Lessons of the Past: What Knights of the Old Republic II has to teach us
Why is a 15-year-old game still loved and remembered today?
The year is 2004. The previous two years saw two titles completely redefine the genre of role-playing video games: Knights of the Old Republic (2003), and The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind (2002). The former was Bioware’s hit narrative-focused and tactical RPG set in the beloved Star Wars universe, a game praised for deep character development, a compelling storyline with twists and turns, and (at the time) solid gameplay with rules based on old-school Dungeons and Dragons dice-roll systems. The latter was Bethesda’s reimagining of what an RPG can be: a 3D open world, first-person game with sprawling storylines, systems, and a world to explore. These two games took the RPG genre, previously limited to isometric top-down games such as the original Fallout and Baldur’s Gate, and brought it into new dimensions of writing and gameplay.
The year is 2004, and you are a member of Obsidian, the gaming studio tasked with developing the sequel to the acclaimed Knights of the Old Republic, with creating a new, but connected, storyline to draw people in. You are expected to make lightning strike twice. What do you do? What will be your lightning rod? Rather than innovative new gameplay mechanics, Obsidian’s solution consisted of a question and an idea. Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords (TSL) proves that, even today, a single-player experience with a powerful narrative and complex ideas can compete with big-budget multiplayer titles.
The first Knights of the Old Republic game had a very standard good-vs-evil narrative setup; the same setup we had come to expect from Star Wars. What made this simple morality system compelling was the way you, the player, could move their character along a Light Side / Dark Side morality scale, which impacted your companions, your ending, and encouraged your decision making at key points of the plot.
One of the first things that a fan of The Sith Lords will tell you, myself included, is that the game seriously questions the black-and-white moral structure of the Star Wars universe. While this does create some gameplay-narrative dissonance (the in-game morality system is still the Light Side / Dark Side duality), but the game’s events do reward or punish playing as a more neutral character, operating in the “grey” moral area.
Unlike almost every other Star Wars game to date, your character at the start of the game isn’t a new recruit, a powerful young Jedi, or a grizzled bounty hunter. You are an Exile, a Jedi banished from the Jedi Order and — most importantly — stripped of their access to the Force. From the beginning, you stand in a place where nobody else really can. You are alone, utterly and entirely. This isolation is amplified by your first moments of the game: you awaken in a healing vat, surrounded by other vats containing coprses, on an apparently abandoned space station.
Alone.
But not for long. As the prologue level on the station progresses, you acquire your first three companions: Atton Rand, a scoundrel who does not talk about his past, T3-M4, your droid (that is totally not an R2-D2 replacement), and Kreia.
Kreia is central to the key questions and philosophies in TSL, and is considered to be one of the best-written characters in the Star Wars universe. She is cryptic, sardonic, and wise. She inserts herself into your story as a teacher, and explains that she has a bond with you through the Force. This tells you two things as a player: She will be with you for the entire game, one way or another, and she is someone you need to pay attention to. We will be focusing almost entirely on her character and her ideas, because they are core concepts for the entire game.
From the very beginning, you are an outcast and an irregularity, surrounded by other outcasts and irregularities — and there are lessons that can only be learned from this position.
As you play through the game, one of the gameplay systems that Obsidian created new for TSL becomes important: Influence. As you interact with your various companions, you will gain or lose Influence with them. This affects how much of themselves they are willing to expose to you (or risk for you). For example, skillfully manipulating a mercenary squad on Dantooine for your own ends will gain you influence with Kreia (if she is present in your party). As you gain Influence with her, Kreia teaches you about the core idea of TSL: all things are connected in ways we could not imagine and we can manipulate all things if we can see the full web of connections.
“Be careful of charity and kindness, lest you do more harm with open hands then a clenched fist.”
— Kreia
The most memorable example of her teachings occurs on the moon Nar Shaddaa, where you encounter a beggar. He asks you for money, and your only options are to do so, or tell him off (either politely or cruelly, because he does get pushy). If you oblige him, Kreia will criticise the decision, explaining that this perceived act of good, in this situation, can cause greater suffering than doing nothing. As she speaks, you are forced to see a vision of the man running down the street, getting stopped and surrounded by thugs, then getting beaten, robbed, and murdered — all because you gave him a few credits. If you are cruel, a similar lecture occurs, but you added more suffering directly. This time, the vision is of the beggar becoming enraged and stabbing someone else in the slums. If the consequences of your actions are not considered, the universe is simply shown more suffering. This idea is central to her character, and to the game. This idea is the narrative conceptual impetus for the entire plot of the game, and forces the player to think in ways they might not be used to. But this is only half of Obsidian’s lightning rod, the idea. What about the other half, the question?
The question is straightforward in delivery and complex in contemplation. How much can we, as individuals, truly control? This is one of the core conflicts of Kreia’s character, and one of her driving forces for all of her actions, teachings, and manipulations throughout the game. Star Wars traditionally frames the Force as a positive entity or neutral energy. At the end of The Sith Lords, it is revealed that Kreia views the Force as a childish, cruel, and vague deity that toys with people in this endless game of balance. This game takes form as war and conflict in the universe, which often stems from the actions of Force users. As skilled as Kreia is at manipulation, she despises the apparent “will of the Force” that denies true freedom, and seeks to “kill” the Force. Her desire for control and freedom echoes the questions that lead many characters to grow and change over the course of the story. Atton wants to be free of his past; Visas Marr (a companion that joins later in the game) wants to be free of her master, but delegates control of her fate to you, and so on. These, alongside Kreia’s criticism of both the Jedi and the Sith in the story itself, are ideas and concepts that Star Wars had not touched before, nor touched on since. It was a bold and audacious decision, and it has paid off in spades; people still discuss these themes today. That is what makes Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords stand out among other RPGs, shoulder-to-shoulder with its predecessor. That is what makes this game memorable and enjoyable to this day, 15 years later.
“You see, the war, the true war, has never been one waged by droids, warships, or soldiers. They are but crude matter, obstacles against which we test ourselves.”
— Kreia
Obsidian’s lightning rod was to make the player think, and ask questions greater than “good vs. evil.” They chose to put the brunt of their innovation into the narrative, the aspect of the game that will stick with the traditionally story-oriented RPG players the most. Despite the limited number of gameplay changes Obsidian made — the addition of the Influence system, a few new feats and character traits, and a small number of quality-of-life changes — The Sith Lords stands out because of its narrative, and its story. The stale gameplay did not hinder the game’s success. I proposed in the title that Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords has something important to teach us, and I hope you’ve been thinking about that as you read this article.
In the end, the lesson is straightforward: TSL shows us that a compelling story crafted with intelligent ideas can carry a game with (by current standards) archaic combat systems, graphics, and interfaces into the modern world with success beyond that of nostalgia goggles. In an era of multiplayer games, where many people mourn the death of single player titles, Knights of the Old Republic II can wave from its rocking chair by the fire, and say, “Come here, young one. I have a story to tell you.”
