 Trust, betrayed, friends and mentors slaughtered, unendurable loss, endured. But how well? Jedi Survivor's ending cutscene highlights a side to Carl Kester's we haven't seen, and illuminates before the player in the motion that games continue to struggle in representing. Grief. Despairing grief, the sorrow of not only losing the guiding light that's there has been twice over Carl's journey, but of having to end the life of Boat, a friend turned traitor. A figure, moreover, that held up a mirror to Carl, in a reflection darkened over all the right reasons. Boat was a fantastic final enemy to face because Carl would have likely made every sacrifice and compromise Boat made if their positions were reversed. His death, avoidable and of his own doing, is tragedy. Driven by fear and the need to protect his daughter, Kata. Boat refuses to see that she doesn't need protecting, not from Carl, not from Maren. This is tragic irony of the highest order, and what makes it even more potent is that Carl is right there with the audience. Aware of the way things have to end, hoping against hope, that Boat doesn't force his hand. To increase this sense of tragic irony, the name of the tense bombastic track that plays throughout this final showdown is what else, brothers. Back to that final scene. Time speeds up around Carl, but he is untouched by it, gaze never wavering from the funeral pyres before him. He looks more haunted than he's ever been as the night progresses. As the dawn shines on him, the effect of the light is reminiscent of so many other times we've seen Star Wars play with shades of blue and red. And with Carl's earlier embrace of the dark side, unsatisfyingly damned how it was as I've spoken in my review, I wondered if this might not be where Jedi survivor leaves off, with Carl shattered by despair in a way that resonated so strongly with me. With him more vulnerable to the dark side of the force than ever before. But then, Respawn knows how to pack a final punch. That last appearance by Seir, and I'm willing to bet it's the last time we will see her, is a ray of hope of forging a new of purpose for Carl. His reaction to her words, the slightest movement of his head, invites speculation as to whether he heard her last utterance at all. Perhaps they are spoken for our, the audience's benefit, and Carl is given only this last sensation of her presence through the force. Whatever the case, this final coda cements the scene as the most powerful cathartic moment across not one, but two games. I hope the last game in the Jedi trilogy turns out to be a dad-of-girl kind of adventure, one that sees Carl in Mirren, parent teenage Carter through the latter stages of the rebellion. If the writing team over at Respawn has proven anything, it's that they can pull on the audience's emotional threads to deliver Star Wars stories full of heart and extraordinary characters. Whatever issues Jedi Survivor had and continues to have, this ending is among the strongest in all the Star Wars franchise, despair and grief, but also hope and renewed purpose. As far as modern mythos goes, you can't ask for more than that. I've spoken about Jedi Survivor at length in my review. If you want to hear about that, you can check out my video review from several months ago. You may also wish to see my review of Star Wars Jedi Fallen Order. I treasure the deepest fondness for that first game in the series. I also review books, talk about the occasional game demo that catches my fancy and have an irregular column about Star Wars comics and books on my blog The Grimoire Reliquary. I should probably get back to reading those, eh? If you enjoyed this video, please ring that bell for notifications, don't forget to subscribe, smash the like button and leave a comment. What short but deep dive would you like me to make next, if any? Let me know. I'm Philip Magnus, you're not, and I'll see you again next time. Bye!