What Star Wars Can Learn From the Avatar Franchise

korraintro

C’mon—for a split second there, you thought I was gonna talk about the movie Avatar, didn’t you?

No, today is all about the other Avatar—the cartoon one, what with all the bending and such—and the lessons it could teach future (and current) Star Wars creators.

The Avatar franchise is primarily composed of two major Nickelodeon animated series—Avatar: The Last Airbender (henceforth ATLA) and The Legend of Korra (henceforth LoK). ATLA told the story of Aang, a long-forgotten magical totemic force who’s been frozen for one hundred years and wakes up to find the world he’s supposed to protect has moved on without him, and is now under the thumb of the expansionist Fire Nation.

“Magic” is a loose term here, because all supernatural abilities in this universe are rooted in one of four natural elements—earth, fire, water, and air. To “bend” an element is a learned skill rooted in one’s natural temperament, but each has been taken up as the banner of a different nation, and the practicing thereof has become strongly segregated. Once the Fire Nation has been, well, let’s just say dealt with, at the end of ATLA, LoK picks up years later, and tells the story of a new, and much different Avatar (the only being capable of mastering all four elements, who is eternally reincarnated much like the Dalai Lama) alongside the remnants of ATLA’s cast.

Of course, this Avatar spawned a movie, as well—but the less said about that, the better.

Lesson #1: White is not the default

When Lando Calrissian showed up in The Empire Strikes Back, people no doubt marveled at George Lucas’ bold storytelling choice—a black man, old friends with a white main character? And his race never even comes up? Such a thing was scarcely done in those days. Even still, if you go back and read the Marvel Star Wars comic series of the time, you’ll notice that while the authors just loved using Lando, very few of them bothered to make even one other human character, Rebel, Imperial, or scoundrel, a person of color. I mean, Lando was enough, right?

Things have certainly improved in the thirty years hence, but as followers of my ongoing diversity conversation at TheForce.net can tell you, not nearly as much as you’d think—for example, in the New Jedi Order novel series, a sprawling nineteen-book saga that rivals the Original Trilogy itself in scope, about one out of every three main characters is a straight, white, human man. And that’s in an entire galaxy of species!

Meanwhile, in Avatar, the presence of white people is so muted as to be entirely debatable. Aang himself can easily come across as white to the casual viewer, as can the bulk of the remaining airbenders we see (which, given the title, is not many). The same goes for members of the Fire Nation, including ATLA’s main antagonist Prince Zuko. Where this becomes tricky is in the two series’ heavily anime-inspired character design, and further, in their extremely Asian-inspired cultural design. I’m sure others could put this more elegantly than I can, but in the broadest possible strokes, airbenders are inspired by Tibetans, and firebenders are inspired by the Japanese—both groups whose skin tones could be mistaken for white in the absence of distinguishing features.

In any event, all this is to say that the extent to which the light-skinned characters are “white” or “Asian” is open to the interpretation of the viewer. And meanwhile, the Earth and Water Kingdoms are largely (though not exclusively) composed of darker-skinned characters—the former inspired by “mainland” Chinese heritage and the latter by the Inuit and Eskimo peoples. As such, there’s something for everybody; not only are people of almost all colors accounted for (though I have to admit, you’d be hard-pressed to find a character who could pass for, say, Nigerian), but the world of Avatar is distinctly everybody’s—since each nation is a hodgepodge culture to some extent, it’s impossible to graft any larger statements about one real-life nation or another onto the narrative, and best of all, several of the protagonists—notably water tribe members Katara and Sokka, and later Korra herself—are such an ambiguous shade of brown that pretty much any race could claim them if they really wanted to.

Other big Avatar fans might disagree with me on this, but I don’t think the strength of the franchise’s inclusivity is its overwhelming Asian-ness, but rather its overwhelming everything-ness.

Lesson #2: Everybody can contribute

Of course, just because one is born into, say, the Water Tribe, doesn’t mean they’re a waterbender. My personal favorite character in the entire franchise is Sokka, brother to waterbender Katara and practitioner of the ancient and deadly art of…boomerang.

It’s never made totally clear why some people aren’t benders—this subject actually gets way more interesting in LoK, by which point the Fire and Earth Kingdoms have founded the wholly-integrated Republic City; where a firebender and an earthbender can and will have children of both types, or even nonbenders altogether.

In Star Wars, two Jedi—or even one Jedi and a muggle—will almost always, like 98% of the time, give birth to Jedi children. Not only does this diminish the franchise’s “everybody can make a difference” message more and more with every birth, but it turns Force-users into some kind of bland, amorphous super-race.

Sokka, meanwhile, is with every breath the Han Solo of ATLA. No destiny is so epic, so spiritual relevation so profound, that Sokka won’t roll his eyes at it and wonder aloud when they’re getting something to eat.

But just like Han Solo, he’ll still buckle up in the end and launch himself into the cause of the week alongside his magical friends—and often he’ll even be the brains of the operation, as he’s only too happy to tell you. At first, LoK seemed poised to sidestep the nonbender type with its already-noteworthy introduction of Bolin and Mako, two brothers of two different bending types, but by the end of the first season they had given us Asami, Mako’s nonbending girlfriend, who held her own in battle thanks to another innovation of the LoK era—technological know-how.

Star Wars shouldn’t need to learn how to use the Han Solo character type; Star Wars invented it. But all too often—both in the prequels and in far more of the Expanded Universe than is excusable, it has proven itself willing to ignore the valuable lesson of the crafty smuggler.

Lesson #3: Don’t be afraid to move on

And speaking of Korra, if there’s one truly critical thing ATLA has over Star Wars, it’s that it knew when to quit. The original series knew the exact bounds of the story it wanted to tell from day one, and mercifully, the creators got the chance to complete that story without compromise or dilution. But once that story was over…the series ended.

And time passed.

And for a few years, there was nothing. But when ATLA’s popularity finally gave them a chance to continue the story, they didn’t give us a half-hearted Continuing Adventures of Aang and Friends—they jumped seventy years ahead.

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Given that the Avatar, the magical pivot around which this universe turns, has to die for a new one to appear, they wisely realized that Aang’s story was done. And while he no doubt had many years of continuing adventures ahead of him, they were beside the point; to squeeze another conflict anywhere near ATLA’s level of import into Aang’s life would at best be a retread with an older and wearier cast of characters, and at worst, would be downright mean.

So they jumped, and jumped far. Aang has grandchildren now, and only a few of his generation remain. But not only does that give us a new Avatar in the kickass waterbending woman of color Korra, but it also provides a totally new context in which to tell a story—while still far-flung, the nations have begun to merge, and that merging has given way to astounding leaps in technology. While the world of ATLA could have been plucked wholesale from the middle ages, by LoK things have jumped straight through to the Industrial Revolution—which also carries with it a handy message about integration, if you ask me.

Story-wise, Korra’s problems are out of Aang’s wildest dreams—major-league sports competitions, killer mechs (no, really), and an antagonist leading an anti-bender revolution (remember #2?). The second season premieres in a couple weeks, and while the first season was pretty self-contained by design and largely resolved its story, I have no doubt that where they’re going from here will be totally unheard-of.

As for Star Wars, well…we’ve got Episode VII. People may roll their eyes at EU fans once we find out that Force lightning made Luke sterile and Han and Leia’s kids are named Steve and Linda, but the fact is, when it comes to the time period following Return of the Jedi, we’ve seen it all—reborn Palpatine, rogue warlords, Sith armies, extragalactic invaders? Done, done, done and done. As excited as I am at the prospect of spinoff movies about Rogue Squadron and young Han Solo and the Knights of the Old Republic, I have a hard time meeting Episode VII with anything more than muted apprehension—not because it’ll erase the EU, but because I’ve seen it all before.

But then, maybe they’ll take a page from Avatar and surprise me.

avatarwars

Top Shelf: Jedi vs. Sith

Jedi vs. Sith in trade paperback

Welcome to Top Shelf, a new recurring series I plan on running alongside Star Wars and Genre and my non-series pieces. The goal of Top Shelf is to curate the best of the Expanded Universe, the must-reads of the franchise.

New readers often approach the EU from the perspective of, “What are the main stories I have to read?” Given the way the EU builds upon itself in one ongoing story, it’s understandable to view things with an eye to the foundations on which the stories are built, the key points of the storyline. New-reader recommendations are often geared to the same purpose. I want instead to create a list of recommendations based on quality, answering the question, “What are the best stories?” This is a list that can appeal to new readers and EU veterans alike, as established readers may find that they’ve missed something that is “unimportant” but excellent. For those who know the stories already, Top Shelf can serve as an EU Hall of Fame recognizing favorites.

I want to start with the six-issue 2001 comic miniseries Jedi vs. Sith. Jedi vs. Sith is the story of the end of the New Sith Wars a thousand years before the films, in which the Sith were thought vanquished, but Darth Bane survived to refound the Sith in adherence to the Rule of Two. This is an “important” story, though somewhat obscure, but the galactic impact of the events isn’t what makes the story. Author Darko Macan, among the best writers to work in Star Wars comics, focuses on the experience of three children drafted into the war by the Jedi. Through their various journeys, Macan addresses what it means to be a Jedi, how one can fall to the dark side, and the cost of war.

Lord Farfalla and Lord Hoth argue

The child protagonists don’t mean that the story is childish; rather, it is deeply adult, depicting the most horrifying turn to the dark side in the entire EU. It also dares to examine Jedi ideals. After a thousand years of unrelenting war against the Sith, the Order is in a perilous state, mired in a dark age as Jedi who have known only war succumb to weariness and disillusion. These Jedi are heroes, but exhausted by battle, disappointed that heroism isn’t a storybook affair, and flawed. Their leaders, Lord Hoth and Lord Farfalla, clash over philosophy. These Jedi are deeply human. As they continue to fight the Sith despite it all, we understand that true heroism is all the greater under such harsh conditions, carried out by fallible people.

This challenge to idealism resonates in the storylines of the children. One is angry, one idealistic, one naive. One, after much hardship, comes to understand the heroism of these grubby, worn-down Jedi. Two are infuriated by the shabby reality. Two join the Sith. One rejects both groups. One suffers heartbreak and loss. These children, initiated into the adult world of compromise, flaws, and complexity, bring that process of maturation into the open for the reader and call into question our relationship with heroic stories while ultimately affirming their values.

This Bane is scary

Meanwhile, the Sith are presented with the same eye toward philosophical complexity. These Sith, heavily rewritten by Darth Bane: Path of Destruction into a more generic and boring form, are here vibrant and interesting. Darth Bane is presented as a grizzled veteran, returning from a betrayal by his fellow Sith to find them led by the madman Kaan. As Bane struggles to find a way past the Sith pattern of backstabbing, attempting to unite ambitious and short-sighted squabblers against their Jedi enemy, he realizes the value of the Rule of Two: Sith competition harnessed by a structure that restrains and channels strife toward the betterment of the Sith Order. This Bane is imposing and terrifying, a religious zealot who believes in the power of the undiluted dark side and seeks to find a way toward Sith cooperation in its service. In the end, he takes an apprentice — from among the children. The moment is chilling, heartbreaking, and perfectly captured.

The art of Ramón Bachs has come in for some criticism due to some of the fanciful designs associated with the foppish Farfalla, but in truth it is also an important component of the story. Bachs’s designs convey the grit of the war-torn period without becoming grim or dreary; the art is stylized and pops with energy. Bachs also hits just the right note of medieval-inspired looks for the militarized Jedi Knights entrenched in a historical, semi-feudal dark age. He makes the period distinct and historical-feeling without going overboard.

Jedi vs. Sith is a thoughtful, mature comic with something to say about the nature of heroism and intelligent, unique portrayals of the Jedi and Sith. Its storytelling is masterful and gripping. The end result is a beautiful, haunting instance of real literature under the Star Wars brand, one of the best stories in the EU and one that definitely deserves its place here. If you haven’t read it, you’re doing yourself a disservice.

Kenobi: Roundtable Reactions

Before we get started, I want to note that there’s been a lot of great Kenobi-related content online this week—both fan-made and official. While it’s the goal of Eleven-ThirtyEight not to get bogged down in reporting every little thing, I do want to quickly shout out two awesome fan reviews—one by Bria at Tosche Station, and one by Megan at Knights’ Archive. Lastly, whether you plan on reading the book or not (though why the hell wouldn’t you?), do yourself a favor and head to EW.com to hear James Arnold Taylor, voice of Obi-Wan in The Clone Wars, read one of the book’s first-person segments in character. It’s magnificent. Anyway, ETE’s own Jay Shah and Lisa Schap received advance copies of Kenobi their own fine selves, so I thought it only appropriate to check in for their thoughts. Enjoy.

Mike: The thing that most stands out to me about Kenobi is that is might be the smallest-scale Star Wars novel ever. Not just in terms of the events of the book, but in terms of the perspectives presented, which are so tightly-focused that you don’t even know the gender of one of the major characters until halfway through. The best decision JJM made perspective-wise was to not actually tell any of the story from Obi-Wan’s point of view, instead only giving the occasional window into his mindset via his first-person attempts to commune with Qui-Gon. As for the plot itself, I feel like the whole thing could be boiled down to the word “parenting”, which is a pretty minor concern for a Star Wars book—no one is trying to take over Tatooine; no one even really cares about the Empire. Even the most outwardly antagonistic character, A’Yark, is also the one with the least power. They may be dangerous, but there is no threat whatsoever that her clan is going to wipe out the Pika Oasis. Thus, the book’s drama comes from how each of these people’s motives clash with the others’—and how even the slightest interference from Obi-Wan can totally alter that dynamic. Discuss.

Jay: The scale is small, but the ideas aren’t — and I think that’s a crucial element that Star Wars has been missing for a while. The post-NJO novels in particular have been stuck in this mindset that seems to think that a big conflict is required to discuss big issues, and that’s clearly not the case. The conflict in Kenobi is about as irrelevant as one gets on a galactic scale: we’re talking moisture farmers on a backwater dustball fighting with a group known pejoratively as either “sand people” or “raiders“. Heck, the farmers are living out in the boonies even by Tatooine standards: places like Bestine and Mos Eisley are referred to the way somebody out in the American west might have referred to glittering New York in the 19th century. Despite the technological advancement of the setting, there’s a clear sense of isolation and distance.

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Star Wars and Genre: The Exploration Story

Space explorers from The Essential Atlas — who just so happen to be real life’s greatest Star Wars space explorers, Jason Fry and Daniel Wallace

Exploration stories are a staple subgenre of pulp adventure. These are tales centered on heroes who venture to strange, usually untamed lands and their encounters with nature and other peoples. The genre is characterized by the use of unknown or ancient civilizations and man-against-nature themes that lead to frequent use of natural threats like avalanches, quicksand, floods, sandstorms, and dangerous wildlife. Some stories, like H. Rider Haggard’s Allan Quatermain novels, feature intrepid explorers who make careers of penetrating the wild unknown. Others, like Robinson Crusoe, star ordinary individuals thrown into extraordinary circumstances. Some are active stories of expeditions for exploratory or scientific purposes (Journey to the Center of the Earth), sometimes emphasizing the discovery of lost civilizations (The Lost World), the exploration of ruins (At the Mountains of Madness), and/or treasure-hunting (The Mummy). Some follow the Robinson Crusoe pattern — the Robinsonade subgenre — of emphasizing the struggle for survival in and mastery of wild nature. The uniting element is the protagonist (or in the case of ensemble-focused stories like The Swiss Family Robinson or The Mysterious Island, protagonists) discovering something or encountering the unknown in a foreign environment.

Don’t judge a book by its cover — unless it has a rampaging elephant on it, in which case, pick that shit up. You just got promised ADVENTURE.

The genre became most prominent in the Victorian era, when Europeans were spreading across the globe, discovering new (to them) civilizations, ruins, lands, and species. This colonial past has sparked some criticism of exploration stories as racist. They have tended to focus on white heroes expanding colonial influence, and both due to the racial attitudes of the time and the pulp imperatives toward action, often portrayed natives unflatteringly as dangerous savages whom the white hero must subdue or naive primitives whom the white man must lead and civilize. Even a modern exploration story that avoids the colonial narrative, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, comes in for accusations of racism due to its use of a native cult as antagonists. Many modern takes on the exploration genre continue to be produced, however, and are particularly prominent in video games, with top titles like Uncharted, Tomb Raider, and BioShock fitting into the genre.

Science fiction settings, however, have been able to provide a somewhat safer venue to use the exciting action tropes of the genre with less real-world baggage. Space adventures to uncharted planets are common to pulp science fiction, and Star Trek is practically built on the exploration story. It is less known due to the relative obscurity of the material, but exploration stories are well-represented within the Star Wars Expanded Universe, too.

Early EU featured a lot of crashes on untamed worlds. This sort of thing was the result.

The first EU novel, Splinter of the Mind’s Eye, featured Luke and Leia crashing on a swamp world with a single colonial mining outpost. Stranded, they journeyed across and even underneath its surface, facing Imperial authorities, deadly terrain, spectacular wildlife, and tribal natives in a quest for a gem hidden in an ancient temple. Setpieces featured a giant mud-burrowing worm attack, a journey across an underground lake, and a cave-dwelling civilization of aliens — it was pure exploration pulp. Other early EU was replete with similar stories. Our heroes frequently crash-landed on strange worlds throughout the various seventies and eighties comics, or found themselves exploring remote planets in search of new bases or allies. They found a supercomputer protecting the ruins of a lost civilization, a smuggler hideout, a magical siren, and a monster guarding an ancient city. Han Solo and the Lost Legacy featured Han and Chewie’s quest for the lost treasure of Xim the Despot on a backwater world that featured water monster fights, a lost cult, and ancient vaults. The Lando Calrissian Adventures, oddly so given Lando’s profile, focused on Lando as an adventurer pulled into exploration, discovering the secrets of an ancient civilization within their bizarre ruins in Lando Calrissian and the Mindharp of Sharu and protecting a newly-discovered species of spacegoing manta rays from exploitation in Lando Calrissian and the Starcave of ThonBoka.

The RPGs have also tended to be good about including exploration elements

The concentration on exploration stories has declined since those early days, but they have not died out entirely. Lando again got an exploration plot in The Black Fleet Crisis, examining a starship that served as an artifact of an extinct species. The Hand of Thrawn Duology sent Luke and Mara into the Unknown Regions to explore Thrawn’s secret fortress, and they returned there for an expedition into the wreckage of Outbound Flight in Survivor’s Quest. Han, Leia, and a Murderer’s Row of supporting characters ventured into strange new ruins within Kessel in my favorite subplot of Fate of the Jedi: Outcast. Empire sent the Rebel heroes to wilderness planets a few times, and added the castaway clone Abel to the cast. John Jackson Miller’s Lost Tribe of the Sith short stories and comic have fruitfully explored the concept of a castaway group mastering and exploring its new, isolated home. Lesser elements from the genre can be found in the treasure hunt for the Katana fleet, Luke and Mara’s trek across Myrkr, Han’s sojourn into Kessel’s mysterious spice mines during his imprisonment there, and the need to find and understand the ancient repulsor technology of The Corellian Trilogy, among many examples. The exploration element definitely has not disappeared from the franchise’s radar.

The mysterious planet Lehon, from Knights of the Old Republic

It could be better exploited, however. Most of the stories have had their exploration elements as one subplot of galactic-scale tales, limiting their page time and thus the ability to get into the meat of the genre. Knights of the Old Republic used a classic exploration hook, the archaeological quest, as the basis of its story framework but buried the concept under a focus on yet another galactic clash and role-playing game mechanics. It was a notionally exploratory story that wasn’t really about the exploration. The days of stories built around uncharted planets and quests for ancient treasures are mostly in the past. Yet now, they would make a better change of pace than ever.

The incredible difficulty of challenging a fully-powered Luke Skywalker has helped drive the tendency toward overpowered villains in epic galactic conflicts. Yet why not challenge Luke with something that couldn’t simply be solved with a lightsaber: a crash-landing on a remote world filled with hostile flora and fauna? Surviving in the wilderness without supplies, battling predators, rockslides, poisonous plants, sandstorms, and floods would provide a legitimate challenge that doesn’t require yet another galaxy-distorting megathreat, and would be fresh and unique to boot.

Xenoarchaeologist Corellia Antilles

That’s not the only application; there are several established facets of the universe that would readily lend themselves to exploration stories if they were only exploited. Jag Fel has an established period as a castaway that could make for a neat survival novel. The Unknown Regions and their many dangers were introduced long ago, dangling the prospect of their future exploration; that promise has yet to be directly taken up by a story built around Unknown Regions exploration. We know that trailblazing explorers were key to galactic expansion throughout the Republic’s long history, but have no real stories built around that aspect of history, other than the use of the Daragons to spark the galactic-war storyline of the Great Hyperspace War. Star Wars already has its answer to Indiana Jones, Corellia Antilles, and her archaeological expeditions could be a perfect hook for classic exploration adventures and a potential window into galactic history. The role-playing game material has made much of the existence of scouts, figures who explore the galaxy and trek across harsh terrain for all kinds of purposes, hailing from the fringe or the government. Their nomadic existence, adventuresome work, and obvious utility to storytelling would seem to make them naturals for inclusion in Star Wars stories, but we have yet to see much of them — one reason I was so disappointed to see Dathomir outback scout Dyon Stadd killed off in Fate of the Jedi rather than made a regular part of the cast.

That’s what I’m talking about

Exploration is an important part of Star Wars’ history, both in- and out-of-universe. It is not only an integral part of Star Wars’ fabric, but a fantastic element to add a change of pace to EU storytelling. In its emphasis on themes of encounter with and discovery of the unknown, it complements central Star Wars themes of encounter with the mystic, knowledge, and self-discovery. The exploration story deserves the attention and consideration of Star Wars creators.

NJO Aftermath: The End of the Vong – Why?

I am the least likely person to write an article like this.  Why? The Yuzzhan Vong were the villains of the New Jedi Order series and, to put it mildly, I’m not a fan.  Oh, it has its moments, it has its high points and those it does very well, but it’s still nowhere near enough to move me to the “fan” column.  So why on earth write it?  Because of what happened after New Jedi Order….

New Jedi Order concluded with The Unifying Force in November 2003, one of the major things that did was draw a distinction in the Vong.  On the one hand there were the psychopathic, sadomasochistic evangelical Warrior Vong and then there were the Shamed Ones.  These Vong were the ones the biotechnological implants and enhancements used by warrior and scientist Vong did not work on, thus they were despised and deemed only fit for slavery.  The Unifying Force also posited that it was being cut off from the Force that so warped the Vong on a collective level, so that connection is restored.  To some, this is then the redemption of the Vong, but for me, it’s rather instead merely opening the door to it for them.

Jump forward to 2006 and Dark Horse Comics announces, to much controversy, it’s Star Wars: Legacy title, which will be set just over a century after The Unifying Force.  In the history created for the story, the Vong, having come to understand how their predecessors caused so much devastation and death, offer to heal the worlds afflicted.  It is an offering of atonement that the Sith take advantage of to ignite a galactic conflict.  They are able to do this because both the Jedi and the Galactic Alliance vouch for the Vong’s offering and are blamed along with them when things go wrong.

This is, quite simply, a masterstroke.  We go from the Vong having the door opened to redemption and atonement, to them understanding why they should seek it and then offering something they think will get them closer to it!  It would have taken a great deal of time to deconstruct the Vong’s old outlook and perspective.  It would have taken time for them to adjust to the notion of freedom and understand the moral responsibilities that come with it.  And, once that is adjusted to and understood, the legacy of their predecessors can be faced….Star Wars: Legacy posits that it all took a few decades to do, which is very plausible indeed.

So we have the Vong becoming far more than they ever were previously.  We have the Jedi backing their offering, which aligns well with the Jedi belief in atonement and redemption for previous failings.  We have a government that supports the Jedi in this – given the direction taken in recent years in the late post-Episode VI Expanded Universe, this now looks utterly revolutionary!  And they all pay a heavy price indeed, as a vengeful galaxy, manipulated by the Sith, give into their inner demons rather than their angels.

Jump forward to 2009 and Star Wars: Invasion is announced.  Though this series met with a mixed reception, one thing that was generally agreed on was that having visuals for the Vong was very good.  One of the weaknesses in the series was a difficulty in envisaging Vong tech, so having some visual versions of that gave the core series a boost.

Jump forward to 2012 and Star Wars: X-Wing: Mercy Kill was published.  This did two unexpected things with the Vong – it had one as a member of the Wraiths unit, used on covert ops, which in turn permitted use of Vong biotechnology.  Second, it had flashback chapters to an operation one of the characters ran during the invasion.  And those sections were utterly superb.

I have yet to understand why, having stubbornly stuck to their guns over New Jedi Order, having stuck with it across 5 years and nearly 20 books, Del Rey then went: Hey, you know what? No one wants the Vong so let’s get rid of them!  This seems blind to where they ended up.  Did people want more of the psychopathic, sadomasochistic evangelical Vong? No, I’m quite certain that was not wanted but was that all they were by the end of the story? Also no!  And all those fascinating potential possibilities were simply shut down!  It took a comic series to do what Del Rey shrank from doing – reviving the Vong but in new and very different form, yet built on what came before.

By 2009, there was some interest in a return to the mad, bad Vong – which is why there was so much interest in Invasion when it was announced.  X-Wing: Mercy Kill followed in its footsteps.  But didn’t people hate the Vong?  While the New Jedi Order was in flow and the final outcome unknown, that was certainly the case, but now?  Now the story is done and the overall shape known for over a decade, it will obviously be seen differently.  Certainly, for me, the flashbacks made the case for, at the very least, a Tales of the NJO anthology.  Unfortunately, these are no longer done either – though the Lost Tribe of the Sith Omnibus is a rare exception.

For all that Star Wars sells itself as a story of redemption, with Anakin Skywalker finally coming good and killing the Emperor – though, for me, he took his time as Luke was being done extra crispy – it is rarely interested in how redemption or atonement may be done.  It’s as if there is a preference to simply move a being or indeed an entire species from the “Bad” to the “Good” column and think no more on it.  For me this is a profound mistake and an utterly wrong direction.  Having opened the door to the Vong’s rehabilitation, I want to see more of that process and follow it through to the end.  What end might that be? Ultimately it would be the Vong, as members of the Galactic Alliance, accepted by the galaxy that once reviled them, in part due to their healing numerous worlds successfully and sought no reward for doing so.  It is, all in all, probably unlikely, but maybe the recent Legacy Volume II will be radical enough to attempt it, if it but has the time afforded it to do so…..