Death Star
Imperial Battle Station DS-1

I want to start by saying that I have choked three project managers over the design of this station, and I do not regret a single one. The Death Star is the most expensive military installation in galactic history, and the ventilation system was designed by what I can only assume was a summer intern who hated the Empire.

There is an exhaust port — two meters wide — that leads DIRECTLY to the main reactor. I brought this up in the design review. I was told it was "within acceptable risk parameters." The man who said that is now breathing through a machine. Not because I choked him. Because I threw him into the exhaust port to prove a point.

The cafeteria serves exactly one item: grey paste. I don't know what it is. Nobody knows what it is. I asked the head chef and he said "nutrition." I asked him to elaborate and he said "grey nutrition." I cannot eat solid food because of the suit, but I find the lack of menu options offensive on behalf of my troops.

The living quarters are adequate, assuming you enjoy sleeping in a metal coffin with ambient lighting that makes everything look like a funeral home. My personal meditation chamber is the only room on this station that doesn't make me want to destroy a planet. Which, to be fair, I did.

Parking is a nightmare. There are 357,000 people on this station and approximately 40 hangars. I once had to park my TIE Advanced three levels below my quarters because Grand Moff Tarkin took my spot. I informed him that the dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities, including remembering who parks where.

Why was I not at my post? BECAUSE NOBODY TOLD ME THERE WAS A PROTOCOL FOR WHEN A GIANT SPACE SLUG ENTERS THE HANGAR. I was assigned to guard docking bay 327 and then a Wookiee punched me in the face. This was not covered in orientation.

The break room has one couch and it smells like burnt plastoid. The vending machine only accepts Imperial credits and it only stocks the grey paste. I tried to file a complaint with HR but the HR office was on the part of the station that got blown up. Which is also where I was.

The doors open way too slowly. I cannot stress this enough. When someone is shooting at you and the blast door takes 11 seconds to close, that is a design choice that kills people. I know because it killed me.

The station itself is magnificent. State of the art. Planet-destroying capabilities. I gave a presentation about how this station was the ultimate power in the universe and a coworker choked me from across the conference table. In front of everyone. During a meeting. I am filing with Imperial HR and also a personal injury attorney.

The conference room chairs are surprisingly comfortable, though. Three stars for the chairs. Zero stars for the workplace violence. Net: three stars, accounting for the fact that the station was subsequently destroyed by a teenager in a secondhand fighter.

The detention level smells like rust and regret. My cell was the size of a closet and featured a single bench made of what I can only describe as "hostile metal." The interrogation droid had no bedside manner. Zero stars for the droid. Zero stars for the bench. Zero stars for the man in the cape who blew up my planet to make a point during a meeting.

The garbage compactor, however, was spacious. I will give it that. Plenty of room to stand in mysterious liquid while the walls close in. Very on-brand for this establishment.

Five stars. Beautiful design. Very proud of the exhaust port. It's small. You'd barely notice it. Definitely not a deliberate structural weakness that I secretly engineered so that my daughter's friends could blow the whole thing up with a single proton torpedo. That would be treason. Which I did not commit. Five stars.