The Galactic Guide

18 years after the Battle of Yavin...
A divergent, persistent and interactive Star Wars timeline with a rich history and established characters.

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Gonzo Bodhisattva
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The Galactic Guide

Post by xfiend1013 » Sun Oct 30, 2011 10:27 am

The Galactic Guide is a wholly remarkable book. Perhaps the most remarkable, certainly the most successful book ever to come out of the great publishing corporations of the deep Core. More popular than Don't Piss on a Trandoshan in Mating Season, better selling than One Hundred Things to do in Zero Gravity, and more controversial than the highly pornographic Granth's Guide to Xenophiliac Relations. It's already supplanted the Encyclopedia Imperium as the standard repository of all knowledge and wisdom, for two important reasons. First, it's significantly cheaper, at a mere 20 Galactic Credits; and secondly it has the words DON'T PANIC printed in large friendly letters on its cover.

It begins in a rambling sort of tirade about the size of the Universe, using a lot of metaphors involving basketballs on Corsucant and single atoms on Corellia, or the number of whalodon baculum it takes to stretch from Mon Calamari to Yavin IV. It then gets into more useful facts, like the fact that, although the baculum is known as a "spacers' toothpick," one should never, ever, insert one into ones mouth. This contradicts information in Granth's Guide to Xenophiliac Relations though, as of now, no editing has been done to either book.

A typical entry, selected at random, is this:
Galactic Guide
Destination: Sardis Station
Reporter: Garrett G. Granth the IV.
Sardis Station is between Corellia and Coruscant, between the Corellian Trade Spine and Hydian Way, near the obscure planet Kuat. . It serves as a stopover point for traders needing repairs or refueling, smugglers seeking to switch routes, pirates looking for unwary traders, and bounty hunters looking for unwary smugglers. There are a lot of things looking for a lot of people in this place, and I wasn’t looking to become one of the latter because of one of the former.
Sardis Station isn’t a particularly dangerous place, though – so long as no one who wants you dead knows you’re there – but the same goes for pretty much anywhere. Security is decent – they don’t ask many questions and generally serve up quick vigilante justice on the hot end of a blaster or the cold airless side of an airlock. Aggression is frowned upon, and that frown tends to take the form of a riot mask in your face and a stun baton on your ass.
Illegal spice, heavily modified weaponry, slaves, bounties to market, switched transponder codes, assassination droids; you can get at it here, if you want. They have droid facilities, communications hubs – sub-ether, subspace band, even holonet access; all for free.
The manager is a guy named Lando who isn’t Lando Calrissian. He wouldn’t divulge his last name, but I, dear readers, have certainly seen Mr. Calrissian, and this scoundrel he is not.
Lando tells me that the domes in the ceiling of the main cantina (where most of the stations’ dealings go down) are gunfire detectors coupled with laser turrents – you fire a weapon, you get laser fire rained down upon you. He also told me, with an non-reassuring grin, that the system has malfunctioned more than once, but that his buddies in the New Republic and the Empire (and who doesn’t have friends on both sides these days?) are there to absolve the station of any legal difficulties resulting from such a problem.
The bartender is a wookie named Kal’Syyk, so tip while you’ve still got the arms to do so. He mixes a mean cocktail, enough to strip the paint off a Star Destroyer, but the beer selection is fairly limited.
The docks will accept anything smaller than Destroyer size, fuel is cheap, but the technical crew is not. Repairs on Sardis Station will cost any limbs left after ticking off the barkeep. Freighter and smaller craft will find ample landing pads and bays.
Those who aren’t just in the system to drink will find plenty to do at Sardis Station; live podracing and murderball plays on vidscreens downstairs; starship races are available for anyone who wants to participate – I hear the track is fairly deadly; and swoop bike racing is possible, if you bring your own swoop. There’s a no-death-allowed fighting arena, but I hear the rules are sometimes loosened to allow for the real deal. Gambling, of course, is encouraged – any game you can think of can be played upstairs, and if you can’t think of a game, the heavily-armed referee droids can explain the rules to all of them. You can also bet on races, fights, and anything from the stock market to the number of drinks you can put under your belt.
All in all, three and a half out of five stars. It certainly isn’t fancy, it certainly isn’t plush, and it certainly isn’t orderly, but Sardis Station is the place to go if you’re looking to get away from something very specific – not to get away from “it all.”
The fact that this quote is from Garrett Granth IV, the most prolific writer in the history of the Galactic Guide, should in no way suggest that his entries are more or less informative than any other writer. In fact, many of his entries - and many in the Guide altogether - are self-serving, error-prone, and contain contradictory information.

The fact that such a wrong-headed book is considered the standard reference source for most of the citizens of the galaxy goes a long way towards explaining the galactic situation.

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Gonzo Bodhisattva
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Re: The Galactic Guide

Post by xfiend1013 » Mon Oct 31, 2011 1:17 pm

Coronet City: The Co-Tel Hotel

by Tarantella Fiennes

The Co-Tel has a terrible name and a carpet to go with it. Sixteen types of semi-sentient life were found in the pile of fur that I thought to be a dead wookiee until the receptionist told me that it was actually the carpet. A dead wookiee probably would have smelled better.

The prices were low, and any spacer looking to save a buck and boost the immune system could do worse. The showers work, which is good, because if you didn't need a shower before entering the room, you will afterwards. Nevertheless, the bathrooms were clean enough to eat in, which is good, because the attached bar and grill certainly were not.

Beds - what can I say about the beds that hasn't already been said about Askalan? I think a wookiee on bothan orgy took place on both of them. They looked like skinned Noghiri and smelled like they might be sexually active on their own. Mycology students looking for new species and specimens would do well to check the air conditioning vents, and epidemiologists seeking to expand their studies of STIs should check the beds, which do not come with the HAZMAT suit that they should.

All in all, it's not the worst hotel on Corellia. But that could be true if the Corellian Senate outlaws the practice of allowing travelers to sleep in containment ponds for storing the runoff from livestock operations.

Galactic Guide Field Reporter
Tarantella Fiennes

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False Dichotomy
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Re: The Galactic Guide

Post by Beorht » Mon Oct 31, 2011 4:55 pm

The Jedi Temple on Onderon
By Vel'oqq

Step one: wardrobe. All you really need is burlap, the more threadbare the better. If you go the tailored route, meaning actual fabric, keep in mind that real Jedi robes are always shiny or frayed where the edge or activator of the lightsabre rubs against them. That means a lot for the dimensions of whatever swoop-bike-handlebar, personal grooming apparatus, beckon call or glowstick you use in place of the frighteningly ubiquitous weapon with which your average Jedi thinks.

Then again, not a day goes by without some idiot in robes getting shanked. The Tusked Milker in Coronet maintains a brisk trade in slightly used lightsabres. Ask for Biff. Come to think of it, if you're already there, he probably has some brown, black or purple robes lying around if you don't mind a little char. Mix-match the bits of the robe and you've got yourself a fool-proof ticket to civic duty.

Wear it everywhere, and I mean everywhere, for about a week if possible. Avoid fabric softener.

Step two: insertion. Don't put the costume on. Instead, stuff it into a bag (stuff, don't roll: maximum dowdiness is the word here, unless you have a midriff like Faye Ward) and look like something else. Tourist works. Trust me. Once you get inside and find a private little meditation chamber, then change. A new Jedi gets attention at the gatehouse, but once you're in, you're just another beige obstacle to the front of the chow line. If you're under forty and you've attained a certain level of photogeneity, this is a good place and time to theorize about attachment with a member of your preferred sex and species. Be avant-garde. They like that. Actually, they like just about anything. Also, keep in mind that it is statistically and functionally impossible to find an unattractive female humanoid Jedi in the entire Order. Academic corollary is available.

Above all, do not make a pass at Kalja Leidias.

If you're a Darksider who got this link from his mother and wants to try his luck, this is the point where you get caught. If so, all your troubles are over. Look sufficiently repentant and they'll give you room and board as long as you want.

Anyways. Now you're in. Step three: surviving your stay. I don't mean avoiding detection, I mean the food. We're talking borderline inedible unless Luke Skywalker is visiting. Obviously that's the best time. Hero worship smells bad but it has its advantages. Risk of detection is inversely proportional to Big Important Things going on, which I suppose is always, but bring hot sauce anyways because your common or garden galactic destructor plot just won't cut it. Hot sauce. Even salt wouldn't be a bad idea.

A Wookiee Jedi Knight named Bandabap runs a still in the south-east basement. The product hints of reactor coolant in the subtlest possible way. It's infinitely preferable to the beverages available in the mess or even the Masters' lounge, where your given bottle's contents are almost, but not quite, entirely unlike wine. The blue chocolate milk, however, is worth trying.

The bathrooms and beds are obsessively clean, but everything is hard. It builds discipline. Mention a bad back and an old war wound and you can get a special supportive pillow with an REC seal - everything in the Temple complex was, at some point, donated and carefully written off for tax purposes.

Avoid the old bird. Chirushk, healer, ornery as sin. Mrlssi, NOT Mriss. Be very careful to get that right. Also, possibly, the most perceptive person on the payroll. Watch out for the cane.

Don't go outside. The women may be maneaters, but the drexls are considerably worse.

Avoid war stories if you can. Everyone you meet will have fought the Cult of Shadow, the Xen'Chi, and probably the Empire too, though that's so far in the past as to be unimportant. Also, keep in mind that at the end of the Xen'Chi war, every Jedi and a lot of other Forcers, no matter where they were, felt Kalja Leidias reaching out to gather their strength and use it to defeat GAIT. So you better know who GAIT is.

In short: usually safe, very clean, bad food, long prep time, acceptable if simplistic booze, hot women. Three stars.

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