When the aliens arrived, finding our planet long since abandoned, they faced little resistance. Their preliminary research into our society had suggested that it was customary for extrasolar visitors to greet humanity with a display of great violence, and not wanting to disappoint us, they had prepared a full-scale invasion fleet. Painstakingly, though it had taken centuries, they engineered impractical, silent, disk-shaped vessels like those they had seen in our transmissions, for surely we would accept nothing less. It all seemed a bit much, but who were they to sniff at the social practices of a people who had evolved in circumstances so foreign to their own. Best to match our energy, they thought. But upon arrival, there were no cows to abduct, no fields of crops in which to to trace circles. And so they did the next best thing: they parked their warships in our empty streets, took up residence in our vacant houses, and endeavored to pick up where we had left off and live as they imagined the humans might have. It would be some years before the patterns began to make sense. "The knife juice." one colonist might say. "The knife juice is an essential ingredient in the construction of vittles; of this we have overwhelming evidence. But must the juice come from the knife itself? The synthesis of the milkable knife-thing may be trivial to us owing to the advent of our ubiquitous blade-producing aperture technologies, but I have seen no such apparati left behind by our hosts. Is it possible that the knife-juice is simply named as such due to the knife-thing as a method of conveyance, the juice then being product of the animal organ, i.e. blood/urine, extracted for culinary purposes via the aforementioned utensil." To which another alien might reply, "Preposterous. The knife, I believe, is a bone, and the juice its marrow." Many such an argument was had over dinner, as dinner was, apparently, mostly for arguing. They also found mitt romney's cryogenically-frozen brain and brought him back as a despicable me minion or something. Idk i got tired of writing the post. Life is a rare precious thing and sometimes you gotta suck it up and be a living memorial i guess. Didn't sleep much last night. Post over
luke is lucky he was born in an era where all the jedi were dead. if he wanted to become one in the prequel era he would've gotten thrashed by those kids who started when they were four
meets his first jedi when he's 20 and it's a 15 year old who has been training a decade and knows how to juggle lightsabers. going back to the moisture farm then
if you're 5-6 and your main circle isn't frequently discussing:
~ kyber crystals
~ midi-chlorians
~ the sacred texts
then it's time to elevate your circle
There is currently a games bundle on DriveThruRpg that is raising funds for Meguey Baker's cancer treatment. You can find it here: https://www.drivethrurpg.com/en/product/480847/meguey-baker-vs-cancer-bundle
Ask a bunch of folks in indie ttrpgs about the explosion in the scene in the past decade, and you'll find one overwhelming reason for where the impetus behind it comes from:
Powered by the Apocalyse.
Coming out of the design hotbed of the Forge scene and spilling out onto twitter after the closure of Google+, Meguey and D Vincent Baker brought the sublime post-apocalyptic game of Apocalypse World to the masses, but more than that, they have empowered designers to adopt a framework and set of principles, PbtA, that have opened us up to an explosion of vibrant, imaginative games. Successor formats such as Forged in the Dark (FitD) have proliferated across genre spaces, cross-pollinating each other with fascinating game design concepts and continued innovations.
The legacy of PbtA is vibrant and ongoing--but we can do something now to help the pioneers of the space. The attached ttrpg book bundle (great price, great games!) supports Meguey Baker in her ongoing fight against cancer.
I encourage you to check it out, and if you're able, support a great cause!