6 Dark Details Of The Star Wars Universe (You Never Noticed)

Back in the golden days of the original trilogy, Star Wars was untouchable when it came to questioning the internal logic of its universe — you can’t really sit around and nitpick the scientific inconsistencies of a world involving astro-samurai-wizards and psychic puppets.

But now, thanks to George Lucas turning the Force from ancient magic into space amoebas, never has it been easier to reflect on just how ball-numbingly odd the science and logic of this soon-to-be expanded universe really is. The idea that Star Wars is supposed to be a functioning society of planets around which the crazy events of the films take place creates a slew of terrifyingly unanswered questions, such as …

#6. Why Isn’t Everything Covered In Disease-Infested Poop?

No need to mince space words — everyone in Mos Eisley should be covered in their own shit. That wretched hive of scum and villainy should be caked in salty droplets of biological garbage due to a desert climate and reckless collection of alien species in the same condensed area. Remember that scrotal-headed, anus-faced band from the Cantina? What are the odds that their planet shares the same diseases as that other butt-mouthed guy who gets his arm lazed off? Or what about the wrinkly butt-headed guy who watches it all happen? Chances are these are not subspecies from a single ass-shaped humanoid world; they must come from wildly different atmospheres — and now they’re all sharing the same lukewarm air.

Which we’re guessing smells disturbingly eggy …

Considering that travel-borne disease and antibiotic resistance is a major problem on just one planet, places like that dank cantina or Jabba’s palace are — at best — diarrhea farms. And when you think about it: Is this really the kind of place you want to take a harrowing shit?

The (porcelain) throne room.

Jabba’s stank-castle doesn’t even exclusively cater to humanoids, making the idea of bathrooms and sanitation some sort of twisted riddle. After all, we see many of these creatures eat — Jabba included — so it stands to reason that their bodies eject waste. Are they shitting on the floor? Is that pig-man dropping a deuce over the rancor grate when everyone’s asleep at night? It’s not like they can build one toilet to accommodate every single alien body type in the joint, so where does all the poop go?

Han’s carbonite blindness clears up just in time for him to get pinkeye.

If you’re thinking that they must have some kind of futuristic laser waste vaporizer or advanced turd teleportation device, consider that the technologically cutting-edge Death Star had a fucking trash compactor in it:

If you look closely, you can see Lucas’ original Phantom Menace idea notebook.

You’re looking at the pinnacle of waste management in the Star Wars universe: a big ol’ soup of crushed garbage that doubles as a terrarium for a periscoping slug beast.

Did they throw that thing away, or does it just live down there?

And since we know that the Star Destroyers eject their waste into space, it’s safe to assume the Death Star also does this, considering that we see these chutes and compactors at work. So let’s crunch the numbers: Expanded Universe lore puts the population of the Death Star at a little over a million — but even if it’s half that, the average person poops roughly one pound of waste a day, making the amount of feces alone a solid 500,000 pounds slowly trailing behind the Death Star like a comet’s tail. Lord help them if they stop moving for a day, creating a Saturn-like ring of orbiting sludge. And, again, this is the most advanced thing ever. Mos Eisley wishes it had a dirty trash compactor that gets inexplicably jammed by small metal objects.

Speaking of which …

#5. Why Is No One Inventing New Technology?

Along with a trash compactor that belongs on a rickety barge, the Darth Star also comes with a computer interface that hasn’t improved since the prequels. In fact — it appears to have gotten worse:



And before you accuse me of making fun of A New Hope‘s understandably lower budget and ’70s disadvantage, take a look at this shot from the Force Awakens trailer:

It’s the same blinky-light panels six decades after the prequels. To put that in perspective: Sixty years ago we were computing and communicating with freaking punchcards and switchboards. In 60 years, we went from burning light onto a chemical slide and flip-booking them through a flashlight to watching Hee Haw reruns on a magic pocket screen — and meanwhile Han Solo has been watching porn via the same fuzzy blue holograms his whole life.

“I can’t even get a half-chub from natural flesh tones anymore.”

You could argue that decades of intergalactic wars have stunted society’s drive for innovation, if it weren’t for the fact that wars actually cause the opposite thing to happen, which is why we can credit so many major inventions to them. For instance, if all of your major computer systems could be hacked by a random astromech droid, you might invent some kind of security measure to make sure that doesn’t happen again, right? Like a password, or some kind of wireless connection? You wouldn’t just continue to allow that technological loophole to exist for 30 more years.



Or not. Instead they hold onto that steel-dildo socket technology that allows ancient bipedal trashcans to casually haunt ships. How is Artoo still even operational in the new film? Has Luke been repairing him all these years? He’s the robot equivalent of the ’78 Pontiac Firebird your neighbor keeps on his lawn … and is yet continuously compatible with a technological world where digital information is still hand-delivered by robots. Hey Rebels, you know that important Death Star schematic you need to deliver? How cool would it be to just electronically mail that data? After all, you guys could beam images across space 30 years ago.

Wookiees still haven’t developed pants technology.

Look, I’m no conspiracy theorist, but it almost seems like we’re dealing with a world run by some dark force willingly preventing any and all innovation. But who would stand to gain from such a scheme? Who would shy away from technological evolution, while maintaining access to all manufacturing, communication, and service jobs to perpetually stack the intergalactic deck in their favor?

Sneaky little shits.

On the other hand, maybe the reason technology never advances is simply because no one in this universe bothers to write anything down or keep any records

#4. Where The Hell Is The Media?

In one of the new Force Awakens trailers, Rey says to her probably-father, Han Solo, that there are “stories about what happened” — referring to the existence of the Jedi — to which Han offers a sobering confirmation. In fairness, we don’t know how much trailer-editing-voodoo is at work here, but the idea that a recent and massive space war would somehow be shrouded in legend is ridiculous, just like the idea that people would debate whether the Jedi, a council of mystical warriors who used to sit at the highest level of government a few decades earlier, ever existed. Surprisingly, this fits the entire series’ drunk-uncle lack of recollection. Take this faithless dupe:

“I find your lack of breath amusing.”

Prior to being choked by a guy wearing a respirator, Admiral Motti was verbally dismissing the Force as ancient magic … despite the fact that the Jedi ran the clone army in a war against robot separatists a mere 18 years prior to this moment. That guy was in his goddamned 20s during the Clone Wars. There’s no fucking way he doesn’t remember that shit. That’s like if people today regarded 9/11 as some kind of Druid legend — as if the primary way of recalling historic moments was done exclusively over flamboyant campfire chants.

In Phantom Menace, Padme has to physically go to the Senate to insist that her people are being invaded, because there’s apparently no other way to prove it. Later, in the third prequel, Palpatine gets up in front of the same Senate and tells them that the now-exterminated Jedi are suddenly evil … and everyone just takes his word for it. This happens, mind you, in a speech that is being recorded by a tiny drone.

But when all the Jedi are murdered and their temple is burned to the ground, we see Padme nervously watching it happen on the horizon and not from a news hologram telling her exactly what’s going on.

“C’mon, there has to be at least one guy that knows how to make smoke signals.”

So where the hell is the media in these films? We see evidence of record-keeping all the damn time, like in the fucking Applebee’s where Obi-Wan and Anakin chase Zam Wesell …

Yeah, that was her stupid name.

… or when we see sportscasters during the podrace scene in Episode I. This implies that they at least understand the concept of providing commentary about an important event.

The third head was suspended for some racial comments during the last race.

Later in the series, Obi-Wan goes to the Jedi archives to look up a missing planet. Only we never see evidence of a single written word in the entire scene.

“No shit; reading is for nerds.”

Hey, silly question, but does anyone in the Star Wars universe even know how to read? Messages are translated via video or droid, and the only possible text we see is on blurry war consoles that could very well be symbols. In an environment oversaturated with foreign languages where most tasks are carried out and spoon-fed by robots, the literacy rate has quite possibly plummeted faster than a handless Mace Windu.

It would certainly explain a lot, including why all the politics in these films are done by rabble-rousing speech and not written proposals or bills. But that’s just one of many reasons why being a Star Wars senator is like winning a sweepstakes where the prize is continuous panic attacks …

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