This experience is only intended for people(s) not currently GEORGE LUCAS. If you are currently GEORGE LUCAS, please identify yourself as such below. Thank you.

Star Wars—two words that conjure a galaxy of emotion. It’s the biggest movie franchise of all time, a cultural behemoth, and, briefly, a small chain of discount shoe stores in the greater Kansas City area.

1975—four numbers that conjure a galaxy of emotion. It’s the year of the famous Battle of Verdun. It’s the year the bananas all went to bed. It’s the year George Lucas first conceived what would become Star Wars.

Everything! Because you…are…



Yes indeed. As George Lucas in 1975, you are tasked with creating Star Wars. One wrong move, and you could deprive an entire generation of the delusion that outer space is at all interesting, and the sexual position “The Tatooine Strangler” will never come into existence.

But hurry! You can only be George Lucas for a limited time, and if you don’t invent Star Wars before then, the original trilogy will never be made, and you will be sent to live with your aunt and horrible cousins.

Better get inspired quick!

You stand in your living room as George Lucas, director of acclaimed films American Graffiti and Haunted Rollercoaster. It’s 1975, so you haven’t yet cemented yourself as a legendary director, but one big project will put you over the edge. How do you want to inspire yourself to come up with Star Wars?

You also realize that you are out of milk, which is unrelated.

Moviemaking may have all the prestige and glamour, but it doesn’t hold a candle to your first love: helping spaghetti lovers overcome the age-old problem of having pasta get stuck in the little holes in the strainer.

Now, you just need some inspiration.

You look out your window and see a cactus. A cactus! The spines of a cactus could help get the little pieces of spaghetti out of a pasta strainer. You are off to a great start!

A knock at the door distracts you.

You open the door, and it’s your relatively new friend Steven Spielberg.

“Hi, George,” he says. “Being that it’s 1975, we’ve only known each other for a few years at this point. I’m obsessed with making movies and just wanted to tell you that.”

Steven peers over your shoulder into the living room.

“Say, what are you working on back there?” Steven says.

“You dipshit,” he says with a laugh. “That already exists. You just have to jam a cactus into your pasta strainer.”

Steven turns to leave. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m trying hard to invent Bridge Of Spies.”

Steven leaves. You are crestfallen. Guess you might as well try to invent Star Wars.

Star Wars, eh?” Steven Spielberg says. “That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard, and someone once tried to pitch me a gum that you chew in your ear.”

Steven turns to leave.

“I’ll bet you all the tangerines you can swallow that you can never make a successful movie called Star Wars,” he adds. “And that’s a promise if I’ve ever told one.”

With a derisive laugh, Steven pops some gum into his ear and leaves. You are crestfallen. Guess you might as well try to invent Star Wars and prove the sneering Spielberg wrong.

You wait until it’s December 30, 1975, the day Tiger Woods is to be born. You drive down to Los Alamitos Medical Center and run into the building. You are stopped by a doctor.

“Excuse me, sir, what are you doing here?”

“You should have said so sooner!” the doctor says. “Right this way!”

The doctor sprints down the hallway. You follow her.

“Make a hole!” she shouts to a group of nurses, who scatter as the two of you rush through.

“Here we are,” she says at the end of one hallway. “Room 294: Earl and Kultida Woods.”

It won’t.

Lying in the bed is Kultida Woods, breathing hard in the style of labor. Her husband, Earl, is by her side, and a doctor is focused on delivering a crowning Tiger Woods.

“You must be here to see Tiger Woods be born,” Earl says. “Please, go whisper something reassuring into my wife’s ear.”

You nod and get right up close to Kultida’s ear, your bristly beard grazing her cheek ever so slightly.

Kultida smiles at you warmly.

“Thank you,” she says. “That’s exactly what I needed to hear.”

You hear a baby crying from the foot of the bed.

“Looks like Tiger Woods has been born!” the doctor says.

Earl Woods looks at you warmly. “Now you have seen Tiger Woods be born,” he says. “You are ready to invent Star Wars.”

“No thanks,” says Earl Woods.

You sit down and concentrate very hard on inventing something called the “Death Star.”

Nope. Didn’t work.

You double your efforts in trying to invent something called the “Death Star.” You are really concentrating at this point.

Still nothing.

Okay, no more horsing around here. You clench your George Lucas fists tight, close your eyes, and really strain yourself to invent something called the “Death Star.” Sweat pours down your face and blood starts to trickle out of your nose, you are concentrating so hard.

Yet again, you come up with nothing.

Fuzzy spots begin appearing in the blackness of your closed eyes. You feel faint due to your extreme concentration. Every Lucas vein bulges from your Lucas head. Blood is now streaming down your face from your nose, getting all over your nice shirt. Come hell or high water, you are going to invent something called the “Death Star.” You feel the idea forming; you are so close! If you can just invent something called the “Death Star,” everything else will fall into place! You are sure of it!

Still nothing.

You didn’t invent Star Wars, and you gave George Lucas a fatal aneurysm!

By trying to invent something called the “Death Star” with brainpower alone, you killed George Lucas! No brain is powerful enough to invent Star Wars all on its own. What parent failed you by not impressing that upon you since childhood?

Try again—and this time, don’t take shortcuts!

Share Your Results

Great idea! You sit down on your couch to steal ideas from legendary Japanese director Akira Kurosawa.

The title card of the first Kurosawa film comes up. It’s titled United States Illegal Spray Paint. It’s about four high school seniors in a small Southern California town coming to grips with getting older and how cool drag racing is.

Hmm…this seems remarkably similar to one of your movies.

You pop in the second Kurosawa film, Ghastly Rollercoaster, which is about two former baseball players who try to get their money back after riding a haunted roller coaster they were expressly told would not be haunted.

This one seems very similar to a movie you made, Haunted Rollercoaster. Something is not right.

You pop in a third Kurosawa film. This one is called George In 1975, which is a live feed of you sitting on your couch, watching this movie.

You look over your shoulder out the window behind you. Just outside is Akira Kurosawa, filming you with his camera! He runs away when you spot him.

You run outside and see that Kurosawa has scuttled onto your roof and hidden behind one of your two chimneys.

“No!” Kurosawa shouts from your roof. “You’ll just get mad at me.”

“Then I’m staying up here forever!” Kurosawa shouts at you.

You throw a rock at Akira Kurosawa, but he stealthily dodges it.

“Hey!” he shouts. “Don’t throw rocks at me!”

You fling another stone at Akira Kurosawa, which hits him square in the forehead with a sickening thump. He tumbles off the roof and crumples in a pile at your feet. You don’t even need to check his legendary director pulse to know that he is dead.

You’ve just murdered one of the luminaries of 20th-century film. It’s no time to lose your cool. You won’t be able to copy his films anymore, but you may have bigger fish to fry.

You’ve just murdered one of the luminaries of 20th-century film; it’s understandable that you would want to lose your cool a bit. You flail your arms and shout for a while. Classic panicking.

Okay. You did that. Now, you have to make some decisions about what to do with the body.

Being a pretty handy guy, you begin building a big gray ball to jam Akira Kurosawa’s corpse into, something that won’t look like a coffin so it won’t draw any attention.

You delight in making this orb coffin, but there’s one problem—you didn’t make it big enough, and it only fits his head and shoulders. You’ll need to make another coffin that won’t draw attention to jam the rest of his body into.

You begin to build a big, hollow spaceship to throw off suspicion that you’re hiding Akira Kurosawa’s body, minus his head and shoulders, in there. You get really into it and make it bigger and bigger and more detailed, eventually hiring a bunch of your buddies to help out with construction.

“Hey, George,” one of the workers says to you. “You makin’ a movie or somethin’ with this giant ship and weird gray ball?”

The thought had not occurred to you.

In half an hour, you sketch the idea for a space movie—Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, Darth Vader, the fate of peace in the galaxy, etc. You use the ball containing Akira Kurosawa’s head and shoulders as a villain base and the big ship as a good-guy ship.

20th Century Fox agrees to fund the project the following day.

You cast Mark Hamill, Harrison Ford, and Carrie Fisher in the main roles, and shooting begins a couple months later using your great props.

It’s on the last day of shooting, when Harrison Ford is in the Millennium Falcon model, that he makes an offhand comment: “Smells like Akira Kurosawa died in here or something!”

You created Star Wars, but you also got arrested for killing Akira Kurosawa!

“Hey! You don’t look surprised at all that Akira Kurosawa’s dead corpse smell is emanating from all these cool props!” Harrison Ford, a notably keen student of body language, says. “I’m gonna kick your ass right down to the police station so you can confess.”

Before you know it, your ass has indeed been kicked down to the police station and you’re thrown in the big slammer.

Yes, the world will know the joys of the Star Wars universe, but you will not be able to enjoy the fruits of your labor as you rot away in a special division of San Quentin State Prison made specifically for people who have killed influential Japanese directors.

You successfully created Star Wars! Congratulations!

“Your body language tells me that this smell of Kurosawa’s decaying corpse has nothing to do with you, George,” Harrison Ford, a keen observer of body language, says to you. “And I should know. I am a keen observer of body language.”

Just like the real George Lucas, you had to murder Akira Kurosawa to create the most successful movie franchise of all time, one that fascinates children and adults alike, and you never got caught. Word is that Kurosawa’s children all went to see the Star Wars films and loved them. Pretty fucked up, right?

Share Your Results

You drag Akira Kurosawa’s body to the stream behind your house.

“No one will see me depositing this body here,” you think to yourself, when you see another man depositing a dead body in the stream.

“Hey!” he shouts. “This is my place to dump dead bodies. I’m the Zodiac Killer, the famous murderer of this era, and this is my turf! Get out of here or I’ll kill you!”

You got George Lucas murdered by the Zodiac Killer!

Being better at killing than you, the Zodiac Killer easily kills you.

After your slaying of Kurosawa is made public, the Zodiac Killer is given a medal for killing you and is exonerated from his other murders. He later goes into film, his first love, and invents Star Wars completely on his own, becoming a celebrated director in American cinema and culture.

You goofed!

Kurosawa comes down from the roof and dusts off his pants.

“Hi, George,” he says. “I’m sorry I was filming you. I steal all my movie ideas from you, but you haven’t made a movie in a few years. There was a lot of pressure on me to make a new film in my native Japan, so I came here to see what you were working on.”

“Huh,” he says. “That is weird.”

“Well, we are each one of the greatest filmmakers of our respective generations,” says Kurosawa. “What if we collaborated? We could make a great movie!”

“I’m thinking a space epic with timeless themes about heroism and the power of individuals doing the right thing! With groundbreaking special effects too!” says Kurosawa excitedly. “What do you say we start working on it right now?”

You created Haunted Rollercoaster 2: Haunted Rollercoaster In Space!

While you successfully created a movie, you did not create Star Wars. You and Kurosawa go on a worldwide press tour to publicize your joint effort and not a single person sees it, including you. The Death Star, Luke Skywalker, Darth Vader—none of these things ever exist.

In this alternate timeline, the United States falls into economic ruin, and the USSR rises to be the only global superpower and rules the earth with an iron fist. Also in this timeline, Elian Gonzalez drowns before getting to Miami.

You get in your car and begin driving to the supermarket.

You continue on the road, driving normal speed. Suddenly, you hear a big thump and feel a slight impact on the front of your car. You stop and look at what you hit.

It’s a dog, and it makes a terrible screaming noise as it dies.

“Huh,” you think to yourself. “This dying dog inspires me to think of an alien race of tall, shaggy men named Wookiees. Their leader could be named Chewbacca.”