Hello it is ominoose and you have me on scholarly kylo character analysis kick !!
If Kylo and Hux met closer to Kylos fall (since we know Snoke was in contact with Brendol before Kylo destroyed the Jedi temple), do you think it would change their relationship to be more or less antagonistic?
Howdy, @ominoose! Much to chew on, here.
Certain aspects of the Kylo Ren/Armitage Hux dynamic were always going to generate conflict—their differing perspectives on the Force, for one—but the timing of their introduction (circa 29 ABY) almost certainly adds to the animosity, and I’m convinced Snoke engineers it this way. Consider, if you will, the following:
Kylo and Hux don't meet until Kylo has taken command of, and subsequently abandoned, the Knights of Ren. Throughout The Rise of Kylo Ren, Ben Solo is only playing at Darkness: in one notable incident during his time with the KOR, Ben urges the original Ren to release a group of captives and is horrified when they're slaughtered instead; in another, he seriously considers running away from both the KOR and Snoke because a friend and fellow (former) Padawan, Tai, earnestly asks it of him. Ben only sheds his former self after displacing the original Ren, which he does in large part because he believes all other paths have been closed to him as a result of Tai’s murder. By the time the Knights answer Tava Ren’s questions about their former leader in Legacy of Vader, Kylo has established himself in their memory as an unstable, remorseless killer devoted to the Shadow. Kylo Ren spends his year-ish as Master of the Ren creating his new self, and Snoke comes to retrieve him at the end of that period because he believes his apprentice has steeped long enough in Darkness to no longer be tempted by compassion to follow any will but Snoke’s own. (Or so he thinks.) Kylo joins the First Order as a man assured of his purpose and fresh off the high of command; by assigning Kylo to the Finalizer, Snoke traps Kylo with the officer whose self-assurance and Force-skepticism will trigger his insecurities most.
Kylo and Armitage meet right around the time of Brendol’s Hux’s murder. It’s unclear whether they meet before or after the deed is done—at least, I can’t recall canon making pronouncements in either direction—but the proximity is the most important thing. After suffering for years under his father, Armitage eliminates Brendol and takes his “rightful” place at Snoke’s right hand, only to be blindsided by the knowledge that the Supreme Leader has an apprentice with whom he’s expected to share command. Armitage knows exactly what kind of man Snoke is, because he’s survived tyrants before, but this newcomer is both fiercely, fearfully devoted to and frustratingly indulged by their shared master, and he has to tread carefully, again. Armitage claws his way to the top, or as close to it as he can get without being named Supreme Leader, by killing his father; by assigning his apprentice to the Finalizer, Snoke thrusts Armitage back into a situation where he’s competing for an authority figure’s approval.
If they had met earlier, when Kylo was still unsure of himself and Hux was still under his father’s thumb, who’s to say what might have happened? Hux might have looked at Kylo and seen a potential ally in his scheme to be rid of his abuser—or a wide-eyed dupe whose loneliness and longing for connection could be exploited for selfish ends. Kylo might have looked at Hux and seen a man so unshakable in his convictions as to be worthy of admiration—or a ruthless pragmatist whose willingness to let the ends justify the means would drive him back to the Light. Both of them might have recognized in each other the knowledge of how it feels to be a tool in the hands (and at the mercy) of powerful men, and found strength in that shared experience. In any case, Snoke is wary enough of a genuine partnership between them that he makes a point of feeding their animosity.
Whether or not Kylo and Hux see Snoke’s manipulation for what it is comes down to the viewer. I personally think Kylo can’t see it, because he’s been so thoroughly groomed to believe his grand Force-destiny renders everyone “lesser” irrelevant that the thought of Snoke considering Hux a threat in any scenario is laughable to him, whereas Hux can see it, because Snoke’s strategy of pitting him against Kylo to keep him “in his place” mirrors Brendol’s history of pitting him against Cardinal. (This is, in my view, a main source of Kylo and Hux’s conflict in Legacy of Vader. Armitage is trying to build a working relationship with Kylo based on something other than one-upmanship and mutual disdain, meanwhile Kylo is so rattled by the events of The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi that he’s having a spiritual and mental health crisis, complete with a Dark side Force-pilgrimage to Fortress Vader.)
For what it’s worth, I think their canon relationship is a lot more complex than it appears at first blush—Kylo Ren and Armitage Hux are foils all the way down—but those particular musings are a bit beyond the scope of this ask, so I’ll spare you.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
https://archiveofourown.org/works/62855737/chapters/195504791#workskin
Chapters: 2/2
Fandom: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Darkest Dungeon Roster & The Heir
Summary:
Hereby are the rules on this notice board that I, the Heir of the Hamlet, shall modify as I see fit. This notice board has been imposed on the residents of the Champion’s barracks, as the townsfolk have complaints about the behavior of most of those who live here. This notice board shall stay up so that you, the residents, may reference it as many times as you require.
Or: Just a silly "List Fic" where the poor Heir attempts to wrangle 17 of his rowdy Champion heroes into behaving.
Chapter Summary:
The Heir has decided to set up a new Notice Board, and this time they're adamant in being far more strict.
Hi!! Since it isn’t explicitly stated in canon that hux is insecure about being thin, is there any evidence that supports hux is insecure about his body image?
Hello, hello! This genre of ask is my bread and butter. I’d like to approach your question from two angles—visual and textual.
VISUAL
If there’s one thing nobody can say about the Star Wars sequel trilogy, it’s that the costumes didn’t rock. Michael Kaplan, designer for all three films, has given several interviews about his process, and they’re very much worth reading. I’ve personally dabbled in costume design for theatre, and I find this kind of behind-the-scenes insight invaluable; in my experience, costume design is character design.
In both of the interviews linked above, every mention of Hux is accompanied by a mention of “extreme” or “severe” silhouettes. This is noteworthy because Domhnall Gleeson—and therefore General Hux—has a very narrow build. He’s not particularly physically imposing, despite his height, which means Kaplan made the choice to simulate mass on Hux where there is none, seen most obviously in the breadth of his shoulders. The tailoring details of his uniform (e.g. princess seams, padded shoulders, and belted natural waist) are designed to exaggerate Hux’s shoulder-to-waist ratio by creating an inverted-triangle shape, and his greatcoat adds to the illusion because the tapering of its frankly massive lapels follows the same lines.
[LEFT: Domhnall Gleeson on the red carpet. MIDDLE: General Hux and Kylo Ren on the bridge, TFA. RIGHT: General Hux on the bridge, TLJ.]
This information may originate from our side of the fourth wall, but that doesn’t preclude it having an in-universe explanation. Kaplan states in one of the interviews linked above that Hux’s costume “is unique to him,” which, given its similarity in broad strokes to the costumes of other First Order officers, implies a uniqueness in its tailoring rather than its concept. We can therefore infer that said tailoring—and the illusion it creates—is a choice made by the character. Hux may not be able to do much about his natural slenderness, but he can manipulate others’ perception of it; this is very much in keeping with the canonical material we do have about Hux’s approach to his appearance.
From The Force Awakens Visual Dictionary:
Hux has always believed that appearances are vital for maintaining discipline, and wears a parade uniform designed to broadcast his authority as general.
Precision tailored military uniform evokes Imperial imagery
From The Rise of Skywalker Visual Dictionary:
Hux hates the Knights of Ren; he despises their unkempt appearance and how they tread dirt into the polished halls of First Order capital ships.
Hair coiffed to Hux’s exacting standards
The Star Wars visual dictionaries paint Hux as a character deeply concerned with his image, because he associates appearances with authority and discipline. We see this philosophy in action in The Last Jedi, when Hux is Force-slammed into his own bridge by Snoke via holocall; beyond an initial surprised yelp, he barely reacts to the violence, and the next time we see him in Snoke’s throne room, he’s washed the blood from his face and slicked his hair back within an inch of its life. Hux reacts to a reminder of his own vulnerability by controlling what he can control—and in this case, that means the way he looks.
TEXTUAL
I assume we’re all familiar with the “thin as a slip of paper and just as useless” quote from Brendol in Aftermath: Life Debt. This line is only the tip of the iceberg, as the insults Brendol is willing to voice in front of his superior officers are almost certainly tamer than those he’s willing to hurl in private. Though Grand Admiral Rae Sloane orders the Commandant to stop hurting his son in the following novel, Aftermath: Empire’s End, she has no way to enforce this ban on verbal abuse. (Or physical abuse, if we’re being realistic.) Said abuse is a near-constant reminder of Armitage’s physical “deficiencies”—likely due, at least in part, to chronic malnutrition during the early years of the First Order. Armitage’s resulting insecurities are reinforced through adulthood by the stark physical contrast between himself and Captain Cardinal, the human tank of a stormtrooper whom his father makes no secret of preferring.
We can also pretty reliably identify a character’s insecurities by observing what they envy in other people, and in the case of Armitage Hux, he (begrudgingly) envies both of his rivals—Cardinal and Kylo Ren—their physical prowess.
From The Rise of Skywalker novelization (emphasis mine):
"He's almost beautiful to watch," mused Allegiant General Pryde, standing tall beside him. The older man had arrogant blue eyes and a high hairline that seemed immune to perspiration, even in a hell-climate like this. "Don't you think?"
Hux refused to gratify that with a response, because true beauty came from discipline, from order. So it was almost against his will that he found himself mesmerized as Ren met a barbarian's charge head-on, cloak flowing, mist swirling around him. The glow of his lightsaber occasionally snagged on his cheek scar, making it appear as though a crack of glowing lava slashed his face. It was like something out of a dream, or maybe a nightmare, as the Supreme Leader plunged his fiery crossguard into his attacker's abdomen, lifted him from the ground, and sent him toppling onto his back.
Hux has very little good to say about Ren in any Star Wars text, but here he’s “mesmerized” “almost against his will” by the sight of Ren using his considerable strength to hurl Sith cultists around like sacks of flour. This is not a scene wherein Ren uses the Force to do battle, so the focus is on his physicality alone. Given that Hux is the creator of the First Order’s various combat training simulations, one has to wonder how many times a younger Armitage might have watched Cardinal use his strength with the same reluctant fascination.
There’s nuance here, of course. Hux’s hyperawareness of his appearance and the physical “weakness” it might betray doesn’t necessarily translate to self-loathing. I think Hux is perceptive enough to understand that his body—tall and slender with unique coloring—is advantageous in other ways; while it may not be the ideal build for a warrior, it has its own elegance and aesthetic appeal.
From The Last Jedi novelization (emphasis mine):
The Finalizer's gleaming black bridge was a model of efficiency, with controllers and monitors briskly exchanging information from the Star Destrover's targeting computers and sensor suites. Hux smiled at the thought of himself as the center of all that activity—a slim, dignified figure in black, uniform perfect, standing at parade rest.
It’s entirely possible that Hux would have an entirely neutral-to-positive opinion of his body if not for his history of abuse by larger, physically stronger men.
In Which I Have Thoughts About the New Republic: On the Siege of Arkanis, the Fall of the Galactic Empire, and the Rise of the First Order
Inspired by this post, from the insightful @darthnostra.
Following their victory at the Battle of Endor, the New Republic places the planet Arkanis under siege. They have their reasons, of course; home to Commandant Brendol Hux's officer academy, whose reputation for churning out model servants of the Empire is well-established, and "lack[ing] the 'social unrest' that plague[s] other Imperial worlds" (Wookiepedia), Arkanis appears to be populated almost exclusively by Imperial loyalists—or, at the very least, by citizens unwilling to challenge the regime. An assault on the planet’s surface, therefore, can be considered an assault on the Empire itself; to borrow the words of the New Republic’s Colonel Ward: “They chose a side, and it wasn’t ours.”
This is a convenient oversimplification.
There are several important details to keep in mind while evaluating the Siege of Arkanis, and they are as follows:
A siege, variously defined, is “a military blockade of a city or fortified place to compel it to surrender” (Merriam Webster), “the surrounding of a place by an armed force in order to defeat those defending it” (Cambridge Dictionary), or “the act or process of surrounding and attacking a fortified place in such a way as to isolate it from help and supplies, for the purpose of lessening the resistance of the defenders and thereby making capture possible” (Dictionary.com). Wikipedia provides a more detailed definition, adding that blockades are often “coupled with attempts to reduce the fortifications by means of siege engines, artillery bombardment, or mining,” with victories decided either by military force or resource attrition. In the case of intergalactic warfare, in which ground assaults have been rendered more or less obsolete, surface attacks are carried out from the relative safety of starships—a less extreme orbital bombardment, if you will.
The Siege of Arkanis is brief. It begins and ends in the year 5 ABY, concluding with the total surrender of Imperial forces and the annexation of the planet as a New Republic territory. The Imperial Remnants seem convinced of Arkanis’s impending fall by 4 ABY, a full year earlier, suggesting a lack of military might on the part of the planet and/or a lack of faith in the collapsing Empire’s ability to support an Outer Rim world in the midst of Inner Rim conflicts and uprisings in the Core (Aftermath: Life Debt). Given the brevity of the siege, it is highly unlikely that the New Republic achieves victory through resource attrition.
Arkanis, at the time of the Galactic Civil War, is not an economic powerhouse, despite its designation as capital of the Regency Worlds (Wookiepedia). There is “old money” on the planet, and, located along two major trade routes, it likely sees a decent amount of off-world traffic, but its average citizen’s on-world career prospects are limited to service or trade. The planet’s only canon-identified spaceport, Scaparus Port, is a nothing of a seaside town marked by a handful of merchant shops (Wookiepedia). The local industry, fishing, comes with severe occupational hazards due to the presence of carnivorous megafauna in the planet’s ocean(s), and it is not uncommon for fisherfolk to sustain permanently disabling injuries in their line of work. Arkanis Academy, though dangerous in its own right, is an appealing alternative for the planet’s youth that promises purpose, reliable income, and—most importantly—a way off-world, as well as relatively safe employment (e.g. food production, groundskeeping, and maintenance jobs) for locals unable to enroll. Under the Galactic Empire, Arkanis’s most valuable export is military officers, and its most stable economic institution is the Imperial academy.
Given the above, a plausible summary of the Siege of Arkanis might read as follows:
Following the Imperial Remnants’ refusal of terms for the surrender of Arkanis in 5 ABY, the New Republic placed the planet under siege, initiating a blockade of all interplanetary travel and communications alongside a strategy of combined orbital assault and surface-level bombing runs. Strikes targeted infrastructure, grinding on-world commerce to a halt and stranding high-ranking officials of the Regency Worlds—including Empress Leeya herself—in their residences while Imperial holdouts formed a garrison within the fortified Arkanis Academy. Unable to maintain their defense in the face of dwindling munitions, significant damage to the academy grounds, and mounting casualties—and suffering low morale after the disappearance of academy Commandant Brendol Hux—the remaining Imperial forces surrendered after a period of six weeks.
"That's all well and good," you may be thinking, "but this is war we're talking about. What's the problem?"
The problem, as I see it, is twofold:
The Moral Problem: The "Imperial holdouts" referenced in the summary above comprise local bureaucrats, academy instructors, and countless sub-adult cadets. In targeting Arkanis Academy, the New Republic makes both a sound strategic choice and a horrendous moral one; they cripple their enemy's ability to defend the planet, eliminate a link in the Imperial Remnants' personnel supply chain, and knowingly execute children. (I've chosen not to refer to the cadets as "child soldiers" here because, prior to the siege, they have not seen combat.) This is to say nothing of the locals who become collateral damage by virtue of their limited economic opportunities. (Are we to believe that the unnamed mother of Armitage Hux, a "kitchen woman" exploited and abandoned to New Republic bombs by the father of her child, deserves her fate?)
The Political Problem: In Claudia Gray’s Bloodline, readers are introduced to Lady Carise Sindian—Arkanis senator, Elder House scion (There’s that “old money” I was talking about!), and First Order sympathizer. Over the course of the novel, Sindian works to undermine Leia Organa’s influence in the Senate and strengthen the position of the Centrists, a group of politically-aligned worlds longing for “the return of certain aspects of the Galactic Empire” (Wookiepedia); though Sindian is caught and punished for her shady dealings, her constituency votes with the Centrists to secede from the New Republic following the public formation of the First Order in 29 ABY. (You read that right: 25 years after the events of the Galactic Civil War, there is still bad blood between Arkanis and the New Republic.)
Though taking Arkanis by force is expedient, this decision sets the stage for decades of anti-Republican sentiment on the part of both the planet’s richest and poorest citizens. The nobility, affronted by any change to the status quo, resent the New Republic for subjecting them to the indignity of deprivation. (Is this a good time to mention that I headcanon Maratelle Hux née Sindian?) The commonfolk, left reeling in the wake of economic disaster, resent the New Republic for removing the most reliable of their already-limited means to put food on the table. (And, you know, for all the bodies they had to bury. Or whatever it is one does with one’s dead on the space equivalent of a peat bog.)
It’s no surprise that Outer Rim worlds like Arkanis are among the first to ally themselves with the First Order. Both parties share a sense of injustice; they have suffered immensely—particularly those too young to have had a say in the conflict between the Empire and the New Republic—and want to see their worlds set right. (Definitions of “right” may vary.) When Armitage Hux, Arkanisian refugee and General of the First Order, stands before the assembly on Starkiller Base and says, “At this very moment, in a system far from here, the New Republic lives and wheezes, staggering onward, depraved and ineffectual and unable in any way to support the citizenry it claims to serve. Meanwhile a host of systems are left to wither and die—without aid, without care, without hope,” you have to wonder how much of that righteous anger is just a rhetorical choice (The Force Awakens novelization).
Like Grandfather, Like Grandson: In Defense of Ben Solo/Kylo Ren
[THE FORCE AWAKENS: Kylo Ren regards the helmet of Darth Vader.]
Ben Solo, like his grandfather before him, meets the diagnostic criteria for Borderline Personality Disorder. I lead with this as a reminder that, despite the fantastical nature of the Star Wars franchise, its characters are still people, and we can and should talk about them in grounded terms. There may be no real-world analog for the Force, but there are real-world analogs aplenty for its effects on the people who wield it; for men in the Skywalker lineage, those effects look a lot like mental illness. While it may not be accurate to say that the Force causes said mental illness, its intense physical and psychological demands run the risk of exacerbating its users’ emotional vulnerabilities. If an individual is especially emotionally vulnerable—or especially Force-sensitive—that risk compounds.
Bearing this in mind, I ask you to recall that Ben Solo is groomed from childhood by a malevolent entity—Snoke, or Palpatine, if you want to acknowledge the existence of Episode IX—to believe that his strength in the Force is directly correlated to what we, as a modern audience, might recognize as the severity of his disorder. Explosive outbursts, self-hatred, self-harm…each of these symptomatic behaviors is reinforced as crucial to his training in the Dark Side. His identity is broken down and rebuilt into the Kylo Ren we meet in The Force Awakens over the span of years in a vicious and frequently violent reward-punishment cycle by a predator wielding him as a weapon, and his fear of abandonment is used to keep him in line. Whatever else he may be, Ben Solo/Kylo Ren is a victim of abuse.
[AGE OF RESISTANCE: SUPREME LEADER SNOKE: A displeased Snoke strikes his apprentice.]
Of course, none of this excuses the murders. But it does beg the question: Why are some people tripping over themselves to empathize with Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader while insisting that Ben Solo/Kylo Ren got what he deserved?
Because, in case we’ve collectively forgotten, these two are paralleled across the films, novels, and comics more times than I have teeth. Legacy of Vader (Thank you, Charles Soule, for your service.) is the comic equivalent of Lucasfilm grabbing fans by the face and going, “See? See? See?” It does both characters a disservice to love one and hate the other, ignoring that we’re meant to see them as two sides of the same coin.
[LEGACY OF VADER #12: Ben Solo, in the guise of Darth Vader, appears to Kylo Ren.]
Common justifications for this love-hate dichotomy—and my counterarguments—below:
“Kylo Ren is a whiny wannabe-Vader!”
I mean…yes. That’s the point. He’s emotive, much like Anakin in the prequels, and the narrative beats you over the head with the fact that he’s trying to fill Vader’s shoes. (Or helmet, as it were.) What about this makes Kylo Ren a less sympathetic character than Darth Vader?
[AGE OF RESISTANCE: KYLO REN: Decades apart, Darth Vader and Kylo Ren fight to subdue the Benathy.]
While I, personally, would never describe Vader as stoic, this particular complaint reads as a byproduct of attitudes toward masculinity that prioritize stone-faced endurance over anything approaching mental and emotional wellbeing, rather than any kind of meaningful critique. There’s nothing inherently noble about suffering in silence, and there’s nothing inherently ignoble about verbalizing pain. Kylo Ren and Darth Vader are made less sympathetic by their willingness to inflict their suffering on others, not by their “whining” or lack thereof.
“Ben Solo turned to the Dark Side for no reason.”
Ben Solo makes many terrible decisions, several predating his adoption of the title Kylo Ren. It’s not inaccurate to say that he is, to some degree, responsible for his own suffering. It’s also not inaccurate to say that none of his decisions are made in a vacuum.
Canon tells us that Snoke’s influence starts early—early enough that Leia factors it into her decision to send Ben to Luke for training, even if she chooses not to discuss what she knows with her son or her husband. Canon also tells us that, through some cocktail of fear, shame, and avoidance, Leia, Han, and Luke manage to keep the Skywalker-Vader secret from Ben until his early twenties, at which point he has been struggling with both the influence of a powerful Dark Side Force-user and the suspicion that his family fears him for the better part of two decades.
It’s worth noting here that Leia, Han, and Luke’s actions are analogous to the real-world actions of parents who hide family histories of mental illness from their children. Their decision to withhold the truth further isolates Ben, as he likely believes he’s the only member of his family struggling with a call to the Dark, and it does nothing to provide him hope that this struggle can be managed, if not completely overcome.
[THE RISE OF KYLO REN #1: Snoke communes with Ben Solo in the aftermath of Luke’s betrayal.]
Consider, for a moment, learning that (1) your family has been keeping secrets from you, (2) one of those secrets is your direct relation to the most feared Sith in recent galactic history, and (3) your perceived similarity to said Sith—your grandfather—has been poisoning the well of your family’s love for you since you were a child. Then, consider these revelations being followed in short order by the singularly terrifying experience of waking to the sight of the galaxy’s most powerful Jedi—your uncle—standing over you with his lightsaber drawn and the Force “moving darkly” around him. If Ben previously had any reasons to doubt Snoke’s voice in his head, we can assume they crumble with Luke’s Jedi temple.
[THE RISE OF KYLO REN #1: Ben Solo seeks comfort in the arms of his new master.]
Anakin Skywalker’s fall from grace follows a similar, albeit not identical, trajectory. Born into slavery, separated from his mother (by distance, then death), and thrust into a galactic war at the tender age of nineteen, he experiences significant trauma both before and after Palpatine begins his manipulation. Anakin is both extremely Force-sensitive and extremely emotionally vulnerable, despite the systems in place to support him: a blood brother in Obi-Wan, a lover in Padmé, and a council of mentors in the Jedi. Granted, the Jedi have their problems—the Council is mistrustful and withholding at times, which in turn leads Anakin to lean more and more on Palpatine for guidance—but they recognize Anakin’s potential and nurture his development in the best way they know how.
Where grandfather and grandson differ most starkly is in the immediate circumstances of their respective falls: Ben Solo turns to Snoke for safety after being betrayed by a loved one via an attempt on his life, while Anakin Skywalker betrays his loved ones and turns to Palpatine for the promise of power over death; Ben Solo believes he has no home to return to and will not be forgiven, while Anakin Skywalker has a home in Obi-Wan and Padmé—both of whom have established their willingness to forgive truly shocking acts of violence; Ben Solo tries to flee Luke’s Jedi temple without harming any of his fellow students and only fights when backed into a corner, while Anakin Skywalker leads the slaughter of his Jedi brothers and sisters almost immediately after aligning himself with the Sith.
[Excerpt from SKYWALKER: A FAMILY AT WAR.]
Given the above, if we’re willing to accept the narrative justification for Anakin’s fall, I fail to see why we wouldn’t accept the narrative justification for Ben’s.
“Ben Solo caused all of his own problems.”
Wrong. Or, more precisely: Tell me you don’t understand the impact of childhood emotional neglect without telling me you don’t understand the impact of childhood emotional neglect.
Leia and Han are good people. Leia and Han are heroes. Leia and Han are loving parents. Leia and Han also spend a significant amount of time away from their son, to the extent that Ben spends a solid chunk of his childhood effectively raised by droids.
[Excerpt from SKYWALKER: A FAMILY AT WAR.]
Put simply: Leia Organa and Han Solo have responsibilities to the galaxy that come into conflict with their responsibilities to their son, and little Ben Solo is a child with complex developmental needs that his parents are unequipped to meet. Yes, some of their shortcomings are due to their inability to fully grasp Ben’s connection to the Force, but I would argue that Ben suffers less from a lack of mystical understanding than he does from a lack of emotional support.
Ben Solo is a tender child; he cries easily and often. Even as a toddler, he’s regarded by his father as having eyes far older—and presumably sadder—than his years. His first conscious use of the Force is entirely benign: fetching a favorite plush toy from across a room. He loves his parents and idolizes his uncle Luke. Ben Solo is not, as some Star Wars fans would like to believe, born bad. (No one is. But that’s a post for another day.)
What Ben Solo is is lonely.
He’s different from his peers; he struggles to make friends. Even before he learns the truth about Anakin, his sense of self is split down the middle: pulled toward both Light and Dark. He carries the twin burdens of his family’s legacy and the galaxy’s great expectations from a startlingly young age and—terrified of their disappointment and rejection—hides his feelings of inadequacy from the people he loves. Ben is afraid, and this fear leaves him vulnerable to isolation and manipulation. When Snoke offers him power and purpose, it works because Ben Solo believes he cannot be loved as he is.
He’s wrong, of course. Ben Solo is loved—and so, impossibly, is Kylo Ren. But being loved is not the same as feeling loved, and none of the adults in Ben’s life, except for Snoke, are able to identify this gap.
Certain fans love to pin all the blame for Ben’s fall on Ben himself while railing against the Jedi for failing Anakin, but multiple parties bear responsibility for the rise of Kylo Ren, and this is acknowledged explicitly in canon.
Select examples below:
Luke
[Excerpt from THE LAST JEDI film novelization.]
[Excerpt from THE LAST JEDI junior novelization.]
[Excerpt from SKYWALKER: A FAMILY AT WAR.]
Leia
[Excerpt from THE LAST JEDI film novelization.]
[Excerpt from THE LAST JEDI junior novelization.]
[Excerpt from SKYWALKER: A FAMILY AT WAR.]
Han
[Excerpt from AFTERMATH: EMPIRE'S END.]
[Excerpt from THE FORCE AWAKENS junior novelization.]
[Excerpt from SKYWALKER: A FAMILY AT WAR.]
If you’ve made it this far, you may be wondering where I’m going with all this. If so, I hope you’ll indulge me just a bit longer as I attempt to land this metaphorical transport.
Anakin Skywalker fears loss, and his pursuit of an end to this fear makes it come true. When we first meet him in A New Hope, his wife is dead, his brother is in hiding, and the Jedi Order is no more. He trusts no one but the master who lured him into the Darkness. Darth Vader survives his past self in a lonely half-life, filled with rage and regret.
Ben Solo fears loss, and his pursuit of an end to this fear makes it come true. When we first meet him in The Force Awakens, his parents are dead to him, his uncle is in hiding, and the Jedi Order is no more. He trusts no one but the master who lured him into the Darkness. Kylo Ren survives his past self in a lonely half-life, filled with rage and regret.
The tragedy of Darth Vader is that he can’t turn back. The tragedy of Kylo Ren is that he can.
So, why doesn’t he?
The answer to this question comes, of all places, from the swamps of Dagobah, where the Cave of Evil confronts Kylo Ren with his greatest fear: not an enemy, or even his own inner darkness, but a vision of his uncle, hesitant to strike, and of his parents, ready to forgive.
[AGE OF RESISTANCE: SUPREME LEADER SNOKE: Kylo Ren receives a vision of his parents.]
This is why Kylo Ren fights so desperately against his own redemption: because if he can be forgiven after destroying Luke’s temple, murdering Han, and terrorizing the galaxy as Snoke’s apprentice, it means his family loves him, still; and if his family loves him, still, it means they never stopped, that the voices in his head—some his own, some his master’s—have all been wrong, or lying, and that he’s never had to be anything but what he is.
Ben Solo, like his grandfather before him, wants nothing more than to go home.
Destroyers of Worlds: On Force Wounds, Superweapons, and The Haunting of Grand Moff Tarkin
Inspired, in part, by recent reflection on this ask.
[THE HAUNTING OF GRAND MOFF TARKIN: In his final moments, Tarkin receives a vision from the Force.]
WHAT IS A WOUND IN THE FORCE?
Canon calls it “a disturbance.” Legends likens it to the loss of a limb: “a localized injury” sustained via death on a galactic scale. Its epicenter, “a dark place, filled with the […] pain, terror, and suffering of [those] who ha[ve] lost their lives,” might be a location, such as the Alderaanian Graveyard, or, more rarely, an individual. In the latter case, if The Haunting of Grand Moff Tarkin is to be believed, the individual’s Force-sensitivity—or lack thereof—has nothing to do with it.
The aforementioned haunting, an interlude in Tales from the Death Star, follows Wilhuff Tarkin through the final hour(s) of his life. En route to Yavin, in command of the planet-destroying superweapon he used to reduce Alderaan to space dust, the Grand Moff begins to unravel; he hears voices, snaps at subordinates, and sees things that aren’t there. This downward spiral culminates in a vision of Tarkin’s victims, including the recently-dispatched Orson Krennic, who offers the following cold comfort: “You’ll be with us soon enough.”
But Krennic’s is not the only voice Tarkin hears. The first (“Wil?”) belongs to a frightened child: Gideon Tarkin, the brother a young Wilhuff abandoned to a grisly death on Eadu. (Yes, that Eadu: the “storm-stricken planet” where Krennic later enlisted former friend and classmate Galen Erso to harness the destructive potential of kyber.) Gideon, we’re given to understand, is the first death on Wilhuff’s conscience—his original sin. And in Wilhuff’s dying vision, Gideon and Krennic are holding hands.
It’s a fitting end, I think. In his final moments, Wilhuff Tarkin is compelled by the Force to face the human cost of a lifetime of ruthless ambition, beginning with his brother’s death and ending with his own.
WHAT IS THE FORCE?
This is a fool’s errand, but we’ll start with the company line: The Force is the Galaxy Far, Far Away’s colloquial term for a two-part “energy field” comprising the Living Force—“the energy of all life”—and the Cosmic Force—“the wellspring from which the Living Force […] sprang into all living things, and into which all life [feeds] upon death.” This energy field is believed to have a will; this will is believed to be communicated by “microscopic organisms” known as midi-chlorians; the concentration of midi-chlorians in a host organism’s body is believed to determine said host organism’s natural sensitivity to and aptitude for harnessing the energy of the Force.
Religion in Star Wars, on the whole, tends toward a sort of panentheism. While a variety of in-universe belief systems center the Force, the most noteworthy—for Lucasfilm storytelling purposes, at least—are the Jedi and the Sith. Risking oversimplification: the Jedi follow a path of peace and compassion, listening for and surrendering to the will of the Force, whereas the Sith follow a path of power and domination, manipulating the world around them to suit their ends; the Jedi are seen as servants of the “Light side” of the Force, while the Sith are seen as masters of its “Dark side.”
Much ink has been spilled over this duality. Some Star Wars fans—particularly those enamored with Dave Filoni’s gods of Mortis detours in The Clone Wars and Rebels—are very committed to the view that the Force itself is split, somehow, an essence with opposing wills locked in an eternal power struggle. I’m aware that I’ll be making those fans very unhappy when I say that I think this view is bogus. (And a misunderstanding of Filoni’s perspective. But that’s beside the point.)
There are no Light- and Dark-side midi-chlorians. This may seem like a non-sequitur. I assure you, it is not.
[LEFT: THE LAST JEDI, illustrated by Rory Kurtz. / RIGHT: Excerpt from “THE LAST JEDI’s Theology of Power” by Kathryn Reklis.]
If the Force has a will (singular), and the Force communicates this will through a particular kind of organism, the midi-chlorian, which the Force has created specifically for this purpose, then logic suggests that conflicting interpretations of its will are not the fault of inconsistencies within the Force itself, but the result of a multiplicity of interpreters.
In cheekier terms: the Force is one, and in it all things live and move and have their being—it just so happens that those things living and moving and being have minds of their own. Light and Dark aren’t aspects of the Force; they’re simply ways to wield it.
You may be wondering what all this has to do with the Force-agnostic commanding officers of the franchise’s planet-destroying superweapons. Quite a lot, I think.
WHAT ABOUT THE SUPERWEAPONS?
In 1 BBY, the Death Star, by order of Wilhuff Tarkin, fires on Jedha, Scarif, and Alderaan before its destruction by Rebel forces. The death toll is staggering, in excess of 2 billion sentients across three planets. Nearly 35 years later, Starkiller Base, by order of Armitage Hux, fires on the Hosnian System before its destruction by Resistance forces. The death toll is roughly 75 times that of the Death Star, in excess of 150 billion sentients across five planets.
Earlier, I made the case that the Light and Dark “sides” are not inherent, dualistic halves of the Force but rather categorical distinctions made by those who wield it. I want to clarify that this does not mean that I interpret the Force as a neutral entity content to watch the galaxy tear itself apart generation after generation in the name of “balance.” Far from it. Balance is crucial to the Force, yes, but the balance in question is not that of a seesaw teetering between “good” and “evil.” It’s the balance of cycles, reflected in the natural world. As The Last Jedi puts it:
Luke: What do you see?
Rey: The island. Life. Death, and decay—that feeds new life. Warmth. Cold. Peace. Violence.
Luke: And between it all?
Rey: Balance and energy. A Force.
Death is not an affront to the Force any more than life is an affront to the Force, because energy cannot be created or destroyed. Every soul that perishes in the beam of the Death Star or Starkiller Base returns to the wellspring from whence it came, so when the Force is wounded, the dying, in and of itself, is not the thing.
Why, then, does Tarkin get the Ebenezer Scrooge treatment?
[THE HAUNTING OF GRAND MOFF TARKIN: A Force-vision transports Tarkin to Eadu, where he faces the ghost of his father…among other things.]
The Haunting interests me not just because of Ingo Römling’s chilling visuals or Cavan Scott’s tightly-written dialogue, but because it posits that the Force has an intrinsic sense of morality. And this moral Force plagues Tarkin because what he’s done with his life—sacrificed countless souls (each of whom appears to Tarkin fully themselves, even if we can reasonably assume that Tarkin did not know all of them personally) on the altar of power—is wrong.
Wilhuff Tarkin survives roughly one standard week after the initial firing of the Death Star, and his final hours are a waking nightmare, courtesy of the Force. How much worse, then, might the Force’s judgment be for Armitage Hux, who survives roughly one standard year after the firing of Starkiller Base? We may not see the impact of the Hosnian Cataclysm on its architect, because current Disney/Lucasfilm seems profoundly disinterested in the interiority of its non–Force-wielding First Order villains, but that doesn’t mean there’s no story to tell.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Darkest Dungeon Roster & The Heir
Characters: Highwayman (Darkest Dungeon), Crusader (Darkest Dungeon), Jester (Darkest Dungeon), Plague Doctor (Darkest Dungeon), Leper (Darkest Dungeon), Vestal (Darkest Dungeon), Grave Robber (Darkest Dungeon), Bounty Hunter (Darkest Dungeon), Occultist (Darkest Dungeon), Abomination (Darkest Dungeon), Flagellant (Darkest Dungeon), Heir (Darkest Dungeon), Man-at-Arms (Darkest Dungeon), Hellion (Darkest Dungeon), Houndmaster (Darkest Dungeon), Arbalest (Darkest Dungeon), Antiquarian (Darkest Dungeon), Shieldbreaker (Darkest Dungeon), Caretaker (Darkest Dungeon), literally everyone in the roster, like they're there...but they're not really written yknow? It's a silly fic idea
Additional Tags: Attempt at Humor, Humor, I wrote this ages ago and left it rotting in my notes app for a while, don't take this seriously I think I'm funny sometimes so I wrote them like that, however I just think it's incredibly funny to have the Heir deal with his heroes causing chaos, the poor Heir (aka us) really just have to suffer with them, List Fic
Summary:
Hereby are the rules on this notice board that I, the Heir of the Hamlet, shall modify as I see fit. This notice board has been imposed on the residents of the Champion’s barracks, as the townsfolk have complaints about the behavior of most of those who live here. This notice board shall stay up so that you, the residents, may reference it as many times as you require.
Or: Just a silly "List Fic" where the poor Heir attempts to wrangle 17 of his rowdy Champion heroes into behaving.
