Andy found himself… nowhere.
No floor he could see, yet something solid supported his weight. It wasn't stone, it wasn't metal — more like standing on a platform of light, solid underfoot but without any texture. The air was still and neutral, neither warm nor cold, carrying no scent at all. Above and around him stretched an endless, pale void, shifting faintly like a soft white mist caught in slow motion.
Right in front of him hovered a translucent blue hologram, its edges flickering with static. Thin lines of data scrolled along the sides in a language he didn't recognize, winking out before he could even try to make sense of them.
"What the hell…"
Then it hit him — he was standing. Not just standing. Walking.
His legs moved as if the last seven years had never happened — smooth, strong, alive. He flexed his fingers and curled his hands into fists, the movement instant and perfect — no tremor, no stiffness, no hesitation. His arms were full and solid again, his shoulders broad, his chest thick with muscle.
He looked down at what he was wearing — plain white clothes, the kind you'd get in a hospital, but these were soft, warm, and impossibly comfortable against his skin. Loose pants that allowed him to move freely, a long-sleeved top that hung gently against him without clinging, and no shoes. The fabric seemed to hold a steady, pleasant warmth, like it had been taken from a dryer moments ago.
He took a few cautious steps, then more, pacing slowly as if testing the limits of his body. Nothing faltered. No pain, no weakness. For the first time in years, he felt whole.
Hadn't I died?
He turned slowly, scanning the endless whiteness. There was nothing else — no walls, no ceiling, no horizon, just him and the hologram.
"Hello?" he called out, his voice carrying far before fading into silence.
No response.
Then the memory hit him — the TV, the question, his choice… and what it had said.
Stepping closer to the hologram, he saw the text clearly now:
WELCOME TO CHARACTER CREATIONTAP TO CONTINUE…
The words pulsed gently, each beat accompanied by a soft, precise chime — tap… tap… tap… — like a computer system waiting for user input.
Andy stared at it for a long moment. None of this made sense, but there was nothing else here. No other path forward.
He reached out and tapped the glowing surface. The instant his fingertip touched it, ripples of light spread outward, the void shifting like a pond disturbed by a stone.
Please select your race.
The words hung in the air above the hologram, and below them appeared a long scrolling list — dozens upon dozens of names.
Human.Twi'lek.Zabrak.Wookiee.Mirialan.Rodian.… and many more.
Andy's eyes scanned down the list, his brain tripping over the fact that these weren't just random names. He recognized them — all from Star Wars.
"…No way…" he muttered.
On impulse, he moved the cursor to Twi'lek and selected it. The hologram shifted instantly, a rotating 3D model of a Twi'lek appearing in front of him — lean, athletic, skin a pale blue. Two long lekku hung from the back of the head, detailed enough that he could see faint patterns in the skin. Alongside the model, neatly arranged panels of text appeared:
Species:Twi'lekHomeworld:Ryloth
Physical Description:Twi'leks are a near-human species distinguished by a pair of long, fleshy head-tails called lekku, which extend from the base of the skull. These are highly sensitive organs used for communication, balance, and — in some cases — subtle emotional expression. Skin tones vary widely and can include shades of blue, green, red, yellow, orange, and more. Height is generally comparable to humans, though Twi'leks tend toward leaner builds.
Origin:Native to the planet Ryloth, a harsh world with extreme environmental contrasts — perpetual daylight on one side, perpetual darkness on the other. Most Twi'leks live in the temperate twilight zone between these extremes. Historically, Ryloth has been exploited by offworld powers for its resources, and many Twi'leks have been forced into servitude or offworld labor.
Advantages:
Exceptional balance and flexibility.
Lekku communication allows for silent coordination with other Twi'leks.
High adaptability to a wide range of environments.
Naturally agile, excelling in acrobatics and evasive movement.
Disadvantages:
Lekku are highly sensitive and vulnerable to injury.
Less physically durable than more robust species (e.g., Wookiees, Gamorreans).
Cultural prejudice in certain regions due to history of enslavement.
Andy stared at the glowing details, taking in the model as it slowly rotated. He could almost feel the lekku, like the hologram was already trying to map the sensation into his brain.
"…This is insane…" he muttered under his breath, scrolling down to see what other species he could pick.
He couldn't believe it. He looked around at the endless nothing, then back at the glowing hologram. Fuck it, he thought. Maybe this was some strange fantasy, maybe it was an illusion cooked up by his dying brain, maybe he was lying in a hospital somewhere with tubes in his arms and a heart monitor beeping. He didn't know, and right now, he didn't care. He'd just go for it.
His mind drifted back to what the screen had said before… the setting it had chosen. He was going to be in the Old Republic era of Star Wars — the time when Revan and Malak fought each other. The Jedi Civil War. Sith fleets against the Republic. Entire worlds rising and falling.
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth despite the absurdity of it. If this was a dream, it was one hell of a good one. If it wasn't… then things were about to get very interesting.
Then he noticed something he hadn't before — a number in the corner of the hologram, just above the rotating Twi'lek model. Creation Points: 150. Weird. Why would a race have a number attached to it? And why did Twi'leks get a hundred and fifty?
What are creation points? he thought, narrowing his eyes at the display.
As if the system had read his mind, the hologram shifted, the model sliding to one side while a new panel of text faded in:
Creation Points: Numerical values awarded during character creation, representing the total pool of resources available to allocate toward the host's initial capabilities. Points can be spent to enhance broad categories such as physical aptitude, mental acuity, social presence, or specialized aptitudes. These may include general talents — such as piloting, mechanical aptitude, negotiation, or Force attunement — rather than specific, narrow skills. The more points invested into a category, the greater the starting potential and long-term growth rate in that area.
Function: Creation Points determine the overall foundation of the host body and mind, influencing natural abilities, inherent talents, and adaptability. Once spent, points are permanently bound to the chosen traits, shaping both strengths and limitations.
Allocation Differences:Creation Points are influenced by how different a chosen species is from the system's baseline expectations and how rarely it has been selected by previous hosts. The more extreme the physiology, culture, or lifestyle — and the less often that species has been chosen — the higher the Creation Point allotment. This is by design, intended to encourage variety and unpredictable outcomes for the system's own entertainment. Repeatedly chosen, familiar species trend toward lower CP values, while unusual or underrepresented species are rewarded with higher totals to tempt hosts into breaking from the "same old, same old."
Andy blinked and quickly scrolled back up through the species menu. Sure enough, Human wasn't there. Not hidden, not greyed out — just gone.
Note: Remaining unspent points will be lost.
Andy leaned back slightly. "So you're forcing me to mix it up," he muttered. The system wasn't just letting him pick a new life — it was making damn sure it wouldn't be the same old one.
He went back to the races, wishing it would show the Creation Points next to each one. As if on cue, the list refreshed, each species now displaying its point allotment right beside the name. Most sat in the 125–150 range, with a few dramatic outliers. He immediately noticed some species he would've expected — and also noticed that certain rare, inherently Force-sensitive races weren't listed at all. No Yoda-like species, no races whose very biology made them walking conduits for the Force. Clearly, the system was keeping those locked away.
The updated panel scrolled smoothly beneath his hand, glowing in crisp blue text:
Twi'lek – 150 CPZabrak – 160 CPMirialan – 145 CPRodian – 135 CPKel Dor – 200 CPIthorian – 170 CPDuros – 140 CPMon Calamari – 150 CPBothan – 130 CPTrandoshan – 210 CPWookiee – 205 CPEwok – 300 CPCerean – 145 CPChagrian – 150 CPTogruta – 160 CPCathar – 165 CPSullustan – 135 CPAqualish – 150 CPQuarren – 140 CPBarabel – 220 CP
Twenty species filled the panel, each with its CP value clearly displayed. Ewoks sat at the very top, their number so far above the rest that Andy stopped scrolling for a second just to make sure he'd read it right.
300 Creation Points. For Ewoks.
He didn't know if the system was trolling him, if there was some deep mechanical reason behind it, or if there was something about Ewoks he had seriously underestimated. Either way, the list felt less like a character sheet and more like the draft board for a galactic survival game he really wanted to win.
Andy moved the cursor over and clicked Ewok. The hologram shifted instantly, the rotating Twi'lek model fading out and being replaced by a much smaller figure. Standing barely a meter tall, the Ewok on display was covered head to toe in thick, mottled brown fur, with a rounded face, wide-set dark eyes, and small black nose. Its short, stocky frame was balanced on strong, fur-covered legs, and its hands ended in stubby but capable fingers. The model wore simple tribal garb — a leather hood and a few bone and bead adornments — and carried a small spear in one hand.
Panels of text appeared beside the model:
Species:EwokHomeworld:Endor (Forest Moon)
Physical Description: Ewoks are small, sentient, fur-covered bipeds native to the forest moon of Endor. Averaging about 1 meter in height, they possess surprising strength relative to their size and are highly adept climbers. Their dense fur provides natural insulation in a variety of climates, while their stocky build and low center of gravity make them stable and agile in rough terrain.
Origin: Ewoks evolved on the forest moon of Endor, a temperate world dominated by massive trees, dense undergrowth, and abundant wildlife. Their villages are often constructed high in the canopy, connected by rope bridges and platforms. Endor's dangerous fauna has honed Ewok survival skills for generations, producing a culture deeply rooted in hunting, trapping, and community defense.
Advantages:
Exceptional survival skills in forest and wilderness environments.
High adaptability to using tools and weapons fashioned from available materials.
Small size and natural camouflage make them difficult targets in dense terrain.
Strong communal and cooperative instincts.
Disadvantages:
Limited reach and raw physical power compared to larger species.
Pre-industrial technology level; reliant on ingenuity over advanced tech.
Cultural unfamiliarity with galactic politics and technology.
Creation Points: 300 (High allocation due to extreme cultural divergence and rarity among previous hosts.)
Andy stared at the rotating hologram. "Three hundred points…" he muttered. It was absurd. They looked like living teddy bears, but apparently the system thought they were worth more than every towering predator species on the list. He wasn't sure if that was brilliant… or insane.
Andy hovered over the Confirm Selection option for a moment, staring at the rotating hologram of the Ewok. Three hundred Creation Points was tempting — ridiculously tempting — but he just couldn't do it. No matter what the system wanted to give him, he couldn't picture himself waking up in the galaxy looking like a knee-high teddy bear with a spear.
With a quiet sigh, he backed out to the race list. If the system thought Ewok was the ultimate prize, it was going to be disappointed.
This time, as he scrolled, he started mentally crossing out the ones he knew he wouldn't touch, no matter how many points they offered. Ithorian — two-mouthed, hammerhead-shaped head, slow-moving herbivores. Peaceful as hell, sure, but he'd stand out in a fight like a neon sign. Kel Dor — needed a special mask just to breathe in most atmospheres. That was a hard pass; the last thing he wanted was to be tethered to a life-support accessory. Aqualish — big, ugly walrus faces with a temper to match. The points weren't worth looking like that. Quarren — squid-heads. He'd seen them in the movies, and while they were tough, he couldn't see himself dealing with tentacles hanging off his face every day. Barabel — giant lizard people. Predatory, scary as hell, but he couldn't see himself being comfortable in his own skin looking like a walking reptile tank.
He kept scrolling, mentally filtering the list down to something that at least felt like him — or at least something he could imagine living as without wanting to punch his own reflection. The system wanted different? Fine. But it was going to have to be a kind of different he could actually work with.
Andy moved the cursor over and clicked Wookiee. The Ewok hologram dissolved, replaced by a towering, broad-shouldered figure covered in thick, dark brown fur. The Wookiee stood easily over two meters tall, every inch of its frame built like a wall of muscle. The hologram rotated slowly, showing long, powerful arms, heavy legs, and a broad chest that looked like it could take a blaster shot and keep moving. Its amber eyes were intelligent but carried a wild edge, and its fangs glinted faintly when its mouth opened in a silent growl.
The information panel lit up beside it:
Species:WookieeHomeworld:Kashyyyk
Physical Description: Wookiees are a towering, fur-covered species known for their immense strength, endurance, and resilience. Averaging 2–2.3 meters in height, they possess powerful musculature, sharp claws for climbing, and a thick coat suited for varied climates. Their physical capabilities make them among the most formidable hand-to-hand combatants in the galaxy.
Origin: Native to the forested world of Kashyyyk, Wookiees live high in the canopy of enormous wroshyr trees. Their society values honor, loyalty, and courage, and every Wookiee is raised to defend their community against the dangerous predators that roam the planet's Shadowlands.
Advantages:
Exceptional strength and physical durability.
Skilled climbers and natural athletes.
Strong survival instincts in hostile environments.
Fierce loyalty, with cultural emphasis on protecting allies.
Disadvantages:
Unable to physically speak Basic; communication is limited to Shyriiwook growls and roars, requiring others to understand them.
Known temper and aggressive response when provoked.
Targeted for enslavement in certain regions of the galaxy.
Creation Points: 205 (High allocation due to extreme physical advantages, environmental adaptations, and rarity among previous hosts.)
Andy took in the sight of the rotating hologram. A Wookiee meant raw power, survival instinct, and sheer intimidation. Sure, the lack of Basic speech could be a pain, but compared to walking around as an Ewok or a squid-faced Quarren? Yeah… he could work with this.
Then the hologram shifted again, and Andy was presented with the Appearance screen. The Wookiee model shrank down in size, and for a second he blinked in disbelief — it was a baby Wookiee. A cub.
"What the heck…" he muttered.
Still, the system clearly let him customize it. Multiple sliders and options appeared on the side — fur color, pattern density, build type, even ear shape. That was… actually kind of cool.
He began playing with the sliders, watching the cub on the screen change in real time. After cycling through shades of brown, reddish hues, and even a snow-white coat, he finally stopped on jet-black fur. It made the cub look sleek and striking, the glossy coat catching the holographic light like polished obsidian. The fur was thick and healthy, with a faint ripple to it when the cub shifted. Its eyes were a vivid gold, standing out sharply against the dark fur, and the faint beginnings of small fangs peeked out when it gave a curious, animated tilt of its head. The ears were short and rounded, almost giving it an alert, wolfish appearance.
Andy stared at the little thing on the screen. Was it going to be weird being a… well, Wookiee? Sure. But the thought of living and breathing again, moving with strength and freedom — compared to being stuck in a wheelchair? He didn't care. Not one bit. If this was the trade-off, he'd take it without hesitation.
Then the screen shifted again, and this time there were two side-by-side panels. On the left was a list labeled Attributes, and on the right, Talents.
The system's text appeared over the panels, crisp and clinical:
"Attributes will directly affect your physical and mental performance. All attributes start at rank 1. Raising a lower attribute will cost more Creation Points if it is a natural weakness for your chosen species."
Andy scanned the Wookiee's stats — every single one was set at 1: Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, Intelligence, Wisdom, Charisma, and Size.
It was Charisma that made him pause. The point cost to raise it was way higher than anything else. At first, it felt like the system was trying to screw him, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. A Wookiee's presence in a galaxy full of species that spoke Basic was… complicated. They couldn't physically form the words, relying on Shyriiwook roars and growls that most outsiders couldn't understand without a translator. That alone made subtle persuasion almost impossible without someone acting as a go-between. Add in their sheer size and reputation — towering, fur-covered, and known for ripping arms out of sockets when provoked — and "charming" wasn't the first word that came to mind. Raising Charisma wasn't just about numbers; it meant fighting against biology, cultural perception, and the fear baked into their image. No wonder the system charged so much for it — it was more than an ability score, it was rewriting the way the galaxy would see him.
The right-hand panel detailed the Talents system:
"Talents represent specialized aptitudes or unique skills. Each Talent can have up to three ranks of proficiency."
One plus = Slightly Talented — capable but not remarkable.
Two pluses = Talented — above-average, competitive in most professional contexts.
Three pluses = Greatly Talented — elite ability, recognized across the galaxy.
It was straightforward but merciless: he had a fixed pool of points, and every decision here would shape how his Wookiee would navigate the galaxy. Go all-in on the massive, fearsome warrior build? Or burn precious points on Talents and attributes that could make him something no one — maybe not even the system — expected?
Andy's eyes shifted to the right-hand panel, the Talents list expanding as he focused on it. A neat, holographic menu unfolded, each entry glowing faintly with three empty plus slots beside them, ready to be filled.
Combat & Weaponry
Melee Combat [+] [+] [+]
Light Blasters [+] [+] [+]
Heavy Blasters [+] [+] [+]
Unarmed Combat [+] [+] [+]
Lightsaber Proficiency [+] [+] [+] (Locked – Requires Force Sensitivity)
Explosives [+] [+] [+]
Piloting & Vehicles7. Piloting [+] [+] [+]8. Starship Gunnery [+] [+] [+]9. Vehicle Operation (Ground/Speeder) [+] [+] [+]
Technical Skills10. Mechanics [+] [+] [+]11. Computers [+] [+] [+]12. Security (Locks, Panels, Doors) [+] [+] [+]13. Droid Programming & Repair [+] [+] [+]
Stealth & Field Skills14. Stealth [+] [+] [+]15. Survival [+] [+] [+]16. Tracking [+] [+] [+]17. Demolitions/Traps [+] [+] [+]
Social & Mental Skills18. Persuasion [+] [+] [+]19. Intimidation [+] [+] [+]20. Deception [+] [+] [+]21. Force Sensitivity [+] [+] [+]
The system's explanation flashed above the list:
"Talents may be improved up to three ranks. One plus = Slightly Talented. Two pluses = Talented. Three pluses = Greatly Talented. Each rank increases proficiency and efficiency in the corresponding field."
Then a new line appeared beneath it in sharp red text:
"Warning: Talents are affected by Attributes. A low Attribute will limit your effective use of any related Talent. For example, an Intelligence of 1 with Computers at 'Greatly Talented' will make you a very skilled but very stupid computer user — able to perform complex operations, but slow to adapt, prone to simple mistakes, and unable to innovate beyond rote execution."
Andy smirked. So brute-forcing a skill without the mental or physical attributes to back it up wasn't going to make him some kind of perfect hybrid. It was another reminder that the system wanted him to think carefully — not just about what he could do, but about the kind of person he was building from the ground up.
Then he noticed something else — not every Talent cost the same to upgrade. Some were far cheaper, while others were noticeably more expensive. After looking them over, he realized the cheaper ones lined up with the Wookiee's intrinsic strengths — Melee Combat, Survival, Intimidation — while the pricier ones, like Persuasion, Stealth, and Computers, clearly sat outside his species' natural wheelhouse. The system was making it clear: he could lean into what a Wookiee did best, or pay a premium to defy expectations entirely.
The Force was the most expensive Talent on the list — a staggering 30 points per level.
"Damn…" Andy muttered under his breath. That was a huge hit to his pool, but how could he not be talented in the Force in Star Wars? It felt wrong to even consider skipping it. With a quick motion, he set Force Sensitivity to Talented — two pluses glowing brightly next to it.
Still, he wasn't fooling himself. Talent was great, but it wasn't everything. He'd seen it before — fighters who were naturally gifted, the kind that made everything look easy, but who still got their asses kicked because they didn't have the grit to push through, the tenacity to grind when things got ugly, or the instincts to make the right call under pressure. Talent could open the door, but it didn't mean a damn thing if you couldn't fight tooth and nail to keep walking through it.
He sighed, realizing he'd already burned 60 points of his 205 total, and all he had to show for it was a Talented rating in Force Sensitivity. He hadn't touched a single other Talent, and he hadn't even begun to adjust his Attributes.
With a flick of his hand, the panel switched over to the Attributes list.
Strength – Governs raw physical power. Affects melee damage, lifting capacity, and physical intimidation.Dexterity – Governs agility, reflexes, and coordination. Impacts ranged accuracy, dodging, and fine motor control.Constitution – Governs endurance, toughness, and recovery speed. Affects how much damage you can take and how quickly you heal.Intelligence – Governs reasoning, learning, and technical aptitude. Affects skill with Computers, Mechanics, and other knowledge-based Talents.Wisdom – Governs perception, insight, and intuition. Affects decision-making, ability to detect danger, and certain Force applications.Charisma – Governs charm, social influence, and leadership. Affects persuasion-based interactions and the ability to inspire or manipulate others.Size – Governs physical scale and reach. Larger sizes can increase intimidation and melee reach, but may reduce stealth and limit compatibility with certain gear or vehicles.
Every stat sat at 1, the absolute baseline. At this level, you weren't helpless, but you were barely better than average in anything. The system displayed a simple range beside each stat — 1 being the starting floor, 5 being the hard cap. Level 5 represented peak, species-defining capability — the kind of strength, intellect, or presence that would put you at the very top of what a Wookiee could naturally achieve.
The catch was that costs scaled sharply. Going from 1 → 2 was cheap. 2 → 3 cost more. 3 → 4 jumped again. And 4 → 5 was punishing — the system clearly wanted you to think twice before pushing anything to the absolute limit. Worse, the cost curve wasn't the same for every attribute. For a Wookiee, Strength, Constitution, and Size were cheap to max out. Dexterity and Wisdom were moderate. Intelligence cost more. Charisma… was brutal.
He rubbed his jaw, staring at the numbers. This was where the real balancing act started — deciding not just what kind of Force-sensitive Wookiee he'd be, but what kind of person he'd be in this galaxy.
Andy scrolled back to the talent list, eyes flicking over the glowing blue lines. The Force was still sitting there at Talented, chewing through thirty points per rank. It was brutal… but this was Star Wars. There wasn't a universe where he passed on the Force.
Lightsaber Proficiency caught his attention next. Cheap. Dirt cheap for a Wookiee. He frowned for half a second, then it made sense — his size, reach, and strength meant he wouldn't have to fight like a duelist. The weapon would already be deadly in his hands just from the physics. He maxed it without hesitation.
He passed over Stealth without even considering it. No amount of training was going to hide two meters of muscle and fur. Instead, he poured points into things that fit. Mechanics went straight to the top — every rank. Same for Droid Programming and Repair, and Computers. He wanted more than the ability to fix things; he wanted to build, to create, to design.
Explosives got a solid boost too. Not the careless kind — the deliberate, precise kind. The sort you used when you wanted the world to look different than it did before you arrived.
Piloting came next. He wasn't trying to be an ace, but he wanted to be good enough that a ship was more than just a ride. Starship Gunnery got a nod too — one rank, just enough to hit what he aimed at. Heavy Blasters earned two ranks. The discount for Wookiees made it a no-brainer; the strength to handle the recoil was built into his body.
Then he rounded out the rest — Survival and Tracking, because growing up in the city hadn't erased the fighter's instinct for reading terrain and prey. Intimidation, because… well, he was a Wookiee. Might as well use it. Vehicle Operation got a single rank, enough to handle speeders and ground rigs without crashing. Demolitions/Traps got one too — a little extra versatility for when the straight approach wasn't the smart one.
By the time he was done, the screen was a wall of plus signs. Combat, tech, survival — all balanced, all useful. No wasted points on things he'd never be good at. The unarmed combat column was already maxed, carried over from a lifetime of MMA fights. The Force sat there glowing, not as his defining feature, but as one more weapon in the arsenal.
Andy leaned back and looked at it all. The build wasn't perfect. It didn't need to be. It was him — sharp where it counted, solid where it mattered, and full of enough potential that the galaxy wouldn't know what hit it.
Final Talent Loadout
Combat & Weaponry
Melee Combat: [+] [+] [+]
Light Blasters: [ ] [ ] [ ]
Heavy Blasters: [+] [+] [ ]
Unarmed Combat: [+] [+] [+] (Carried over)
Lightsaber Proficiency: [+] [+] [+]
Explosives: [+] [+] [ ]
Piloting & Vehicles
Piloting: [+] [+] [ ]
Starship Gunnery: [+] [ ] [ ]
Vehicle Operation (Ground/Speeder): [+] [ ] [ ]
Technical Skills
Mechanics: [+] [+] [+]
Computers: [+] [+] [ ]
Security (Locks, Panels, Doors): [ ] [ ] [ ]
Droid Programming & Repair: [+] [+] [ ]
Stealth & Field Skills
Stealth: [ ] [ ] [ ]
Survival: [+] [+] [ ]
Tracking: [+] [+] [ ]
Demolitions/Traps: [+] [ ] [ ]
Social & Mental Skills
Persuasion: [ ] [ ] [ ]
Intimidation: [+] [+] [ ]
Deception: [ ] [ ] [ ]
Force Sensitivity: [+] [+] [ ]
Then he swiped to go to the next section — only for a large, solid confirmation box to pop up in front of him.
"Please confirm your character before proceeding to the next selection process."
Andy blinked. "There's another part?" He tilted his head, half-suspicious, half-curious. "Huh…" After a few seconds of mulling it over, he shrugged. "Alright, let's see what's behind door number two." He tapped the confirm button.