Category Archives: Roc’s Ramblings

Random spewings from the mouth of Roc Wieler

Banter

Posted by Roc Wieler on

“You’re insane you know.” Sam said to me. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” I replied without missing a beat. We both chuckled at our banter. “If you don’t stop making jokes, you’re gonna make me drop these weights.” I grunted out between repetitions. As I finished twenty reps, I put the barbell back across it’s holding stand, and sat up from the bench. That felt good. Two hundred and twenty pound bench presses, sets of twenty. I don’t care what people say. For all the wonderful electronic muscle stimulation, clone grown musculature out there, nothing beats good old fashioned free weights. “And when are you gonna actually to do something at the gym, besides flapping your gums at me while I work out?” 

It was hard to believe Sam and I had only known each other a few months. The way we carried on, you would think we had been friends our entire lives. “Hey, I’m the brains, you’re the pretty remember?” He winked at me, and we both broke into laughter anew. That is what started this entire debate. “Well, at least that explains why your head’s so damn huge.” I grunted. “But seriously, do a set. It’s good for the soul. I’ll even drop the weights to girly level for ya.” I started removing weight plates, but Sam waved me off. “I’m fine, Roc, but appreciate the offer. Now back to business, there’s no way in hell you’re gonna do it.” He had a snicker on his face. “And why not?” I retorted with an equally mischievious grin.

“Admit it, you love all the attention you’ve gotten in the media. The commercials, the young female fans, the kickbacks. You’re just eating it up.” Sam was cutting at me deep. He knew how awkward I sometimes felt around others. Sure I could hold my own in conversation if it was a topic I had knowledge and passion for. Otherwise, count me out. I’d rather be hiding under my bed. “You know that’s not true, Sam. Take it or leave it really. I could care less.” That was somewhat true. Sure, I had never planned on even having my name recognized. Why would I? I’m just another soldier in another war. If anything, fame had cut me deeply. Not only did it make me primary target everywhere I flew now, but it stripped me of any privacy I had when travelling in Republic space. And I was one for my privacy.

“Uh huh. And the young hot girls that get you to sign their…ahem?” Sam was funny sometimes. When he would get frustrated trying to figure out some programmatic issue, he could muster together a string of curses that would make me blush, but when he was conscious of his thoughts, he couldn’t even say the word boob without turning crimson. “Well, there has to be SOME perks.” I emphasized. We both laughed some more, and finished up my workout.

As I headed for the showers, Sam asked me again, doubt heavy on his voice, “You really gonna do it?” 

I gave it some thought one more time. The answer that kept coming to mind was “Why the hell not?” I simply nodded to Sam.

“This is about Mynxee isn’t it?” he put forward. “Not at all, Sam. If it’s about anyone, it’s for you.” I winked his way flirtatiously, and we both broke out laughing. 

“Alright, well when you do it, I want to be the first to see.” he said. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, you think I don’t know you’re my biggest fan?” I waved goodbye to Sam, and hit the showers, leaving his laughter behind.

Valley of Decision – Pt2

Posted by Roc Wieler on

Valley of Decision

I am thirteen years old.

I live on Mekhios, otherwise known as Sarum Prime III. I couldn’t imagine a more perfect place to live. I never want for food nor shelter. I always have work; and I am blessed enough to have been saved from my ignorant past. 

God loves me. He personally cares for me. Can you imagine that? The God of all loves me personally. It’s hard to wrap my head around sometimes, but thankfully the education collar helps me focus. The jolt of electricity it gives used to hurt, but now it just reminds me that I am free of my Minmatar prejudices and lies, and can fully embrace the glories of the Amarr if I am willing to reject and shun my old life.

The Amarr are the most advanced civilization in New Eden. They are the most peaceful society in history. They have wealth, power, and happiness for all their people. They were the first to discover space travel. They give of themselves freely to their neighbours, asking for nothing in return. I am so very lucky. 

—

“Patterns are holding. He’s accepting it.” the clinical voice says. “Good.” the military voice mutters. “Very good. Continue.” 

“It’s not going to work.” says a new voice. “You’re not gonna break him. He’s not some dog, he’s a bloody veteran.” There is an edge of disdain to this voice, an edge of worry perhaps? “Need I remind you of your place,” the military voice forces out between closed lips. “You did your job in luring him here. We are aware of your previous record with the subject, and your comments are duly noted. You are dismissed.” The new voice glares at everyone else, knocks some items off of a nearby table, then leaves dramatically.

“Pod pilots.” the military voice shakes his head in disgust.

—

It’s been a long day. We’ve been working since dawn. I don’t mind the labour really. Over the last few months my body has really begun to develop. I am growing toned and muscular. Mihan likes that too. And I really like her. 

We met here shortly after I arrived. Like myself, her family was a necessary sacrifice in order for us to freely appreciate what God, in His infinite wisdom, has given us the opportunity to experience. I used to miss my parents, but learned that they were the reason I was chained to a future without promise; a future without hope. I’m glad they’re dead.

“Roc!” I turn my head and smile. “Yes, Mihan?” I playfully ask. “Quit daydreaming and get back to digging. You know we’re supposed to finish this today.” I look back at my hands and see I am holding a power shovel. “But we’re not digging in the right spot. It’s not here.” I say. How do I know that? I don’t even know what I’m trying to unearth. It just felt right to say. Mihan gets that smirk on her face, and that fire in her eyes that makes me stir in my private areas. “Well then Mr. Knowitall, where is it?” She is fiercely radiant. I have never seen a more desirable girl. I want her so badly. Maybe if I find what we are searching for, we can take our relationship to the next level. Maybe I will finally become a man.

—

“Yes, yes. His neural pathways are following along nicely. Soon we’ll know the location, and then we can be finished here.” 

The military voice simply grunts in satisfaction.

—

“You know, Roc, I’ve been thinking.” Mihan starts. “We’ve been involved in each other’s lives for a long time now.” I nod in agreement. “You are the finest boy I have ever met. I know we’re more than friends, but how much more?” She bats her eyelashes at me, and my heart melts. I want to tell her I love her. I want to tell her how badly I hunger to be inside of her. She sees it in my eyes, in every moment of every day. She teases me with beautiful anticipation, always leaving me wanting more of her than she gives. It’s the perfect game. One I am only too happy to play. She turns back to her digging, and as her long dark hair falls over her shoulders, she says “Show me today, Roc. Let’s take this glory for ourselves. Let’s be the ones to find it. Let’s be the ones to receive God’s blessing.”

I take her hand in mine. “Let me show you where we should dig then.” She smiles, and we walk away from the dig site. 

Suddenly, I feel a stabbing pain in my head, worse than anything the education collar has given me. I grunt in pain, and fall to my knees. “Roc? Roc are you ok?” I open my mouth to speak, but the pain has silenced my voice.

—

“Dammit man! Are you completely incompetent? What is going on now? I am sick and bloody tired of your excuses.” the military voice screams. The clinical voice trembles, his hands scurrying between multiple diagnostic monitors as a master pianist does across his chosen instrument. “I don’t understand. All wavelengths are within normal parameters. He shouldn’t be responding this way.”

—

I can see it. I know where it is. I desperately want to show Mihan, but I can’t move for all the pain wracking my body. I fall hard to my side and begin spasming on the ground. “Roc? Roc! Can you hear me?” She hovers over me, her hands trying to comfort me, but there is naked fear in her eyes. Her voice distorts and echoes. Who is she?

—

“No adrenaline surges. Heart rate normal. Slightly elevated blood pressure. All brain activity normal. I don’t understand it.” The clinical voice motions for two attendants. “Get in there! Verify all the feeds are still attached. We need to find out what is causing this. If we lose him now, we’ve lost everything!” The sound of pressure sealed doors open and close, and two sets of rapidly moving feet can be heard. There is some brief chatter, then the sound of a large security door sliding back into the wall. Two additional sets of feet join the procession, but these ones are heavier, being clad in armoured boots. The resounding click of guns being cocked can be heard as the two attendants are given the signal by the security team that it’s safe to enter. They quickly go about their work, checking feeds, checking intravenous entry points, checking neural connections. It’s all in place. There is no logical reason for the readings the monitoring room is receiving. 

—

It’s day time. I see the bright sun beating down on me. Mihan is over me, cupping my face in her hands, smiling reassuredly like my mother does. Another streak of intense pain.

—

“Find out what is happening, and I do mean now.” the military voice growls.

—

It’s night time. We lay together in bed, something we’ve done before. This is the first time we’ve been completely without clothes. I feel the warmth of her breath on my neck as my arm holds her close. She runs a finger along my chest, sending shivers up and down my spine, and I lean down to kiss her. She slowly rolls on top of me, her pert, supple breasts brushing against me. It stiffens me instantly. It almost hurts. It hurts. IT HURTS! I scream in pain as my mind explodes in agony.

—

“Sir, we’ve found an anomaly. Look at camera drone two.” The clinical voice quickly responds to what the attendant says, driving his focus to the monitor for camera drone two. He increases the magnification slightly until he notices the discoloration on the front of the subject’s skull. “No…” he mutters almost inaudibly. “What is it?” the booming military voice demands. “A frontal hematoma. We’ve pushed his mind too far, and now we’re going to lose him.” All of their hard work; all their planning. Months of waiting for everything to fall in place, and now it was all going to fail, because of this cursed capsuleer. At least the subject will die his final death, not hooked into his pod. There was some small satisfaction in that. “You’d better stop standing there like a deer in the headlights and get your pasty ass in there and do something.” The military voice bellowed. “Yes, yes, of course. Right away.” The clinical voice does as he is told, but he already knows this will be the end of them all.

—

She is magnificent. I continue to thrust into her and she continues to impale herself onto my eagerness. It is the most glorious feeling I have ever experienced. She bounces up and down lithely, savouring every moment as much as I do. She is perfection. “Roc!” she yells. “Oh Roc!” the more she screams my name, the more primal my reaction becomes, until I am forcing myself against her as hard as I can. “Roc! Roc! Roc!” The pain shoots into my head again, and I can’t hear her clearly. “Roc! Roc! Roc! Oh Roc! Roc!” I don’t want to fail her. I can’t continue much longer. The pain is too much.

“Roc! Roc! Roc!” 

I release my love inside her, but it’s all I can do. My vision is darkening at the edges. My body is on fire. I want to tell her I love her. I try to form the words. I try to say what is most important to me.

Everything goes black.

Anonymity

Posted by Roc Wieler on

That was incredibly satisfying. I laid a fair amount of ISK across the clerk’s desk to cover  expenses, then walked out of the video arcade, a huge smile on my face. 

“I love video games.” I thought to myself with childlike glee.

20 minutes earlier

I hadn’t been back to the Hole in days now. Have you ever tried finding a new bar to call your own? It’s not as easy as you might think. I could ramble on about just that.

I had been wandering around the esplanade on this station in Rens VI for almost two hours without much luck. Oh ho, what’s this? An interweb cafe? Cafe made it sound a little gay to me, but I chanced a venture inside. 

Not really a bar, but it provided public access to the interweb. It apparently also allowed for locally networked gaming. When I was younger, I really enjoyed video games. Flight simulators were my favourite. It’s one of the reasons I became a pod pilot. I decided to sit down and play some games.

I couldn’t find any flight sims, but there was a first person shooter game in progress called “Mortal Fatality Fighter Instincts Turbo” so I decided to join in. 

I lost my first game in under 20 seconds. I figured there must be something wrong with my user interface device, so I moved to another terminal. 

I lasted 30 seconds in the next round.

Something was apparently faulty. I’m good at videogames; or at least I thought I was. I kept losing to someone named l1kmy@ss1128. I didn’t know what kind of name that is, even on the interweb.

After a few more matches, I was getting pretty frustrated. I am a determined one though; I hate giving up until I win. I had just lost another match when I saw a little message window popup on the screen. “Why don u go home loser?” it said. I could feel my eye tic startup, and the vein in my forehead begin to throb. I quickly typed in my reply. “Let’s go again.” We did, several times, with me losing painfully each time. And the ridicule continued, becoming more insulting, more abrasive and more difficult to decipher each time.

“U r a fag. U fukin suck balls.”*

I was furious. “Listen you little snot,” I typed. “If you weren’t hiding behind your system, you wouldn’t think you’re so tough then, believe you me.”

“Oooooo, im so scared of you faggot. Let me call my friends over so they can watch me kick your ass again.”

If I ever, and I mean EVER, found out who this punk was, I would … wait, what was that sound?

I listened again. I could hear teenaged boys laughing, then the word ‘faggot’. I slowly stood from my station, and looked in the direction of the sound. There were a group of five teenaged Caldari boys at another unit in the cafe. I could hear their conversation.

“And then he says he’ll kick my ass if he ever found me, so I told him he’s a faggot.” They all laughed.

Really? I mouthed a quiet thank you to God, whom amongst the trillions of inhabitants with access to the interweb, blessed me enough to have my dumb idiot seated in the same gay cafe as me.

I quietly stood up and slowly made my way to where they were. I had to keep clenching and unclenching my fists to keep myself focused, the excitement almost too much for me to bear. When I reached them, I simply asked “Excuse me, l1kmy@ass1128?”. The seated Caldari turned reactively to see whom was addressing him. Thank you!

I placed my large hand on top of his head, pushing flat against the skull before closing my fingers into a tightly balled fist. This ensures that the head hair is pulled from the root, not just loose strands. It allows you much better control of your opponent. 

“Round One!” I yelled, trying to sound like the game announcer.

I then quickly and effortlessly placed his face through his monitor. There was smoke, sparks, and a bit of noise, but otherwise nothing. The boy passed out. Yeah, I thought as much. And what was that smell? Was that urine? Oh man. I turned to the other four. “Anyone else?”

They were all white as ghosts, shaking their heads profusely, hands in surrender, backing away. I turned back to l1kmy@ass1128, and leaned my head close to his ear.

“I win, bitch.”

* editor’s note: all teenaged asshats quote will be translated into readable English.

Anticipation

Posted by Roc Wieler on

“She’s almost ready, Colonel. And she’s gonna be a beaut,” my chief mechanic said. Your configuration for ‘er, it’s a bit pricey, so we may not be’un ready with that, but we’ll has ya a fine ship.”

“You’ve sourced it through all our usual channels?” I inquired. 

“Aye. She’s gonna be 4 billion ISK to do up the way ya want.”

Four billion ISK. I simply didn’t have that much, and I knew my corporation nor the Tribal Liberation Force would invest that kind of coin. 

“Well, do what you can. We’ve got what, two days until you’re done?”

“Aye. Closer to three, but who keeps track of the minutes?” He smiled at me, knowing I paid attention to those kind of details.

“Very good. Carry on.”

I simply stared at the Claymore. My crews had been working hard on this ship for almost a month, and soon it would be ready.

While I couldn’t get the parts I wanted, I was still excited about the ship. It had been a lot of training for all of us, but I knew it would be worth it.

Now if only I could find the parts I really wanted for this ship.

I picked up a nearby datasheet, and reviewed the list:

Gist-X-Type X-Large Shield Booster
Gist-X-Type Shield Boost Amplifier x2
Luther Veron’s Modified Invulnerability Shield x2

Yeah, those were going to be hard to track down, and expensive. I might have to try new channels. Maybe with all my recent public visibility, I’d be able to get them.

The anticipation was great. I wondered where I could start in my quest for these parts… what new contacts I had made who would volunteer to help me…*

*editor’s note: wink, wink, nudge, nudge

Sexism

Posted by Roc Wieler on

By now I would like to assume that it’s fairly clear I am a pretty straight up guy. Sure, I may be wound a little too tight, but I am just as fun loving as the next formerly enslaved, primary target of the Amarr fleet Brutor is.

And I like muscle shirts. I actually have quite the collection. They’re easy to maintain, look good on my physique, and just fun to wear.

CASE IN POINT

Yes, I have a muscle shirt, similar to this style, that says “I heart boobies.” I wear it when working on my ships, or when not in dress uniform, or just out and about. Of course, I don’t wear anything when in my pod. 

I have many funny shirts. And that’s all they are, funny.

—

“Yeah, Roc, if you have a minute, I need you to have a small chat with our Human Resources Officer.” Cytral said, stopping me in the hallway on my way to mess. I had just finished a good workout, and was ravenous. “We have a HR person?” I asked. “Yeah Roc, we do, and I just need you to be … nice, ok?” Why do people always assume I’m not nice? Do they not read my blog? “I am nice.” I said, flashing my best innocent smile. He waved me off. “Save it for her. I’m just the messenger.” My right eyebrow raised, wondering what brought this on. Being the patient man I am, I headed straight for HR. I had better things to do with my day than to worry about this.

I followed the directions Cytral gave me, and ended up in a section of our HQ I didn’t know existed. I saw the nickel plated name tag on the door, and knuckled two quick knocks on the door. “Come in please.” was the reply.

I opened the door to the office, and walked in. I actually felt nervous. It was like going into the principal’s office in school. Whether you were actually in trouble or not, you just felt guilty being there. “Have a seat.” she said cordially, and I did, suddenly very aware of the sweat dripping off of me from my workout onto her nice plush leather chair.

She didn’t delay things with small talk. I liked her already.

“We’ve had some complaints from the women in the corporation about your attire. They find it sexist and offensive.” I honestly didn’t know what she was talking about. I dress comfortably and fully covered, not like some Achura whore cruising for a quick fix. Her eyes lowered from mine to rest on my muscle shirt, drenched with sweat. At first I thought maybe she was appreciating the hard earned results on the physique beneath, until she harumphed, almost reading my thoughts.

I looked down at my shirt. It had “I heart boobies” emblazoned across it. Ah, that is what she was talking about. Hmmm.

“Well, to be honest,” I began. “I find it offensive they think I mean female boobies.” I just let that one hang in the air.

She was completely stunned. She sat straight up, the priceless look of shock on her face telling me I had won. I gave her a quick wink, then stood up from the chair.

“Is there anything else, ma’am?” I inquired. She just stared at me, finally shaking her head in the negative. “No, nothing at all. Thank you for your time, Roc.”

I turned and walked away, my best mischievous grin plastered across my face.

Valley of Decision – Pt 1

Posted by Roc Wieler on

I am six years old. I am playing in the sand near my house. It’s fun. Mom said not to go too far, and to be home before dark. That’s ok. It’s a long time before it gets dark.

I like digging in the sand. I make castles. Then I smush them. It makes me laugh.

I am going to be seven soon. That means I can start learning to fight. I am going to be the bestest fighter ever. One day, I am going to be a pod pilot too, like on TV. 

I pick up one of my toy spaceships and start swooshing it around. “Death to Amarr!” I giggle. I am going to kill many Amarr. I am going to be a hero.

I see a shadow over me. I turn and see my dad. “It’s ok, son. You just keep playing. Keep digging. What did you find?” I turn back to look at the sand and see a bunch of black blocks sticking up. I don’t remember them being there. “I found blocks!” I say excitedly to my father. “Well, just keep digging, little warrior. I am sure you’ll find more.” I smile as big as I can for my dad. He’s nice. I hear a dog barking in the distance. My father hears it too. “Don’t go too far ok? You know how dangerous it can be out there, and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to my precious little man.” He ruffles my hair. That feels good. My dad walks away, and I keep digging. I want to find buried treasure and give it to him as a surprise! He will like that. Bark! Bark! Bark! The dog sounds closer. 

—

“How is the subject responding?” a cold voice inquires. “Quite well. He is in a state of complete compliance. Accessing his neural core was easy, given his capsuleer interface. We can make his mind believe anything we wish.” a more clinical voice replies. “Very good. Carry on.”

They stand there together, arms behind their backs, behind a thick sheet of transparent reinforced steel, monitoring the numerous systems around them. One of them adjusts the intravenous drip slightly, inducing an even deeper dream state into their subject. Vital signs are strong and stable. Neural activity quite active. No hint of disbelief in the reality being presented to him. They would extract the required information soon, then simply feed a lethal poison into his system when he was of no more use.

—

I’ve made a big hole. Mom is going to be upset at how dirty I am. I still haven’t found anything. I need to keep digging deeper. Bark! Bark! Bark! That sounded much closer. It’s getting dark too. 

I stand up and try to dust myself off. It’s time to go home or I will be in big trouble. I turn to head back towards my house when I see the dog in front of me. It has dark fur. I know I’ve seen this kind of dog before, but I cann’t remember what they are called. They are rare, not like the usual strays, or the hunting dogs my dad and his friends used to go hunting. It’s very strong looking in the chest. I walk up to it. It doesn’t look angry. His tail is wagging. I think he likes me! 

“Roc! What are you doing?” My dad yells at me. “Step away slowly from that dog! It’s wild!” It doesn’t look wild. It looks nice. It looks familiar. “Roc! Step away from the dog!” The dog tilts his head to one side, looking at me, whimpering softly as I back away. BARK! BARK! BARK! “Run!” My dad screams, and I turn and run. I hear the dog growling as I run away, and when I look back, I see it attack my dad. I start crying. It looked like such a nice dog.

—

“It’s a mild neural spike. Nothing to worry about. It’s stabilized now.” says the clinical voice. “I don’t care if it’s stable now, I want to know what the hell it was.” a more demanding, military sounding voice retorts. “Running a diagnostic now, sir.” The clinical voice sounds nervous.

—

I don’t know what to do, or where to run to. I am on my hands and knees, still crying. The dog attacked my dad! My brain hurts. I love my dad. I hope he’s ok. What would a pod pilot do? What would a hero do?

I stand up, balling my hands into fists. I am going to help my dad. It was a bad dog. I start running back to my house. I am going to help my dad.

—

“It’s an adrenaline surge causing the spike. Stabilize the alpha waves.” 

—

I get back to where I was playing. It’s dark now. Mom’s gonna be mad. I don’t see dad anywhere, and my blocks are gone from the sand. The dog stands where my blocks were. He has sand all over his feet. His tail is wagging, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. He looks happy.

“Where’s my dad?” I ask him.

BARK! BARK! BARK!

“Where’s my blocks?” I walk towards him to pet his head. He’s a nice dog. I like him. 

BARK! BARK! BARK!

What is he barking at? I look around. I can’t see anything.

BARK! BARK! BARK!

“I don’t know what you want, boy.” I bend down in front of him, so he doesn’t have to look up so much. It probably hurts his neck. Then he growls and pounces on me. I am very scared.

—

“I can’t stabilize the alphas.”

“Then elevate the deltas. Do I have to do all of your thinking for you? We need him to remain calm and compliant!”

—

I scream. The dog is on top of me. I can’t get him off. 

BARK! BARK! RARK! RAWK! ROC!

—

“There. It’s under control now.”

—

Everything goes white.

Renegades Theme Music

Posted by Roc Wieler on

Out of Character post today, as I would like your help.

Part of my real life responsibilies include music composition. I do a lot of cheesy corporate elevator music type of things for presentations, websites, etc, but I also get to do the occasional epic soundtrack.

The last few weeks, I’ve been working on some theme music for Roc’s Renegades, the newly formed fleet I command for Freeform Industries.

When I work on music, this is my typical process:

1. Does it suit the environment it’s going to be in? In this case, does it sound like EVE Online, and does it sound Minmatar? Is it military enough? 

2. Does it evoke an emotional response? In this case, does it make me scared of them? Does it inspire them? Does it just sound very cool?

3. I actually watch reference material to put me in the frame of mind. In this case, the big ugly mug of Roc Wieler on my desktop. Does it suit him? Does it suit what you know of him? Does it suit his vision for the Renegades?

The problem I am facing is that I’ve not done much rock style music in my experience, and Minmatars are all about the in your face, move or be moved, kind of rock.

I was originally only going to post my favourite three themes, and have you choose between them, but I decided instead to include all seven, so you really get a more indepth idea of my process.

You can download them in one zip file HERE. It’s Rapidshare, Eve Files wouldn’t recognize it as a valid type.

Here are some notes on each, without any of my opinions to sway you:

Renegades v1: 2:13

– This is epic thematic orchestral, which is my area of expertise. I threw in some guitars for good measure. 

Renegades v2: 4:14

– Wrote some lyrics for this one. Tried to make it EVE centric, with my own perceptions coming through.

Renegades v3: 1:48

– This one is emotional orchestral then wakes up and grabs you by the balls (even if you don’t have any).

Renegades v4: 3:26

– Straight up, hard rocking guitar, with a touch of EVE electronica. Goes nicely with a mild mint tea. I don’t know why I said that last sentence, but it made me laugh. And now you are too, haha.

Renegades v5: 3:16

– Heavier electronica, with some industrial ambience and sampling. And of course, hard rocking guitars.

Renegades v6: 2:05

– Back to a mix of epic and emotional orchestral here. My brain was hurting from all the heavy rock. I think my ears were bleeding.

Renegades v7: 2:10

– More orchestral and guitars.

And there we are. I’ve also included a poll in this post, which will remain open for the next five days. So please, cast your vote, encourage others to cast their vote, as I really want to present a good final selection to my fleet based on the opinions of many.

And of course, feel free to make any comments you wish, as always.

Just One Drink

Posted by Roc Wieler on

It had been a long week. I was completely exhausted. My body ached; my mind was drained. I finally sagged into the “Hole”, grabbed a “Revenge” from the bartender, and collapsed into my regular seat in the corner, back facing the wall. I simply wanted some “me” time; just some time to relax, alone, and unwind.

“Like OMG! You’re like, that Colonel guy right? I can’t like believe it! Sasha it like never going to believe me.”

There she stood, in all her trashy glory. She was a chubby Achura, squeezed into what appeared to be a plastic wrap dress. I cringed inwardly for many reasons, the least not being the thought that there should be laws against women over a certain weight being permitted to wear that style of clothing. Without asking, she seated herself across from me, the light catching her face, revealing two pounds too much of makeup. I threw a “rescue me” glance to the bartender, who only chuckled and raised his arms in that “Don’t get me involved” gesture. The worst part of course was that she wasn’t even remotely attractive.

“So like, what’s it like being, like, a hero? It must be like, so exciting!”  At that moment, it sounded like there must be a horse nearby, but it turned out to only be her laugh.

I didn’t even know her. She must die.

She blathered on incessantly about the most droning subjects, then suddenly sat bolt upright, raising her hand to me, palm upwards, index finger gesturing for me to “hold that thought”. Thus far, I hadn’t said a word to her so I really had no idea what was going on in that vacant little head of hers.

She tapped a comm implant on the side of her head, and the little blue connected light came to life. She didn’t lower her arm. I guess I looked like I might suddenly interrupt, or break into dance or something.

“Like, I know! He’s so like, totally annoying. I think like, I’m going to like complain to Dean about him. I’m like, so tired of defending him all the time. Until he like, learns to use the holo system, he’s like, just going to keep screwing things up. It’s like…” 

I had tuned her out by then, so apologize if I can’t recall anything of particular value I may have missed.

Five Revenges later, she wasn’t looking any prettier. It was time for me to leave. I stood up from my seat, and she moved her arm to block my path, emphasizing her finger at me to hold that thought. This girl was truly astounding. She couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, was still talking on her head implant, had nothing of value to offer me, and yet still had the brass to motion at me to halt.

“Deidra, can you like hold on a sec? My date is like, leaving.”

I sighed. I think a small piece of me died inside as well.

“Where’s the party?” she asked.

I honestly had no clue how to respond, which I think might’ve been a first for me. 

“I, um…” I stammered.

“Well like, why don’t we just like make the party ourselves?”

I studied her for a moment, almost envious of her woeful ignorance. There are many things about this situation that would have to be very different for this to happen, the least of which would be a lot more alcohol.

I didn’t want to be mean, though. She just wasn’t my type.

“Look. You seem sweet.” I lied. Her face beamed, her wide eyes sparkling at the false compliment. “I’ve just had a really trying week. Why don’t we meet up here tomorrow night, when I’m, you know, a little more rested.”

I guess my answer satisfied her, as she lowered her arm, and started yammering away to her friend again. 

I made my way to the bar, and paid my months old tab, much to the questioning look of the bartender. It’s not that I didn’t have the money, I just liked the idea of not having to pay per drink.

I walked out the front door leading back into the station marketplace, and took one last look around. 

I was going to miss the Hole, but I sure as hell wasn’t coming back here for at least fifty years. Maybe more.

April’s Fool

Posted by Roc Wieler on

I’ve had a very special friend in my life. I’ve known her for decades now, since our youth. The story of how we met is quite the funny one, but is not the point of this tale. 

Today is about apologies, mine to her, and how I miss our friendship.

When we were younger, our tribes were of very different status, mine being the poorer, less socially acceptable of the two. Though this never came into play between us, it was something that found root in me. It was the beginning of the blackness. 

As the years carried on, we grew closer in so many ways, yet it was that black root of bitterness, self righteousness, judgement, jealousy, anger, entitlement, that grew more.  I always wanted to be where she was in life. I wanted the big house. I wanted the money, the power, the friends, the status, the brains, the respect. Doesn’t everyone?

Not her.

All she has ever given is that which she has always wanted; love, respect, compassion, understanding, patience, passion, forgiveness, support.  It put her even higher on that pedestal in my mind.

She has always seen me for more than I am. She has always believed in my greater potential. And while I often allowed myself to feel judgement at that, it was never her intent. She is truly a pure spirit. Yes, she has her faults, we all do, but that is not the point here.

The point is that throughout all these years, I have continually disappointed her. Don’t misunderstand. I haven’t disappointed her as a person; in fact I still find it hard to accept that she hasn’t given up on me. No, I disappointed her in never keeping my word; never sticking with commitments made. 

And yet even still, through marriage and motherhood, she continued to extend her heart to me, to extend of herself. Always she was there to make the first move, to open the first invitation, to constantly allow me to be part of her life. And yet always there was a reason I was not there (though some were legitimate).

This was our relationship until a few months ago. I betrayed her trust once again, in what proved to be the last time. I have only myself to blame.

I knew in my heart I just had to reach out to her and all would be right again. Yet I did not. In fact, as the months passed, it was she that called me, humbling me and reminding me once again just how love, even between friends, knows no barriers.

We talked at length about why this pattern existed, and what we could do to break it. It was emotionally raw and open. She even offered to put the past behind us, and build a friendship anew. She apologized for the way I felt, and for anything she had ever done to add to that. I told her I would write her a communication with my own apologies, my own thoughts.

That was two weeks ago. Once again, I didn’t follow through with things.

It’s sad really. I am actually very reliable in every other area of my life. Why do I allow myself to act differently with her?

Enough is enough.

I picked up my communicator and called her. I told her my excuses. I told her the apology was coming.

April, here I am, missing being a part of your life. I am sorry for hurting you repeatedly. I am sorry for not doing what I say.

I don’t want to lose our friendship. I don’t want to live within my own negative perceptions of how things have been between us.

If you’re willing, I am willing to build a new and better friendship.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Blog Banter #1 – Ambulation

Posted by Roc Wieler on

Welcome to the first 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 here. Check out other EVE Blog Banter articles at the bottom of this post!

This month’s topic comes to us from PsycheDiver: Ambulation: What are your hopes for your avatar and new functionality of stations?

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Things had changed again recently. The stations are more crowded. There are more and more capsuleers crowding them. More and more immature egos to deal with. I am sure it’s just a phase. It will pass.

To be fair, I can mostly ignore the newer pilots swinging their genitals around, virtually pissing on themselves and each other to mark their territory. I think it’s good that things have gotten busier.

I love women. All varieties: fat, thin, short, tall, fair, dark, doesn’t matter to me. What amazes me is that I’ve never noticed how large breasted and perfectly built most capsuleers are before. 

I finally have gotten to put faces to names, especially of those I’ve killed. It’s a helluva lot more satisfying than simply watching their ship break apart. It bothers me a little though, that even in the midst of this war, stations allow any race, any faction to dock and enjoy their hospitality. It makes me sick to see Amarr in a Minmatar station. Send them to their own bloody space.

If I really need to get away and am not assigned to active militia duty, I retire in the new Freeform Industries Corporate HQ. The contractors they hired really did a nice job renovating the place. They even put in a private bar. I like to think it was for me, but know better.

And I suppose more people around has brought better shopping. You should see some of the clothes I’ve bought recently. I mean, do you have any idea how hard it is to find soft leather assless chaps?

Yes, things have changed. But the more things change, the more they stay the same. I’ll still be sitting here, enjoying my drinks, enjoying this life of mine, hoping not to scare away all the ladies.

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