Roc,

Your blog sucks. Nobody cares about fitness. Write about Eve.

Colonel,

I used to like ur writing but then u started riting about health n shit.

You realize your are part of the Blog Pack right? Post about Eve Online.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking this sounds like a rant I went on about not too long ago. While you’re correct in that  I am still sorely vexed and passionate about my rants, this one is not directly the same.

This rant is about the latest generation of capsuleers. They are flat out spoiled. I honestly believe most of them think they were important in a past life: maybe a Taurian Warrior Monk, or a Castanic Slayer, or a High Elf Archer, or even an Ensign on a starship, or any other number of ridiculous and fantastical things.

Let me be very clear. You are not important in New Eden. Far greater pilots have come and gone than you will ever aspire to be.

It’s not just about the self-entitled attitude that exists in abundance in so many of this new generation of pod pilots; it’s about understanding the basic rules of life.

I was a slave. I grew up a slave. I didn’t know freedom. I didn’t have luxuries. I had to fight hard for every meal, never entirely certain there would be a next one. I had to work myself beyond exhaustion simply so my adopted family would be spared the whip one more night. I did all of this while strung out on the most addictive drug in the universe.

You’re thinking one of two things now:

A. I’m full of shit.

B. It’s a different era now, a different time. You’re a relic, Roc – an old man with outdated ideals.

Let me tell you something, son; I can still smack the stupid right of you.

My generation understands hard work, that you earn what you desire. You don’t expect it to be handed to you on a silver platter then whine when you aren’t catered to.

My generation understands that consistency, dedication, honour, respect, and integrity are what the real measure of a man is. How he treats the ladies, his family, his friends, strangers, and himself.

My generation understands that immortal life isn’t a joke, and that carving out an existence within our universe is one of the toughest challenges any pilot can face. The payoff is worth it.

My generation understands that you need to pay your dues. All your generation is entitled to is my boot up your collective asses.

Why do you think I workout? You’re probably thinking of the obvious reasons all lazy and out of shape people use as excuses. You think I’m vain. You think I do it to see myself as better than others. You think I do it because I’m a thug, a gym monkey with no brains who relies on brawn to inflate his ego and intimidate others. You can think whatever you want.

You’re an idiot.

I have an eidetic memory. I am more perceptive than any mortal will ever be. I possess intelligence and charisma on a scale you can’t even fathom. My willpower cannot be matched or conquered. Beyond the implants, beyond the gene manipulation therapy that transformed me into a god, I acquired these abilities the good old fashioned way – I worked out.

Working out teaches you discipline. It promotes consistency. Maintaining healthy nutrition takes willpower, the ability to make your mind in charge of your body. No  easy task.

Exercising teaches you how to set and attain goals. It makes you faster, stronger, more agile, more powerful. It does promote a good sense of self-esteem and self-confidence. It helps your posture. It aids your immune system. It makes you sexier. The list goes on and on.

There is simply no good reason or excuse not to be healthy. Period. There is always a way.

But Roc, what’s the point? I’m an immortal pilot. My consciousness is transferred to a brand new body when I die. Why bother exercising?

You’re still an idiot.

Being healthy promotes higher cognitive functions, improved reaction times, less stress, better sleep, higher seratonin levels, an enhanced ability to focus.

As a pilot, I rely on those qualities in myself, my wingmen, my crews. Everyone needs to be at the top of their game. You don’t get there through a smug serving of spoon feeding. You get there with blood, sweat and tears.

I would wager that your corporation directors and/or alliance liaisons know what I’m talking about. Do you honestly think they give you a second look when the most effort you can muster is getting out of bed in the morning, showing up three hours late for a fleet op? They aren’t. They’re looking for someone like me. Someone who is proactive. Someone who is constantly pushing his own boundaries mentally and physically for the sole purpose of improving himself. Someone who can form and maintain healthy habits.

• Following orders is a healthy habit.
• Being properly aligned along an escape vector is a healthy habit.
• Knowing your enemy’s abilities, as well as your own and your fleet’s is a healthy habit.
• Knowing how to hold an intelligent conversation is a healthy habit.
• Being focused on the task at hand is a healthy habit.
• Understanding range and transverse velocity is a healthy habit.
• Knowing when to run is a healthy habit.

For those of you out there still thinking I’m reaching, it’s not my place to convince you of these virtues. My telling you they are true won’t make them so in your closed and narrow mind.

Just the same, while you sit and judge, try to consider the words I’ve said. You don’t think there is a need for physical and mental fitness in our line of work? You don’t think that me talking about a healthy lifestyle has any bearing or relevance in our universe?

You can think whatever you want. Your generation is self-entitled to it, even if it’s dead wrong.