An unfamiliar rugged face belonging to a Twi'lek is taking up the whole viewscreen as it shakes and wobbles from side to side. Finally, after about a minute of random movement, he stops playing with it and walks away from the camera, revealing two chairs a little distance from the camera. One is occupied by a pale green rodian whose sensory stalks are drooping; both pointing to severe dehydration and insomnia. The Twi'lek takes the other and clears his throat.



"People of the galaxy. My name is..." the Twi'lek is bumped by the rodian, who continues to stare at the camera, "Oh yes, you must forgive me. No names, lest we have death marks placed on us.
We are businessmen who recently cut ties with our employers due to their abandonment of our group and myself on a nice planet with nasty locals after our ship crashed. Being the honorable beings we are, we do not seek revenge. We merely want our comrades recovered from that place so we can share stories in a bar with friends who shared the same terror that we did. Now, due to the hostility of this planet only those men who own their own vessels and can fly them like an extension of their body need apply. Hail our satellite upon arriving at the destination and wait there, and you will be briefed further. Reward is included in the package, of course. The planet is called Ba*static*,"



Your view of the world tips on its side, and the Twi'lek quickly jumps up and puts it back in position,



"Remember to bring your breathing masks and a warm jacket. We hope to see you here soon."



With that, the transmission cuts out and you are left thinking you now know less than you did before the broadcast.