Honestly, as someone who's blasted more TIE Fighters than I've had hot meals and swung enough virtual lightsabers to accidentally knock over my collectible Yoda figurine (RIP, little green guy), Star Wars Outlaws felt like a breath of fresh, albeit slightly lawless, air. It wasn't just the open-world cantinas begging to be explored or the thrill of being a scoundrel dodging Imperial patrols – it was ND-5. That grumpy, pragmatic, utterly indispensable droid companion didn't just assist Kay Vess; he stole the show for me. And it hammered home a thought that's been buzzing in my circuits louder than a malfunctioning Gonk droid: why in the galaxy are we always playing the squishy humans or fancy-pants Jedi? 🤖💥

why-star-wars-droids-deserve-the-spotlight-image-0

Think about it. For decades, Star Wars games have largely kept us firmly rooted in the realm of the fleshy bipeds:

  • Jedi/Sith Power Fantasy: Jedi: Fallen Order, Jedi Knight, The Force Unleashed... we've Force-pushed and lightsabered our way across the galaxy countless times. Awesome? Absolutely. Predictable? Maybe a smidge.

  • Cockpit Commandos: Squadrons, Rogue Squadron, X-Wing vs. TIE Fighter – mastering starfighters is pure, unadulterated joy. But let's be real, you're still just a voice on the comm, a pair of hands on the yoke.

  • Human Hero Retellings: So many games slot us into the boots of soldiers, smugglers, or rebels experiencing the big movie moments from a slightly different angle. Fun, familiar, but rarely revolutionary.

Where are the stories told through the glowing photoreceptors of the droids? The backbone of the Star Wars universe! We've had glimpses – playing as a disposable Battle Droid in Battlefront is chaotic fun, and LEGO games let you be basically anything, including a waddling trash can. But these are fleeting moments, gimmicks. They never truly explored the life, the perspective, the unique struggles and potential of being a droid as the central narrative focus. ND-5 changed that equation.

Playing alongside ND-5 wasn't just having a handy tool; it felt like forging a genuine partnership. He wasn't just spouting canned advice like "Master, batteries low" – he had opinions. Snarky ones. Watching his pragmatic, sometimes exasperated logic bounce off Kay's impulsive human nature was pure gold. He wasn't just a quest marker; he was a character with his own distinct voice and presence. That moment he saved my bacon (or Kay's, rather) with a perfectly timed override while grumbling about organic inefficiency? Chef's kiss. By the end of Outlaws, their bond felt earned, unique, and honestly, more compelling than some of the human-only dynamics I've seen in other games. It highlighted how much untapped potential there is in viewing this universe from the nuts-and-bolts perspective.

The films and shows get it! We love C-3PO's anxiety, R2-D2's unwavering loyalty and sass, K-2SO's deadpan heroism, IG-11's tragic nobility. Their unique viewpoints – unfiltered by human bias, driven by programming yet capable of surprising growth – offer a fundamentally different lens. Imagine a game where:

  • You are a reprogrammed Imperial probe droid navigating hostile worlds, relying on stealth and hacking, your very existence illegal.

  • You play as an ancient protocol droid serving generations of a family, witnessing galactic history unfold from the sidelines, holding secrets that could shatter dynasties.

  • You're a battle droid experiencing a glitch towards self-awareness amidst the chaos of the Clone Wars, questioning your purpose.

The gameplay possibilities are immense! Unique mechanics based on droid abilities (advanced scanning, interface hacking, modular upgrades, non-humanoid movement), different social interactions (ignored by some, distrusted by others, targeted by scavengers), and stories exploring themes of sentience, purpose, and freedom in a way human protagonists simply can't. A well-written droid protagonist could be hilarious, tragic, profound, or all three at once.

Now, the nerf in the room: Outlaws underperforming. My heart sank reading that. Does this mean ND-5 gets memory wiped from the franchise? Does it scare publishers off from taking risks on non-human leads? I really, really hope not. It feels like such a backward step. Sure, playing a Jedi swinging a laser sword is a safe bet, but safe can get boring. The Star Wars galaxy is vast and weird and wonderful! Limiting our playable experiences to just the humans and near-humans feels like only ever eating blue milk custard when there's a whole galaxy of exotic cuisines out there.

So, here's my plea to the powers-that-be in the Star Wars gaming universe: Don't let ND-5 be a one-off wonder. Don't relegate droids to just companions, comic relief, or target practice. Give us a game where the droid isn't the sidekick – give us the droid as the HERO. Let us experience the weight of the galaxy on durasteel shoulders. Let us beep, boop, and philosophize our way through an adventure only a droid could have. After tasting that unique potential with ND-5, anything less feels... well, insufficiently motivated. Who knows what incredible, moving, or downright hilarious stories are waiting to be told when we finally step into those metal boots for real? The real question is: are the developers brave enough to make that jump? ⚙️✨