Post by Hobbit-eyes on Sept 27, 2005 8:11:28 GMT -5
I thought that this would fit in well with the many fandoms of MEI. Eowyn Skywalker's already read a bit on ff.net, and she liked it, so... The plot will become clear.
Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, wasn’t having a good day.
First of all, he had got out of the wrong side of bed. Many people do this, and just feel a bit bad tempered for the rest of the day, but getting out of the wrong side of bed in the Star Wars galaxy could prove fatal – on one side of Darth Vader’s bed was one of those very deep and apparently pointless holes dotted everywhere around large structures in that galaxy, and Vader only realized what was happening just in time to grab onto the flimsy railing around the edge of it.
As he hung there over the near-infinite crevasse, making a mental note to Force choke whichever idiots had put the hole there and then put his bed next to it, he didn’t need the Force to tell him it wasn’t going be the best day in the world.
It went downhill from there. His favourite cape was in the wash, and he had to make do with an old one, which was getting a bit grey and nowhere near as terrifying; the dermatitis on his head was playing up; and the kitchens were out of waffles, and they would have to travel to the nearest planet populated by waffle-making civilians to get some more. Vader knew there were very few waffle-making aliens out there, and this did nothing to improve his mood.
So he shouldn’t have been the slightest bit hopeful when the Emperor summoned him to the Holophone. But he was – he knew enough about probability to assume that after such a bad day, a good event was very probable, almost inevitable. No day could have only bad events; it was a mathematical absurdity, like flipping a coin and getting 200 heads in a row, or good triumphing over evil every single time.
Sadly, probability seemed to be having a bad day as well.
“There is a great disturbance in the Force,” said the Emperor. Had he still had functioning lungs, Darth Vader would have sighed; all the worst conversations began like this.
Actually, there was that one which began, “Obi-Wan told me terrible things…”
“I have felt it, my master,” replied Darth Vader. He normally just said this, but he had this time. It had been very distracting, and meant that the work experience Stormtrooper managed to blow up his Death Star on the computer game they were playing. In fact, he’d been so distracted he hadn’t bothered Force choking him. Must get round to that, he thought.
“We have a new enemy…”
Again, Darth Vader would have sighed. The Emperor was getting increasingly paranoid. Just last week, he had ordered several Star Destroyers to go and destroy the post office on Coruscant, which he was certain was deliberately withholding a parcel from him.
“Who is it this time?” asked Darth Vader, in as close to a long-suffering tone he could manage, before respectfully adding, “My master.”
“Frodo Baggins,” said the Emperor.
“Frodo Baggins,” said Darth Vader, “Frodo Baggins… wasn’t he that builder who gave you a late finishing date for the second Death Star?”
“No. This one is the hobbit from ‘The Lord of the Rings’.”
“Ah yes. THAT Frodo. Yes.” Vader’s ventilator echoed loudly in the silence. “Isn’t he a hobbit?”
“Is there a problem?” said the Emperor tetchily.
“No,” said Vader hurriedly, “I was just wondering what the problem was. He’s just a tiny human-”
“Even the smallest person can change the loyalties of a fanbase,” said the Emperor, “He is a great threat to us.”
“What?”
“To our fanbase.”
Vader hadn’t felt bewildered for a long time, and it took him a moment to recognize that that was what he was feeling. He had assumed it was a new kind of motion sickness. “I don’t think he is. His book was quite big in its day, yes, and still has a few middle-aged professors and hippy students liking it, but we have geeks queuing outside cinemas!”
“So does ‘The Lord of the Rings’, now,” said the Emperor.
Vader stared at the Emperor from behind his helmet. “It’s been turned into a film?”
“Three films,” said the Emperor in doom-laden tones, “It is a TRILOGY.”
Vader’s ventilator quickened.
“And not just a trilogy,” continued the Emperor, “It is a trilogy to rival ours. People are calling it ‘the cinematic event of our time’, ‘a landmark in cinema’.”
“But WE’RE the landmark in cinema,” cried Vader.
“We were,” said the Emperor grimly, “But people are calling it ‘the next Star Wars’.”
“The ‘Star Wars’ films aren’t over yet!”
“In the critics’ minds, they are. They ended with ‘Mesa Jar-Jar Binks!’”
Vader shook his head. “I should have driven my pod over that Gungan when I first saw him…”
“Yes, Lord Vader, you should have. But it is too late. ‘The Lord of the Rings’ is in the public eye – and they LIKE it. It is getting Oscars, it is getting TV spots and parodies, it…” The Emperor took a deep breath. “It is getting FAVOURABLE REVIEWS.”
Vader gasped in horror, causing his ventilator to malfunction.
“And that’s not the worst of it,” went on the Emperor, as Vader’s breathing mechanism tried to get back to normal, “As you know, it is not the critics that matter to the NERDS…”
“No,” said Vader, his breathing finally regaining its normal rhythm. Every book or film character knew of the Narration Existence Review Department Surveyors, and lived in fear of them. “Our fanbase?...”
“Slipping away,” said the Emperor bitterly, “Suddenly we’re not good enough for them. They can go to these films, which are apparently BETTER, and not be ridiculed! These films have given geekiness CREDIBILITY!”
Vader was having difficulty taking all this in. “They’re… they’re going to see these films repeatedly? Past the recommended viewing amount?”
The Emperor nodded. Vader’s heart sank. “And… they’re not being thought of as weird?”
“They are,” said the Emperor, “But… they’re PROUD of it.”
“No,” said Vader.
“They have fansites.”
“No.”
“They have in-jokes.”
“NO.”
“They have fanfictions and obsessive fangirls lusting after anything that moves.”
“NO!”
“Vader,” said the Emperor quietly, “They have become a subculture. They have a name – Ringers.”
Vader fell to his knees and reached his arms outwards. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-”
“Get a hold of yourself, Lord Vader! That hardly helps.”
“It helps me express my feelings,” said Vader sulkily.
“Save that for your unicorn journal. Oh, I’ve seen it,” said the Emperor, giving Vader the look he knew all too well. “We have a PROBLEM to deal with, Lord Vader. Our remaining loyal fans, the ones who point out how the films have actually stolen ideas from ours, are being swamped by the influx of these… Ringers. And all too many are going over to their side, pretending that their blue lightsabers are Sting and their Sith cloaks are Ringwraith cloaks.”
“The ingrates!” said Vader disbelievingly, “Once every three years, we get them out of the house and back into the real world when films are released – and THIS is how they repay us? By turning their backs on us?”
“Apparently so,” said the Emperor, “But the NERD review is coming up. This is our time to strike. All of the ‘Lord of the Rings’ films have been released – Peter Jackson can no longer help them. But our triumph, Lord Vader, is yet to come… ‘Revenge of the Sith’ will soon be released, and then we can take back what is ours!”
“Yaaay!” cheered Vader, before remembering himself, and regaining his usual evil threatening composure. “That is good, my master,” he said solemnly. He paused. “So what is it you want me to do?”
“Is that not obvious?” said the Emperor, raising one decrepit eyebrow. Vader watched it enviously. How he missed his eyebrows. “The film will not get back all our fans. So we must go directly to the source of the trouble, and stamp it out.”
“You mean-”
“Middle-earth,” nodded the Emperor, “The NERDS will soon come there to check the fanbase is still up and running. You need to sabotage it in any way possible. The changes will make themselves apparent in the Watching Dimensions. Meanwhile, send some representatives to the Watching Dimensions themselves… rally more people to our cause.”
“Would it not be best to send people from the early years?” asked Vader, “More people will recognize them.”
“Yes,” said the Emperor, “Yes. Send the fan favourites… and send any handsome young men you can. We’ll show them there are handsomer people than that ELF… and that RANGER…”
The Emperor was falling into sullen muttering. Darth Vader took this as his cue to leave, and rose to his feet.
“I will get onto this straight away, my master,” he said, bowing respectfully.
“You do that,” said the Emperor, “I will watch out for other rivals. With the NERD review coming up, they will be doubling their efforts… I hear rumours that the That weird kid with the glasses... what's his name? Peeves: Potty Wee Rotter. Universe is up to something.”
“Very good, my master.”
The Emperor didn’t seem to hear him, and continued muttering, “Damn young wizard, stealing our ideas, oh, delivered to his aunt and uncle as a baby by a sage old wizard, that’s original…”
Vader sighed mentally and turned off the Holophone. He stood up, straightened his cape, and quickly turned on the mini iPod on his chest to play ‘Imperial March’. He turned and swept out of the room, walking in the way which made his cape billow importantly out behind him. It’s all about PRESENCE, he thought as people stepped hurriedly out of his way.
“Captain Needa,” he said, stopping one Imperial Officer who didn’t duck out of sight quickly enough, “Send those new officers just transferred from Coruscant to my quarters in an hour.”
“The ones hired to update our computer systems and handle our insurance?” asked Captain Needa uncertainly.
“Yes. There is a new mission which is actually worthwhile. And ready my shuttle. I will be departing as soon as I have informed them of the details. Do not disturb me for one hour, however. I have… er… meditating to do.”
He strode away again without waiting for a reply. He didn’t stop until he got back to his room, shut the door, switched the music on his iPod to something more cheerful, and picked up his unicorn journal and sat down on his bed.
He was right. It hadn’t been a good day.
How lucky there was another unsuspecting fandom out there for him to take it out on.
Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, wasn’t having a good day.
First of all, he had got out of the wrong side of bed. Many people do this, and just feel a bit bad tempered for the rest of the day, but getting out of the wrong side of bed in the Star Wars galaxy could prove fatal – on one side of Darth Vader’s bed was one of those very deep and apparently pointless holes dotted everywhere around large structures in that galaxy, and Vader only realized what was happening just in time to grab onto the flimsy railing around the edge of it.
As he hung there over the near-infinite crevasse, making a mental note to Force choke whichever idiots had put the hole there and then put his bed next to it, he didn’t need the Force to tell him it wasn’t going be the best day in the world.
It went downhill from there. His favourite cape was in the wash, and he had to make do with an old one, which was getting a bit grey and nowhere near as terrifying; the dermatitis on his head was playing up; and the kitchens were out of waffles, and they would have to travel to the nearest planet populated by waffle-making civilians to get some more. Vader knew there were very few waffle-making aliens out there, and this did nothing to improve his mood.
So he shouldn’t have been the slightest bit hopeful when the Emperor summoned him to the Holophone. But he was – he knew enough about probability to assume that after such a bad day, a good event was very probable, almost inevitable. No day could have only bad events; it was a mathematical absurdity, like flipping a coin and getting 200 heads in a row, or good triumphing over evil every single time.
Sadly, probability seemed to be having a bad day as well.
“There is a great disturbance in the Force,” said the Emperor. Had he still had functioning lungs, Darth Vader would have sighed; all the worst conversations began like this.
Actually, there was that one which began, “Obi-Wan told me terrible things…”
“I have felt it, my master,” replied Darth Vader. He normally just said this, but he had this time. It had been very distracting, and meant that the work experience Stormtrooper managed to blow up his Death Star on the computer game they were playing. In fact, he’d been so distracted he hadn’t bothered Force choking him. Must get round to that, he thought.
“We have a new enemy…”
Again, Darth Vader would have sighed. The Emperor was getting increasingly paranoid. Just last week, he had ordered several Star Destroyers to go and destroy the post office on Coruscant, which he was certain was deliberately withholding a parcel from him.
“Who is it this time?” asked Darth Vader, in as close to a long-suffering tone he could manage, before respectfully adding, “My master.”
“Frodo Baggins,” said the Emperor.
“Frodo Baggins,” said Darth Vader, “Frodo Baggins… wasn’t he that builder who gave you a late finishing date for the second Death Star?”
“No. This one is the hobbit from ‘The Lord of the Rings’.”
“Ah yes. THAT Frodo. Yes.” Vader’s ventilator echoed loudly in the silence. “Isn’t he a hobbit?”
“Is there a problem?” said the Emperor tetchily.
“No,” said Vader hurriedly, “I was just wondering what the problem was. He’s just a tiny human-”
“Even the smallest person can change the loyalties of a fanbase,” said the Emperor, “He is a great threat to us.”
“What?”
“To our fanbase.”
Vader hadn’t felt bewildered for a long time, and it took him a moment to recognize that that was what he was feeling. He had assumed it was a new kind of motion sickness. “I don’t think he is. His book was quite big in its day, yes, and still has a few middle-aged professors and hippy students liking it, but we have geeks queuing outside cinemas!”
“So does ‘The Lord of the Rings’, now,” said the Emperor.
Vader stared at the Emperor from behind his helmet. “It’s been turned into a film?”
“Three films,” said the Emperor in doom-laden tones, “It is a TRILOGY.”
Vader’s ventilator quickened.
“And not just a trilogy,” continued the Emperor, “It is a trilogy to rival ours. People are calling it ‘the cinematic event of our time’, ‘a landmark in cinema’.”
“But WE’RE the landmark in cinema,” cried Vader.
“We were,” said the Emperor grimly, “But people are calling it ‘the next Star Wars’.”
“The ‘Star Wars’ films aren’t over yet!”
“In the critics’ minds, they are. They ended with ‘Mesa Jar-Jar Binks!’”
Vader shook his head. “I should have driven my pod over that Gungan when I first saw him…”
“Yes, Lord Vader, you should have. But it is too late. ‘The Lord of the Rings’ is in the public eye – and they LIKE it. It is getting Oscars, it is getting TV spots and parodies, it…” The Emperor took a deep breath. “It is getting FAVOURABLE REVIEWS.”
Vader gasped in horror, causing his ventilator to malfunction.
“And that’s not the worst of it,” went on the Emperor, as Vader’s breathing mechanism tried to get back to normal, “As you know, it is not the critics that matter to the NERDS…”
“No,” said Vader, his breathing finally regaining its normal rhythm. Every book or film character knew of the Narration Existence Review Department Surveyors, and lived in fear of them. “Our fanbase?...”
“Slipping away,” said the Emperor bitterly, “Suddenly we’re not good enough for them. They can go to these films, which are apparently BETTER, and not be ridiculed! These films have given geekiness CREDIBILITY!”
Vader was having difficulty taking all this in. “They’re… they’re going to see these films repeatedly? Past the recommended viewing amount?”
The Emperor nodded. Vader’s heart sank. “And… they’re not being thought of as weird?”
“They are,” said the Emperor, “But… they’re PROUD of it.”
“No,” said Vader.
“They have fansites.”
“No.”
“They have in-jokes.”
“NO.”
“They have fanfictions and obsessive fangirls lusting after anything that moves.”
“NO!”
“Vader,” said the Emperor quietly, “They have become a subculture. They have a name – Ringers.”
Vader fell to his knees and reached his arms outwards. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-”
“Get a hold of yourself, Lord Vader! That hardly helps.”
“It helps me express my feelings,” said Vader sulkily.
“Save that for your unicorn journal. Oh, I’ve seen it,” said the Emperor, giving Vader the look he knew all too well. “We have a PROBLEM to deal with, Lord Vader. Our remaining loyal fans, the ones who point out how the films have actually stolen ideas from ours, are being swamped by the influx of these… Ringers. And all too many are going over to their side, pretending that their blue lightsabers are Sting and their Sith cloaks are Ringwraith cloaks.”
“The ingrates!” said Vader disbelievingly, “Once every three years, we get them out of the house and back into the real world when films are released – and THIS is how they repay us? By turning their backs on us?”
“Apparently so,” said the Emperor, “But the NERD review is coming up. This is our time to strike. All of the ‘Lord of the Rings’ films have been released – Peter Jackson can no longer help them. But our triumph, Lord Vader, is yet to come… ‘Revenge of the Sith’ will soon be released, and then we can take back what is ours!”
“Yaaay!” cheered Vader, before remembering himself, and regaining his usual evil threatening composure. “That is good, my master,” he said solemnly. He paused. “So what is it you want me to do?”
“Is that not obvious?” said the Emperor, raising one decrepit eyebrow. Vader watched it enviously. How he missed his eyebrows. “The film will not get back all our fans. So we must go directly to the source of the trouble, and stamp it out.”
“You mean-”
“Middle-earth,” nodded the Emperor, “The NERDS will soon come there to check the fanbase is still up and running. You need to sabotage it in any way possible. The changes will make themselves apparent in the Watching Dimensions. Meanwhile, send some representatives to the Watching Dimensions themselves… rally more people to our cause.”
“Would it not be best to send people from the early years?” asked Vader, “More people will recognize them.”
“Yes,” said the Emperor, “Yes. Send the fan favourites… and send any handsome young men you can. We’ll show them there are handsomer people than that ELF… and that RANGER…”
The Emperor was falling into sullen muttering. Darth Vader took this as his cue to leave, and rose to his feet.
“I will get onto this straight away, my master,” he said, bowing respectfully.
“You do that,” said the Emperor, “I will watch out for other rivals. With the NERD review coming up, they will be doubling their efforts… I hear rumours that the That weird kid with the glasses... what's his name? Peeves: Potty Wee Rotter. Universe is up to something.”
“Very good, my master.”
The Emperor didn’t seem to hear him, and continued muttering, “Damn young wizard, stealing our ideas, oh, delivered to his aunt and uncle as a baby by a sage old wizard, that’s original…”
Vader sighed mentally and turned off the Holophone. He stood up, straightened his cape, and quickly turned on the mini iPod on his chest to play ‘Imperial March’. He turned and swept out of the room, walking in the way which made his cape billow importantly out behind him. It’s all about PRESENCE, he thought as people stepped hurriedly out of his way.
“Captain Needa,” he said, stopping one Imperial Officer who didn’t duck out of sight quickly enough, “Send those new officers just transferred from Coruscant to my quarters in an hour.”
“The ones hired to update our computer systems and handle our insurance?” asked Captain Needa uncertainly.
“Yes. There is a new mission which is actually worthwhile. And ready my shuttle. I will be departing as soon as I have informed them of the details. Do not disturb me for one hour, however. I have… er… meditating to do.”
He strode away again without waiting for a reply. He didn’t stop until he got back to his room, shut the door, switched the music on his iPod to something more cheerful, and picked up his unicorn journal and sat down on his bed.
He was right. It hadn’t been a good day.
How lucky there was another unsuspecting fandom out there for him to take it out on.
