and there are many representations of disability in medieval manuscripts. But if you were poor, you were reliant on whatever care your family could or wanted to provide for you, or had to hope you could get a place at an almshouse or similar institution. There were superstitions around disability, and if you had to work for your living in any way (aka everyone below the nobility), this seriously disadvantaged you. But the disabled lived fairly freely in their communities, including in positions of power, weren’t an uncommon or unexpected sight by any means, and had some basic (if doubtless not particularly comfortable) system set up for their care, based on religious charity and individual piety.

As leprosy, a visibly disfiguring physical disease, mostly disappeared from Western Europe around 1500, a new focus on mental disability appeared instead, centered especially on the imagery of the “Ship of Fools.” Michel Foucault talks about this in Madness and Civilization, but it was a particular theme in literature and art, based around the 1494 epic poem “Das Narrenschiff” by the humanist Sebastian Brant. It was, once again, a moral commentary on both humanity and, particularly, the corrupt Catholic Church. The “fools” were placed on a ship and ostracized (symbolically) from the body politic; madness was a concerning and troubling political feature among several monarchs (such as with Joanna “the Mad” of Castile and Charles VI of France, as well as Henry VI of England) and it began to be viewed more negatively than it necessarily had been in the medieval era. Aka: as ever, physical disability was easier to understand and to care for, but mental disabilities got the shaft.

In regard to the Golden Age of Piracy (1650-1726, or thereabouts) pirates were, as ever, radical in their social organization and mores. We already know that they were hella queer, had their own form of gay marriage (often shared in a threesome with a woman) and in general were socially liberal, egalitarian, and democratic (honestly, Black Sails is incredibly accurate in capturing the spirit of the historical pirates’ republic and lifestyle, and it was conceived specifically in response to the brutality and oppression of the Navy, which many of them had fled). This extended to their treatment of disability, though medical care and disability had obviously been common to seamen long before pirates. However, while a debilitating injury often meant that a merchant or Navy sailor was turned out with not much option for future employment, pirates established basic workman’s comp and social insurance for everyone aboard a ship. Pirate articles often included specific provisions for disability and loss of limb; Henry Morgan’s in 1671 spell out various sums for the loss of a leg, arm, or eye. Furthermore, disability payments could sometimes continue indefinitely. So a pirate with a peg leg or a hook for a hand or an eyepatch (or all the other pirate trappings, many of which were popularized by Stevenson in Treasure Island) would actually be uncommon. If they got severely or traumatically injured in the line of duty, they could retire with enough money to support themselves, and not need to hazard the dangerous and difficult life of an amputee aboard a traditional sailing ship. (Incidentally, the popular image of a pirate is often how disability began to be represented in the media.)

The excavation and recovery of the Queen Anne’s Revenge has yielded nearly a full kit of medical supplies, and Blackbeard reportedly forced the three surgeons to stay aboard the ship when he captured it. There is some debate about how the image of the “disabled pirate” – Stevenson’s Long John Silver and Blind Pew, Barrie’s Captain Hook, etc – began to be common, and the answer is probably tied to the attitudes of the late 18th and overall 19th centuries, which were absolutely disastrous for disabled people. The rise of the asylums began around now, including the notorious Bethlem Royal Hospital (from where we get the word “bedlam.”) Workhouses were built en masse, where the destitute poor and the actually disabled alike were shoved in indiscriminately and treated abominably, and “asylum tourism,” aka go to the madhouse to admire the architecture (and gape at the patients) was a real and horrifying thing. Thus, disability became tied to immorality, weakness, deficiency, and the need to be publically segregated from society (until then, the disabled had been cared for at home – there were a small number of patients in a few private charity hospitals in 1800, and by 1900, there were almost 100,000 in countless workhouses/asylums/general pits of misery). You have Capitalism! (take a shot) and the Industrial Revolution to thank for that. If you couldn’t work in a factory, and you couldn’t earn a wage, and you were a burden on your family who now would be expected to work for an income to support themselves, yep, it was the madhouse for you. And of course, plenty of totally non-mad people got shipped off as well. As I said. Disastrous.

In fact, we have Nellie Bly (aka Elizabeth Jane Cochran, a reporter at the New York World, who I wrote about in my first Timeless historical companion piece) to thank for starting a conversation around asylum reform. In 1887, in a groundbreaking piece of undercover journalism, she got herself committed to Blackwell’s Island asylum in New York and then wrote Ten Days in a Mad-House, revealing both the nightmarish conditions and how every doctor who examined her instantly declared her insane with no hope for recovery. It caused such an uproar that there finally started to be some attempt at oversight and reform for mental hospitals (although there is obviously still a long way to go, yeah – the nineteenth century was The Worst for this.)

So yes. As ever, that was probably more than anyone wanted to know, but the Golden Age of Piracy was particularly focused on social and financial care for members of its community who became disabled, paid pensions, and actually would not have needed to have too many walking wounded seamen/sailors, because there was no incentive to have to keep earning a wage by physical labor when you would be supported from the communal treasure chest. Aka yes, the pirates’ republic of the 17th and 18th centuries was light years more politically and culturally progressive than 21st century America (/stares at the latest Trumpcare bill/Obamacare repeal up in the Senate) and it ain’t close.