Advent Celebration – Dec 18th

Less than a week to go, and the misery is over, I thought to myself. It didn’t look as if my attitude towards Christmas was going to change. I knew, deep down, it wouldn’t. How could it? People were hypocrites. Dec 25th would come and go, and I could guarantee you that even on that day of family and celebration there would be those at each other’s throats, screaming and fussing, and even if not, 24 hours later everyone would go back to exactly how they were.

The war wouldn’t stop. The death and violence wouldn’t stop. The enslavement of my people wouldn’t stop. Not because of Christmas.

Christmas was nothing more than an exercise in commercial socialism. People had to participate in the spending of Christmas or be frowned upon by their peers, judged by rules none could quantify, and their perceived worth lowered within in their caste. It might not be a legal or official proclamation, but it was true nonetheless. Christmas was about competition, with coworkers, with family members; who spent the most money on gifts, who had the biggest and best party, etc, etc. It wasn’t as selfless or giving as the media would have us believe.

I was a simple man. I didn’t have room in my life for the complexities and shallow nature of Christmas. And yet somehow, I was ok with myself, and the life I led.


PRIZE: ???

TASK: First of all, I hope everyone had a good chuckle at yesterday’s stories. I know I did. If you didn’t, go back and read them please; they are worth it.

Time is running out! Roc Wieler still doesn’t believe in Christmas Spirit! Today, your task is to interact with Roc directly with respect to your own view of Christmas.

This can be in character, out of character, a mix of the two, whatever you want. It can be happy, sad, angry. For all we know we could be Jewish and support Roc’s position on Christmas. I really don’t know. It’s up to you.

Please post your entries in the comments below, or email them to

I will announce today’s winner at 10 PM EST.

Boy, am I ever late announcing this one. Saw Avatar late last night. Good movie. Today’s winner is Miningzen, whom has won himself a set of posters, care of EON Magazine. Please email your shipping address so I can get these out to you.


PRIZE: $100 US Racial Gift pack from the Eve Online store

TASK: Create a holiday video for your fellow Eve Online players

8 responses to “Advent Celebration – Dec 18th

  1. Roc, I’m gonna level with you, I may not be the shining counterexample you begrudgingly seek, but hear me out at least. I may be Caldari, but I do not support the mass racial conflict that exists in our galaxy, though I can certainly sympathize with the Minmatar sentiment toward the Amarr. I have done things in the past against the Gallente in the name of Caldari Pride, things I’m not proud of; but I’ve long since turned that around by refusing empire-faction kill missions and taking up missions from hostile factions in an effort to try and and better myself as a member of the Human race. No matter where I go this holiday season, whether it be Gallente space or null-sec, I do what I can to brighten the spirit of my fellow man, whether it be volunteering for humanitarian aid with the SoE or giving overly-generous tips to those I interact with in the service industries, or welcoming new capsuleer pilots with (mostly) friendly help and advice, even when others find it easier to needlessly subject them to misguidance and ridicule.

    It is about helping and supporting those less fortunate than yourself; and as a capsuleer, that includes a very large number of people of all races. So hold your head up high, put a smile on your face and a song in your heart, and take pride in helping not only your fellow Matari, but your fellow man. You don’t have to support the commercialism of the holiday season to support the betterment of humanity.

    Wishing you a Merry Christmas and a Happy Holidays,

    Deuce Syundai

  2. The essence of christmas is something that everyone can and should enjoy. Its the one time a year, you can sort of let your guard down and have a good time with your family or close friends. The underlying theme of giving is also good, when you give without thought of return theres usually a really good feeling somewhere in your chest cavity. If nothing else convinces you, just think of all the drinking you can do, and no one will judge you because they’re probably hammered as well.

  3. Christmas is what you make it roc. It can be a joyfull time for all. When you think of christmas don’t think of what it means to you, think of what it means to others. If you fill there expectations whether it be spending time with them, giving them the best gift or just sharing a common hate for the holliday. You will find joy in helping them create there perfict holiday. Merry Christmas

  4. Hello roc,
    I would like to provide an explanation as to why you have not found your “spirit of Christmas” and that because it’s a made up holiday, by the power hungry church, disguised as a good thing (like most things they do) and is really just to gain money. Think about it, every year people spend billions of dollars collectivly, and of course they just give to their church, more than usual, because it’s the “giving season” so people feel that they must fulfill themselves with rightious empowerment by relinquishing their hard earned money to others and expect something in return(deep down we all do). The church wants totale over, don’t let them! Leave presents to birthdays, and don’t say it’s jesus’ birthday that your doing it cuz your not giving it to Jesus (unless your giving thr people thatsay their connected with him ie priests) but giving it to your parents friends and family. Don’t give in Roc Wieler!

  5. What if you think of it in context of the end of the year pre party, a chance to do something for others and celebrate another orbit, without the human race destroying itself. Atleast take the oppurtunity to get blind loaded on egg nogg and spirits and have a good time

  6. Miningzen again, making sure I’m qualified >.<

    It was another cold, black day. That’s what he would be saying, if the tachyon lasers of an Amarrian dreadnought weren’t trying to crack their shields like an egg.
    The lasers pulsed again and he heard muffled cursing from below him as the mechanic added more duct tape or repair paste to their flickering shield emitters. How the dread had found them, he’d never know.
    The gigantic asteroid they had been mining for the better part of a week had finally collapsed, its infrastructure ruined, and they had been celebrating the occasion with ice cold quafe when the first warning lights started blinking and we were informed that our temporary little hideaway was under fire from a ship bigger and more expensive than anything they owned, excluding the station itself.
    The Amarrian ship had come out of nowhere, with no escort, raising the question on how the bastard had survived this long, but an unescorted Dreadnought was still more than enough damage for five miners huddled in a small station. The pilot cursed again at the financial backer for this expedition, lamenting their meager funds that only allowed for two cruise missile launchers, both of which were easily subdued by the punishing force being brought to bear.
    Suddenly, the mechanic’s cursing stopped, a fact which somehow worried the miner more than the cursing. He glanced out the viewport and couldn’t help but notice a distinct lack of lasery death spewing at them. In confusion, he looked around the bleak void beyond the shield bubble, wondering what had caused the zealot bastard to cease his crusade for the beautification of the wormhole or whatever the hell the bastard had been talking about before they jammed his radio, an act that had probably not improved the circumstances.
    His eyes suddenly caught a flash of black on black, a shadow moving within a shadow. Squinting, the shadow’s frame came into view from the light of the firey planet they had anchored the station at.
    It was cruiser class, that much he was certain of, but all the ships he had heard about as a kid looked nothing like this one. It looked almost… insectual, with a curved back of layered metal and a design that made any viewer feel uneased.
    The dreadnought pilot certainly seemed uneased, although it was hard to tell, seeing as the thing hadn’t moved in the last seven minutes. The shadow that was not a shadow suddenly lit it’s engines, accelerating to speeds that seemed god-like to the veteran pilots of mining barges, settling into a tight orbit around the Amarr ship.
    Autocannons and missiles rained down on the behemoth, and more ships appeared around it as ships of Minmatar design swarmed in and around the golden monster. The Amarr bastard gave a dying scream, or would have if the jamming signal the mechanic had rigged hadn’t completly shut down his outward brosdcasts. The Dreadnought exploded, a blinding white light against the black darkness of space, and when the pilot could see again, each ship, each one looking like the result of an explosion in various girder factories, had aligned themselves to the station.
    A blinking light on a console near him indicated that one of their rescuers wanted a talk. Hastily screaming at the mechanic to shut the jam off, just in case, he shakily opened an audio link. A gravely tone came forward.
    “This is Colonel Roc Wieler, current leader of the Tribal Liberation Force’s Wormhole Exploration Squad. You have five minutes EXACTLY before we leave this system and by that time I expect every Quafe can and cigarette you have in that floating pile of Caldari crap in a canister outside your shields. Some of us have been in this dead-end corner of space for a very, very long time and the cigs ran dry weeks ago, leaving us with very, very twitchy fingers over our fire controls. Do I make myself PERFECTLY clear?”.
    After a very hasty sir yessir, said faster than the miner had ever heard himself speak, their remaining cans of Quafe and month supply of cigarettes was loaded into their shuttle and left at the metaphorical feet of the fleet that still looked like a floating junkyard to the miner. The comms crackled to life again.
    “Ahhhhh….. that’s the stuff. Civvies, I don’t know how the hell you got here, how the hell you’ve survived this long, but I sure as hell don’t care. Now, before we take our leave, is there anything else you’d like to say to us? Perhaps along the lines of a ‘Thank you’?”.
    The words flew past his lips, and at the time it seemed customary to utter the phrase “Merry Christmas”. The sudden silence of the comms seemed to speak differently, though. after an eternity all of thirty seconds, the comms cracked to life for a third time.
    “The only, I repeat, ONLY reason that I’m not going to order the good men and women with me to burn through your shields and explain to you how much of a pile of shit that belief is is because fully half of those men and women are enjoying the first smoke they’ve had in weeks. Now, if you and your little deity wouldn’t MIND, we will take our leave. Unless you’ve got some sort of cross you’d like to throw at us?”
    After fifteen seconds of shaking his head, the miner remembered that the chat was audio only, and a stuttery “Sir, nosir”, was beamed across the void as the ships vanished in all directions as quickly as they had come.

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