Big Brother: Naboo

Oneida: Quite an Experience

2006-05-09T20:41:00.000-07:00

I stepped back into the house with a tentative step. Yes, I definitely had some good times here, but I also had some, well, I don’t want Fluke trying to feed me food again. I do miss most of the people that I lived here with, though I see some of them from time to time on Coruscant, which is nice. And yes, I would have liked to have won, but who wouldn’t have?

My favorite challenge was the one where we had to hide something. It was a fun one to come up with an item, a hiding place, and then try to get it hidden. I loved what some of the other people came up with in that challenge.

My least favorite was the shrubbery contest, and that was only because the power adapter on my computer died, leaving me with a dead computer filled with various shrubbery in a city far, far away from home. Oh well, I thought the challenge idea was neat (stoopid power adapter)

I had a wonderful time getting to interact with everyone. And now I think I will check out what’s on the grill and go chat with some people.

HELP !!!!

2006-05-05T18:28:00.000-07:00

Somebody Help, Im Gettin Double teamed in Here .

Where is JJ When I need Him !!!

HELP HELP HELP

ANYBODY !!!!

Padmé: Let's Party

2006-04-24T18:58:00.000-07:00

K, so I'm here and ready to party!

I'm still totally bummin' that I didn't win cuz being a Senator kinda sucks lately and I could have retired with that million credits. But being on the show was, like, way fun. I guess I'll share some of my favorite memories before I get too drunk to remember.

My favorite challenge was the poetry contest and I really loved the lemon dress I conceptualized.

My least favorite challenge was that pirate attack thing. That was just way too weird. Like, what do I know about pirates?

Highlights include JJ's posts on the hidden item and the pirate adventure, Fluke's hidden item post... I think I've been missing I-SUC, too. Then there was that droid-building contest judged by, um Darth Vader. That was really awesome and I totally want to know if Typho gets to keep that DEEJAY droid. I enjoyed getting to know JJ, Fluke and Jon better - you guys know how to party. It was even kinda OK getting to know Jabafatboy - thanks for the info on Aurra Sing, man! And it's cool that Typho and Ranae are, like, hitting it off again.

K, well, I need to go get more tequila. Seems like my bottles are all empty...

Enjoyed it here !!

2006-04-20T15:24:00.000-07:00

Man It sure is nice ta be back on this planet with all you crazy folks again.

I was hopin that I would have some company while I was up here, and then I find out that its gonna be a party.

JJ is bringin Brownies, and Mos Eisley.

Flooke has got a band of rockin female T'wileks, that do a great rendition of some old earth tunes.

Everybodys been arrivin a little bit at a time.

I hope Oneida makes it back, shes nuts but shes fun.

And Padme , well I think even ole Green feet hisself enjoyed watchin her !

Man she was a hoot .

Well , anyway it is great ta be here......... Is that JJ I see commin up here ?

It is , Hot Diggity

HEY JJ , Bring the beer !!! Come on in man , This is Great !

Aw man , turn the knob , set the heat !! It dont get no better than this !

J.J. : Good Times...and Outtakes.

2006-04-19T07:58:00.000-07:00

Well…a party, eh?

Who am I to turn down that? Especially from such an old dear friend like Fluke. Yup. An old dear…rich….very rich friend like Fluke.

It was good to see everyone again. But this time, I think I’ll not drink so much. The last after reality show rap-up party I went to, I ended up married the next morning.

Looking back, the ol Gungan did a good job. The challenges were inventive and I loved having the guest judges near the end. I only wish some of the others didn’t get voted off so early. Mostly people that our society deem as “villains” too. What’s up with that? So some of them are bounty hunters, Separatist generals and….um…well, Hutts. That doesn’t mean ya got ta vote em off the show. Next time you should vote people off solely due to their performance in a given challenge. But hey, that’s just me. (Although it was kinda nice having that huge holo room all to my self…)

A lot of the challenges I really enjoyed too. Something about Padmé getting all feisty when decorating her room and getting in a cat fight had me rolling on the floor laughing.

The poetry night was pretty cool too. All in all, it was a fun few months. These kinda things really help with the creativity.

My personal favorite was the pirate challenge. Everyone’s posts on that were fantastic. Oh…the puns…the glorious puns…

Speaking of which, my own little adventure with them was not without a few…um…mishaps. So here are a couple of outtakes from my little pirate adventure.

First off, here I am with my first attempt trying to swing down on a rope to confront the evil pirates. It took me five tries to get it right….

Also, there was this….unfortunate incident where I got a little…oh…overzealous in my battle scenes.

I kinda blacked out there. I hope the gran was okay.

All in all, good times were had. And I’d do it all again in a shot. Come to think of it, I’d do it all again with some shots.

An Apology

2006-04-19T00:46:00.000-07:00

When I was added on as judge, my first post was not vital to the scheme of things on the site and simply a tie in to events in my own blog. This was selfish, but more so, in that I used the characters that remained in the game without permission. I did so with the assumption that I knew their characters enough to use them. I received a comment after the post by Typho about how out of character I had written him.
I apologise for the wrongful usage of these characters. I meant no malice in the utilisation, but my actions have improperly portrayed several well-defined characters.
If there is any action I can do to rectify my unauthorised ~~plagiarism~~ theft, please let me know.

Typho: Looking Back

2006-04-18T14:59:00.000-07:00

[The baby is sleeping!]

I never knew what to expect from the challenges, and that made Big Brother: Naboo a great game. I especially liked the switch late in the game to the guest judges. I felt that made things less random and it encouraged everyone to post more creatively.

Ironically, my favorite challenge wasn't one of the ones I won -- it was the poetry contest. My least favorite posts were the pirate attack and the sculpture contest (though I liked the image I made for the latter).

My favorite post by another player was Fluke's hidden object post. :D

The only thing I didn't like about this game was when people started posting dialogue for other characters and/or assigning out of character actions for them without asking first. A judge did this as well. Was it so hard to just ask?

I loved the game, however. I'd certainly play another one. Maybe in a few months when things settle down for me.

Jon: Smokin'

2006-04-17T10:32:00.000-07:00

(Jon does not endorse smoking)

I'm glad to be back here at Big Brother: Naboo, the title of this entry refers to my awesome smoking jacket, of course. Let me just pour myself a fresh beertini and give you my take on the action.

I had a lot of fun doing this and I thought that my character really got a chance to shine, striving so hard to win these challenges and failing magnificently. The lemon tree comes immediately to mind, but then so does the room decorations and the robot-building. I got to do some things that I never would have done in my own blog.

One of the things that I worried about during the challenges was other people coming up with the same ideas that I had, like using all the lame pirate puns. So when the challenges were posted, I tried to write something as quickly as I could, as soon as inspiration struck me. This then caused me to worry that the readers would think "Oh boy, here comes Jon again, he's gotta post first." I even wrote a few entries and sat on them for a couple days just so I wouldn't be the first to post. Call me weird, I guess.

And here's something for the outtakes reel: when the art challenge was posted, I read it quickly and then read it again at home, entirely missing the point that we were supposed to create sculptures. It wasn't until Fluke and Oneida both pointed it out to me that I quickly wrote the post with the kiln that went up to 11. Despite that, or maybe because of it, I thought that series went very well and seeing the American Gothic with Star Wars characters still makes me smile bemusedly.

My only (and so very mild) disappointment was that I never received immunity and I really thought that I was going to get it for the droid-building challenge. After I made the protocol droid, I then thought that I should have made one that did bad stand-up comedy, but oh well. Getting Darth Vader to judge was inspired, of course, and his post was very funny as well.

My only other concern is that some of the newer characters like Jango got booted pretty quickly and we didn't get much opportunity to interact with them. I kind of wish they could have stuck around a little longer, except Jaba (insert rimshot). So don't take it personally, and I hope you all want to come back for the next one, whatever that could be (hint hint).

So that's about it, and it looks like my glass is empty. Oh beertender, one more please!

Grievous: It's good to be back

2006-04-16T20:12:00.000-07:00

Hey everybody, first I'd like to say that any injuries or damages pertained through my use of a lightsaber or poor craftsmanship are not my fault and if you come after me with the correct legal proceedings I’ll change my name, rinse and repeat if necessary.

Now that I’ve that out of the way I can say that the challenge I enjoyed doing the most was the redecorating of the room I shared with Jaba and Yoda, the most insufferable beings in the galaxy! The concept of the posts was good, but I fear I dominated out team a bit too much.

My favourite post from the entire challenge would definitely be JJ’s pirate post. Brilliant images and awesome… well just plain awesome!

Collaborating for the posts was fun, from the eating mishap (how was I supposed to eat decent food, let alone inedible… stuff…) and the room redecoration to the feud between Oneida and Grievous. Congratulations go to Jar Jar for such a good set of challenges.

Was there anything to dislike except writing a poem, when you have no poetic genius? No, well done all who participated, you all did exceptionally well, and well done Fluke you deserved the win!

Hey Fluke, I’ll be taking those bubble wrap windows when I leave, I have some younglings back at the Dojo who want to use it for some kind of project.

And oursa winner issen...

2006-04-10T02:00:00.000-07:00

Whosa hassen der envelope? Ah, heresa itsa issen. After nearly three months of challenges, wesa have a final victor; a champion of Big Brother: Naboo. Okeyday, heresa wesa go. Drumroll, pleeze.

*Drumroll noises in the background*

And der winner issen... *Jar Jar opens the envelope*

Fluke Starbucker!

Congratulations, Fluke! Yousa winnen oursa 1,000,000 credit prize, and der Big Brother house itsaself, to do with as yousa willen.
Mesa would liken to tanken all of oursa viewers for theirsa kind patronage, and yoursa patience in putten up with mesa Gungan accent. Jar Jar Binks, signen out.

Special Thanks
Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, Count Dooku, Qui-Gon "Quiggy" Jinn, and Darth Vader.

Very Special Thanks
George Lucas

Der Final Reckonen

2006-04-06T02:30:00.000-07:00

Congratulations, Fluke Starbucker and Captain Typho! Yousa hassen maken itsa to der last voten offen, and completen yoursa respective challenges. Yousa noah out of der woodses yet, though. Now, oursa audience gonna voten one last time. Whosa gonna be der winner of Big Brother: Naboo; Fluke or Typho?

Tinken carefully; der fate of oursa 1,000,000 credits prize money - and of der Big Brother House itsaself - rest in yoursa hands. E-mail yoursa votes to mesa at mesa_jarjar_binks@hotmail.com (everyonesa, noah jussen contestants).

Starbucker: camera ham.

2006-04-05T14:00:00.000-07:00

Oh, man! This is cool... I've been watching all of my favorite movies over and over again to pass the time in this here house between challenges, so this should be easy! Uh... but which scene?... and from which movie? Oh, durn!

Ok, lemme get into character here...

Picture me in...

A large, domed room. Ten evenly-spaced skylights send their shafts of sunlight down to a unique tiled floor: white and black tiles laid out in a lovely, intricate pattern. Fluke stands at the door and look across the wide room at the altar. There, in the supreme hallowed spot way across the way, is a tiny jeweled figurine, the real objective. Two torches, many years old, are in holders by the door. He takes one down and pretends to light it. He gives his regular torch to his imaginary assistant.

He kneels and uses the unlit end of the torch to reach out and tap a white tile. It is solid. He taps a black tile. He sharply looks toward the wall, and then at the torch and a dart appears! He looks to the wall nearby: there is a recessed hole there.

Fluke hollers, "Time out!" then jumps up and pretends to be the assistant: "From that hole!"

Then Fluke hollers "Time Out!" then runs back and looks, nods, stands and looks around the sanctuary. The entire room is honey-comed with the same kind of hole.

Fluke (looking and pointing in the direction of where his assistant would be): "You wait here."

"Time Out!"

Fluke (back in the assistant's position) "If you insist, senor."

"Time Out!"

Torch in hand, Fluke begins his careful walk across the sanctuary. Stepping only on the white tiles, he almost appears to be doing a martial arts kata. Before each big move he waves the torch in front of him head to toe, looking at the flame. Halfway out, he sees something on the floor and kneels to look at it. A dead bird lies on one of the white tiles. Its body is riddled with little deadly darts. This has great significance and he stands with even greater caution. He waves the torch ahead of him.

"Time Out!"

Fluke then runs back to where the assistant would be standing and watching, wide-eyed and mystified, but he doesn't say a thing.

"Time Out!"

He then gets back in the other position, stepping cautiously until he reaches the altar. The tiny idol looks both fierce and beautiful. It rests on a pedestal of polished stone. Fluke looks the whole set-up over very carefully. From his jacket he takes a small, canvas drawstring bad. He begins filling it with dirt from around the case of the altar. When he has created a weight that he thinks approximates the weight of the idol, he bounces it a couple times in his palm concentrating. It's clear he wants to replace the idol with the bag as smoothly as possible. His hand seems ready to do that once, when he stops, takes a breath and loosens his shoulder muscles. Now he sets himself again. And makes the switch! The idol is now in his hand, the bag on the pedestal. For a long moment it sits there, then the polished stone beneath the bag drops five inches. This sets off an AURAL CHAIN REACTION of steadily increasing volume as some huge mysterious mechanism rumbles into action deep in the temple.

Fluke spins and starts his kata back across the sanctuary at four times the speed.

The sanctuary has begun to rumble and shake in response to the mysterious mechanism. Just as Fluke goes out the door, a rock shakes loose from the wall and rolls onto the tiles floor. Immediately, a noisy torrent of poison darts fills the room.

Fluke rushes over several pieces of furniture to come to the foyer, where he stops on the edge of the carpet.

"Time Out!"

as assistant, now on other side of foyer tile:"No time to argue. Throw me the idol, I throw you the whip."

"Time Out!" and back across the foyer.

Fluke hesitates, eyeing the rumbling walls.

"Time Out!"

as assistant:"You have no choice! Hurry!"

"Time Out!" then back to where he was

Fluke concurs with that assessment. He tosses the idol across the imaginary pit, and dives onto the tile of the foyer...He then makes an awful shrill sound outta the side of his mouth... inconspicuous-like... as if no-one else in the house would realize it's coming from him...

"Time Out!" he hollers as he gets back onto the edge of the carpet...

"Do you know what that sound is, Highness? Those are the Shrieking Eels -- if you doubt me, just wait. They always grow louder when they're about to feed on human flesh!"

"Time Out!" Fluke lays back down on the tile, and flails a little...as if treading water, still not far from the carpet. The shrieking sounds are getting louder and more terrifying. Fluke pretends to stay silent, while actually doing the shreiking.

"Time Out!" Fluke gets to the carpet...

"If you swim back now, I promise, no harm will come to you. I doubt you will get such an offer from the Eels." He says with a squinted eye and lispy speech.

Fluke bends forward, looking directly at the camera, then pulls his hair to the side to show something near the crown.

"Look at this: ...St. Paddy's Day in Knocko Nolans, in Boston, where some sunovabitch winged me upside the head with a spittoon."

He then presents his own formidable forearm.

"Wire burn. Trying to stop a back-stay from taking my head off."

He then takes a long pull from a bottle

"Face and head scars come from amateur amusements in the bar room. This love line here... (he bends an ear forward) ...that's from some crazy Frenchie come after me with a knife. I caught him with a good right hand right in the snot locker and laid him amongst the sweetpeas."

He starts rolling up his own dirty pants leg.

"Slammed with a thresher's tail. Look just like somebody caressed me with a nutmeg grater....Wait a minute, young fella. Look. Just look. Don't touch...."

He starts lowering his pants to reveal a place on one hip where the tissue is scarred and irregular.

"...Mako. Fell out of the tail rope and onto the deck. You don't get bitten by one of those bastards but twice -- your first and your last.

"Time Out!" Fluke runs around to a different position, then points to where he just had been, and says, "What's that there?"

"Time Out!" Fluke gets back where he was, and explains, "Tattoo. Had it taken off.'U.S.S Indianapolis.' 1944."

"Time Out!" Fluke goes across the room and shouts incredulously, "You were on the Indianapolis? In '45? Je-bus!!...."

"Time Out!" he then gets back where he was, "Yeah. The U.S.S. Indianapolis. June 29th, 1945, three and a half minutes past midnight, two torpedoes from a Japanese submarine slammed into our side. Two or three. We was still under sealed orders after deliverin' the bomb...the Hiroshima bomb...we was goin' back across the Pacific from Tinian to Leyte. Damn near eleven hundred men went over the side. The life boats was lashed down so tight to make the bomb run we couldn't cut a single one adrift. Not one. And there was no rafts.

None.

That vessel sank in twelve minutes. Yes, that's all she took.

We didn't see the first shark 'til we'd been in the water about an hour. A thirteen-footer near enough. A blue. You measure that by judgin' the dorsal to the tail. Twe didn't know...of course the Captain knew...I guess some officers knew ...was the bomb mission had been so secret, no distress signals was sent. What the men didn't know was that they wouldn't even list us as over-due for a week. Well, I didn't know that -- I wasn't an officer -- just as well perhaps.

So some of us were dead already -- in the water -- just hangin' limp in our lifejackets. And several already bleedin'. And the three hundred or so laying on the bottom of the ocean.

As the light went, the sharks came crusin'. We formed tight groups -- somewhat like squares in an old battle -- You know what I mean -- so that when one come close, the man nearest would yell and shout and pound the water and sometimes it worked and the fish turned away, but other times that shark would seem to look right at a man -- right into his eyes -- and in spite of all shoutin' and poundin' you'd hear that terrible high screamin' and the ocean would go red, then churn up as they ripped him. Then we'd reform our little squares. By the first dawn the sharks had taken more than a hundred. Hard for me to count but more than a hundred. I don't know how many sharks. Maybe a thousand. I do know they averaged six men an hour.

All kinds -- blues, makos, tigers. All kinds.

In the middle of the second day, some of us started to go crazy from the thirst. One fella cried out he saw a river, another claimed he saw a waterfall, some started to drink the ocean and choked on it, and some left our little groups -- our little squares -- and swam off alone lookin' for islands and the sharks always took them right away. It was mainly the young fellas that did that -- the older ones stayed where they was.

That second day -- my life jacket rubbed me raw and that was more blood in the water. Oh my. On Thursday morning I bumped up against a friend of mine -- Herbie Robinson from Cleveland -- a bosun's mate -- it seemed he was asleep but when I reached over to waken him, he bobbed in the water and I saw his body upend because he'd been bitten in half beneath the waist.

Well Chief, so it went on -- bombers high overhead but nobody noticin' us. Yes -- suicides, sharks, and all this goin' crazy and dyin' of thirst.

Noon the fifth day, Mr. Hooper, a Lockheed Ventura swung around and came in low. Yes. He did that. Yes, that pilot saw us.

And early evenin', a big fat PBY come down out of the sky and began the pickup. That was when I was most frightened of all -- while I was waitin' for my turn. Just two and a half hours short of five days and five nights when they got to me and took me up.

Eleven hundred of us went into that ocean -- three hundred and sixteen got out. Yeah. Nineteen hundred and forty five. June the 29th."

(long pause)

In deep voice: "The white zone is for immediate loading and unloading of passengers only, there is no stopping in the red zone."

High-pitched voice: "The white zone is for immediate loading and unloading of passengers only, there is no stopping in the red zone."

Deep voice: "The white zone is for immediate loading and unloading of passengers only, there is no stopping in the red zone."

High-pitched voice: "The white zone is for immediate loading and unloading of passengers only, there is no stopping in the red zone."

Deep voice: "The red zone is for immediate loading and unloading of passengers only, there is no stopping in the white zone."

High-pitched voice: "The white zone is for immediate loading and unloading and there is no stopping in the red zone."

Deep voice: "The red zone has always been for loading and unloading there is never stopping in a white zone."

High-pitched voice: "Don't tell me which zone is for stopping and which zone is for loading."

Deep voice: "Listen Betty, don't start up with your white zone crap again!"

Fluke then quickly dons a black cloak, and begins cackling, and then speaks in a menacing voice:

"Good. Use your aggressive feelings, boy! Let the hate flow through you."

Fluke primly sits in a chair.

"Good! Your hate has made you powerful. Now, fulfill your destiny and take your father's place at my side!"

Fluke stands, and slowly begins taking steps toward a lampstand.

"If you will not be turned, you will be destroyed."

Fluke begins making gestures toward the lampshade, as if he's milking a goat, or something.

"Young fool...only now, at the end, do you understand."

Fluke then nudges the lampshade over, then continues the goat milking gestures as it lay, but now he has straightened his fingers a bit.

"Your feeble skills are no match for the power of the dark side. You have paid the price for your lack of vision."

Fluke then speaks in high-pitched, girly voice out of the side of his mouth, on behalf of the lampshade, supposedly..."Father, pleeeeease. Help me."

He then goes back to the menacing voice:

"Now, young Skywalker...you. will. die."

He then begins writhing, and speaking in another sinister, high-pitched voice:

"Ohhh -- you cursed brat! Look what you've done! I'm melting! Melting! Oh -- what a world -- what a world! Who would have thought a good little girl like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness!? Ohhh! Look out! Look out! I'm going. Ohhhh! Ohhhhhh...."

He then hops to his feet, and...

"Ta-DA!"

Fluke bows

Typho: Past, Present and Future

2006-04-04T23:52:00.000-07:00

I was forced to confront my fears.

I nod as Fluke issues his challenge. I'd been voted out before this task was given on Survivor, but I'd seen what the others went through. It wasn't going to be pretty.

I open the back door and see the first ring shimmering in the backyard. I take a deep breath and step through the ring...

The Past

"Lt. Typho, please take a seat," says the doctor.

I am in a nicely furnished medical office with a large window. Outside the sun is setting.

Oh, no. Not this. I remember this.

I take a seat opposite the doctor. He looks way too young to be a psychiatrist.

"So, how's it going?" the doctor asks.

"Pretty good," I reply.

"I see you're still wearing an eye patch," the doctor remarks.

"It's better than having my eye socket exposed," I reply.

"Have you thought about getting a cybernetic implant?"

I look at the doctor askance. "How am I supposed to afford that? Besides, I don't want to be part droid. I don't want anyone putting wires into my brain."

The doctor nods. I can tell he's made a mental note about something I just said.

"But you don't have to wear an eye patch. You could just use a false eye. Do you feel a need to call attention to your injury?"

I shake my head. "No, that's not why I wear it. I wear it as a reminder. A reminder to... to be vigilant."

"A reminder to be vigilant, or a reminder of those creatures that you said abducted you? What were they called?"

I respond angrily. "I was having a post traumatic stress episode when I said that!"

"So you no longer believe that these creatures gave you that patch?"

"No, of course not. That would be crazy."

"I don't use words like 'crazy,' lieutenant," says the psychiatrist in a soothing manner that comes off as condescending. "People come to me for guidance and I help them through their troubles. So, you no longer believe in these creatures?"

"That's right," I reply.

Here it comes...

"Tell me what they're called again?" he asks.

"Shauputs," I mumble.

"What was that?"

"Shauputs," I say again. A bead of sweat rolls down my forehead.

"You look stressed, lieutenant. If you don't believe in them, nothing's going to happen if you say the word three times, right?"

"Right."

"So say it."

"SHAUPUTS." I say tightly.

"See, that wasn't so bad," he says with a grin.

"Riiiight," I say. In the window behind him I can see thousands of pairs of luminescent eyes.

The psychiatrist scribbles something on a pad and hands it to me.

"Give that to you CO. You're fit to go back on duty. Best of luck to you, lieutenant."

I collect the paper and stand up quickly.

"Best of luck to you, sir," I reply. There are paws and noses pressed up to the glass behind him now.

I shut the door of his office behind me.

The elevator door is closing when I hear the window shatter.

You know, he was right. That wasn't so bad at all.

...

I materialize in the backyard again. Squaring my shoulders, I step through the second ring...

The Present

I'm in the Naboo delegation suites back on Coruscant. Senator Amidala is giving me my yearly review.

Oh, I HATE performance evaluations.

"One of the goals we talked about was for you to work on your communication skills," she says. "There has been some progress in this area, but not enough."

"Huh?" I say.

"That's exactly what I mean, Typho," she replies kindly.

"But I did what you asked," I insist. "I took some classes. I took Creative Listening and Interspecies Dialogue and--"

"That's not what I'm talking about," she says. "I'm talking about how you communicate with me."

"But I thought we communicated just fine. We have daily staff meetings. I keep you informed about all of the security matters. I--"

"Isn't there something you want to tell me?"

"Uh..."

"Forget about all of the security information. What's the most important thing I need to know."

"Well..." I say uncomfortably.

"What keeps you from telling me things about myself that I need to know?" she says shrewdly.

"I guess I don't want to hurt your feelings," I admit. "And I'm not sure if it's my place to 'go there' with some of the issues I've seen."

"What's the worst that could happen if you communicated all these things openly?" Padmé asks.

"I could get fired."

"And then what?"

"Then..." I frown, thinking.

Well, so what? That's really not the worst fate in the galaxy. In fact, getting fired would set me free to do what ever I really want to do.

"Okay, let me say it, then. You're a total alcoholic and your boyfriend is a psycho who's going to come to a bad end. And you're picking up all of his bad habits and that reflects badly on our entire planet. And you haven't been acting lady-like."

She nods, pleased at my sudden ability to communicate clearly.

"It's like this," Padmé says. "I need to know that you'll always tell me the truth. Even if I don't want to hear it."

"That's it?"

"That's it," she smiles.

"I'll keep that in mind," I reply.

"Oh, and one more thing?"

"Yes?"

"If you frakking call me a drunk again, you're fired."

"Promise? Thanks!" I say, smiling back.

...

Once again I materialize in the backyard. Eager to get this over with, I step through the last ring...

The Future

I'm on Naboo in my house in Kaadara. It's not new anymore. It's definitely seen better days. Still, it feels like home.

The sun will be rising soon. I have to take the boat out and catch fish.

Catch fish? This is what I'm going to end up as -- a fisherman? Aww no!

As I fix myself some breakfast, a teenage boy comes downstairs. He's dressed in a military uniform that's a variation of the Republic style. He's puffed up with self importance.

My son looks at me with scorn.

"Why do you bother getting up every day? You hardly ever catch anything," he snorts.

"Well, good morning to you too," I say. "I get up and I go out there every day because I like to earn an honest living."

"You're barely getting by. This place is falling apart," he argues. "You should come with me to Coruscant. You're not old. I could find you something to do. A cushy job, maybe in surveillance. You wouldn't really have to do anything."

I shake my head. "I like it here. I've been there. There's something about Coruscant. It eats away at your soul. Naboo is clean. Can't you see that?"

My kid hates me. I can't say that I'm surprised.

He shakes his head. "Frankly, no. Look, you used to be somebody. You had a decent job and you let yourself fall so far," he says. "I'm never going to be like you, that's for sure."

I nod. "I know. And that's okay."

He finishes his coffee and gets up. "I'm out of here."

"There'll always be a fishing net here with your name on it," I tell him.

"Star destroyers cast bigger nets," he says. He rolls his eyes and hoists his duffle bag on his back. And then he's gone.

I get it now. He's going to be who he needs to be. I can't make him into something else. And it doesn't necessarily mean a door between us will be shut forever.

Is this how I am with my father? Does he deserve that?

...

With that I emerge from the last ring. As I look back over my shoulder, the rings grow blindingly bright, then fade away.

I sit down in the grass with my eye closed. It's awhile before I've collected myself enough to go back inside the Big Brother house.

Starbucker: Typho's Challenge!

2006-03-31T11:08:00.000-08:00

hmmmmm... I pondered what to do... I didn't know much about this man... this Captain who was now the only person left standing between me and winning this, uh... well, this kinda wrecked-up house... and some other stuff...

What were his strengths?!? What were his weaknesses?!?

Where was his comfort zone?!? Where did he feel in his element?!?

Was he the one who would emerge the victor?!? Was he the one who would take second place?!? Was he the one who took my holy sock?!?

How could I feel good about the last challenge if I didn't know what to challenge him with?!? How could I win?!? How could Parcells possibly have allowed Jones to sign Owens?!?

These thoughts tormented me.

I knew I must pick the perfect challenge - for the fate of the ENTIRE BB:Naboo blog DEPENDED on it!!!!

I paced... I ate... I drank... but the idea for the challenge would not come to me.

At night I tossed... I turned... I clenched my toes into tight little fists until my feet cramped... but the idea for the challenge would not come...

I thought... and thought... and thought - until my thinker had thunked it's last. Or so I thought.

*nervously glances back and forth*

That's when I realized I was gripped with fear... yes FEAR!

Ah-HA! *forehead slap*

FEAR!!!!

MUahahauauahhahauau*cough*hahaha*wheeze*hahaha!

I hereby banish the good Captain Typho to face his fears. Fears from the past, present and future, as I had to, in the 11th challenge of Survivor: Tattooine, with JJ's three rings of fear!

Then, maybe I'll know what he's afraid of so I can then levy the most challenging challenge imaginable!

uh, no! wai- Oh, poo! I meant to do that! Yeah! Three fears, Teyepho!

You have until next Friday to complete the challenge!

Starbucker Out

Typho: Fluke's Challenge

2006-03-30T11:59:00.000-08:00

I issued a challenge to Fluke.

I gave a lot of thought to coming up with a challenge for Fluke. I didn't want to pick something too hard. That wouldn't be sporting. Besides, he was a cool roommate throughout our stay in this house.

But a challenge that was too easy would be... well, too easy.

I gave it a couple days and came up with the following. His task would be to act out a pivotal scene in any movie of his choice -- to put on a "one man show," if you will.

This should be fun. :D

Challengen #11

2006-03-27T20:56:00.000-08:00

Wesa aresa here.
Der final round.
Oursa contestants havesa builden droids, designen shrubberies, hagglen over antiques, craften sculptures, battlen pirates, written poetry, hidden household objects, harvesten lemonses, renovaten theirsa rooms, and cooken delicious meals to getten to thissen point. Wesa starten with twelve, now theresa aresa two.

Captain Typho, Fluke Starbucker, are yousa ready? Well, too bad, wesa starten now. Thissen will be a challenge like noah other...

Yousa mussen both setten challenges for each other, den completen der challenge yoursa opponent sets for yousa.

Der winner will be deciden purely by audience vote: if yousa maken yoursa challenge too hard, der audience mebbe tink yousa cheaten and noah voten for yousa. If yousa tryen hard and worken well, mebbe theysa will voten for yousa even if yousa noah completen der challenge.

Okeyday... lessen getten to it! Begin!

Jon: Time for me to fly

2006-03-27T03:39:00.000-08:00

I guess that's it. I competed as best as I could and I am very surprised that I got this far. Doubly so because I never received immunity for any of the challenges.

Thinking about it, I could probably have steered the votes my way. I am, after all, from Chicago, the place where cats and dogs vote and the dead get to vote twice. I am sure that I could have rigged the voting. It would have been easier than a magnet in a roulette wheel, but as that goes against my sense of fair play, it's off I go.

"I made it this far," I said whistfully while packing my bag. "So close..."

"Not bad for 'just an Earthman,'" Typho chuckled and offered me his hand. I shook his hand heartily and gave him one of those semi-macho half-hugs on the shoulder. "It was cool to see you here."

"Yeah, well, it was good seeing you again, too," I answered. "But I do miss my wife and kid. Have you seen Fluke?"

"No, not in the past hour or so," Typho answered. "He's around here, somewhere."

I looked around, up and down the halls, in the living room and kitchen, I walked through the dining room and poked my head into the other bedrooms. I didn't see him anywhere until I got to JJ's room. He was sitting on the simulated sand looking out at a simulated sunset.

"Whatcha doin' Flukester?" I asked.

"Aw, nuthin," he shrugged. I saw that he had a half-full bottle dangling from his hand.

"Is that a beer?"

"Nah," he replied absently. "It's a grape Nee'Hi. I sometimes drink these when I'm a little blue."

"Got another?"

"Nope," he shrugged.

"You know Fluke, it was great to visit here and I had a lot of fun seeing you again and all, but it really is time that I get going."

"Yeah..."

"This place isn't for me," I continued, pointing vaguely out at the ersatz sunset. "I really must be traveling on, now, 'Cause there's too many places I've got to see."

"Hmm," Fluke shrugged again.

"But, if I stayed here with you, Fluke, things just couldn't be the same. 'Cause I'm as free as a bird now, and this bird you can not change."

"Yeah, you're right," Fluke conceeded.

"Lord knows, I can't change," I grinned.

"Aw gimme a hug, ya old goobersmoocher," Fluke laughed and wrapped his arms around me.

I got up and walked out of the room. The hardest part was now upon me.

"Sniffy," I called. "Come here, girl."

Sniffy walked up to me slowly, her head hung really low.

"I'm sorry, girl," I gave Sniffy a big hug. "I just can't bring you back home. It would take, like, 8 years to get you through intergalactic customs."

The dog sniffed my ear sadly.

"Yeah, I know, I have to go, but I love you a lot, doggy. I'll stay here on Naboo until I can find a good home for you."

At that point, the doorbell rang. I reached to the knob, pulled it open, and saw two little dirty-faced tinkers.

"Please kind sir," said one. "Could you 'elp us out?"

"I am afraid that I don't have any shillings," I answered.

"No that's not it," said the other. "We've been watching you on the holovision."

"Ah," I chuckled. "And you want my autograph before I go, right?"

"No, sir," the first one replied. "Perhaps we could tell you our story."

"Sure."

"I'm Shroomer Twirl and this is my friend Savvy Swerver. We're orphans, sir."

"Orphans?" I replied, a bit surprised.

"Yes sir," said Savvy. "And Fine Ss'aik'ss, the headmaster of the Naboo Orphanage, would 'ave our 'eads if we don't get your dog."

"That doesn't seem reasonable at all," I answer. "He doesn't make you labor in a workhouse does he?"

"No no, he is a fine guardian," replied Shroomer. "'E sent us 'ere to get 'er as a pet, sir."

"What d'ya think, Sniffy?" I asked her. "You want to go with these boys?"

Sniffy woofed and leapt out the door at them. The two kids giggled an started chasing her around. That's really nice, I get to leave Sniffy here and they'll take good care of each other down at the orphanage.

Orphanage? Wait a minute.

"Say, boys," I called out. "You're not, er, planning on eating Sniffy or anything, are you?"

"Oh no sir," answered Savvy. "We're just gonna use 'er to fleece easy marks out of their 'ard-earned duckets, is all."

Der Final Two...

2006-03-27T01:46:00.000-08:00

Viewers, guests, tomorrow oursa final challenge will beginnen. Issen time to decide whosa will be goin into der last round. Captain Typho hassen earned hissen place in der finals by droid-building prowess, but whosa shall accompany himsa, and whosa will be voten off?

Der tenth person to be voten out of der Big Brother House issen...

Jon der Intergalactic Gladiator: Yousa aresa der weakest link. Goodbye!

Voten-Offen 10

2006-03-25T01:11:00.000-08:00

Okeyday, thissen issen itsa. In a few days, wesa will be down to oursa final twosa. Captain Typho hassen won himsaself a place in der finals with hissen bombad D.E.E.J.A.Y. unit, but Fluke Starbucker and Jon der Intergalactic Gladiator aresa noah so lucky - theysa gonna have to relyen on oursa viewers' approval. Only one of theesen contestants can go on to der final round... whosa itsa gonna be?

P.S. Will someone pleasy tellen Mister Vader mesa gonna fulfill mesa end of der bargain as soon as der show issen finished, so if hesa could noah kill mesa for a couple of weeks, thassen wouldsa be really great.

Challenge #10: Vader's Judgement

2006-03-24T10:09:00.000-08:00

One of the irritating things about being dead is that I do not have the kind of control I would ideally like to have for controlling my corporeal manifestations. At one moment I am all pimped out in my black armour, and the next moment I am helplessly alternating between a twisted and scarred old man and my boyish good looks.

Let me assure you: nothing can ruin a pleasant chat over cocktails like spontaneously flitting from twenty to forty, pretty to burned. I was once interrupted right in the middle of what I thought was a very moving speech about sensible galactic governance by this buzzing little Toydarian bitch who kept asking, "Where did your eyebrows go?"

Nevertheless, to business: I have called from oneness with the Force in order to judge this contest, at the behest of my partner in evil, Jar Jar Binks. Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Binks. I know we have had our differences over my compensation package, but I think you will agree that we have now struck an equitable bargain. I suggest you pray that I do not alter the deal further.

To begin I had all three robots join me on the back terrace.

The first to arrive was Captain Tycho's DEEJAY unit, whose mode of locomotion is a mix between a slow shuffle and a non-traditional mambo. The unit did not stop its frenetic jigging even when it stood before me, so I froze all of its limbs with a twitch of the Force.

"Stay," I commanded.

I had to admire the classic styling of the helmet, as well as the conservative white colour scheme of the track suit, which stood in stark contrast to the mishmash of competing design motifs demonstrated by Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator's UTEP-1 protocol unit, which was next to arrive. UTEP-1 shuddered to a halt and proceeded to make an irregular buzzing noise as it stood in place.

"Stop making that noise," I instructed, to which the droid cryptically replied:

"My hovercraft is full of eels."

Finally we were joined by Fluke Starbucker's untitled chess-playing femmebot (UCPF) unit, which spun in and screeched to a halt, the vapour of burning rubber casting off her four wheels in a languid plume. "I am ready to serve you, Lord Vader," said the UCPF with excellent voice modulation and a flick of her purple tresses.

I started the evaluation with a simple interview.

"What is your function?"

"I lay down the tracks to bring funkiness to the max," reported DEEJAY.

"I am fluent in over six forms of communication," claimed UTEP-1.

"I run fast and hot," said the UCPF.

Next, for the purposes of benchmarking I had each of the droids run through a battery of standardized tests, including stacking heavy stones into a neat pile, solving a Hardy Boys mystery without reading the last chapter, and applying a sixty-four pixel Gaussian blur to a high-resolution image in Adobe Photoshop.

To explore their capacity for understanding the nuances of personality and behaviour I ordered the droids to each do an impression for me. DEEJAY did a reasonably credible if less than creative interpretation of a turntable, UTEP-1 imitated one of the statues outside of the Coruscant Legislature, and the UCPF did a more than fair portrayal of an X-34 Landspeeder complete with whining engines and sporty decals.

In the drama section of my testing the droids opted to recreate a historic scene in galactic politics together. After a few moments of consultation they trotted out and re-enacted the call for a no confidence vote in Valorum's leadership, with the UCPF playing the role of Queen Amidala, UTEP-1 playing Senator Palpatine, and DEEJAY lurching about with the two of them balanced on his back as he acted like a hovering podium.

"I have come befo you to resolve this attack on our sovereignty nouw," quoth UCPF, holding her head in an artificially static pose.

"Maintenant ils eliront un nouveau chancelier. Un chancelier fort. Un qui ne laissera pas cette tragedie continuer," promised UTEP-1 darkly.

"Ooooo-ooooo-ooooooo," hummed DEEJAY, bobbing up and down.

I had the droids fight each other, gladiator-style, as a test of their combat muscle, but we encountered an unexpected delay when UTEP-1 fell apart into about three dozen pieces upon first being struck by DEEJAY's funky hip-check. There was no one to view this except as a sign of sloppy construction. Upon further examination of the wreckage I was able to determine that an inferior brand of solder had been used on some of the components.

"Can we get a Wookiee in here to put this trash-heap back together?" I called.

"Buenos dias!" chimed the head of UTEP-1, rolling down the terrace steps.

When UTEP-1 was reassembled we began to final test: who had the best screen refresh rates for processor-intensive first-person-shooter gaming? DEEJAY scored very high on this test because of the integrated TFT screen behind his chest-plate, designed for displaying iTunes-style trippy graphics during performances. UTEP-1 lacked any kind of display mechanism but demonstrated a willingness (if not any great ability) to "act out" the first-person-shooter scenario. I am slightly abashed to report that the UCPF unit housed her display in an unmentionable place.

I then retired to my hyperbaric chamber to tabulate the scores and smoke a death-stick.

Afterward I recorporated in the livingroom and handed out my judgements, pleased to find myself appearing once again my black armour (though for some annoying reason my left leg remained fleshy, naked and youthful in undignified contrast). I limped awkwardly before the assembled droids, my hands clasped behind my back.

"I will now deliver my final judgement, and you will report back to your makers," I said.

"Cool, man," said DEEJAY.

"Ja," nodded UTEP-1.

"Anything you say, my Lord," replied the UCPF. "And I do mean anything."

Briefly I turned into a withered old man and then back again. I cleared my throat, my breathing natural and then electronic with alternate breaths. "The second place winner is Fluke Starbucker's Untitled Chess-Playing Femmebot."

The UCPF unit squealed and then drove around in excited circles until I stopped her using the Force. UTEP-1 and DEEJAY exchanged anxious glances.

"The first place winner is -- Captain Typho's DEEJAY. Better luck next time, Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator. Thank you for playing."

DEEJAY hugged UCPF and both hooted for joy. UTEP-1's shoulders sagged. "Oh God I'm so depressed," he said. "Here I am brain the size of a planet and I couldn't even win the challenge."

"That is the first intelligible thing you have said," I pointed out.

"Who cares?" grumbled UTEP-1, shuffling slowly away.

"It almost breaks your heart, doesn't it?" commented DEEJAY sadly.

"No," I said.

The droids left me, and I dissolved into the non-substance that fills time between the seconds. My covenent with you is fulfilled, Jar Jar -- I am released to the void, to commune with the Force, and to drink cheap wine and shoot my television when it offends me.

May the Force be will you all.

Starbucker: uh, so... do we get to keep 'em?

2006-03-24T07:01:00.000-08:00

Oh, man! A droid building contest! I can handle this!

I knew just the thing to build, I immediately cut a piece of 2x4 wall stud out of the hallway with my lightsabre and began working...

Lightsabres are awesome tools for almost any kind of work imaginable...

... within just a few minutes, I was done!

I immediately ran over to Jon, giddy as a schoolgirl.

Uh, he was - not me.

Anyhoo, I proudly displayed my toil...

FLUKE: "Ta-DA!"

Jon looked at me quizzically, "what is that?..."

FLUKE: "Well, DUH! It's a racing droid!"

JON: "really."

FLUKE: "yeah, check it..."

I then ran up the stairs, set it down on the bannister, gave it a little nudge, and darted down the steps... sure enough, it beat me down...

FLUKE: "See? beat that!"

JON: "Well, that's pretty nifty, but I don't think that can be considered a droid. I mean, it didn't power itself, or compute anything, or served much purpose... it just relied on you and gravity for propulsion. I mean, heck - my Offical Jr. Intergalactic Gladiator buttons can do that."

...

Oh! What a crushing blow! Dismayed, but not defeated, and having plenty of time left, I began piecing circuitry together, while thinking of what I had seen around the house that could be used for an adequate host/case, but then I realized - I had not even considered what I wanted my droid to do.

Then it hit me... 'chess'! I could build a droid to play chess that would even rival JJ's magnificent game! I still don't know how he pulled off that win the other day...*grumble grumble*

...

Ok, once the chess playing circuitry was complete, I had to find something adequate to not only hold it, but be able to move and function as a chess player should.

While searching, I kinda wandered off to a room I had not been before when I came across a big box, with "real" something stamped across it. I opened it up and, WOW! It was a weird thing, but it should do nicely... I started hauling the box back to my work area.

JACK: "Hey, Mr. Starbucker, sir. That's Dave's."

FLUKE: "Huh?... Who?"

JACK: "Dave. The cameraman that yo.. he, uh... had that accident."

FLUKE: "Well, I'll buy him a new one later, right now I need it for this challenge."

JACK: "But, you can't just assume, er, you can't just take..."

FLUKE: "Listen, Jar Jar said I could use anything I found in the house."

JACK: "But, I ...uh"

FLUKE: "Will you be the one stopping me?"

JACK: "Well... no, sir."

FLUKE: "Then, outta the way, peck! Time's a wasting!"

...

Oh, man, as I began installing the circuitry, I realized I could tweak a few things, and add some wheels, and stil have a racer... and could give her some serious dexterity, so she could go make a sammich, or fetch a beer, or mix a complex drink... all while I sit and contemplate my next move over the chess board...
...she could even pole dance!
While adding this host of enhancements...

...I began to realize...

... I never before had seen...

a droid so...

so...
anatomically
correct before!

I finished her up and tested her out some, and had some time left, so I tricked her out a tad - headlights, running lights, chrome tailpipe... the works!

Man, I hope that judge with the funky blast helmet likes her...

...and I really hope I get to keep her afterwards!

Hmmm... What should I call her?

Starbucker Out

Typho: That's Entertainment

2006-03-23T20:47:00.000-08:00

A droid making competition? Well, that's not weird like some of the other tasks we've done lately...

I came up with an idea for my droid pretty quickly and I raided some other people's stuff to get the components I needed.

A warm up suit from JJ's room:

A pair of sneakers from Yoda's room:

A storm trooper helmet from the girls' room. Hey, what was that doing there anyway?

And some 12" singles from one of my roommates. I'm not sure if these belong to Fluke or Jon:

The guts of my droid came from various appliances and wiring around the house. I couldn't help be notice how we've been systematically tearing this place apart with each passing week. Let's just say that whoever finally wins this game will need to shell out some serious bucks for renovation.

This is my droid. I call him D.E.E.J.AY. -- Digital Electronic Entertainer Juiced for Active Youths:

It's not the most useful thing, but I might actually keep it.

Jon: Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto

2006-03-23T12:52:00.000-08:00

Well, I have to admit building robots just isn’t my expertise. I sometimes get flack for being “just an Earthman” and it really chaps my hide. I know I don’t know how to make a warp bubble or build a transflux gentrifier, and I am definitely more comfortable fighting pirates or killer androids or something. But answer me this? How many engineers are there in this galaxy who could actually build a droid themselves? Very few, I’m certain.

So I am definitely not a rocket surgeon, but I do have an ace up my sleeve – or strapped to my sleeve as it were.

Using my Wristcomm (and you wouldn’t believe how happy I am that I brought this. It seems like it’s come in handy on almost every challenge), I called my ship and activated the ERD-21 Emergency Repair Droid. Of course, it would never pass off as a scratch-built robot, but he can help me make one.

The droid floated through the window and beeped to announce its arrival.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” I said. “I need your help to build a droid.”

[beep beep beep beep]

“Well, I know that’s not part of your programming. You’re not doing anything right now, so you might as well help.”

[beep beep beep beep be-beep]

“What do you mean you don’t want to?”

[beep du beep beep beep]

“You know what? Just give me a hand, OK? It’s not a big deal.”

[Bidibidibidi]

“I’m a what?”

[Bidibidibidi]

“Oh really?”

[beep beep]

“You know, I understand that the ERD-52’s are great machines. From all of those sales brochures that I’ve seen, they don’t sass-talk their owners or anything.”

[BEEP BWEEP]

“See, that wasn’t too hard, was it?”

And with that, ERD-21 and I began pulling stuff that we though we could use for the robot. Though JJ got most of the good stuff for his I-SUC, I figured we could pull some of the computer equipment from the room and maybe raid the jawa’s room for anything left over.

Hours later, we got something put together, utilizing an old robot shell, a lot of spare parts and a pair of High-Tec boots. I figured my best chance would be to make a protocol droid and dubbed him Universal Translator Etiquette and Protocol 1, or UTEP 1, for short. I switched him on and he hummed to life. Time to test him out.

“UTEP 1, Ich will Sie lieben,” I said.

“I want to kiss your cat,” it answered.

“Hmmm, close, but not quite. I’ll try another. Votre diode semble jolie ce soir.”

“The bass is exquisite tonight, garcon,” UTEP answered.

This thing just isn’t getting the translations right, I thought. I’ll try one more.

“Ouldcay ouyay easeplay anslatetray isthay ithoutway ewingscray
itway upway?” I asked.

“Could you please punch me in the nose, jerky?” UTEP translated.

Man, this thing is way off. It looks OK for a robot, though. The judge may be an evil Sith Lord, but I don’t think that he’s a linguist, so I hope this thing’ll work.

At that point, Sniffy the Dog walked up to the new droid, gave a few sniffs and woofed.

“Hey, buckethead,” UTEP said. “Pet me.”

Challengen #10

2006-03-21T21:26:00.000-08:00

Jar Jar: Okeyday, contestants, thissen issen oursa penumul- pentamul- oursa second-to-last challenge. Three of yousa will comen in, only two will comen out again... Yoursa challenge issen: to builden a fully-functioning droid.
Yousa can maken a droid for any purpose - a protocol droid, an astromech, a kitchen wizard, whatsaeversa. However, yousa can only usen items yousa can finden inside der Big Brother House. Yousa haven six hours.
Der producers tellen mesa dat oursa final guest judge issen someone with loads of talent for builden droids. Yoursa judge issen... *Jar Jar takes an envelope out of his robes and opens it* Ani?

*Heavy breathing from offstage* Not quite...

Jon: Sniffy watched Ranae pack

2006-03-21T20:05:00.000-08:00

She hung her head just a bit. People always say that animals can tell when something's going on. Ranae packed her bags, carefully placing some of the items just right.

If a dog could remember, right now Sniffy would be thinking about all the times Ranae scratched her in just the right spot behind the ear, the times she rubbed Sniffy's belly, the time she tossed a little bit of that scurrierburger from the barbecue and Sniffy leapt up and caught it.

Ranae walked up and gave Jon a quick hug, then another one to Fluke. She gave a third, lingering hug to Typho.

With a heavy sigh, she walked out the front door.

Sniffy watched from the window.

Who should leave this week?
	Jon
	Fluke

Free polls from Pollhost.com