An ego enhancing drug that takes hold of a normal (or hyper-normal) ego, foundering in the umbra of rational thought, id ridden, fumbling, and unaware of it or idself, and transforms it into a forged titanium fortress, housing a crystalline consciousness just dripping with highlights and bristling with juicily dangerous sharp edges. Upon consumption of the drug, the consumer remains calm, outwardly, while within burgeons a much larger and Oh-So-Very-Calmer calm… a waveless calm… a serene reposeful, halcyonian calm… a calm based on the sudden and irrefutable knowledge that one is really quite a nice guy… no, a great guy… a prince, in fact… Nay, a Lord! A GREAT LORD, STARK AND TERRIBLE, WHOSE NAME OR INTIMATION OF ONE’S NAME CONJURES OVERAWE AND SOLEMN VENERATION IN EACH MERE AND MORTAL CONSCIOUSNESS WITHIN THE VAST BREADTH OF ONES OMNISCIENT GAZE! FAINT HEARTS QUAIL! ALL BOW – NAY, GENUFLECT – BEFORE THE ALL-KNOWING, ALL-SEEING, ALL-BEING BEING! Outwardly, as we’ve stated, one remains calm. One tipples a beverage, disturbs the nap of the rug with a languorous toe, flicks a speck of mortal coil from one’s cuff, sighs, stifles a well deserved yawn of nascent ennui, while one’s golden thoughts caress the dulcifluous knowledge that one’s oafish acquaintances, ne’er do well relatives, interfering in laws, insensible siblings, impaired parents, gross supplicants and servile hangers-on, the family dog and the whole fam-damnily of humanoid kind, along with their wives, husbands, sisters, cousins, drones, droids, pets and parasites and the countless rat-like embryos of the cosmos at large and their crawling, toady alien counterparts exist ONLY AT ONE’S WHIM, craving only a nod, a wink, a kick to feel elevated for but an instant above the meaningless morass of their own near lives. Kublacaine is the pinnacle, head-wise. Needless to say, it comes in mighty handy on an interstellar jaunt of any great distance. Puts it all in its proper perspective.