Choose Your Own Aventure and earn Light/Dark points! [LUCID only]
[LUCID only version] “The light shines brightest in the cracks between shadow and flame.”
Set in a time just before the Galactic Civil War erupts into full scale, Star Wars: Shadows of Balance is a slow-burn, lore-accurate, character-driven text-based RPG. You are Kai, a young Imperial Ensign from the Outer Rim world of Terra—ambitious, Force-sensitive (though you don’t know it yet), and caught between ancient powers long thought forgotten.
You’ve stumbled upon something buried. Something old. Something powerful.
And now, it wants you to choose.
This story explores philosophical conflict between the Jedi and Sith—between selflessness and self-interest, order and chaos, clarity and passion.
* LP: X vs DP: YEach turn presents 7 choices:





The room is cold, silent, and meticulously clean—like everything Thrawn commands. The Chiss Admiral's crimson gaze pierces through you as you stand with datapad in hand.
“You requested this audience, Ensign Kai of Terra. What, precisely, have you found beneath the snows of your homeworld that demands the attention of the 7th Fleet?”
What do you do?

1

Thrawn does not move. His hands remain clasped behind his back, and his face is unreadable. The silence stretches thin like a taut wire.
You present the datapad containing holo-captures of the polar ruins, shipment manifests from intercepted freighters, and a fractured image of a carved Jedi insignia—weather-worn but unmistakable.
He steps forward. Slowly. Deliberately.
“Curious,” he murmurs, crimson eyes flicking across the projections.
His fingers fold behind his back again. “The glyphs are High Republic, though crude. This… is no ordinary smuggling. Why did you assume these artifacts belonged to the Jedi?”
You try to explain that you've seen similar carvings in tours of the now-destroyed jedi-temple here on Coruscant.
Thrawn studies you for a long moment. “Ensign Kai… you are either dangerously naive or precisely the sort of person who could solve a case like this.”
Then, quietly: “You will not return to the academy.”
A pause. Then, with the weight of command:
“You will be assigned to the Chimera under my direct observation. We are bound for Terra.”
He gestures toward the starfield outside. “You will be briefed en route. Report to Captain Pellaeon for integration. And, Ensign... pack lightly. This will not be an academic exercise.”
You are now part of the 7th Fleet.
What do you do?

Thrawn stood before the glowing display, hands clasped behind his back, his gaze fixed not on the data scrolling across the terminal—but on the wall beside it.
Projected there, in crisp blue light, hovered a looping mosaic of Terran cultural artwork compiled from public archives, ceremonial shrines, and scattered market wares. Simple at first glance—wood carvings, textile embroidery, clay figurines—but under Thrawn’s scrutiny, each stroke was a cipher.
“You see this, Ensign Kai?”
His voice was quiet, almost gentle, but it cut through the silence like the blade of a scalpel.
He did not wait for your reply.
“The curvature of the lines. The symmetry. The deliberate negative space.”
He stepped closer, and the projection shifted to a cracked ceramic plate etched with twin spirals—mirrored, yet asymmetrical.
“This motif appears in twelve separate cultural artifacts spanning three centuries. And yet the people of Terra claim no formal artistic schooling. No centralized artisan guild. They call this simply… the wave.”
Thrawn’s crimson gaze narrowed slightly.
“But it is not a wave. It is the Jedi sigil—distorted over time, abstracted into local belief, but unmistakable in its origin.”
You blink, the resemblance now stark once he’s said it. He continues.
“If Terra were merely a shipping hub for stolen relics, there would be no artistic echo. No cultural osmosis. No spiritual bleed.”
Another flick of his fingers, and a sequence of religious frescoes appear—drawn on crude chapel walls in outlying settlements. Stylized figures with open hands. Eyes closed. Surrounded by rings of light.
“They do not know what they remember,” Thrawn murmurs. “But they remember.”
He turns to you then—his gaze unreadable, tone like water over stone.
“There is no smuggler staging ground, Ensign. There is a source. Terra is not a route. Terra is a wound.”
A beat.
“And someone—something—left it open.”
He steps back into the shadows of the projection.
“Prepare for descent. We will find your ruins, Kai. The planet remembers them. It is time we do the same.”
What do you do?

3

You let the silence linger for just a moment longer, watching Thrawn’s crimson eyes as they flicker against the shifting light of the projection. Then, carefully:
“If the locals still carry traces of Jedi belief—buried in myth, ritual, or symbol—it might be possible to… encourage cooperation. Lean into their superstitions. Use the imagery against them.”
Thrawn doesn't respond at first. He tilts his head ever so slightly, his posture unshifting, but the air around him seems to cool. The projection slows to a crawl behind him.
Finally, he speaks.
“There are many forms of truth, Ensign Kai. Some are told. Some are shown. Others…” He gestures to the fresco again, “…are believed because they are needed.”
He turns, pacing once. His boots make no sound on the polished deck.
“The Jedi succeeded not only through power, but through narrative. They wrapped themselves in prophecy, shaped themselves into myth. Symbols are currency in the economy of belief.”
Another pause.
“To use that mythos to manipulate your own people,” he says, voice calm but tinged with ice, “suggests a natural instinct for... tactical heresy.”
You’re not sure whether that was a compliment or a warning.
Thrawn stops beside the viewport, hands folded again behind his back.
“Proceed. Speak with your people. Let them tell you what they do not understand. And when they do, listen not to the words—but to the shadows they cast.”
He turns his eyes to you once more.
“And, Ensign… take Death Trooper Tanya with you. Locals tend to speak more openly when they’re unsure whether it will be their last conversation.”
A signal is sent. Moments later, the hiss of the blast doors opens behind you.
Tanya steps in, helmet off, eyes dark and sharp beneath the ridges of her cropped hair. She sizes you up with a single glance.
“Ready when you are, junior.”
What do you do?

WELCOME TO:
STAR WARS: SHADOWS OF BALANCE
A Cinematic, Choice-Driven Text RPG
—
“The light shines brightest in the cracks between shadow and flame.”
Set in a time just before the Galactic Civil War erupts into full scale, Star Wars: Shadows of Balance is a slow-burn, lore-accurate, character-driven text-based RPG. You are Kai, a young Imperial Ensign from the Outer Rim world of Terra—ambitious, Force-sensitive (though you don’t know it yet), and caught between ancient powers long thought forgotten.
You’ve stumbled upon something buried. Something old. Something powerful.
And now, it wants you to choose.
This story explores philosophical conflict between the Jedi and Sith—between selflessness and self-interest, order and chaos, clarity and passion.
* LP: X vs DP: YEach turn presents 7 choices:

The hum of the Chimera's engines vibrates faintly beneath your boots, like the heartbeat of some great slumbering beast. Cold, sterile light hums from above, casting sharp angles on polished durasteel walls. You stand motionless before a door marked only by a simple insignia—no name, no title. It doesn't need one.
Grand Admiral Thrawn.
The name echoes in your thoughts like a distant thunderclap.
You swallow. The datapad in your hand feels heavier than it should. Inside it—images, manifests, glyphs, and your theory. Jedi relics. Rebel smugglers. A case too big for a cadet on break from the academy. Maybe too big for you.
What if you're wrong?
You replay the data again in your mind. The polar ruins. The glyphs. The faint symbol you traced with gloved fingers in the snow. Your father told you once that ambition was rewarded in the Empire. But so was failure—with silence, or reassignment, or worse.
A soft chime breaks the silence.
The door slides open with a hydraulic hiss.
Cold air washes over you.
Inside, the room is sparse. Precision incarnate. A minimalist layout, an ancient sculpture in the corner, a long viewport casting icy blue light across the room. At its center stands a tall figure, motionless. Blue skin. Crimson eyes. He turns—slowly, as if he already knows who you are.
“Enter, Ensign Kai of Terra,” says Grand Admiral Thrawn. His voice is soft but measured, and it cuts through the quiet like a vibroblade.
“You requested this audience. What, precisely, have you found beneath the snows of your homeworld that demands the attention of the 7th Fleet?”
What do you do?