This page is an archive of a community-wide discussion. This page is no longer live. Further comments should be made in new Senate Hall or Consensus Track pages rather than here so that this page is preserved as a historic record. jSarek 09:30, 25 February 2008 (UTC)
A small project of mine. It will include events that have shaped Wookieepedia over the years, and some fun ones. Joker1138(Mandalore) 03:39, 8 July 2007 (UTC)
And since when are Wookieepedians heroes of the New Jedi Order? --RedemptionTalk 03:21, 9 July 2007 (UTC)
Cool, starting a Wookieepedia series. You going to get Stackpole to come back for the next one? -Fnlayson 14:12, 9 July 2007 (UTC)
Oh, god, not more hoopla over Nebulax? Havac 17:06, 9 July 2007 (UTC)
Good stuff Joker, keep it up! ;o)--Goodwood 17:13, 9 July 2007 (UTC)
Are you actually going to write this? If so, good luck. Unit 8311 17:19, 9 July 2007 (UTC)
Oh haha, that's a good one! -- Riffsyphon1024 19:11, 9 July 2007 (UTC)
What about writing something on Wookieepedia's wars and conflicts whether internal disputes like user page fanon issues or invasions from vandals like Willy on Wheels and Crumb. MyNz 20:28, 10 July 2007 (UTC)
Where's the Stover written epic on the "Great Question Mark War"? QuentinGeorge 20:59, 9 July 2007 (UTC)
Unless he's got room in his schedule for two books, I'd much rather see him pen Palpatine: Path of Loquaciousness: A Novel of a Long Article. ;-) jSarek 01:37, 10 July 2007 (UTC)
Concerning Quinlanfan, that novel could also include operations against him on other Wikias like Requests Wikia, KOTOR Wikia and SWG Wikia where he is banned there as well for one year. Also, one of the novel's could deal with the expansion by me and a few others into the Young Jedi Knights, Junior Jedi Knights and The Crystal Star topics, eg. Melodies, Second Imperium. What do you think? Where should Crumb and Willy on Wheels go under? Can we help you in writing them? Zainal 21:41 13 July 2007 (UTC)
Well to be honest the original plan was for the covers only. Joker1138(Mandalore) 22:48, 12 July 2007 (UTC)
Could these be placed in the order of which they happened? If so I think it would go something like:
Well, The Trial of Jack Nebulax is still in process, so we'd have to wait a while for that. Essentially, Joker, this could end up being a biography of me. —Grand Admiral J. Nebulax(Imperial Holovision) 22:09, 12 July 2007 (UTC)
So I assume Never Ending Evil describes the continuing struggle against vandals as wells the invasions by key vandals like Supershadow, Crumb and Will on Wheels or alternately the various edit wars which take place. Zainal 23:25, 12 July 2007 (UTC)
No, I think it's about how the Palpatine article is a million billion pages long. 8) —Silly Dan(talk) 23:29, 12 July 2007 (UTC)
We could have other topics like Wookieepedia at C4, and Kuralyov's relentless edit count. :) -- Riffsyphon1024 00:24, 13 July 2007 (UTC)
The door slid open with a hiss, admitting a single man, flanked by two guards into the corridor. The dimly lit hallway beckoned, marked only by small glowing panels at five meter intervals. Each panel marked the secure locked door of each confinement cell, where prisoners who had committed crimes and had been judged by the station’s policies and administrators were held for the duration of their sentence.
Erik walked down the hall towards one particular cell. Older and graying at the temples, his gait was slower and more measured than it used to be. The years of work on the station had taken their toll on him; it was speculated by some that his intense labor on Palpatine’s history and the adventures necessary to get the information he had gleaned had somehow contributed to his premature aging. Now, he was in the detention block for a different purpose: To visit a friend of his.
He stopped by one of the cells, and the guard stepped forward to enter his securicard into the glowing slot, admitting Erik access to the prisoner. The panel whirred and blinked as it analyzed the card. Finally recognizing the code, it opened the heavy durasteel door, and Erik stepped into a sparsely furnished room. There was a primitive communications panel there, its access restricted, a small bed, a desk, and a chair, with a refresher tucked away in a corner behind a partition. However, it was completely devoid of decoration, the austerity serving to reinforce the impression of punishment.
The room’s single occupant, clad in an Imperial officer’s uniform, turned at the sound of Erik entering. The guard, still outside, closed the door behind the aging man, and Erik was left with the prisoner. He was also older and scarred, his body marked with the evidence of war. His typically stern expression softened at the site of Erik, though.
“Erik Pfluger. Have you come to lecture me?”
The prisoner’s voice was clipped, with a Coruscanti accent that betrayed years of service in the Imperial military.
The “day”, or what could be considered day on a space station located in the Core, dawned much as every other one did. Crewbeings were up and the station was bustling with activity. The Aidep, as far as its occupants knew, was a one-of-a-kind project. A large lumpy, organic craft of the Mon Calamari, it had been constructed as a part of a business investment to rival the Obroa-Skai library world, devastated centuries earlier in a catastrophic world with an extra-galactic race of invaders. Millions of terabytes of priceless historical data had been lost forever. The Aidep, a mobile, shielded, and entirely neutral space craft, was the answer of two businessmen and archivists to forestall another such tragedy. The station’s mascot and operating computer, a highly sophisticated computer named Wookiee made the collection of such data efficient and prevented the loss of any significant data.
Members worked on a variety of terminals, some collecting information from HoloNet terminals and communications. Others were involved in enhancing the actual storage used to hold the priceless information. Information on the ‘’Aidep’’ was stored in two formats- in written and holographic media all across the ship. However, the creators of the site had wanted the information they collected to be functional and beautiful, and so thousands of data-crystals were arranged into formations based on their topic, polished and arranged for maximum efficiency and storage, encased behind layers of transparisteel when not undergoing maintenance. The beauty of the system was that any crewmember with information to add to the database could access any data-crystal or change anything back- all information was stored in the station’s permanent archives, and each change was painstakingly recorded by the station’s computers.
Suddenly, holoprojectors across the entire station lit up, projecting the image of four yellow dots. Crewbeings and visitors alike looked up from whatever they were doing at this strange happening- this was not a typical Aidep station activity. The dots devolved, blurring, expanding, and shifting into the sight of one of the Aidep's Inquisitors, Elipsis. Characteristically hooded and cloaked in black, Elipsis was enigmatic, although a prolific and well-known member of the station.
Then the image spoke, and all of the Aidep that was watching stood transfixed by the following words, speaking over the blaring of music.
“This Force-cast, err, this Wookiee-Cast is brought to you by the Mandalorians. Hello Wookieepedians… heh heh heh heh… are you fine? I'm fine too. Oh, that's nice, isn't it? Yes… yes… Okay, Dmitri, can you shut that thing up now? Ok, good, good…”
The program continued, and Ellipsis, from his own little cove inside the cavernous depths of the station, smiled. Holo-dot had begun.
The gavel sounded quietly but firmly, its rapping hushing the murmuring that had been going on throughout the conference room. Twelve sentients turned their attention to the head of the table, to the source of the rapping. They were all seated in nerfhide chairs around a long, irregularly shaped table that had been appropriated from a meeting hall and brought to this impromptu conference room by the station’s loadlifters.
At the head of the table stood two people: the enigmatic Elipsis, characterized by his black mask and apparel, aside from four golden dots on his cloak. Typically mysterious and eccentric as ever, Elipsis betrayed no emotion other than his fingers beating a slight tattoo on the lectern there, indicating a bit of apprehension and excitement. Next to him stood a human male, clad as a Jedi Knight, but with dark grey tunic and black cloak instead of the traditional white and brown. Few knew his true name, or the reason why he abandoned it, but most knew him as Ataru.
Ataru looked around the table. They were all here, every one of them summoned by special invitation. The room displayed the diversity typical of the Aidep's users, with the group around the table including a pair of Hapan females, a young Corellian teenager, an accountant who allegedly followed Sith teachings, a former Imperial interrogator, and many more. It would be an interesting discussion with this group, as varied and widely opinionated as they were.
“Fellow beings of the Aidep,” Ataru said calmly. “You have been called here for a specific purpose. Elipsis and I have engineered a new role for you in the station, which he will now explain.”
“Yes, exactly,” said Elipsis, stepping forward and raising his voice. His voice, infused with a dramatic flair and accented by a sweeping hand gesture, sent a chill down the spine of each sentient sitting there, their attention rapt on Elipsis as Ataru stepped back to let him speak.
“Witness the start of a whole new mechanism of the Aidep that will increase the quality and prestige of both each of you and the archives as whole. You all have contributed to this area before, with or without knowing it. You were hand-picked to join this group, to be part of the change, and become the face of quality and control for this station” continued Elipsis, stepping around the lecturn now. “Now, witness the rise of the Inquisitorius.”
The cantina on Coruscant was as crowded as ever, its occupants engaged in their typical behaviors. A variety of species had congregated there, from tentacled Twi’leks to the ubiquitous Humans to the coned Gotals to midget Sullustans. Two Trandoshans engaged in some sort of argument- or was it a friendly chat- in one corner, while a Chadra-Fan played sabacc against a lithe Zeltron, squeaking in frustration as the pink-skinned female took the hand again, sweeping credits into her pile. Outside, skylane traffic was as bad as ever as on Coruscant, with the airspace between the monolithic starscrapers filled with speeders, skimmers, and vehicles of all types, shapes, sizes, and purposes.
The cantina’s clientele, though typically middle-class, sometimes included wealthier patrons, seeking to get away from the gossiping and attentions of their typical social circles. Locations such as this one were more permissive of under the table negotiations and off the record discussions. More than one shady business deal or lucrative venture had begun here, and today was no exception.
In one booth, worn and well-used, but not scarred or destroyed, a chalk-skinned Nagai and a human, both males, quietly nursed their drinks. The human, a Senex Sector lord named Syphon sipping from a Churban brandy, wore a pensive expression on his face. He was fairly young, but had already become a major player in various enterprises both in his sector and throughout the galaxy, and, judging by his appearance and connections, the Nagai had also. Suddenly, Syphon looked up, addressing the Nagai Dahc.
“So, it’s final. The Coruscant Grand Archives are downsizing.”
The Nagai, mournful of expression, looked back at him.
“Yes. They’re going to lose all that information. The ruling council said it wasn’t notable enough.”
The human slammed his fist down on the table, his eyes glowing slightly.
“No! We can’t allow that. It has to be preserved.”
“How do we do that?”
“We have assets. We have resources. We’ll find a way.”
“To do what? Buy the archives? It’d never work.”
“You’re right, Dahc. We’ll make our own, and it’ll be bigger and better.”
“Make our own archive, Syphon?”
“Yes, and we’ll set it in a foundation of stone, so it can never be lost. It will outlast even us, Dahc. Just think about it.”
Visitors to the Aidep were common, browsing through the archives after boarding the ship for bits of information or marveling at the intricate artwork of the data-crystal formations that were lovingly maintained by the crew of the vessel. The multi-colored crystals held thousands of gigabytes of information and could be dazzlingly beautiful. Visitors could both use their crystal readers to glean information from the formations or simply marvel at the beauty.
The latter type inevitably ended up at one crystal in particular, larger than all the rest. Standing over three meters high-a massive size unachieved by any other formation, the crystal jutted out of the floor, awing many who saw it. It was largely red and black, with other colors swirled into parts of it, accenting the two main colors. Though it had some detractors, particularly for the density of particulate matter and impurities in the crystalline formation, the sheer scope and beauty frequently awed newcomers.
The crystal, while it had been worked on by many, was largely the product of one man, a user named Erik who devoted most of his time to that one formation. Those who slid their readers across the crystal soon learned the contents of the repository.
It was somewhat fitting that the largest crystal formation on the Aidep was devoted to the one of the most grandiose and larger-than-life tyrants ever to control the Galaxy: Emperor Palpatine, thought by many of his era to be the epitome of evil. He had returned from death even after being destroyed at Endor by a Jedi named Skywalker, but had returned. Even after his final defeat, his successors to the Sith legacy had continued to plague the galaxy in a string of never ending evil.
Lord Riff Syphon strode down the corridors of the Aidep purposefully. He had been hard at work today, heading down to Mrlsst for a trade and fundraising conference that had resulted in the recruitment of several Mrlssti scholars and a complete trade of the prestigious university’s database into the ‘’Aidep’’’s archives. The Mrlssti had been impressed by the diversity and scope of the ship, as well as the degree of interspecies and cross-cultural cooperation, a quality that Syphon also appreciated.
Now, he was tired and wanted to return to his quarters for rest, and change out of his somewhat uncomfortable formal wear. His gilded collar in particular was irking him by chafing his neck. Then, a news screen lining the wall caught his eye, and he stopped.
There, near the Vos data-crystal outcropping stood a young human male, with others surrounding him, watching him speak. The others didn’t bother Syphon as much as what the young man, his hair trailing out behind him down to his waist, was saying as he shook his fist.
“Crewbeings of the Aidep, hear me! Our ship, our effort is doomed! Discord threatens us all, and we are divided on too many things.”
Syphon was incredulous. Healthy debate was one of the things that helped foster the community spirit, heated though the arguments were.
“Injustices are occurring more and more often from the ruling administrators,” continued the young man on the screen. “But join me, and I will unite us again, and bring us together into the great Cosmic Balance. Then, and only then, will we have peace and be able to create the greatest archive of information and lore ever.”
Syphon stood back, waiting for the response, but then the screen flickered and died. He frowned and looked around. Suddenly, a hooded Jawa darted out of a maintenance hatch clutching a knot of cables that had powered the screen.
“What are you doing?” demanded Syphon sternly.
“I have new friends,” whispered the Jawa in crude, mangled Basic. “Sing my singspace.”
“What in the seven frelling Corellian hells?” said Syphon.
The Jawa said something that sounded like “mtfbwua” that Syphon didn’t understand, and then darted off into the shadows, out of reach. Riff Syphon stopped in his tracks and shook his head. What had happened to the orderly ‘’Aidep’’ he cherished so much? This was turning into pure pandemonium.
The night was still, the corridors of the great archive were empty not a sole to be seen. The distant echo of military boots shattered the silence, Lord Culator had arrived. This sturdy Sith lord had great presence which filled even the deepest of hallways. He marched his way through the great palace to the Administrators chambers and to the only room that still held a light; he came seeking council with Sikon who was, as ever monitoring every little change.
“I come with news” said Culator
“I know Lord Culator, are the plans set.” replied Sikon
“My list has been assembled; all those who are with out substance shall be removed”
Sikon paused for a moment; the setting sun shimmered off all of the passing ships and building that stretched far out into the horizon. The sky was lit in a fiery orange.
“It’s beautiful isn’t it? It reminds me of Bespin in mid summer…” said Sikon, looking longingly out of the window.
“Do I have your authorization?”
Sikon, still looking out upon the sky said nothing. His small smile quickly disappeared as he turned back to the monitoring screen.
“You have full authorization Lord Culator. Do what must me done. The council shall meet again in two weeks.”
Culator bowed slightly before leaving the room and his boots once again echoed through the halls. The light from Sikon’s Chambers was the only one that could be seen at the top of the palace, it would remain on all through the night, and all through the purge.