The chair is yours
He spent sixty years on stage and seven seasons on a bridge, and he taught a generation what a principled captain sounds like. Sit in the chair for a while, face the dilemmas, and find out what kind of captain you'd be.
Four ways to remember him
The Chair
Ten original command dilemmas drawn from thirty: asylum, first contact, an android's rights and the last tin of Earl Grey on the ship. Earn one of eleven captain types and your Picard concordance.
Engage ▸ QuizBard or Not?
43 real Star Trek titles. Which were lifted from Shakespeare, and which only sound like it? Study mode or 60-second rapid fire.
Play ▸ Integrity testHow Many Lights?
Count the lamps while an interrogator, a fake crew consensus and a pile of bonus points all push you towards the wrong answer. Can you say four?
Begin ▸ TimelineSixty Years Onstage
From a Yorkshire mill town to the RSC, Picard, Professor X and Godot. An interactive timeline with a "Which came first?" streak game.
Explore ▸Why a game?
Patrick Stewart died in Los Angeles on Wednesday, 28 October 2026, at the age of 86. The tributes since have been about more than his roles. People have written about how he played them: with a Shakespearean actor's seriousness, a Yorkshireman's warmth and an unshakable sense that decency is worth the trouble.
Picard was a captain who argued with his crew and stood up for an android's right to exist. He chose talking over shooting whenever he could, and he would not say five when there were four. That makes him a wonderful character to play, so this site lets you try.
All dilemmas and art are original. This is an unofficial fan tribute. Read more about the site and its sources.
Sonnet 73
During his lockdown "Sonnet a Day", he broke his numbered sequence only once, on 12 April 2020, to read Sonnet 73 in memory of his racing hero Sir Stirling Moss.
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
— William Shakespeare