The universe might be an infinite expanse full of incredible opportunities, but it doesn't exactly feel that way when you're a grad student. For the last several cycles your life has had a laserlike focus as you strive to get those hallowed letters beside your name. It's a small thing that carries untold power and prestige in your chosen field of Terminal Societies. A field which itself is quite popular; there's something about a galaxy-spanning civilization which has banned all forms of violence that makes them deeply, almost disturbingly fascinated with the various ways that other peoples crashed and burned along the way.

The end of the semester is fast approaching, and soon you and your classmates will be sent out in flitships to locate a dead or dying world and analyze what circumstances caused its downfall. However, this is still college, and that means there's always going to be a big party to mark any major event. Or minor event. Or any day where the constant strain of studying and debating with other intellectual elites demands some proper stress release in the form of inhaling some sick vapors and guzzling a few primitive liquid spirits when no one is looking. On the other hand, if you can resist the siren song of the social gathering, it could provide an opportunity to get a leg up on making an informed request on your thesis planet.