A Scoundrel's Heart: Embodying Kay Vess in Star Wars Outlaws

I remember the first time I saw the wooden spaceship. It was deja vu, a circle closing. My journey with Kay Vess began not with the roar of a hyperdrive, but with the quiet confidence of a performer stepping into a world of imagination and grit. As an actor, every role is a voyage, but becoming Kay, the rookie scoundrel of Star Wars Outlaws, was a hero's journey of its own—a dance between a character's written soul and the life I was destined to breathe into her. This is the story of that dance, a tale of swagger, vulnerability, and finding freedom in a galaxy far, far away.

Finding the Swagger Within

From the very first audition, I felt a kinship with Kay. She relies on charm, wit, and a potent dose of "fake it till you make it" bravado. That swagger, that cool pose, the weighted walk—it felt like putting on a second skin. Our narrative director, Navid, once pointed out, "You're sitting in that chair like Kay Vess." It was true. She has this "no worries" facade, a shield she holds up even when she's nervous inside. Maybe only her loyal companion, Nix, sees the cracks. I walked into every session carrying that attitude: a scrappy, impatient dreamer who believes her system of trusting nobody is the key to freedom and fortune. Her code is simple, forged in the glittering, cutthroat alleys of Canto Bight. But as we all know, leaving your hometown changes everything.

Inspirations and Aspirations

Of course, no scoundrel walks alone in this universe. Han Solo was a constant beacon—the coolest scoundrel out there. Kay aspires to that legendary status, but she's fundamentally different. She's more flawed, more vulnerable, a rookie without his seasoned skill set. I wanted her to feel like a nod to that iconic legacy while carving her own path. I dreamed of her maybe, one day, becoming as iconic as Princess Leia or the droids we all love. To prepare, I immersed myself in the timeline between The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi, watching with new eyes, asking constantly: "How would Kay react to this?" The research was thrilling, from understanding cantina vibes to the brutal attitudes of the galaxy's crime syndicates.

Breathing Life into the Lines

The magic truly happened in collaboration. The writers had initially crafted a Kay who was a bit snarkier, more of a harsh jokester. I wanted to showcase the breaks in her armor—the heart, the flaws, the vulnerability. I believed in showing not just her mistakes, but how she recovers from them, finding composure even when she messes up. There was incredible freedom. Sometimes a line just wouldn't fit; the words felt foreign in my mouth. I'd stumble, forget, and then simply ask, "How would I say this?" Speaking in my own words often led to a delighted, "Yes, we like that better!" It was as if Kay became alive within me, dictating her own voice. The banter with ND-5, her droid companion, was especially precious. We'd joke between scenes, and sometimes those improvised moments would stick, woven into the fabric of her story.

The Joy in the Journey

My favorite moments to portray were those deliciously human contradictions. Kay thinking she can take on the galaxy's worst, declaring "I got this," and then being humbled—like trying to pilot the Trailblazer, a ship she's never touched. She gets defensive, never apologetic, just insisting, "I'm doing my best, okay? Just watch." Those exchanges with ND-5, where she refuses to be babysat, were pure joy. Imagine a dogfight, lasers blazing, and him dryly stating, "You do know we're being attacked?" and Kay snapping back, "Give me a break, man!" We'd always laugh afterward. She just wants to be good at everything, immediately.

The Actor's Craft: Stamina and Subtlety

The challenge was a beautiful one. Leading a project of this scale, being present for nearly every scene shot out of order, required immense stamina and precision. I had to constantly track where she was in her hero's journey—ensuring her confidence level matched her experience. Was she still a rookie here? Had she learned that lesson yet? I relied deeply on our brilliant team to keep me grounded. For Kay herself, the balance was key. I never wanted to play her as a one-note character or lean too heavily into victimhood. When she was fearful or vulnerable, I had to portray it authentically without losing her core resilience. The immediate playback was a gift, allowing me to critique myself: "That was too much. Kay Vess wouldn't linger there." I was always telling her story, not just enjoying myself as an actor.

Two Worlds, One Craft

People often ask me to compare video game performance with film and TV. I can't choose a favorite—they're besties! My heart has always been with motion capture. Long before screen acting, I discovered mocap in theater school and was mesmerized. It makes you profoundly aware of your entire body as an instrument. Every movement, from head to toe to fingertips, carries meaning. That discipline has made me a better screen actor, teaching me to ensure my body language always matches my intentions. Conversely, the inner work of film and TV has deepened the emotional life I bring to mocap roles. They are complementary arts, and together, they allow us to build characters who feel utterly real.

Moments of Pure Wonder

My fondest memories are steeped in that childlike wonder of creation. 👾

• The Suit: Sliding into the mocap suit always made me feel like a superhero.

• The Builds: Watching incredible teams construct entire worlds from wood and imagination—Jabba the Hutt's throne room, the entire palace.

• The Trailblazer: They built our ship from wood and metal. People would physically maneuver it, rocking it to simulate turbulence or tilting it for a dive. I'd sit inside, and they'd create the sensation of jumping to hyperspace. It was a Star Wars ride, and we were all just kids playing with the coolest toys in the galaxy.

In the end, Kay Vess is a dreamer, flawed and fierce. She's running toward freedom with a scoundrel's smile and a rookie's heart. To have walked in her shoes, to have felt the weight of that wooden spaceship and the vastness of her hopes, has been the adventure of a lifetime. I can only hope that when you meet her, you see not just a new outlaw in the galaxy, but a reflection of all our messy, determined, and utterly human journeys to find a place where we belong.