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Bastard of the Old Republic

Part 2: Bastardier.

Something had flipped. I wasn't bothered by telling Mission I didn't care about her stupid brother. I was now initiating conversations with Bastilla, just to tell her how stupid I thought she was. I began actively seeking out horrible things to do, rather than my previous shrinking away from the mouse as I'd clicked on the cruellest option. Which meant there was only one sensible thing to do. Evil loves company. I had to go to Tattooine to find HK-47.

Tattooine is surprisingly absent of overtly awful things to do. When you first arrive, you're met by a young widowed mother, Sharina Fizark, desperate for money to feed her children. She has the skull plate of a rare beast, worth around 500 credits. I remember this moment from the first time I played the game very clearly - I remember looking at my paltry bank balance and thinking: Boy, I could do with 500 credits. Being nice doesn't pay well, and I'd been extremely lovely. I was flat broke, and was being asked to give this woman 500 credits from my barren coffers. I could see the conversation options tantalisingly displayed. I could steal this thing from her, sell it for myself. But good grief, who on Earth would steal the last possession from a starving mother? Simon Evil would.

The moment is underlined in its awfulness by the woman's reaction. She doesn't even try to fight you. So appalled by your actions, she simply hands it to you in disgust, her life discovering a deeper bottom than she'd ever imagined possible. I sold the plate, adding the 500 credits to my overflowing vaults of ill-gained loot, and I was fine with that.

The rest of the planet's adventures limited me to just generally being a douchebag. I went into the Hunter's Lodge, or the local bar, and behaved so unpleasantly to everyone I met that they got up and left. It's an extraordinary display, to dickishly empty buildings simply with a horrible attitude.

HK-47! Worth the imaginary gaming licence fee alone.

I remember laughing when I'd been to the droid shop. With just one droid available, an HK-47 unit (this classification unknown to all in the room), I knew I was in the presence of a truly great mentor. If you've never played Knights of the Old Republic, and really, if these diaries achieve anything I hope it's that you will, HK-47 is the number one best reason to get it.

When I was my formerly angelic self, and floating through the galaxy weaving flowers in the hair of every waif and stray I went out of my way to help, put through college, and mentor into old age, HK-47 was a glimmer of what I was missing. An assassin droid, with the vast majority of his memory banks locked down and inaccessible to him, with the most wonderful attitude problem. Immediately referring to humans as "meatbags", and delivering his beautifully spiteful lines in a mellifluous, archly ironic voice, he's the evil equivalent to comic relief. In a game full of fluffy clouds and rainbows, his murderous attitude and wanton contempt for all other beings was a guilty delight. Simon's, however, was not a game of fluff and rainbows. It was somewhere where HK-47 would fit right in, and I couldn't wait to have someone in my party who would be endorsing my behaviour.

Keeping Bastilla with us, purely to torture her (and all the while, every time she levelled up only giving her new Dark Force powers), we stole and killed everything on the planet. Good times. Along the way, just after screwing over a Twi'lek hunter for his share of the spoils of a dragon kill that was almost entirely his doing, we were confronted by a bounty hunter who we'd run into back on Taris. He was most displeased that Simon had escaped the planet, and was here to finish the job. It was a quick and easy fight. Soon after I was given a message to meet with a man called Hulas on the planet Manaan. I was to approach him alone.

My shopping list of kills to come. Looking forward to it.

I had never heard of the Genoharadan before. There's a reason for this. This secret guild of bounty hunters is almost unknown in the galaxy, their name barely spoken. I imagine the first time I played the game I either ignored Hulas altogether, or immediately told him I wasn't interested as soon as it became clear they were assassins. Assassins?! I'm in!

So it was I stood alone on a strange oceanic planet, without any of my party, agreeing with a stranger to assassinate people I'd never heard of, for what he told me would be the good of the Republic, but for what I knew would mean personal profit. And I couldn't wait.

The Bastard of the Old Republic will be back soon.

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