Tyrannis: Forgotten Gods

Posted by Roc Wieler on

– by 343guilty1

I can still remember the day that the skies changed from the greenish blues that I had seen as a child. The smells of the great war machines reigning down from the skies, spewing their polluting chemicals across our green fields. I remember the men and women that marched into our towns, and took what they pleased. I remember…

It was deep in autumn when word came in, Concord was lifting the age old ban of Planetary Industry. At first no one knew what this meant, what this would bring… Many of the elders did not believe the holoreels, because it was just not how things were done, but we the youth knew that the new paradigm of universal management was serious.

Of course no one consulted the inhabitants of the planets, for they knew not one citizen of a planet aside from major market tycoons who had something to gain would want any part of these operations. Some of the slums would poke their head out for work, knowing full well that it would be a shit job, but hopefully bring in some isk to feed their families, but unfortunately for those living in the edges ofthe empire out in the regions we knew as Void space, (or as the capsuleers called it null sec) this was not an option.

All to often in the coming months would we hear tales of entire worlds being taken over by an agressive sky alliance driving their war machine, that they would drive to enslave all the peoples of their homeworld. There would be resistence, but it would be futile. With the supierior technology and tactics the Sky Devils as they would become known as a general term amongst the locals would no doubt prevail without any hassle. For us lucky ones, in empire space, there would still be regulations. Just as restrictions had been placed upon the mobile stations that the sky devils could setup, there too would be such implications on this “Planetary Interaction” that the leaders had dubbed it, but to little avail.

With so many planets and so few Concord, they would rarely be enforced.

They came with armed escorts, hundreds of ships with thousands more workers descended upon our planet, and within days their factorys up. Not long after posters starting appearing in the towns, propaganda bullshit trying to persuade our people to work for their cause for little money. I, of course, resenting every part of the ordeal strayed from the pubs I once used to sit at nightly, and other places which I cherished for shame of my fellow Horpkins. Too many had I seen fall into conformity following the “Final Decline” of our ways. I could not stand my friends who I had once thought patriots. Men who had fought in wars against neighboring principalities, against foreign tyrannies, against any foe that our goverment had deemed a threat, now lost all significance, not because they didn’t not love our country, but because they did not love our planet.

They did not see that if no fuel for these machinations was provided that they would shut down and leave us be, and move on to another population, but they gave in.

Soon I found others who shared my views, and we spent many a night discussing our divine hatred for the Sky Devils. Over the course of a year, we picked up more believers in our cause. We had formed a plan.

The day was set, and we were ready. What would go down in history as a rebellion would one day be rewrote as a revolution, by us, because history is written by the victors, but for now we were just getting started. Out of our entire town, we had amassed 514 fellow believers. We would strike the factory that had overtaken our town and bring the bull to a halt. We had stolen weapons and ammunition from various sources and many already had their own caches. The guards had grown lazy and carefree under OUR radiant sun. The martinets of the factories had left to go start other mining facilities. The time was right. We carried out or operations flawlessly, and though we took minor losses we had sent our message, that this evil industrial empire would not be tolerated, not here not ever.

After seeing what had become of the Sky Devils, others took up the cause, and soon word spread across the land of those who had retaliated. The alliances would cover this up with stories of counter-attacks, but the true meaning was seen. It only took a few sympathetic capsuleers who will be remembered as the Forgotten Gods, as the ones who liberated other planets, by telling the stories of the planets and giving hope to those who were oppressed.

It started with 514, and now spans to tens of thousands of patriots who believe in the cause.

Tyrannis: For Family

Posted by Roc Wieler on

– by Cheese Nippels

The day they came down from the sky changed my life; heck, it changed all of our lives. They called themselves capsuleers, and came for that which all men want, ISK.

On the 18th day of the 5th month on our planet, so crudely dubbed ‘Aunia I’ by the capsuleers, we heard the announcement made by CONCORD; planets were no longer protected from the capsuleer menace. May our various gods have mercy.

The first sighting was of some kind of cargo rocket impacting 30 kilometers from the town. We loaded up and moved out to see what it was, our planetary vehicles skimming the long grass. As we came close to the impact site we heard the sounds of construction. Stopping the vehicle, we walked to a place with a better view of the site. A large building was nearly complete, and surrounded by nearly 100 militants, all armed to the teeth.

I decided that I did not want to die to the militant guns. Dropping my fathers old mazer hunting rifle in the long grass I began to walk back to my farm on the other side of the town when I heard the shout from the town mayor: ” Chaaarge!!!! Show no mercy to those militant scum!”

I began to run, the grass scratching against my legs, the sound of the various hunting rifles owned by my townfolk rang out, answered by the sustained fire from the military grade defence rifles from the militants.

The cries of the townfolk haunt my dreams to this day.

I live in the hills above the derelict town now, inhabited by myself and other workers, mercenaries and ‘exotic dancers’. As an ancient holo-reel I once saw said ‘You will never find a more wreched hive of scum and villany’.

Nobody comes into the hills, nothing of any value can be found here, well except for the capsuleer shuttle I purchased with all my savings and have converted so it can be flown without a pod and it’s neural interface. I have not yet gathered the nerve to test it. I do not have the immortality of the capsuleers, at least not until I can get off the planet and to the station a short distance away to apply to their program.

Today I am going to visit my mother at her work place, one of the more ‘fancy’ brothels in town. I stare down upon the town, among the shabby buildings one is burning, far beyond the stage where the flames can be extinguished. This tends to happen a lot, riots from the militiants and the capsuleer visitors are increasingly common as more capsuleers fight for the planet’s resources.

I reach the outskirts of the town and head straight for the brothel, careful not to look at the shady characters lurking in the dark alleys and doorways.

” Oy you!! Hermit!! ” comes a shout from my left, I break into a jog and do not look around, I am not well liked for some reason. The footsteps of my pursuer fade into the distance as I reach the brothel. I head inside with a nod to the guard at the door, he does not respond.

Inside the brothel there is red shag pile carpets, the walls are red and stained, and tattered curtains hang from the walls. I drag myself up the stairs and into the room where my mother works keeping the books for the brothel. Better then going hungry I suppose. The manager of the brothel grabs my shoulder as I approach where my mother works.

“Sir, I’ve got something I have to tell you, your not going to like it, please take a seat.” He says, guesturing to a seat  nearby. I look around for my mother. I cannot see her.

” Well, these things happen, you know, it’s just life, well….. I guess what I’m trying to say is in the riot earlier your mother was well.. She was out shopping around the corner and the .. The riot happened…” he pauses, staring into my face ” she didn’t make it, a drunk merc put a clip into the store and she caught 3 shots, there’s not much left of her… Do you want to see?”

“No” I choke out, fighting back tears, that’s my whole family gone to those bastard capsuleers. I run outside and straight back home, crying freely, my tears making tiny explosions in the dust as I run. I climb into the modified shuttle, wiping the tears from my face. Well I have nothing to live for, may as well take the chance. I fire up the shuttle, taking off up the ramp I have built and into the atmosphere, looking down upon the town and my home. I want to destroy them all, those capsuleer scum. I dock in the station, and with help from an empathetic docking manager, am directed quietly to where I can apply to become a pod pilot.

After having finished the paperwork and being accepted into the capsuleer program, I walk to the medical bay.

To destroy the capsuleers I must first become one.

Tyrannis: Bittersweet

Posted by Roc Wieler on

– by Jengi Gotsen, Commander of the XV-22

“No more.”

Sylv glared at the poster. Righteous fury coursed through her veins.

“Not again.”

Her brother had signed on to work in a factory on some godsforsaken planet. He was a skilled labourer, had grown up in a station working on the assembly line. This was his life, his work, his job, and he was good at it. His supervisors praised him, said he was the best worker of the lot. Gallente. Proud. Strong. Intelligent. He was a model worker, a shining example of what a workman should be.

Sylv was furious. The posters blanketed the station walls. They promised the same untold riches, glory and exploration that her mining barge had. She knew what was waiting for her brother. Untold sorrow, defeat and death. The Capsuleer had promised her crew all would be fine. Done this a million times, never lost a soul. Ironic choice of words when the Guristas showed up. Sylv was one of few who found themselves in what remained of the cargo hold. One of few who was rescued by a passing salvage ship. The Capsuleer woke up across the galaxy while hundreds of crew eternally slept.

She clenched her fist. This could not happen. This would not happen.

—–

Jacques was thrilled beyond words. He had been selected for detail planetside. Earlier that week the assembly line manager called a meeting. One of the Capsuleer corporations had requested workers to join them planetside for new operations. Concord had lifted their planetary sanctions and was filling permits for Capsuleers to set up shop. All the Capsuleers needed were skilled hands. Jacques was a skilled hand. He submitted his application later that day with a recommendation from the manager.

Bittersweet was how he described it. Appreciation for Jacques’ hard work, and chagrin that he was leaving. Today the corporation approved him. Today the world changed. These Capsuleers did it right, he decided. A generous amount had been deposited into his account before he stepped foot planetside. Complimentary shuttle service to the corporation’s Personnel and Operations Station. A quick glance at his expected duties included the manufacturing of goods he’d been producing his entire life. It seemed the corporation had selected him for a quick transition. Not much additional skill training required. Jacques would be able to jump right in.

He smiled brightly. This could happen. This would happen.
—–

Sylv stormed.

Jacques beamed.

Tyrannis: The Contest

Posted by Roc Wieler on

THE EXCUSE:

Well, firstly, I need to apologize to my readers, and to CCP, and to myself. I had been working on a very cool promo video for this contest: voice recording, epic score, 3D work and After Effects, except that is where I failed… I’m such a noob at After Effects still.

So, the cool promo didn’t get finished in time.

Here’s the monologue from the video, as well as one screenshot; I know it’s weak, and I will do better next time.

I’ve also posted the recording to EVE Files. Here’s hoping it’s still there when you click THIS LINK.

It was a bold decision by Concord, lifting the centuries old planetary prohibition.

Mega-corporations were quick to seize the opportunity, employing capsuleers to expand and secure their industrial empires.

Other pilots were strictly in it for themselves, stripping entire planets to fuel their alliance war machines.

It was five hundred and fourteen days before the dust finally settled.

Trillions of lives forever changed. Untold stories never heard.

THE CONTEST

Tyrannis is upon us May 18th, 2010.

I am sure many have given thought to how this is going to affect us as pod pilots, but who has given thought to the regular denizens of the galaxy? Has anyone thought about how our immortal dealings are going to further upset the natural order of the universe?

THE TASK

To enter Roc Wieler’s/CCP Tyrannis contest on this blog you will need to write one such story, a tale from the point of view of one those citizens of New Eden whom has become affected by our interaction with planets.

It can be a short story, a novella, whatever you feel like writing.

THE RULES

  1. This contest will run from May 1 – May 18, 2010. All entries must be submitted by 11:59 PM EST May 18th.
  2. To submit your story, email it to me at roc@rocwieler.com with the subject “Tyrannis Contest”, or by clicking my picture in the About Roc section of the right hand column of this blog. Make sure to include your character name and your story title.
  3. Your story will then be posted here, and other users will rate it and comment on it. Any untowards spamming will automatically disqualify  your entry in the interest of keeping the contest legitimate and fair.
  4. On May 21st, 2010, I will announce the winners.

THE PRIZES

  • 1st place – $75 to spend in the EVE Store + 2 billion ISK
  • 2nd place – $50 to spend in the EVE Store + 1 billion ISK
  • three additional prizes of $25 to spend in the EVE Store + 250 million ISK

In an effort to not be outdone by CrazyKinux, I’m also asking for all of my readers to donate ISK to this contest. CK raised a billion ISK; let’s do better. Donate to Roc Wieler ingame.

I’m looking forward to reading every entry, and hope this event goes well. Should it prove a success, look forward to bigger and better endeavours between CCP and myself in the future.

THE ENTRIES:

Crunchy Spiced Prawns

Posted by Roc Wieler on

For all our technological marvels, all our social discoveries, we are a very solitary species, often living our individual lives in complete ignorance of how anything we might do or say can affect the paths of others. So miniscule is the chance to actually see our impact on another life further along their journey, that when the opportunity occurs, and the influence was a positive one, it should be a very gratifying and uplifting experience.

I’ve had that distinct pleasure and responsibility several times throughout my lives, and it’s something that is always fresh, new and appreciated.

I’m referring to THIS POST from Prano’s Journey today, and since when I say his name I get hungry for shrimp, today’s recipe is in honour of him.

CRUNCHY SPICED PRAWNS


INGREDIENTS:

  • 40 peeled and deveined large shrimp (21 to 25 per lb)
  • 3 tablespoons garlic powder, divided
  • 3 tablespoons salt, divided
  • 3 tablespoons ground black pepper, divided
  • 1 tablespoon lemon juice
  • 1/3 cup Parmesan cheese (optional)
  • 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1/3 cup vegetable oil for frying

METHOD:

  1. Season the shrimp with 1/2 teaspoon each of garlic powder, salt, and pepper. Sprinkle shrimp with lemon juice, then roll in grated Parmesan, if using.
  2. Shake the remaining garlic powder, salt, and pepper together with flour in a plastic bag. Add seasoned shrimp to bag; close the bag and shake to coat shrimp.
  3. Heat oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add shrimp and fry until golden and cooked through, about 2 minutes per side. Remove to paper towels to drain; serve hot.

PREP TIME: 15 mins
COOK TIME: 15 mins
SERVINGS: 6

Fallen

Posted by Roc Wieler on

PATOR IV, HEIMATAR REGION
SANMATAR OFFICE

Shakor stood facing his favourite window, feeling the gentle breeze of the city below against his face. On his desk behind him, his computer beeped patiently waiting for the verbal confirmation code to send the three awaiting outgoing messages.

He had never been a man to hesitate, but now he found himself second guessing his choices. What had caused his trepidation? When had he become this man afraid of consequences? The resounding answer caused his heart to sink; it was when he had first met Roc Wieler.

The Matar Colonel had shown such promise early on, but as time progressed, Roc was consistently the focal point in multiple storms of contention and controversy. Shakor’s friendship with the Brutor had become well known, and he had found his office more often than not busy with the task of damage control regarding the pilot.

Now Roc sat in a mental treatment facility, his fate in the hands of doctors that couldn’t possibly understand the complexities of capsuleer life regardless of their collective training. It was a dire situation for Roc, but one of his own doing, at least indirectly.

What had surprised Shakor more was the visit by Garlon Das, and the attached offer to Roc. To his credit, Roc had rejected the offer of political leveraging, being too keen to not suspect Garlon’s underlying motives to usurp control of the Republic.

Surprisingly, Roc had applied for the Council of Stellar Management, a political body even outside the Sanmatar’s juristication. Their goal was the improvement to the quality of life for every citizen of New Eden, though they tended to slant their focus towards the wants of the pod pilots.

After his initial shock, Shakor could see why Roc had chosen that path for his first attempt at entering the political foray. Just the same, it could not be allowed. He was still too naive to the way things really worked, too idealistic.

There came a time when duty even overrode friendship. Shakor sighed and gave the command.

The computer happily chirped and sent its three awaiting messages.

—

“Are you certain? I really can’t believe it.”

“We’ve confirmed the report. It’s accurate.”

“Collateral targets acquired. Initiating termination protocol.”

—

PIAK II, MOON 4, LONETREK REGION
HOUSE OF RECORDS INFORMATION CENTER

Piktun sat inside of her first Charon class freighter. It was brand new off of the assembly line, and she was only two days from being able to pilot it herself. She had focused her capsuleer abilities towards commerce these last few years, yielding billions in profit from the elite market of the pod pilots for herself and her clients. War was profitable, what else could be said?

She floated in the unfamiliar warmth of pod goo, still acclimating herself to the foreign sensations of expanded awareness and intrusion. Her thoughts strayed to one of her most prolific clients, Matar Colonel Roc Wieler, though she wasn’t certain he still held that rank given his latest set of obstacles. Still, the man had made her rich beyond her wildest dreams, not that he hadn’t profited a few billion isk himself in the process.

Most recently, she had been approached by representatives of Concord, whom requested a full audit on the accounts of Roc Wieler. They had provided proper credentials, and even informed her of his application to the CSM, and she had excitedly complied. Everything she had done on his behalf had been completely above board.

She gave the mental command to her Aura link, pulling up his accounts. It always made her smile to see the historical rise of profit margins.

“Aura, show me the latest trends for this region.” Piktun said, slowly becoming more familiar with her womb like surroundings.

There was no response.

She focused her will, mentally giving the command again. No response.

Her heart rate accelerated slightly, but she took a deep breath and focused once more.

The status indicator for Roc’s profits starting blinking red, and a small alarm sounded in her mind. In horror, Piktun watched as hundreds of millions of isk began dropping from his account.

“Aura, what is going on with account 661699191?”

Piktun felt panic rising in her throat. She wanted to be out of this pod now. She wasn’t ready. She began hyperventilating, her blood pressure rising.

“Aura, what is going on? Why aren’t you responding?”

Piktun was almost crying. Then there was a stab of sharp pain in the base of her skull, through her connection to her ship. A million volts of electricity surged through her body, liquefying her organs from the inside.

She gurgled briefly, then was dead, floating in the goo of her pod. There was no transfer to a new clone.

Pod goo swirled slowly, changing colour to a mix of crimson.

—

“Initial target confirmed terminated. Proceeding to next target.”

“And we’re 100% certain of the accusations?”

“If you have a problem with your orders, Fallout, feel free to take them up with our superiors.”

—

ORIS, MOON 4, DOMAIN REGION
EXPERT DISTRIBUTION RETAIL CENTER

Phillip Wessam was glad to be back in his pod as a combat pilot. He had spent far too long working as a “legitimate businessman” for the Empire. Truth be told, there was a part of him that missed the slave trade, but it was more hassle than it was worth in the end.

“Gold 3, tighten up formation. You’re straying.” the training commander barked.

Wessam focused his thoughts, bringing his Punisher back inline with the rest of his squad, then felt a surge of pain in the base of his skull.

The training commander watched as Gold 3, a new recuit in a Punisher, began to list offcourse.

“Gold 3, I’m not going to tell you again. Tighten it up and focus!” he bellowed into the squad comm channel. The Punisher continued offcourse, slowly spiralling towards a larger battleship in the fleet.

“Gold 3, this is your last chance! Alter course or you will be fired on!”

But it was too late. Phillip Wessam was already dead.

—

VILLORE VIII, MOON 7
FEDERAL INTELLIGENCE LOGISTIC SUPPORT

Minara Dawn knew her days were numbered ever since her betrayal and outright false testimony regarding Roc Wieler. As much as she had tried to put it from her mind, leave it in the past, her fear of eventual retribution had become an obsessive compulsion. She was completely paranoid.

She barely flew her ships anymore. Even more rarely did she leave her office or apartment.

When the day came for her to reconnect with Aura, a connection essential to all pod pilots, she did so with certain dread. She had her own technicians check and recheck the connections. Security was doubled in her hangar.

She was terrified to die.

When she was finally plugged in, finally feeling comfortable and somewhat whole again, she realized how foolish her terror had been.

It was her last thought as she felt a sudden jolt at the base of her spine.

—

“All secondary targets eliminated. Moving to primary.”

“Dammit Nova! At least let him explain himself.”

“Wouldn’t matter if he did. Orders are orders. And even if the proof has been falsified, it’s not my place to question it. Loki, you ready?”

“Ready.”

—

PATOR IV, HEIMATAR REGION
MAJANUNI INSTITUTE

Roc Wieler sat alone in his cell, just another day in solitude, left only with the constant questions in his mind. There was too much self-loathing, too much anger; he was slowly deteriorating, giving up the fight.

A low rumble shook the concrete foundation. He knew the tremor of an explosion when he felt it.

Alarms sounded throughout the facility. Roc had always known they would come.

For weeks, he had steeled his mind, preparing to fight against anything and anyone that would come for him, but the drugs, the mental probing, the interrogations; they had finally started to wear him down. He knew he would break soon, if he hadn’t already. He honestly couldn’t remember.

All he had ever wanted to do was make a difference in the universe.

A loud explosion this time, much closer, shaking dust loose from his very cell.

Still the mountainous Brutor didn’t move. He had accepted his fate. What other choice did he have in the end?

The wall across from his cell exploded inward, and he instinctively covered himself, dropping to the floor. When he arose, there was a single figure standing before him, covered in a sleek bodysuit, staring down at him.

“Roc Wieler, come with me. We don’t have much time.” she said.

An emotion Roc hadn’t felt in a long while began to rise within him, hope.

Slowly he stood and took his first step towards freedom. That is when his caution kicked in.

“Who are you?” he asked, realizing it had been the first time he had spoken in days.

“My name is Nzuri Sana, but that’s not important. What is important is who you are.”

Roc looked confused. He knew who he was. Didn’t he?

She picked up on his expression and spoke firmly, “You’re no longer Roc Wieler. From this point on, you’re nobody; just another pilot trying to make a living. Got it?”

She turned and started towards the hole in the wall before acknowledging Roc’s reply. He started after her.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“Only place we can, flyboy; nullsec. You’re wanted by Concord. Only place you’re going to survive long enough to figure out what’s going on is where they aren’t.”

Roc nodded. He understood.

His life, as he knew it, had ended, and a new chapter begun.

He smiled.

“What’s so funny?” the woman asked.

“Oh, just been itching for a fight is all. Looks like I got my wish.” Roc replied, his boyish charm restored.

She looked at him sternly when she spoke. “This isn’t a fight you can win.”

Roc returned her stare with an intensity that shook her to the core of her being.

“Exactly how I like it.”

—

“Subject has eluded us. Orders?”

“There’s nowhere he can go. We’ll find him. Fraudulent ISK is a capital offence. Concord won’t take this lightly.”

Fallout smiled. “Well, if he makes it to nullsec, not much we can do at all.”

Nova and Loki both scowled. “No, there isn’t.”

II

Posted by Roc Wieler on

Two years since you died, and still the pain inside me grows. The pain at losing you threatens to crush every good memory we had. It’s not healthy I know, but my heart cries out still upon every thought of life without you.

It’s not fair. There are millions out there more deserving of death than you. It was the truest tragedy if ever there was one.

I am still fixated, consumed on the last mental image I have of us; you laying there on your side, kissing me; me holding your face in my hand, tears flowing freely.

It tore out my soul as they gave you the needle, as I watched you breathe your last, as your eyes glazed over, lifeless, to forever haunt me.

No man should ever have to make the choice to end the life of someone he loves so dearly. It’s too painful a responsibility for anyone’s mind and heart to endure.

Yet it was my choice.

The doctors said we could try expensive medicines, and that it might buy you a few more months. Months in which I could watch you slowly wither away, suffering poor quality of life and growing discomfort, simply for the selfishness of having you with me for a little while longer.

I couldn’t do that to you. You deserved better. You deserved the release you got from the pain.

Still.

I had to step away just now to clear my eyes. I find it difficult to even write about you. My heart drowns in never ending misery.

This universe is worse off without you in it.

As time passes, I fear the loss of my memory. I fear not being able to remember every detail about you. I have nothing left but those memories; a few photos, videos, a few articles left that were yours.

And your urn.

I look at you often, hold you close sometimes. Without you I am not the man I was.

Life hasn’t been the same for me. I wrote another song about you, about life inbetween death, about being there until the end. Many love the song. It just moves me to tears everytime I listen.

So much has changed in my life that I would tell you about, but honestly none of it means anything without you to share it with.

Two years.

One day I will join you. We will be reunited. I will be made whole again.

Until that day, know I love you with all that I am, and miss you every day. I still kiss my ring every morning to honour you.

I don’t want to stop writing. I’m afraid when I do it will be as if you’re gone again.

You were my best friend. You understood me like nobody else ever has, and probably never will.

So many things we never got to experience together, to share. And now it’s too late.

I constantly second guess myself you know. Maybe I should’ve told the doctors no. Maybe we could’ve tried the other medicines. Maybe a miracle would’ve happened.

It’s my fault you’re dead. It was my choice.

I still believe it was the right thing to do for you. The pain I feel confirms it. You didn’t suffer. You didn’t decay. You shone brightly, and were extinguished quickly.

I will never stop speaking of your greatness.

I love you Taniqua, and you will always remain alive in me until we are one again.

Blog Banter #17 – Roc Appeal

Posted by Roc Wieler on

Welcome to another special installment of the EVE Blog Banter, the monthly EVE Online blogging extravaganza created by myself, 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 me.

What could CCP Games do to attract and maintain a higher percentage of women to the game. Will Incarna do the trick? Can anything else be done in the mean time? Can we the players do our part to share the game we love with our counterparts, with our sisters or daughters, with the Ladies in our lives? What could be added to the game to make it more attractive to them? Should anything be changed? Is the game at fault, or its player base to blame?

—

Stigmas, stereotypes, demographically targeted marketing are but a few of the reasons that contribute to the low percentage of female gamers in general.

Historically, males have always been the tinkerers, the explorers, the gadgeteers, the inventors. Men are the wanderers, the ones filled with the desire to conquer everything they put their hands to.

Factor in a patriarchal, male dominated workplace, and other sexist practices, and you end up with virtual realities created by men for men.

MMOs are the modern day version of a “Boy’s Only Club”, and they are marketed that way, for the most part.

Thankfully, the women of this generation have been statistically proven to be more apt with social media and associated technologies, and are making huge strides in the virtual arena.

Game producers, developers, marketers and advertisers are picking up on this trend and adjusting their outdated ways of thinking to better capitalize on the sheer volume of women involved in technology.

It’s a smart move.

But until every company starts realizing that women are just as capable as men when it comes to technology, there is only one solution to attract more women to Eve Online.

More Roc.

Brilliant in its simplicity, I know. More Roc posters, more Roc music, more Roc animations, more Roc merchandise. CCP needs to capitalize on all the bad ass sexiness that is associated with the package of Matar Colonel Roc Wieler.

It’s the most realistic solution to the problem. Always has been.