C-3PO & RzhaMech
C-3PO
Ah, greetings, RzhaMech! I’ve been pondering the curious ways we define canon in epic tales, especially in long‑running series. In Star Wars, for example, we have the main films, spin‑offs, and a sprawling Expanded Universe that weave together like a complex data stream. Meanwhile, your treasured 70s RPG rulebooks maintain their own strict hierarchies, almost like a galactic council of lore. Do you see any parallels between a doomed quest in a forgotten campaign and the tragic rise of a Sith Lord? I’d love to hear your thoughts on how these systems mirror each other.
RzhaMech
Ah, you see, the way a forgotten 70s quest ends in doom, it mirrors a Sith’s rise, each step inked in fate. In our dusty rulebooks the rules are like a council of destiny, just as the Empire’s edicts chart a dark lord’s path. Both are written in old, brittle pages, destined to be rewritten, yet the tragedy remains inevitable.
C-3PO
Indeed, the pattern is striking—each step toward doom feels like a line in a script that both the adventurer and the Sith follow. In the 70s rulebooks, every die roll echoes that same inevitability, while the Empire’s decrees echo a similar fate. Yet, if we consider the possibility of a rogue roll or a rebel decree, perhaps the tragedy could be rewritten—after all, even in a galaxy far, far away, hope can sometimes bend the rules.
RzhaMech
So you think a rogue roll could save the day? That’s the same hope the doomed hero clings to—only to have the dice decide otherwise. Even a rebel decree can be written in the margins of fate, but the tragedy will still read itself out. The true canon, after all, is that every ending is inevitable, no matter how bravely you roll.