The setup for Luke Skywalker’s Death Star run isn’t complicated. Luke and his rebel pals need to shoot a wee little exhaust port to end the menace of the Death Star. (“That’s no moon; it’s a space-opera stand-in for Smaug and his vulnerable weak spot!”) But the shot is a really tough one with major penalties on the TH roll, and the heroes keep missing as the clock and the stock of rebel pilots run out.
(Even their fancy targeting computers aren’t help enough. No, not even computers with astounding vector graphics technology from that far-flung future known to Jedi prophecy as “the 70s”.)
“Use the Force, Luke! Let go!”
– Star Wars: Episode IV – A New Hope
That’s when Luke gets his surprise visit from Ghost Ben, and follows the voice in his head telling him to put away the tech and go with his feels. Huh? That makes no sense when viewed from a proper (i.e., gaming) perspective. Sure, a gamer will borrow that “Force” if it does something useful, but how is flat-out refusing an equipment bonus, even a modest one, going to help anything? (Luke is a PC. On sheer principle alone, he’s never going to turn down a freebie bonus!)
That’s where Something Big happened. It may not be obvious to the movie-goer, but Ben just leveled up Luke! Perhaps it was a point in Zen Gunnery skill, a Star Wars campaign-specific skill that works just like Zen Archery or Zen Marksmanship, cutting Size and Speed/Range penalties to a third upon a successful roll. (Assume that, in this campaign, Force Talent is sufficient prerequisite to gain the skill.)
Or even better: Ben chose that moment to power up Luke with Wild Talent. That’s what Luke used to make this one-shot Zen Gunnery roll! (This is probably the better explanation, really; Luke surely pulls tricks in later movies that are best viewed as uses of Wild Talent.)
Ben’s timely present is just fine within the context of Lucas’ campaign: it’s a part of Luke’s Jedi training that the GM (as Ben) can spend some of Luke’s CP on Force Gifts at dramatically appropriate times. So that’s what happened here, I think. It’s Zen Gunnery that let Luke cut the penalty from, oh, a ridiculous -15, let’s say, to -5. (I’m thinking that -15 is actually a lot worse than the penalty to bulls-eye a womp rat in Beggar’s Canyon, but I wouldn’t go strictly by everything young Luke says. Overconfidence, yes?)
“Luke, you switched off your targeting computer. What’s wrong?”
– Star Wars: Episode IV – A New Hope
All right. So Zen Gunnery explains how Luke gained a fighting chance, and . . . Wait. Why also tell Luke to stow the electronics, Ben? I don’t care how much the Zen Gunnery helped; with the fate of the galaxy in the balance, why throw away a perfectly good targeting computer, which we all know yields a solid +2 TH? (Hm? Yes, I play Car Wars; why do you ask?)
Perhaps the answer is this: fancy-pants tech aids are a hindrance to Zen Gunnery. Or should be, anyway. The reasoning is simple: To rely on computers and stuff is to not turn oneself completely over to the Force (or the Zen or the feels or whatever)!
To get that effect, we could rule that Zen Gunnery doesn’t work with artificial aids, i.e., with anything more than just the weapon itself. It’s scopes or the Force; pick one, not both! But . . . that’s not much fun, is it. How about this idea instead:
Imagine that any bonus from an artificial aid has its usual effect on Gunnery (or whatever it helps) – but also acts as a penalty on Zen Gunnery. Which, in Luke’s case, was the skill on which the galaxy hung. Luke may have had more Force Talent than a Bantha has sand fleas, but his final roll on that Very Hard skill must have been a tough one all the same. (I can’t say how much penalty he faced from the lack of a full 32 seconds of concentration time; his pursuers kindly awarded him that much time after he stashed the computer, but I’d think he’d have to get within actual firing distance before he could start the Zen timer.)
In short: Ben took Luke aside and, in a bit of out-of-character exposition we didn’t hear, explained that accepting the bird in the hand (a +2 TH for that Battlezone-style display) wasn’t nearly worth risking the loss of the huge bird in the bush (effectively a +10 TH from Zen Gunnery). Especially when Luke’s brand-new (and presumably poor) Zen Gunnery skill could not absorb a -2 penalty. The computer had to go.
Ben was one with the rules. Thanks to that ghost Jedi crunching the numbers, Luke made his difficult Zen Gunnery roll (maybe burning a use of Luck or making an impulse buy in the process), which let him make his actual Gunnery roll at a TH penalty he could deal with (presumably with further aid from his weapon’s innate Acc, etc.) Boom went the mini-moon, and it was medals all around (except for Chewie, of course).
That’s how I see it, anyway. So. Say we house-rule that artificial gewgaws enhance attacks as always, but equally hinder mystical “one with the weapon” abilities. This forces a character to decide whether to hang on to the crutch of technology, or whether to truly let go of artifice and embrace the inner-eye thing. It creates a fun choice, something I always like in game rules.
(For players who truly want it both ways, I can imagine a Zen Gunnery technique that buys off the penalties for technological aids. Become one with the gun, and with the targeting scope too.)
“I aim with my eye . . . I shoot with my mind.”
– Stephen King, The Gunslinger
Which raises the question: Should the Luke Rule rule apply to Zen Archery and Zen Marksmanship as well? Sure, I say. Use all the sights, scopes, wind gauges, stabilizers, and rangefinders you like (all lovingly detailed in GURPS books), to claim every TH bonus they can give you. At the same time, enjoy the reduced TH penalties offered by Zen Archery/Marksmanship – if, that is, you can stay enlightened and nail the Zen Archery/Marksmanship roll despite penalties for clinging to technology’s artificial trappings.
Don’t lose sight of real focus, young Padawan, Grasshopper, or Gunslinger. You might shoot truest by setting aside the artifice and aiming with the soul.