Star Wars theme goes here! The game picks up at what the DM describes as their second movie, having time-skipped the heroes some distance.

DM: Last time, our heroes joined, in name at least, the REBEL ALLIANCE – all caps – and for the past several months have been working with those erstwhile heroes on occasional missions, while most of them trained at home with their master.
Zareq: Bugulon!
Bremen: The name?
DM: PALPATIIIIIINE!
Bremen: No! His real name! His real real name!
DM: Kraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaax!
Bremen: I’ll turn the sheet over. Hethan – no. X’chul! Sanaya Sara’brek! Malefax! MALEFAX! It was in all-caps in the module.
DM: Yes it was.
Bremen: Did we kill him?
Zareq: We left him to the machinations of the droid robot.
DM: He sank into the swamp.

The DM briefly recaps their last adventure. Most of the group had chosen to stay primarily with their master, and so these worthies find him in a debate with the Gatekeeper.

Kon: “What is wrong?”
DM: “A vision has come to me. You must to return to the Rebel Alliance base. Your comrade waits. There, a mission awaits you. You must take it. It will be vital to your paths.”
Kon: ‘Hold on, Master, was it just a comm from the Rebels?’ You see his phone going off.
Zareq: (looking at Kon’s sheet) Wow, you spell it much simpler than I do.
DM: What’d you write?
Kon: K-O-N.
Zareq: I thought you put an H in there somewhere.
DM: “Your training will await until you return. But until you return, conduct yourself in accordance with the Force.”
Zareq: “Yes, Master.”
DM: “Nolnaru will remain here. Much darkness clings to him.”
Zareq: ‘I’m gonna punch the next motherfucker that comes in the room!’
DM: ‘Yes, that’s what I’m talking about. Too hungry for looted blasters is he. He’s been beating up villagers. I told him to stop.’

The sounds of a lightsaber battle abruptly emerge from a phone.

DM: ‘Stop it!’
Zareq: ‘Those are not toys!’

The DM challenges them to provide a pilot; Zareq reluctantly admits he still has a point in the skill. They travel by sublight autopilot to the Rebel Base, and arrive in 222 years. Zarshaan chews pretzels directly into the microphone. They roll for the Destiny Pool – extremely well, actually, producing a Light Side-dominated pool.

Kon: This is the only part of the game I remember, rolling the Force die.
Zareq: And belching while you say it.

They debate trading their ship for a larger ship, and to their horror end up with a Mon Calamari freighter.

DM: Bremen, you’ve been informed of your comrades’ arrival. Do you greet them, or do you choose to SNUB them?
Zarshaan: We get snubbed.
Bremen: Where am I?
Zarshaan: You’re getting drunk.

Bremen tries to get put in charge of the team, but is denied because the PCs will be replacing the redshirts that would have been going with them. The characters assemble – no, the group assembles. Boob missiles are deployed to destroy Autobot City.

Bremen: …I can’t help it, there’s too much sugar.
DM: Sure. You can’t help it. I’ll believe that.
Bremen: I don’t want to! I don’t want to be the person who’s always derailing shit.
Zarshaan: Usually that’s Nolnaru’s job.
Zareq: No, Nolnaru eventually just like… phone. Absorb all attention by my phone.
DM: And that’s when the DMing begins.
Bremen: Are we being briefed?
Zareq: ‘Go do your mission.’ Well, that was pretty brief.
Bremen: I’m wearing Rebel fatigues now instead of robes.
DM: Captain Sanaya is waiting for you in the briefing room. “Gentlemen. Lady. Glad to see you all. Your timing couldn’t have been better.” She raises a slight eyebrow at you, at that statement. (looking at Zareq’s poorly-suppressed laughter) Not intimating anything, you idiot. As if to ask if some supernatural force had guided you here.
Zareq: “The Force works in mysterious ways, Captain.”
DM: “Yes. Yes it does.”

Sanaya reports that the Empire has begun mining cortosis on the moon of Dengris Prime. They’re given a new Death Star, apparently, to solve the problem. Zareq bemoans not going down the Artisan tree.

Kon: He doesn’t have Artisan, so he assembles a Death Star out of exhaust ports.
Zareq: I’m gonna build my own LIFE Star. We’ll create new life – out of the space dust of their former planets.
DM: What is this, Master of Orion?
Bremen: You shoot a red beam instead of a green one, all the pieces of the planet comes back together.

Sanaya warns them that both Dingris Prime and the moon are tidally locked, and so the moon receives little light and is complete ice as a result. They are given environmental gear, and offered reasonable supplies which they immediately interpret as thermal detonators for days.

Bremen: Did the Bothans bring us this information?
DM: ‘No, they’re dead for some reason. Some other secret mission, I don’t know.’

Their briefing tells them a small patrol guards the system, which is highly obscure. They also insist on calling the planet ‘Dingus’.

Bremen: Where’s the apostrophe?
DM: There isn’t. I know, it’s so out of character for me.
Zarshaan: (directly into the microphone) Penis. Penis. Penis.

Arguing over the equipment begins, such as why fusion is involved in a fusion torch, can they just get a space-lamp, and so forth. The Rebels report that numbers are unclear, guard presence should be low, but a swift response would doubtless come if an alarm went off. They attempt to set off. Their ship won’t start.

DM: You set off BLINDLY!
Bremen: Kon, you told me you fixed it!
Kon: We plan ahead! Do they have schematics – what do they have?
DM: No schematics, unfortunately they’re only aware of it from long-distance observations
Kon: Let’s try to get as much structural damage as possible to the installation.
DM: They can confirm at least it is an underground bunker, preventing any bombardment from orbit.

As usual, the DM attempts to sow distrust between the party and Bingbong.

Zareq: We love Bingbong! He’s like a giant.. robotic peanut! Mwaah! Mwaaah!
Kon: Just so long as he doesn’t post it on the robot interwebs.

Bingbong takes the directions – then shakes his head vigorously.

Kon: “You okay?”
Zareq: “What’s wrong?”
DM: Bingbong bingbong bingbong bingbong.
Zareq: Oh right, none of us speak his language, do we.
DM: He bingbongs so vigorously he starts to shake back and forth a little bit.
Bremen: Isn’t there a readout that translates droidspeak into the Sanskrit that Star Wars uses…
DM: Not in this ship, because it was owned by a droid. He didn’t need it.
Bremen: (A brief pause) I’m marching right back down the ramp.
Zareq: We need a droid translator!
Bremen: I’ll delay the mission as long as it takes!
DM: They get you an Ewok slave.

Silence. The DM bursts into laughter at their expression.

DM: Bingbong tells you that place is DANGEROUS!
Zareq: I know, Dingdong—
Zarshaan: “What do you know that we don’t, Dingdong?”
Bremen: You used to be on a ship captained by a murderdroid, and you’re worried about where we’re going.
DM: It wasn’t dangerous to Bingbong.
Bremen: I guess we’re just gonna have to have Bingbong’s memory erased, ‘cuz this is going to be a problem.
DM: “Dangerous to droids!”
Zarshaan: “Well, you don’t have to come.”
Bremen: He can stay on the ship – wait, we need him to prime the explosives. Ha ha! Built-in – can we get a droid from the Rebel Alliance? R3-D3 or something, hanging around?

Zareq gives Bingbong a pep-talk and gains a boost die from threatening to replace him. His success inspires Bingbong to action, and they are off! The DM asks who will take the pilot’s seat!

DM: Zareq, who keeps getting stuck with it, moves for it, only for Bremen to shove him arrogantly aside, and sit down confidently.
Bremen: This was not my character!
DM: Well, you’re just sitting there shrugging, I gotta tell a story.
Zareq: I’ll timidly sit in the copilot’s seat.
DM: He shoves you out of that too!
Kon: He’s fucking DDR two-playing it!
Bremen: Why do I have to be the prickly bastard of the group…?

Piloting rolls ensue, and they burst out of hyperspace to some flavor text for this icy tidally-locked system. They detect Imperial vessels and immediately rush to battle stations!

Zareq: Bingbong! Transform – into Battlebong!
Kon: ‘Battlebong is ready!’ ‘What, you can talk now?’

The DM questions them, and they elect to fly evasively. The Imperials roll to detect them, and succeed – with a Despair.

DM: A transmission comes through on your ship’s comm. “Glad to see you, sir. Docking bay 4 should be open. Proceed on course.”
Zareq: They think we’re somebody else. Do they think we’re the actual droid?
Bremen: It’s his ship.
Zareq: Yeah. I thought we repainted it.
Bremen: Well, it’s black outside. They’re getting transponder signal.
DM: “Proceed on course.”
Zareq: (evil voice) ‘Affirmative.’
Bremen: “Bingbong, how would—“
DM: Bingbong bingbong bingbong bingbong.

Anguished silence.

Bremen: Did we or did we not get a translator box for the fucking thing?
DM: (laughing)
Bremen: I wasn’t kidding about that part.
DM: I know, but your pain is hilarious to me.
Bremen: (sighing)

Bingbong tells them that Exen would have not deigned to respond, so neither do they. A docking sequence is transmitted to them. Kon attempts to Foresee, and the DM puts his usual weird emphasis on the word, causing Bremen to collapse in tittering.

DM: You see yourself descending safely, and stepping out to speak to a guard ensconced in a little tower-barracks thing to protect him against the elements. That’s all you get specifics on. The rest is up to you.
Zareq: What was the name of the robot?
DM: Bingbong?
Zareq: No, the other one.
DM: Exen. It’s X-N the letters, but this is Star Wars, so it has to be ‘Exen’ spelled out. Because Star Wars pisses me the fuck off like that.
Zareq: ARRRRRRTOOOODEEEETOOOOOO.
DM: BEE BEE EIGHT FUCK YOU. That pisses me off so fucking much!
Kon: Wait, what does?
DM: Beebeeeight. That’s B-E-E-B-E-E-E-I-G-H-T NO! Just say BB-8, letter letter number, that’s all you need to fucking do!
Bremen: C-3P0—
DM: THREEPIO! T-H-R-E-E…
Zarshaan: I’m gonna go upstairs…

The DM somehow gets them under control and they discuss the plans, along with the Wirluckian who ate their Ewok translator and gained his power. The players have understandable reactions to this claim.

DM: Oh, this is the session of priceless looks!

The DM laboriously waxes on about how this is an ice planet, not an arctic planet. They don their environmental suits, then take a moment to plan their approach to the barracks (and question if their lightsabers are cold-resistant). The guard in the booth regards them inscrutably.

Kon: All right. I’ll go with – I’m gonna do Influence, make him more… affable… Does he look like resilient?
Bremen: He looks like a Stormtrooper.
DM: You – you see Stormtrooper armor. He’s a Stormtrooper. You have no way of knowing what he’s like beyond that.
Kon: I’ll hold off on that. I’m going to Negotiate with him – roll first or RP first?
DM: RP first, to see if you get boost die or some shit. Or if you negotiate with him the Nolnaru way, setback die.
Bremen: I’m gonna tell him that we’re here and he’s going to get on his knees and BEG for us to—
Kon: “Our leader has requested we oversee the operation before he steps foot on it. Will you allow us in?’

Kon makes a roll and nails a Triumph; they are immediately allowed in, with a flurry of flavor text. A debate over whether Bingbong can handle stairs erupts.

Bremen: “Did you hear what he said? We were expected. Might not be the greatest luck.”
Zareq: “No, no, but we’ll see.”
Bremen: “The real one might show up while we’re still here.”
Zareq: “I know, I know. That’s what I’m expecting. We can steal his new ship.”
Bremen: “Oh man!”
DM: His new ship, the Heart of Gold.
Bremen: And his new maintenance droid, Bingbingbong.
DM: His new droid, Wingwang. Wingwang wingwang wingwang – he repairs things by resolutely slamming the toolkit located at crotch height into them.
Zareq: He keeps helicoptering his crotch.
DM: That’s how he flies.
Zareq: Man, I’ve never been envious of a droid before.
Zarshaan: I’m not drinking enough for this.

They emerge into a crude mining operation, finding themselves on catwalk over the mines and smelting operations, with the ice melting around the operation even as they speak. A control room sits in the center of the catwalks, where they monitor the droids.

DM: The Stormtroopers, showing great discipline, do not even turn as you step between them.
Zareq: …these are just the suits! ‘Budget constraints, sir.’
DM: ‘These are just two children standing on top of each other.’ ‘We’re trying to infiltrate too, sir!’
Zareq: ‘Whaddya mean, too, uh…’
DM: ‘We’re the Children’s Rebellion.’
Kon: I was gonna go with Kids Next Door…

They march past the control room, heading for the tunnel that leads down to the barracks on the far side, and abruptly run into someone else in a suit on the other side.

DM: “Hey, who are you?”
Kon: “Here to take note of the station.”
Bremen: ‘Welp, here it is. We’ll be leaving now. We’ve taken note.’
DM: “Well. Here it is. That didn’t answer my question. Who are you guys?’
Zareq: “Servants of Lord Exen.”
DM: Roll.
Kon: No advantages, but I have three successes.
DM: The man starts back in surprise as you identify yourself. FALSELY.
Bremen: Dark Side! Morality drop!
Zareq: Are we taking Conflict?
DM: No. “Exen? Really?” You can’t read his expression but nonetheless surprise clearly radiates off him, and is shot through his voice.
Kon: “We’ve worked with him many times.” I do like the idea of me saying we’ve worked with him many times and that statement being 100% true in every way, shape, or form.
DM: “Oh, uh – pray tell me, what is the great Lord Exen’s business here? Uh – no, no offense or disrespect intended, I just want to be sure I can give you the best possible information about this area!”
Kon: “He wants to ensure the smooth operation of this station. Its light security duty does not concern him, but its continued production of cortosis is of the utmost importance.”
DM: “Ah, uh, forgive my question if you would be so kind, but – is he working WITH Moff Darrin?”
Zareq: “We are not privy to such information.”
DM: “I understand entirely, I understand entirely. I will be HAPPY to tell you – I am the second shift foreman! Convicatar.”
Zareq: That’s when we start getting real nice. ‘Oh hi Con, how ya doin’…’
DM: ‘Oh haaaai Con, how’s your sex life…’
Bremen: Another Kon, small galaxy.
DM: His is spelled with a C, and Convictar is all one word.

Convictar tells them he was just about to relieve his first-shift compatriot, and they go back to the control room. All eyes are on them as they open the door.

DM: “Second-shift Foreman,” says the man inside, who appears to be in charge, looking at him.
Kon: Quickly, before he – he seems angry, so before he gets too into this, going to calm his mood.
Bremen: Is this the good old Moff? Is he dressed in an environmental suit?
DM: He is not. The control room is nicely temperature-controlled.
Bremen: Has he got a grey uniform with a bunch of Fruity Pebbles on the vest?

Kon rolls his Influence, succeeds handily, and immediately blunts the supervisor’s mood down to a restrained calm.

DM: “Who are our visitors?” “Oh, these are servants! Servants of the great Lord Exen, who has apparently taken an interest in us!” “Lord Exen has taken an interest in our operation…”
Kon: (worrying, as the DM trails off) Did I calm him down too much?
Zareq: “This is marvelous…”

They quickly nail down identities and roles, though the first-shift foreman now refuses to leave because of the PCs’ presence, and they wonder just what Kon has accomplished. The DM challenges Kon to roll a tricky roll; as most people have done, he rolls difficulty dice first to see what he’s up against. The whole process takes quite a while.

Kon: No successes, all advantage.
DM: How much advantage do you have?
Kon: Three advantage after all that.
DM: He considers your words, then offers a slight smile, believing he has seen through to your game. “Well, certainly I’d be happy to provide that information, but of course we must follow the proper procedures. May I please scan your security codes?”
Zareq: Now’s the time to backhand him and be, ‘How dare you!’
DM: Clearly he’s deduced that this must be a security check, and that if he were simply to start talking you would have him clapped in irons, and sent off to the droid factory, to be made into a droid.
Bremen: The spice mines of – to be made into a droid!
Kon: It’s time for me to break out the serious power!
DM: (mimes a slap)
Kon: The mind-trick portion!

Zareq tries to slip an explosive under the control panel, but is not reassured by the DM’s baffled response. Kon pauses to debate whether he should mind trick first, persuade second, or vice versa; he elects to do the first. The DM reminds them the Destiny Pool is a thing; they continue to deny him its resources.

DM: “You don’t need to see our security codes,” you tell him in a steely voice.
Kon: I was gonna – oh, you’re changing it because I rolled bad.
DM: No no, go ahead.
Kon: I was gonna play into what he was saying. I see what he was saying, it was a security check, but. “In this case, you are wrong. We are not here for that. As much as you may think it is, you do not need to see our identification.” I walk past him and proceed to look into the snow… not really directly looking at him but standing next to him, expecting him to turn to continue to talk to me.
DM: “Which of you is the technical expert that I may direct the explanation to?”
Bremen: Bingbong. Not me!
Zareq: In one ear and out the other. I can try….

The DM hassles them to stop hesitating; a slapfight erupts. Zareq puts up a tape recorder of Arnold talking to his wife in Last Action Hero to better fake it. A long explanation goes on about mining and trying to strike a larger vein… Kon spend five minutes trying to get the foreman’s opinion on Zen, despite everyone’s effort to correct him. He rolls a Triumph and nothing else!

DM: From digging into his mind just a little with his Influence power, you know that in fact he does not like Lord Exen at all. And judging from his mentions of the Moff, doubtless he believes there’s some sort of power struggle in the Empire involved, and that you’re here to go against the master he consider to be his rightful leader.
Kon: “Soon, with this cortosis, these silly saber-wielders will know.”
DM: “Pardon me, sir?”
Kon: “Why do you think he sent us here? We were EAGER to come here, where the weapons against those… silly blades…” I’m trying to play that on him, I don’t know if I’m doing a good job.
DM: You seem to be only confusing him at this point.
Kon: Ah, nevermind.

They study what little they have in front of us, questioning if they can seal off the cortosis vein, then… split up? The DM calls for them to make a check. It takes a while for him to figure out what check, but nonetheless. It’s Education!

Kon: AAH! AH HA HA HA! The red has failed them! No matter what happens I win! I have one success!

Kon manages to figure that explosives on the chamber top could collapse the entire icepack, demolishing the facility and sealing it off. With that challenge before them, the game comes to an end!