Politics

“I have no disrespect towards Shakor, and you’re a fool if you think you can manipulate me on that path.” I said, remaining seated, my elbows propped on my thighs, staring at the bottom of my cell. This entire block smelled of urine, feces and blood, but my senses had already adjusted to accepting that as normal. It was the body and mind’s way of adapting for survival.

“That wasn’t my intentional at all, Wieler. I merely wanted to point out some simple and recent historical facts about the man we all call Sanmatar. The Republic is built on tribel democracy, on the strengths of our differences, by the unity of our core beliefs and culture. Every Matari has a voice within their tribe. Every tribal leader has a voice within the council of parliament.”

“Yes, yes, I know these things. I am not a child. Do not speak to me as such.” I said with muted hostility.

“My apologies; my intention was not to offend. It is just that when I heard of your current situation, and found you here, in this place,” he gestured with open arms at the cell, his robes of office flowing freely around him, “I didn’t know exactly what to think. I mean, it is a known fact you have been a hero in this war. It is known you are loved by the people, despite Shakor’s attempts to discredit your name. Ah, I see that has gotten your attention.”

Shakor and I were colleagues, friends, sharing very similar ideas for the future of the Republic. Both of us were military men, and had a straightforward, above board approach to how things should be run. He had my respect, and I thought I had his.

“It is also known that you would do anything to discredit the Sanmatar’s good name, Orvas Seriador.” I said in return. He withered slightly under the attack, but quickly regained his composure. Someone not as finely attuned to reading body language might not have noticed any reaction at all.

“I am sorry to have wasted your time, Matar Colonel; oh, my apologies, you no longer bear that rank or honour. Forgive my ill manners.”

He smiled with genuine inflection, but I knew it was just another manoeuver in his game. I would play along until I knew what his real agenda was.

As I was opening my mouth for a witty rebuttal, he continued on, cutting me short.

“Just think about the facts of Shakor’s rise to power. There were no opposing candidates during his election. There was no traditional policies upheld at all. And since he’s taken rule of the Republic, he’s pretty much dissolved parliament and has made military action his highest priority, sacrificing hundreds of thousands of lives to date in an unnecessary war we cannot hope to win. It’s madness.”

Madness. Interesting choice of words from the leader of the Sebeistor Tribe considering where our clandestine talks of usurping power were taking place.

“It’s a crazy universe.” I grumbled.

“Indeed it is.” Seriador agreed, thinking I was acknowledging his points about Shakor.

“What is you want, Seriador?” I said bluntly, ignoring his honorific, my own shot back at him for being petty with titles. Respect was measured by the actions of a man, not by the shiny medals on his uniform, or the fancy robes he wore.

“I simply have a need for real answers, Wieler.” he replied with measured timing. “This is a dangerous precipice for our people. With the Thukkers returning to the fold, we are a united people, but at what cost to maintain? Already there have been failures, the Salvation Crusade debacle being one of recent note, as well as your incarceration here.”

“Did you ever think things might be worse if we had a lesser man at the helm?” I asked with sincerity.

“Perhaps. But perhaps you do not know our ‘captain’ as well as you believe, to continue your analogy. Where is he now? Has he been to visit you, his dear friend and loyal servant of the Republic? Did he speak for you at your defence?”

He let his questions hang in the air and I had no immediate answer. My thoughts raced, suddenly following new paths of reasoning, new paranoid delusions of political backdealings and deceptions.

Damn you Shakor. Why hadn’t you been there for me? I hated even questioning his integrity, but Seriador had hit a nerve.

“As you said, it’s as though the universe has gone insane. What better place to find the next Sanmatar than here?”

Seriador smiled once again, with the hypnotic gaze of a viper luring its prey closer until the predator was ready to strike.

“And why not you? Why don’t you run for the position? You’ve never been one to give away power.” I said, knowing some of the political history of Orvas Seriador.

Seriador held his hands up in surrender, waving away my comment. ” I know I am not the man our people need in the immediate years to come. I am here to advise, of course, but I am aware of enough to concede I simply do not bear the strengths needed to out Shakor for the tyrant he is, at least not now. No, better to have the right man for the right job, and in my heart, I know that is you, Sanmatar Wieler.”

I scowled at him for using that title. It was all illusion. Look at my left hand while my right hand slaps you. I had learned my lessons in politics well from Shakor. Is this why he kept encouraging me to get involved? Was it to protect me from despicable men like Seriador?

Or was Shakor protecting his own interests? Did he see me as a threat early on, and thought to keep me under his thumb?

There were too many unanswered questions.

“Just say the word, Wieler, and I can have you out of here, with a snap of my fingers.” He held up his hand, ready to snap his fingers to illustrate his point.

I have to admit, it was very tempting. I needed to be out of that hellish place. There were Amarr that needed to die. Despite what Seriador believed, victory in the war was not impossible. The Amarr Empire could be toppled. Yet I wasn’t ready to owe Seriador for my freedom; the price was too high. He would expect me to do his bidding, being the real power behind the Sanmatar title, and that was something I would never let happen.

I had too much to think about.

“You’ve give me a lot to think about, Seriador. I need to work through it, in solitude. Can’t think of a better place to do that then here.” I lied. I hated this place. I hated what it was doing to me. I thought it was starting to break me. Is realizing you were slowly being broken part of not being broken? Or is it the opposite? Were you already broken if you started thinking about yourself in the third person, narrating your own life as it unfolded around you? Either way, I was slowly starting to lose my grasp on reality.

I had heard rumours of sane people succumbing to insanity simply by being in environments like this. It happened in war, why shouldn’t it happen there?

“As you wish, Wieler.” Seriador said, bowing slightly, as he backed out of my cell. “Just know I will come back to visit you often, and we will not speak of politics, but rather perhaps I can simply be here to listen to a friend in need, if you will consider me such.”

“Yeah, whatever.” I replied.

“Very good.” Seriador said, ignoring my blatant sarcasm. “And as your friend, let me ask, is there anything you’d like me to bring on my next visit?”

A frigate to blow the hell out of this place? A platoon of marines? Nah, too subtle.

“I’d really like a nice…” Did I want to owe this man for anything? Did I want to play this game?

“Yes” he asked, his eyebrow arching.

“I’d really like a nice cigar.” I said.

He laughed, throwing his head back as he did so.

“Very good. I shall bring you some wrapped from leaves nestled in the jungles of the southern continent. We can enjoy the experience together.”

He laughed again, unprompted as far as I could tell.

“What?” I asked.

He leaned close to me, whispering in my ear.

“Isn’t it a little crazy when you think about it? Here we are, in this place, the famed Roc Wieler and myself, Orvas Seriador, secretly plotting to overthrow the government and usher in a new era of prosperity for the people of the Republic from the depths of an insane asylum? Perhaps we should both be kept here for the good of all.”

He stood up, laughing again, and suddenly I realized I hated this man.

“Crazy is as crazy does.” I replied. “And you’re free to stay. I could use the company.” I leaned back in a welcoming gesture.

Again he waved me away with his hands. The man had very easy tells.

“No, no, I speak in jest, and it was insensitive of me I clearly see. My apologies, my new friend. I shall come back as soon as my duties allow, and we will enjoy a fine cigar together. Fly safe, Colonel Wieler.”

Interesting.

“May the gods guide you.” I said, speaking the traditional reply.

Politics was draining. I needed a nap.

Recipe – Minmatar Power Bars

Intravenous tubes sustaining us with protein. Catheters removing our bodily wastes. Amniotic like fluids maintaining homeostasis amidst all piloting conditions. Enhanced computerized filtering of all sights and sounds.

That is what life is like inside a pod, and life is good.

Outside the pod is a different story entirely for a capsuleer. Muscle atrophy, overpowering spices and tastes in foods, nauseating scents assaulting our olefactory; regular life can be brutal when you’re not accustomed to it. Never take normalcy for granted my friends.

Something I’ve always kept handy when leaving my ship; something I’ve always trusted not to make me gag when my senses are new and weak; something that is healthy but perceived as somewhat “normal” among the civilians is power bars. Power bars can pretty much sustain you when needed, though I don’t recommend it, but if you need an extra boost to your day, give these a try.

Minmatar Power Bars

INGREDIENTS:

  • 2 cups almonds (raw)
  • 1/2 cup flax seed
  • 1/2 cup shredded coconut (unsweetened)
  • 1/2 cup unsalted almond butter
  • 1/2 teaspoon sea salt
  • 1/2 cup coconut oil
  • 4 drops stevia liquid
  • 1 tablespoon agave nectar
  • 1 tablespoon vanilla extract
  • 1 cup dark chocolate 73% or higher (optional)

METHOD:

  1. Place almonds, flax seeds, shredded coconut, almond butter and salt in a food processor.
  2. Pulse briefly, about 10 seconds.
  3. In a small sauce pan, melt coconut oil over very low heat.
  4. Remove coconut oil from stove, stir stevia, agave and vanilla into oil.
  5. Add coconut oil mixture to food processor and pulse until ingredients form a coarse paste.
  6. Press mixture into an 8 x 8 glass baking dish.
  7. Chill in refrigerator in 1 hour, until mixture hardens.
  8. In a small saucepan, melt chocolate over very low heat, stirring continuously.
  9. Spread melted chocolate over bars; return to refrigerator for 30 minutes, until chocolate hardens.
  10. Remove from refrigerator, cut into bars and serve.

SERVING SIZE: Makes 20 bars

Recipe originally found at Elana’s Pantry.

My sympathies

From: Anarine
To: Roc Wieler,  c/o Majanuni Institute, Pator

Dear Roc,

This message will surely be a surprise to you. You do not know me, and I do not have the pleasure of knowing you personally, I only know you from the news and gossip that I hear from different channels.

I do not know if it is true, and I do not know if all the details I have are correct, but my sources are normally very trustworthy, therefore I must assume the worst.

Do not let my reputation of being a lab rat fool you. We all fight for a cause, and while I may not be on the front lines, my combat is to keep fellow Gallenteans armed and ready, and of course our trusted allies, the Minmatar. Lab rat or not, I’ve been on the front lines, and I’ve had Aura scream at me. Flying a CovOps might seem a sign of weakness for some, but it normally leaves you deep in enemy territory, and I’ve seen my fair share of battles in 0.0 space, fighting for TCF. I have seen hundreds of pilots on the field, and both friends and foe flash frozen naked in space, their ship having been torn apart by war, and their capsules little more than tritanium scraps. In the midst of explosions, laser beams and bullets, war can be a nerve-wrecking experience, and I’ve seen what no person should see; fellow pilots whom found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time, torn apart by bombs thrown at the enemy fleets. I have even been a victim to such acts, a fellow pilot mistaking me, having been frightened by my decloaking close to a friendly fleet. It left me in a pod, far from home, and inevitably waking up in a clone facility after dozens of jumps deep in enemy space, but I have learned to forgive the pilot which did that to me. War is a terrible thing, and it does terrible things to the best of us. That pilot is now a close friend, and we talk regularly.

I have heard of your trial, and of the verdict. My sympathies go out to you, as more than anyone else, I can understand what you went through, and, I believe, what you are going through right now.

I don’t care what any tribunal says, you are a man of honour.

Forgive my bad English; Gallenteans are of French origin, and I’ve kept my origins more than others.

Kind regards,

Anarine

My therapist had been kind enough to secret this to me, as any personal items were strictly prohibited within the mental health and wellness facility.

A part of me was saddened and disturbed that word of my predicament was spreading so quickly, but I wasn’t really surprised. In general, people were vultures, picking at the carcass of any newsworthy gossip, in an attempt to make their own existences seem less pathetic by comparison.

A secondary, more human part of me was moved emotionally at the compassion in this letter from a stranger. It reminded me of why I had made every hard decision in my life without hesitation or regret.

Amidst the screams and howls, against other “guests” talking to themselves, crying or laughing hysterically, scratching themselves until their skin bled, or simply smashing their heads against the wall, I felt connection with another.

I wasn’t abandoned, forgotten, alone in the universe, and I sure as hell didn’t belong here.

Just another day

Have you ever felt so worn down, so beat down, that you simply don’t know what keeps you going sometimes? Have you ever felt that no matter what you might accomplish it simply doesn’t make a difference in the grand scheme of themes? Have you ever experienced such a disconnect from your own life, your own emotions, that when friends and families share there triumphs and heartaches you simply don’t have the energy to empathize or truly care? Regardless of the sunshine or the heavy rains, does every day feel like just another grey and lifeless day?

Some would say it’s a sign of depression, or an indication of mental instability. Others would warn that these behaviours and attitudes could lead to passive/aggressive or sociopathic behaviour.

I say it’s overpriced brain manure and people should stop getting involved in other people’s business so much. Sorry doc, that wasn’t an intentional slight at you, though I suppose it still reveals some issues we’re going to have to work through together. Lovely.

Sometimes life just hands you lemons. There is an old adage that says make lemonade, but what they fail to mention is that it still tastes sour and bitter. Or plant a lemon tree, which to me just creates more sour and bitter.

I say “It is what it is”, and regardless of our own attitudes towards these situations and times in our lives, we just have to keep moving forward and eventually we’ll find ourselves somewhere else on our journey, or we won’t. Not really a lot we can do about it.

The Amarr had been pushing aggressively throughout all of our systems, their fleets growing in size, working together, making sure none were caught alone and offguard.

General Mintor had been doing well to direct many of the Tribal Liberation Force’s fleets towards coordinated defensive attacks, as well as small guerilla style strikes into enemy space.

I liked his approach in this regard. He didn’t assign duties based on personal preference, nor rank. Instead, it was through drawing straws. You showed up for assignments, and you randomly selected one.

If Mintor thought you were completely incapable, he would overrule this method of course. The man wasn’t a fool.

I drew my straw and hoped it would give me the chance to kill as many Amarr pigs as possible.

“Colonel Wieler, you’ll be intercepting and destroying a large supply convoy in Ardar. Good hunting.”

I saluted, already relishing the opportunity to eradicate as many Amarr as possible.

“Will the defendant please rise.” The Tribal Magistrate commanded. I stood to my feet, the binders tight on my wrists. I had been in this position before; it was never comfortable. I felt trapped, caged, feral, wanting my freedom by any means necessary. I was a spectacle, paraded for a show I couldn’t watch.

My military lawyer stood beside me, looking into my deep brown eyes, trying to reassure me that everything was going to be fine. It wasn’t going to be fine, not as long as a single Amarr still breathed life into their lungs.

“The prosecution may begin.” The Magistrate ordered.

There were too many large fleets out and about on my way to Ardar. I was disappointed. No matter how much I baited, or lingered in a system safe spot, I couldn’t lure any single frigates or cruisers out to play. They were following strict fleet activity patterns; they either came in together as one, or not at all.

The Amarr had never been this consistently organized before; something had changed.

Eventually I made it to Ardar.

“Colonel Roc Wieler, beginning my assault.” I transmitted across the fleet comms.

The fleet was to disperse to its individual tasks, then rendezvous at the place of Mintor’s choosing after our individual assignments were finished. It was a sound strategy, keeping the Amarr confused, and should they wish to engage us, they would have to dissipate into smaller wings, giving us a fighting chance. Mintor was definitely nobody’s fool.

“Copy that, Wieler. Advise caution. Ardar is hot. Fleet’s regrouping here. Multiple complexes under fire. More hostiles inbound by the second. Finish up quickly if you can; we’re going to need every pilot we have to secure this system.”

That was convenient. The fleet was meeting in Ardar and the Amarr were coming to us, to me. My Rifter class frigate surged forward as my mind lost control momentarily, revelling with glee at the thought of the upcoming feeding frenzy.

I quickly regained control of my ship, and headed towards the enemy convoy.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve appeared before this Tribunal, is it Matar Colonel?” The prosecutor asked me once I was sworn in and had taken the stand. I didn’t like being up here. It was too easy for any of my numerous enemies to get a clear line of fire; too easy for the media to catch an innocent gesture or comment and turn it into another exaggerated performance for the galaxy to see. My career was still recovering from the last misunderstanding I had with the board of ethical conduct; I didn’t need this. I needed to be out fighting the Amarr. While we wasted our time here dealing with trivial bullshit, our people were suffering under their oppressive hands.

Was I the only one that understood what was at stake? Was I the only one who…

“Colonel Wieler, the question, if you please.” the prosecutor repeated.

I had drifted.

“No, this is not my first time defending my actions to the Tribunal; wasted time and effort that could be better spent letting me do my job, letting me free our people from”

“From the oppressive tyranny of the Amarr?” the prosecutor cut me off with dramatic sarcasm.

I nodded, seething inside.

“Yes, Colonel, we’re all aware of the Amarr and your one man crusade against them.” the prosecutor continued on, leaving me confused. One man? The entire Tribal Liberation Force fought against the Amarr. How did he figure it was a one man crusade?

Why didn’t my representative interject? Why didn’t I interject?

The prosecutor had been paid off, that was the only reasonable explanation. The Amarr had bought him. This entire farce was a setup. I wouldn’t let them succeed.

The last freighter exploded, defenseless, the Imperial Crusade pilots having warped off as I thinned their numbers with zeal. Aura was going haywire, my overview flickering, sometimes showing numerous open complexes, other times showing none. The system of Ardar read contested, then uncontested, then contested, with dozens of enemy ships on my HUD, then none, then an entire fleet.

The Ripsack had sustained heavy damage at one point during the engagement, leaving me at 4% hull integrity. I had never been that close before, and it wasn’t a feeling I enjoyed.

The nanites were busy repairing the armour plating, but the internal structure would remain weak until I could dock up for repairs, which wouldn’t be anytime soon.

“Objective completed.” I transmitted to General Mintor, already aligning towards the fleet.

Fleet chatter had been busy the entire time I was running my mission. The Amarr weren’t giving up, and kept sending new pilots into the largest of the complexes, slowly thinning our numbers through attrition.

I needed to be there. Mintor confirmed.

“Roger that, Wieler. Get here as soon as you can. Hostiles on the acceleration gate, be ready.”

“Enroute to you now, sir. Wieler out.”

Warp had never felt so slow.

“The incident we would like to talk about today occured 4 days ago, at exactly 19:24, according to your ship’s logs. Does that sound accurate to you, Colonel?” the prosecutor spat out from between the space in his front teeth.

I grinded my teeth. I didn’t want to talk to this traitor one more second. I envisioned myself lunging from the witness stand, grabbing his skinny neck between my hands, crushing the life out of him for betraying us all.

Don’t drift, I reminded myself. People get nervous when you drift.

“Yes, that sounds accurate. I would like to note that my Aura unit was malfunctioning at that time, so may not be 100% reliable in this event.”

“Really Colonel? The transmitted data seemed accurate to the technicians. Shame that we can’t run diagnostics against your Aura unit now, seeing as how your frigate was destroyed, but I’m getting ahead of myself.” the prosecutor smiled with pure malice and evil.

I would kill him soon.

The acceleration gate was clear. I used it to warp into the complex. Adrenaline surged through my veins; soon I would feast on Amarr blood.

Reverting to normalspace, I could see multiple hostiles engaging our fleet. A Crusader was within 7500m of my position. If I could lock it now, it would be one less for us to have to deal with.

My target acquisition was swift. I urged Aura to overheat the guns and fire. She spat back at me, warning me that this action would be considered a global criminal offence, was I sure I wanted to continue?

Of course I wanted to kill this Amarr pilot. This faulty unit was going to get me killed. I gave the override command and was immediately engaged with the Crusader.

My entire person was consumed with hatred and joy at the same time: hatred for these pigs that were a blight to all civilizations; joy that at least a few more would die by my hand today.

“According to those very same ship logs, Colonel, you opened fire on a Crusader. Is that correct?” the prosecutor asked.

Without hesitation, I replied. No more drifting.

“Yes, that is correct. I did my job, as I always do.” My job killing Amarr of course.

“And did anything … unusual … occur next, Colonel?” the prosecutor asked.

He was baiting me. What was he digging for? Where was he hoping for me to slip up?

I thought about the events in question again, detail by detail, making sure I missed nothing.

My armor tank was holding, the Crusader’s shields slowly melting beneath the Republic Fleet Fusion ammo. My HUD flickered. There were several Crusaders, then none, alongside several Matari designed ships, then none. Multiple warning klaxons warbled to life, then there was darkness and pain, followed by light and rebirth.

I screamed in frustration and cognitive processing as my mind accepted the new clone body.

My ship had been destroyed. Goddamned Amarr fucking pigs.

While the loss of the ship was regrettable, there was nothing peculiar about the encounter that stood out in my mind.

“To the best of my recollection, everything was by the book.” I stated with certainty at my word choices. There would be no manipulating me, traitor.

The prosecutor smiled. “No further questions.”

The magistrate allowed for my defense to cross examine me.

“Matar Colonel Wieler, do you know why you are here today?” the defence lawyer asked.

“No sir, I do not. As far as I can ascertain, it’s to question my integrity in fighting the Amarr, my ability to follow standard protocols, and some administrative lackie somewhere getting bent out of shape at me losing a frigate, which I’m happy to replace from my own personal funds.”

The defense lawyer scowled at me, willing me to shut up, so I reigned in my growing outrage at the entire situation.

“Were you read your rights, or informed of any details whatsoever regarding this case upon your detainment?” he continued.

“No sir. I went peaceably, with nothing to hide, as would any proud Brutor.”

Where was this going?

“And you also declined an attorney, correct?”

“As I said, I’ve got nothing to hide, so no need for someone to defend me. I have a proud service record, several commendations and medals awarded since the war began, and have served dutifully for almost three years.”

“And we thank you for your service, Colonel Wieler. And yet I was assigned to be your defense today, regardless of your personal preference. Do you know why, Colonel?”

I already had said no. Why was he asking me again? Was he in on it too? Had the Amarr gotten to both of them? Was there some higher level conspiracy I wasn’t aware of? I needed to get out of here and get to the bottom of this, needed to prove the Amarr were more dangerous than anyone knew but me.

“Again sir, with respect, I am unaware.”

The magistrate interrupted. “Do you have anything relevant to ask the Colonel about the incident itself, council, or are you simply stalling to waste all of our time?”

At least the magistrate seemed to not be on the take. That was a good sign. I might get through this intact after all.

“No, your honour, I have nothing more.” The defence lawyer sat down, and I was still left in the dark as to what the hell was going on.

There was no media present. That meant blackout. That meant it was serious. How the Amarr had managed to arrange something like this was staggering to think about. The money involved, the planning, the right people in the right positions. We were infected with their disease.

“Matar Colonel Roc Wieler.” the Tribunal Magistrate began.

“This Tribunal finds you guilty of High Treason, for firing on your fellow pilot, Boris, also known as ‘The Butcher’, in direct violation of …”

What? What was he talking about? I never fired on Boris, did I?

Fleet comms was broadcasting frantically.

“Stand down! I repeat, Colonel Wieler, stand down! You’re firing on friendlies!”

His shields were melting beneath my Republic Fleet Fusion ammo.

“All nearby pilots, take his ship out from under him, but do not pod the Colonel. I repeat, if anyone kills him, you’ll have to answer to me.”

I could do this. I could kill the Crusader and move onto… darkness, and pain, then light.

WTF?

“The evidence is irrefutable, both from the testimony of other pilots in your fleet, as well as multiple ship records detailing the incident.

Why was Boris flying a Crusader? Why would any Matari fly an Amarr ship? What was happening here?

“This Tribunal finds you guilty as charged, and you are immediately relieved of rank and command.”

I would never fire on a fellow pilot. Was it my faulty Aura unit? Say something, Roc!

“Furthermore, you are to be held in protective custody at a secured military institution until such a time as you can be diagnosed as mentally cognizant. Failure to do so within one year’s time will result in your dishonourable discharge from the Tribal Liberation Force without compensation as you are returned to civilian life. Dismissed.”

The Magistrate hammered his gavel. The case was over.

“I would never fire on a fellow pilot.” I said weakly.

“Off the record, Colonel, I’m glad this happened.” the Magistrate said. “Pilots like you are a danger to themselves and everyone around them. And this isn’t your first questionable act in the line of serving the Republic. You’re a disgrace to all of us. You’re lucky you didn’t kill anyone; I would’ve had you executed without hesitation. Now get out of my sight.”

Two armed guards came and escorted me to a holding cell, presumably until transportation could be arranged.

Boris, I’m sorry. I’ll figure out how the Amarr set this up, and I’ll make them pay. I’ll make them pay a thousandfold.

[OOC Request] This is a pretty huge moment for the development of Roc as a character. I would ask that if you’ve read this, please post your own blog entry relating to the aftermath of this event, and how it affects your character, or doesn’t affect your character.

I’m sure the news will be made public as quickly as possible, but how does it play out? How do people react? I look forward to reading your posts. Thanks.

NEW EDEN RESPONDS:

[OOC] My EveSpace

NOTE: Please forgive the poor quality images. Someone in my house has misplaced my camera charger, so until then I am stuck taking pictures with my iPhone.

I know, I’m a little slow sometimes, but here is the current state of my office. This summer, I’m laying down some ancient hardwood, unstained or smoothed, and a new antique wooden desk. I think it will look nice, the contrast of old and new.

DAYTIME

TOWER 200

For when you can’t get up in the morning to get to the gym, or squeeze in time at lunch, and feel too lazy to go after work, the Tower 200 is a great pulley gym system to help maintain muscle tone.

REFERENCE MATERIAL

It’s important to balance intellectual pursuits. From comics to alternate history novels to 3D art training and actionscript development to a little bit of HBO on the TV, always keeping the brain engaged is a good thing. In the background, is the EON Magazine EVE Online Regional Map.

ROC’S DESK

They say you can learn a lot about a person by the way they keep their desk. So what do my desk items tell you about me? Collectible lightsabers on top, Serenity Steele’s EVE Strategic Mapbook at hand, DLink DNS-321 NAS, DIR-655 Router hidden behind, self portrait with smaller, personal picture, LG W2753W monitor. I’ll let you come to your own opinions and observations.

RIGS

My two gaming rigs: Firetail (left) and Rifter (right). Oh, and R2D2 on the right.

STAR WARS

Let’s get this out of the way now, I was a day one Star Wars Galaxies veteran, and played for 5 years. Before there was ever Eve Online, there was Star Wars, the greatest science fiction universe ever created. Ever since I was a child, I’ve loved Star Wars; in fact if not for Star Wars my life choices would’ve been very different so far as career, hobbies, intellectual pursuits, moral beliefs, etc, etc. And yes, Darth Vader was at my wedding last year with a full complement of Stormtroopers.

I almost forgot; that’s Darth Tater and Artoo Potatoo on top of the display case.

DARTH VADER

To me, there is no greater science fiction persona than Vader, despite what Hayden Christensen tried to do with him in the newer trilogy. When I had the chance to enter a 3D contest to win this $400 Sideshow Collectible Vader, I was all over it, and the Force was with me. On the second shelf is a collectible pin set of the six movies, and on the bottom shelf is my original Collector’s Edition Star Wars Galaxies: An Empire Divided box set. Such a shame. The original game had so much potential, but Sony Online Entertainment thought they would show how amazing they were at handling the greatest Intellectual Property of all time by not just destroying it once, but completely obliterating it twice.

Be thankful though. If not for that, Roc Wieler might well never have existed.

Also, I apologize to anyone distracted by the reflection of that incredibly handsome and well built man in the image reflection.

STUFF

Yes, that’s a real piggy bank. He even oinks when you put money in him. Up front is the best micro copter I’ve ever seen, the Falcon. It’s worth owning just for the Japanese manual translated into the funniest English I’ve ever read. For example, first troubleshooting tip, Controller power switch is “OFF”. Solution: Turn power switch “ON”. Thank God for the Japanese. Only other interesting item on the dresser is the Tim Horton’s gift card (I don’t drink coffee), and the Cult of Eric Cartman membership card.

THERE BE DRAGONS

When I saw this piece I thought it was very well done, even though not entirely my style. Still, glad I bought it. It’s interesting.

IRON TIDE

One of the single most impressive pieces of Eve Online I have seen is Iron Tide. Thankfully, EON did up a large poster version of this art which I proudly have on my wall. I hope one day I create such a work that people speak of in the same vein. Also, I have a bed in my office. I tend to overdo things and can hardly make it out of the room before collapsing.

FANFEST

Some more excellent Eve Online artwork postcards, and my Eve Online Fanfest 2009 Guest pass. Good times.

100% RECYCLED AWESOME

Two reasons this image made it into this post: 1. Christine Spar was the best Grendel, period. 2. That wood block Obi-Wan Kenobi toy has the coolest phrase printed on the side of the package; made from 100% recycled awesome. I liked it so much, I used it on my blog for a while.

MORE VADER

I get the coolest Christmas presents. My friends and family know not to get me lame Star Wars stuff. Instead, I get fully sentient R2 units, the Force Trainer (coolest toy ever made that you play with your frickin brain!), collectible lightsabers, and Darth Vader’s robotic arm. I mean, c’mon, it’s a great time to be a kid (or an adult that acts like one).

GOTTA ROC

Yup, I have a picture of Matar Colonel Roc Wieler on my desk. Helps me stay in character. I just glance over at him and think “WWRD?” That beautiful woman in the lower corner is my wife. I just glance over at her and think “What would she NOT do and kick my ass for doing?” It’s a good balance for my virtual life.

Below are some night shots, just for fun. I don’t actually turn all this stuff on at night, but figured might as well for showcasing my Eve Space.

Hope you enjoyed.

NIGHT TIME

Lots of pretty lights. Didn’t mention the CyberPower unit earlier. It’s the one in the bottom left.

From a lower angle you can see the lights of the Router in the back. And yes, I really am fond of Windows 7.

Lightsabers rock.

Ok seriously, not enough can be said about Hasbro’s Interactive R2. 360 degree hearing, infrared and motion sensing, flashlight, positional memory, orientation detection, seo services, beer arm, thick treads for plowing across carpet, voice recognition, personality, and the fact that his beeps and warbles start to make sense after a while… R2 really is the coolest.

Sadly, I just found out tonight that Vader’s lights no longer work. Shame really. His saber lights up as well as his chest plate and belt lights. It really is impressive, most impressive. Ah well.

Humble Pie

At some point in each of our lives, we will fill the metaphoric meaning behind this recipe, whether we admit it or not. But what is “Humble Pie”?

Quite simply, the origin of “eating humble pie” came from ancient times, when the deer entrails of the daily hunt were thrown to the peasants, who then made them into a pie while the aristocrats ate the better meat. Quite simply, eating humble pie is to face the lowest forms of humiliation.

I remember a time I faced the Military Tribunal, something about shooting on our own forces…

Humble Pie

INGREDIENTS:

  • Entrails of a deer – stomach, washed intestine, liver, etc.
  • Beef suet to the same weight as the deer entrails
  • 10 cloves
  • 1 tsp mace
  • 1 tsp nutmeg
  • 1 tsp cinammon
  • 1 pinch salt
  • 4 pounds of currants
  • 1/2 pound of candied orange, lemon and citron peel
  • 1/2 pound of dates
  • pie shells

METHOD:

  1. Parboil the Humbles of a deer
  2. Take all the fat off of them
  3. Add the Beef suet and mince it finely
  4. Season it with cloves, mace, nutmeg, and a little cinammon and salt
  5. Put some currants, candied peels and dates, stoned and sliced
  6. Fill your pie and lid it
  7. When baked, put in a sack and serve it

Blog Banter #16 – Financial Survival

Welcome to the sixteenth installment of the EVE Blog Banter, the monthly EVE Online blogging extravaganza created by CrazyKinux. The EVE Blog Banter involves an enthusiastic group of gaming bloggers, a common topic within the realm of EVE Online, and a week to post articles pertaining to the said topic. The resulting articles can either be short or quite extensive, either funny or dead serious, but are always a great fun to read! Any questions about the EVE Blog Banter should be directed to crazykinux@gmail.com. Check out other EVE Blog Banter articles at the bottom of this post!
The third Blog Banter of 2010 comes to us from ChainTrap of the Into the unknown with gun and camera EVE Blog. He asks us: “Eve University turns six years old on March 15th; six years spent helping the new pilots of New Eden gain experience and understanding in a supportive environment. Eve is clearly a complicated game, with a ton to learn, so much that you never stop learning. So, the question is; What do you wish that someone had taken the time to tell you when you were first starting out? Or what have you learned in the interim that you’d like to share with the wider Eve community?”
It’s joked about a lot, but at the end of the day, survival is about one thing; profit. Without proper finances in place, not a one of us moves forward. There are many ways to profit in this universe for a capsuleer: agent work, ransoming, mining, manufacturing, scientific research, market trading, exploration in regular space of wormhole space, killing other pilots and selling what salvageable parts remain from their ships; and those are the non-creative ways.

I remember when purchasing my first Rifter, fit with T1 guns, thinking there was nothing I couldn’t accomplish, but also wary of losing such an expensive ship. It still hadn’t sunk in just how much isk a Capsuleer was capable of earning.

As time went on, I lost that first Rifter, then another, and another. Eventually I came to lose ships of all sizes, showing red in the books in excess of billions. In order to have lost billions, I must have made billions.

I was fortunate. I had a contact who used my initial investments in the market to profit for me. It funded my war effort, giving me the ability to push against the “divine” Amarr war machine for years.

Ultimately, whatever your goal, whatever else you may learn during your existence in New Eden, you need to profit. Without that, might as well go back to being a civilian.

As for imparting wisdom? Buy high, sell low.

List of Participants
  1. CrazyKinux: The Three Pillars of Wisdom
  2. The Elitist: Helping the new guy/gal
  3. Hands Off, My Loots: Nothing Needed
  4. Rantuket: Blog Banter 16
  5. EVE Opportunist: Nooby Cluey
  6. Into the Unknown With Gun and Camera: EVE University
  7. Zero Kelvin: We’re the young ones!
  8. I am Keith Neilson: Set Your Destination
  9. Prano’s Journey: Just Like the Very First Time
  10. A Merry Life and a Short One: No Seriously
  11. Yarrbear Tales: Nublet 101
  12. A Mule In EVE: If I only knew
  13. The Planet Risk Show: Dared to be Bold
  14. Diary of a Space Jockey: WTH did I get myself into?!
  15. EVOGANDA: Why?
  16. A Memoir From Space: 16th Blog Banter
  17. Death’s Sweetest Kiss: Who What When Where Why How??
  18. Freebooted: Beyond the Shortcuts
  19. Learning to Fly: Noobing
  20. Caldari Outcast: My First Blog Banter Post!
  21. More to come soon…

Ospei Fruit Bowl

05:52
HUOLA SYSTEM
CONTESTED AMARR SPACE

Arrogant, lazy bastards, I thought to myself. The 24th Imperial Crusade changed their rotation at 0600 hours without fail. And without fail, they buggered off early or showed no interest whatsoever in what was happening in their own backyard so close to quitting time.

The Ripsack continued evasive maneuvers, autocannons firing continuously against the Amarr militia ships. My shields were long gone, but thanks to my E5 NOS, I could run an armour repper nonstop. Another explosion, as I hurtled towards the main starbase reactor. The Amarr starbase was still under construction, and I knew if I could blow up the reactor, it would be too costly for them to continue construction; it would be a devastating blow.

All the while, there were over twenty Amarr war targets in the local system. Arrogant, lazy bastards.

05:54

I made it back to Huola without incident, my Imperial Navy Slicer really the none worse for wear. I had just spent the last several days deep in enemy territory, striking opportunistically against the Minmatar Republic. They were so very disorganized, so undisciplined. I almost felt dirty with the ease in which I erased so many lives. Almost.

I noticed my Aura unit indicating a lone hostile in Huola, currently engaging an under construction starbase. There were over twenty of my holy brothers and sisters in local; how was this outrage being allowed? I had Aura scan the transponder code of the ship; Ripsack, Rifter class frigate, piloted by Matar Colonel Roc Wieler. I knew that name. Every Amarr did.

I opened comms with the 24th fleet. No response, and I was confident it wouldn’t take Colonel Wieler long to lay waste to our newest starbase. My decision was made. Holy justice would be brought swiftly to this wretched Brutor dog.

I would have to file a dereliction of duty report against my fellow pilots, as procedure dictated. It made me red with anger to see them o lackadaisical;and moreso because I desired an audience for this highly sought after victory.

Huola’s civilian channels would have to suffice. “The Roc Wieler; how very fortunate I am to meet you.” I broadcast across the system.

Only two more defensive turrets to destroy, then I could focus on the starbase reactor and be done with this. Every moment I stayed in hostile enemy space my adrenaline rushed throughout my system. There was a non-stop thrill to being discovered; it kept you on your toes, kept you alive. Still, nothing from the multiple Amarr ships insystem.

Suddenly, a broadcast on the civilian channel. My luck had run out. I needed to stall for time.

“Didn’t know there were any smart Amarr left. Thought we had killed off those few.” I replied, hoping to stir the enemy pilot’s anger.

One more turret exploded.

05:55

I was enraged at the audacity this whore spawned, filth ridden, no class slave displayed. How dare he speak to me in such a manner! I would display his corpse proudly in my hangar.

“And I thought Huola had cleansed its system of all filth. Apparently we were both mistaken.” I replied, smiling at my own wit, awaiting his reply, as I sped towards the location Aura had pinpointed him to.

An Imperial Navy Slicer versus a skilled Rifter pilot was always a tricky fight. If it wasn’t for the knowledge that God was by my side, it would be difficult to predict who would prevail in this engagement.

The acceleration gate sped me towards my prey, though I was apprehensive as to why he hadn’t replied.

05:56

I wasn’t going to be able to pull this off. In 4 minutes, the entire Amarr militia would be changing shift, and I would no longer be able to pass unnoticed.

I warped away on contact. I wasn’t going to jeopardize the mission engaging an Imperial Navy Slicer; though I was confident I would’ve taken it with this fit.

I hid in a nearby asteroid belt, quickly ascertaining the situation, debating with myself as to what I would do next. Then I received a private comm request from the very Amarr pilot I had just fled from. I accepted.

“You have revealed your true colours, Colonel.” he began.

“Didn’t know strategic had a colour.” I replied. My shield were nearly recharged. I was already heading back towards the starbase. If I was lucky, I could catch the Amarr pilot offguard at close range.

“Clever, but I am surprised one of your renown would flee so quickly and without hesitation. One small frigate frightens you so easily?”

I didn’t respond.

05:57

He wasn’t responding. Did the insolent whelp take me for a fool? Obviously he was on his way back with a failed notion to ambush me.

These Brutor were far too predictable.

Oddly, at that very moment, something in me snapped; my perspective changed.

Over twenty of my brethren were docked up around me while a single enemy frigate pilot desperately fought for the freedom of his people. A lone soldier doing what must be done against impossible odds, standing the gap where none other would. All the while, the enemy sits around him, doing nothing. They do not act. They do not resist.

So why was I?

This man was a worthy and passionate opponent, one I wished to face in the future. I would let him have this victory. Perhaps it would have reprecussions to those that allowed it to transpire. Yes, that would be my course of action here.

I warped away from the starbase, my Navy Slicer easily covering the distance to dock at the nearby Imperial Crusade station.

“The stabase is yours.” I said in my private conversation with Matar Colonel Roc Wieler.

05:58

I didn’t trust a word that lying sack of Amarr said.

“Guess we’ll find out in about four seconds.” I replied, already slowing down from warp. I was ready to overload everything and pour all my aggressiveness against his Navy Slicer. It would be a good fight, win or lose.

Reverting to normal space, I was surprised, and confused, when the Amarr pilot was indeed nowhere to be found. There was no way he had a cloaking device fit. He wasn’t masking his signature. I was having difficulty accepting this course of action. Why would he do such a thing?

I wanted to respond, to inquire of this pilot, but he had closed our channel. I was alone.

05:59

I destroyed the starbase hangar.

Returning to Dal I received many congratulations on a mission well executed, which I accepted halfheartedly. My mind was elsewhere, back in Huola, etching the name of Ospei into my mind; the most intriguing Amarr I had met in a while.

Ospei Fruit Bowl

INGREDIENTS:

  • 1 mango
  • 1 avocado
  • 1 papaya
  • 1 orange
  • 1/3 pineapple
  • 1/4 cup of raisins
  • 2 kiwis
  • 2 bananas
  • shredded fresh coconut

METHOD:

  1. Cut fruit into good sized pieces, except avocado, which is cut in small pieces.
  2. Blend banana, orange and raisins until smooth.
  3. Mix well with fruit and sprinkle with fresh shredded coconut

This recipe is dedicated to the Amarr pilot Ospei, whom even though surrounded by a fruit bowl of Amarr pilots, still performed his duty admirably. o7