Duke pulled his car into the lot of a converted industrial warehouse and pushed open the metal door.
John Dykstra, the effects supervisor for Star Wars met him near the entrance.
In 1976, optical effects were usually an afterthought, send out to specialized post-production houses.
After the severe economic depressions of the 60s and 70s, most Studios killed off their In-House effects deparments.
Duke had supported Lucas's creation of Industrial Light and Magic as Paramount's in-house unit.
Dykstra led him toward the center of the workspace.
Resting on a wooden table was a Death Star miniature, a four-foot-diameter sphere of engineering.
Thousands of tiny plastic pieces covered the surface.
Duke examined the complex lighting rig snaking through the hollow core.
When illuminated against a black backdrop, the pinholes of light would sell the huge size of the superweapon.
On a separate workbench sat a 5 foot Millennium Falcon model.
The biggest achievement of the facility was the Dykstraflex motion-control rig.
Traditional model photography locked the camera in place and moved the miniature.
The Dykstraflex rig reversed that process.
The camera glided on tracks while a computer memorized and repeated the exact same movements.
This repeatability allowed the team to layer multiple passes of film.
Shoot the spaceship, then the engine glow. then the laser blasts.
And the camera movement matched every single time.
Duke walked to a model on a hydraulic mount. "Weight issues?" he asked.
Dykstra wiped grease from his hands with a rag. "Yeah. We gutted the interior framework over the weekend to keep the motion-control rig from stopping at random points."
After a while, he left the exhausted effects crew to their groundbreaking work, Duke climbed into his waiting car.
He instructed the driver to head toward the private runway for a quick flight back to Los Angeles.
By early afternoon, he walked through the gates of the Paramount lot.
The studio was a hive of activity, several practical sets had been under construction for months.
Duke stepped onto Stage Four, navigating a maze of electrical cables and scaffolding.
He walked directly into the Millennium Falcon interior set, built in two separate halves due to spatial limitations.
The set designers had originally built the curved corridors to exact scale but it was too narrow for the camera dolly to navigate during shots.
Duke arrived at cockpit, it had repurposed radars, old aviation dials, discarded computer parts.
The improvised set dressing helped sell the illusion of a smuggling vessel undergoing constant, messy repairs.
Duke crossed the lot and went to the costume department.
Where racks of wool robes, stormtrooper armor, and sketches covered the walls.
Anthony Daniels, the actor of C-3PO stood rigid in the center of the room.
The English actor looked uncomfortable, trapped inside the molded plastic and shell of the golden droid.
The costume designers had cut the suit into segmented strips at the knees and elbows, granting him a fraction of mobility.
Duke walked to a separate workbench to inspect his own wardrobe.
He had made the choice to physically portray the villain, Darth Vader, ensuring the towering physical presence of the character.
Of course the voice was going to be added by James Earl Jones in post-Production.
He picked up the newly made helmet, the prop department had vacuum-formed the mask out of durable plastic.
Much lighter than the original fiberglass prototype.
Duke left his helmet on the bench and ventured deeper into the facility, eventually arriving to a workshop.
Stuart Freeborn, the man considered the grandfather of modern make-up design creature had his own workshop.
Creating dozens of unique alien species for a single movie was a staggering logistical challenge but Stuart had not complained once.
___
With the studio tour finished, Duke gathered his portfolio and headed toward the main building.
Evening shadows stretched across the lot as Duke returned to his private office.
The pace of production was exhausting.
He sat behind his desk and placed a scheduled call to Atari headquarters.
The speakerphone clicked and hissed with static before Nolan Bushnell and Steve Wozniak answered.
"The trench run will serve as our flagship arcade cabinet," Duke announced. "The simpler shooter will be developed for the Atari home console."
The arcade cabinet possessed the necessary space and power for complex hardware.
The home console, while revolutionary, still suffered from memory limitations and slower processing speeds.
So it was better to go with the crazyest game on arcades.
"Well, the trench run game is going to be expensive to manufacture," Nolan said, his words covered by a shuffle of papers.
"Vector aren't cheap and the specific pieces will add up to assembly costs."
Duke got up and walked toward the window, watching the last traces of sunlight go out the Paramount lot.
"If this film is as succesful as Jaws at the global box office," Duke said. "The arcade game will pay for itself within the first half of the year. Don't cut corner, just build it right."
"Understood," Nolan finally replied, "We'll order the specialized displays tomorrow."
"You'll have a working trench run before the movie premieres."
The line clicked dead.
Duke set the receiver down and let the quietness fill the room once more.
His eyes drifted to the stack of notes on his desk.
Wozniak's handwriting covered some margins, at the top of the first page, a rough sketch of the trench run.
Duke picked up a red pen and circled a note in the margin. "High-score tracking requires memory allocation."
He smiled. Wozniak surprisingly understood the psychology of arcades better than most.
A high score wasn't just a number, it was a challenge to anyone who came up to the specific machine.
He checked his watch, 11 pm and decided to go home.
The following morning, Duke stood in the Death Star set.
The soundstage hummed with industrial lights.
Pierce Brosnan stood near the center of the stage, holding a prop lightsaber.
He moved through the motions of a combat drill, his feet shuffling across the marked floor.
Bob Anderson circled him, correcting the angle of his wrist with soft taps.
"Again," Anderson said. "From the top and this time, commit to the strike."
Brosnan didnt have any lightsaber combat scene in the script, but he insisted in learning.
A completely different attitude, than Harrison Ford who dissapeared and said he would come back when production was about to start.
Duke watched from the sides, drinking a coffee.
A production assistant approached, with a clipboard in hand.
"Mr. Hauser? The effects team is ready for you on Stage 4. They want to show you the preparations for trench run sequence."
Duke nodded, pulling his gaze away from Brosnan. "I'll be there in five."
The assistant scurried off.
___
Just came back from Florida, so tomorrow double chapter, going all in on the Star Wars production
I wanted to showcase the pre production of Star Wars and i will go in depth into how it was recorded.
Already posted my ASOIAF fanfic, so check it out