Dearest family and cherished friends,

I am writing this Star Wars Galaxies in-game email to you to apologize in advance for the weekend of debauchery I'm planning on Tatooine.

You know, a three-day weekend is coming up, and my smuggler friend Snoop Jawa-Jaw just learned how to make narcotics in the game. He can craft some stuff so whack it's not even illegal yet. We've spent the last week stockpiling and loading it into backpacks, along with some new "beverages" that'll cause your "action" bar to stretch across the top of the screen.

I've also bought a pair of the tightest leather pants I could find, as well as a pimp-white cloak that I will wear with no shirt underneath. The rest of my equipment I have placed in a secure storage vault near the cloning facility. I don't want to have to wake up Monday afternoon outside the wreck of a sandcrawler with a number of strange tattoos only to find that my precious sliced laser carbine is missing.

No sir, it's just me, Snoop Jawa-Jaw, and a starship fulla hot Twi'lek honeys headed out to Tatooine Friday afternoon, hoping to get so smacked up en route that I won't even remember the loading screen finishing.

But before we ride the booty train hoping to blow every whistle, I just wanted to preemptively pause and ask your forgiveness for deeds I have not yet done. I'm sure I'll need it. Sometime Saturday night at 4AM I'm hoping to wake up in a bleary haze in some unknown cantina with a mouthful of fur. I'll scream, "Get this Wookie offa me!" and someone will reply, "Dude, that's not a Wookie." From there, I will consider this party started.