There’s a chasm between being an effective leader and being a good one. While a lifetime can be spent thinking “number goes up quickly” is an accomplishment, acknowledging and endearing oneself to the people who make it possible is the true reward. Good leadership is accepting that the skills of individuals make the whole stronger, understanding nobody should ever be considered “replaceable.”
And in that sense, Peter Quill is trying to be good.
One tragic backstory later and Peter is going by “Star-Lord” while daydreaming of being celebrated and feared throughout the cosmos in equal measure. He’s emotionally stunted, a thirteen year old boy trying to live vicariously through his own thirty-something body. Though charming enough to assemble a crew of would-be-heroes, he doesn’t quite have the chops to command them. Even if he did, deciding to call the group “The Guardians of the Galaxy” is in itself a sign of fantastical thinking, totally detached from the reality that all five members are outcasts in a society that spans countless star systems. As the player we begin our time in Peter’s rocket-propelled shoes making decisions and issuing commands to the Guardians in combat, but the dialogue frequently betrays the man he’s striving to be. His teammates clearly don’t respect him, and his own insecurities about this bleed out as rash decisions and laughably futile motivational speeches.
The next roughly fifteen hours tell the story of a group coming together, falling apart, and coming back even stronger. It dives into the mind of trauma and proves love is a more powerful force than revenge, camaraderie and individuality defeat subjugation any day. Mechanically we find ourselves getting better at commanding the team alongside Peter, who somehow earns the right to be called “Star-Lord” by the time credits roll.
Being “the one in charge” is never an easy task, and those who desire it most tend to be those least deserving. Although Peter begins his story trying to be effective as the captain of his crew and force himself into an idealized version of leadership, truly accepting himself and his circumstances paves a path towards being someone better. Someone good.
And in that sense, Peter Quill is trying to be good.
One tragic backstory later and Peter is going by “Star-Lord” while daydreaming of being celebrated and feared throughout the cosmos in equal measure. He’s emotionally stunted, a thirteen year old boy trying to live vicariously through his own thirty-something body. Though charming enough to assemble a crew of would-be-heroes, he doesn’t quite have the chops to command them. Even if he did, deciding to call the group “The Guardians of the Galaxy” is in itself a sign of fantastical thinking, totally detached from the reality that all five members are outcasts in a society that spans countless star systems. As the player we begin our time in Peter’s rocket-propelled shoes making decisions and issuing commands to the Guardians in combat, but the dialogue frequently betrays the man he’s striving to be. His teammates clearly don’t respect him, and his own insecurities about this bleed out as rash decisions and laughably futile motivational speeches.
The next roughly fifteen hours tell the story of a group coming together, falling apart, and coming back even stronger. It dives into the mind of trauma and proves love is a more powerful force than revenge, camaraderie and individuality defeat subjugation any day. Mechanically we find ourselves getting better at commanding the team alongside Peter, who somehow earns the right to be called “Star-Lord” by the time credits roll.
Being “the one in charge” is never an easy task, and those who desire it most tend to be those least deserving. Although Peter begins his story trying to be effective as the captain of his crew and force himself into an idealized version of leadership, truly accepting himself and his circumstances paves a path towards being someone better. Someone good.