star wars equivalent of like the Geek Squad or something though
you’re an employee on like, the Nar Shaddaa Best Buy
people bringing their holocommunicators in for repairs, going “I don’t know, it just started acting really sluggish and scrambling all my calls!” and some poor worker is sitting there in the back looking for the problem and oh, there it is, like a quadrillion yottabytes (thanks wikipedia) of hutt fetish porn and some weird addons that add special effects to incoming holocalls like flowers and fireworks and shit. of course the person who brought it in has absolutely no idea how any of that got there. you begrudgingly “fix” it, knowing you’ll see that person in two weeks with the same problem
someone nervously brings in their datapad because “it’s acting weird, I don’t know.” you tell them to come pick it up in 24 standard hours and get to work diagnosing the vague-ass fucking problem because people are terrible. as you’re looking for signs of anything, you can’t help but notice their holonet history which would make even the scariest Inquisitor blush. you accidentally see some messages you’re not supposed to and you’re pretty sure the person who brought in this datapad is Imperial Intelligence and boy you sure hope they don’t have you disappeared now that you’ve seen their secret horrible illegal-on-like-100-planets porn. they also have like, so many viruses. so many.
in fact, every problem is probably porn. like, 95%. you begin to wonder how the Empire and the Republic manage to maintain a war when everyone is fucking up their holonet-capable equipment with so much goddamn porn
And it all had Yub Nub background music.
Yub.
Nub.
So it’s just regular tech support but in a galaxy a long time ago and very far away
