Way back in the depths of 2008, Anakin Skywalker, still smoking from his lava-induced, unintentionally hilarious baptism into the ranks of the Sith, was given two never-mentioned apprentices, sharply altering Star Wars canon. One, despite one of the roughest beginnings for any character in the saga, grew in both quality and popularity, becoming a fan favorite across two series, with a book on the New York Times Bestseller list, enshrined as a beloved character. The other languishes in the minds of the dullest fanboys and the shelves of many a Gamestop, bland and unremarkable despite attempts at making him central to the saga.

Unlike Ahsoka Tano, Starkiller never rose to prominence outside of the initial releases of The Force Unleashed games. His absence is curious given his many accolades: founder of the Rebel Alliance, Darth Vader’s secret apprentice, and being a Force user with enough over the top displays to make one’s head spin. He tears stormtroopers and walkers to pieces using methods that would make the most action-packed anime jealous; he dukes it out with the baddest Dark Lords of the Sith and wins nearly every time. So what’s keeping the fanbase from enjoying him?

Starkiller is, in a word, boring. Even for a video game character his personality and motivations are nonexistent. He exists in the same void that claimed so many dark and “provocative” protagonists from that era, doomed to have his dark outfits overlooked, his white, male, buzzcut head passed by, his screams of unbridled rage and the explosions of fire and lightning in the wake of his lightsaber met with a resounding chorus of “Eh, that’s cool, I guess.” Despite the attempts to create a game that might rival an original trilogy film, the effort falls to, and sometimes well below, that of the prequel films, and every failure can be seen in Starkiller himself.

Before I go further, one thing I do enjoy about Starkiller is his voice actor, Sam Witwer. Witwer shines in many of his other roles, such as Darth Maul or the Emperor in his voice acting career, or as Crashdown on Battlestar Galactica. The blame I might place for the character would be with the designers and producers of the game, as I am left to conclude that, given his other roles, he probably did the best with what he had.

That, however, doesn’t excuse the lines Witwer was fed. Starkiller, as a pupil of Darth Vader, does not communicate in the verbose, straightforward manner of his master. Rather, Starkiller’s thoughts are conveyed primarily in adolescent grumblings, frantic gasps and wails when the action picks up, or, most commonly, via shrill screams when he has nothing to contribute but another pile of charred, nameless corpses. As a protagonist, he falls squarely flat in engaging the player, and the few attempts at charm his character is given feel strange, like a machine trying to understand human feelings in a cheap sci-fi show.

The story, however, promptly ignores this, as other characters with far more vigor and zeal than he seem to defer to him as a charismatic leader, a position that should baffle anyone who’s actually been playing the game. His eventual formation of the Rebel Alliance and the resulting narrative attempts to wedge him into what was then canon are truly astounding, an exercise in failed fanservice for future Star Wars tales to consider. What’s more, the female lead, Juno Eclipse, somehow falls for a man who is depicted as a screaming, whirling tornado of death and constantly shifting allegiance between people who legitimately are attempting to help him and a Sith who openly admits to using him like a tool is insanity. One might argue that this is some genius plot device so he might assassinate Vader and the Emperor one day, but every one of Vader’s ploys catches him surprised and off guard, and it is only via terrible writing that he survives any of them at all. Outthinking one’s enemy is a grand idea, if one can actually do it.

Starkiller is dealt no favors in his design, either. The over-the-top Force abilities feel dated and suspense-less, denying all of his battles the weight they should rightfully possess. His lightsaber is almost superfluous, and when it is utilized for a God of War-style slashing it looks pitiful and ineffective compared to any of the baseline powers. This ridiculous style might have made for a fun game, story and character aside, but it is, naturally, integrated into the story itself, and one wonders why Starkiller, the child of a barely-named Jedi, is the most powerful Force user that no one in the films or shows or in any other media had ever heard of.

Starkiller is the epitome of the wrong way to create something in the Star Wars universe. By creating a character who’s sole defining characteristics are his many ways of butchering others, he lacks both a relatable struggle and any way to interact with most other characters beyond, well, killing them. This, combined with the insistence on shoehorning him into Darth Vader and the Rebellion’s backstory, makes for a character and a game that are, frankly, obnoxious blights on the saga, something that should have been a fun diversion that instead was shoved in to be taken as seriously as the films themselves. Fortunately for the series, the Disney reboot of canon has confined this character and his exploits to the back of Legends material, and his game remains confined to the bargain bins at game retailers worldwide. He should, however, be remembered, as a lesson to other Star Wars creators. Don’t let style trump substance. Fanservice should accentuate the product, not smother it. And a good story and characters makes for an experience that will be remembered longer than any graphical spectacle.