Galactic Empire. It makes me think of thousand-ship fleets screaming across the sky. Massive Star Destroyers the size of cities crawling from planet to planet in the dead black blanket of space. Living under martial law, as men and women in uniforms wave their blasters in your face and ask to see your papers, please.
The mantra is "Conform or be crushed, bow to our rule, join us or die." It paints a fairly bleak picture of existence, though I suspect you'll find some have brought a humourous light to their offerings here.
So, 'troopers, join us in this exciting forty-seventh issue of Tevun-Krus...
