It’s interesting, in retrospect, to look back at the gaps between the entries in this journal and postulate as to what my audience must think of those absences. Were they intentional? Did nothing interesting occur? Does he not remember? My mind wanders down many pathways of thought on the topic.

In this instance, the answer was simply one of embarrassment, shame and mental anguish. To this day, they are still difficult memories to consciously bring to the surface and discuss, let alone write about.

The medications kept me sedated, docile, lifeless. My jaw hung open involuntarily, a steady fall of drool running down the side of my cheek, streaming over my shoulder to finally pool on the bed sheet beneath. I was in a straight jacket, thick leather straps tied down tightly over it, equally strong straps clasped around my ankles. My head was kept immobile as well by a final leather strap.

I had always liked leather and bondage until then.

I suppose I’ve jumped the gun a bit, leaving you wondering how I came to be in that condition. My apologies for that.

Since being admitted into that forsaken place, and realizing my mind was slowly slipping away from me, I had made it my primary objective to escape. I knew it was playing into the game the Amarr had setup for me, and that it would only further reinforce the smear campaign they had somehow engineered against me, but I had weighed every alternative and came to the same conclusion: there was no good way out of this one for me. If I stayed, awaiting evaluation, possible therapy, then verdict, I would surely go mad, possibly killing myself, possibly left to be a vegetable. That would mean the Amarr won. If I did manage to maintain my sanity and was dismissed to civilian life, I would be shot on site by Concord for any illegal actions against the Amarr, capsuleer status or not. Again, the Amarr won. The only remaining option then was to extricate myself from that unholy situation, forfeit my military career, and continue on as a fully licensed capsuleer, waging a one man war against the atrocities of the Amarr.

Two days prior to my new jacket I had made my attempt at freedom. The security here was quite lax, and the orderlies that opened my cell that day had not expected my sudden and aggressive assault. I had been a model “patient” since my admission.

It took little effort to crouch, punch the attaching joint of the knee from the side, watch the man collapse, stand to open palm the nose of the second orderly, then drive a hammerfist downwards across his chest, dropping him on top of his colleague, all before they knew what had happened.

I grabbed a handful of old mechanical lock keys, as well as the passcard of both orderlies.

By the time I had bolted for the nearest secured door, the alarm had been sounded. Other patients cheered, barked, screamed, spat phlegm, defecated, as well as many other responses to the abundance of stimuli, but I ignored it all, single minded in my desire for freedom.

My heart raced in my ears, my blood pumping fiercely in my veins. I would utilize all my power to be away from this place.

I was stopped at the first door. None of the keys worked, and the IDs I had swiped required a passcode to be used in conjunction with them.

It only took a few minutes before eight security personnel, dressed in full riot gear, came at me from both ends of the hallway, and regardless of how well I fought, I was subdued easily.

When next I awoke, I was in the state I described at the beginning of this entry.

I had fought the effect of drugs before. Part of me wondered if Vitoc had been mixed into the sedatives to slowly recreate the dependence that had nearly cost me my life many times in the distant past.

I needed to stay focused. I needed to draw on memories of strength and hope. It was the only way to overcome the demons that threatened to knock down the door of my mind.

I randomly sifted through my recollections, finally seizing on one that ironically left me in a far better mental place than I had hoped to be in.

It was a letter from a Caldari patriot, written when I was still a Capsuleer, as an expression of appreciation for the “Brutor Way of Life”, a fitness program & cookbook I had published during the height of my celebrity.

Hi Roc,

I just wanted to drop you a quick line to say thanks. Don’t know if this will actually get to you.

First off, I’m a big fan (and I actually grabbed a copy of Bio when you released it), and plan to pickup your second album, One Night of Roc, soon. I’ve always enjoyed following your exploits and adventures, whether through GalNet, or via local holonews. New Eden– it’s a richer place to hang out in because of your contributions and others like you.

My other ‘thanks’ is a bit less conventional. Two months ago, I read a piece about how you had progressed on your fitness goals in only a few short months. That really gave me some inspiration to start on an pretty intense fitness plan. Needless to say, it’s funny how big a change an hour and a half in the gym every morning and cutting out all the crap and junk food from a diet can make. I started on at 265lbs, and as of today, sixty days later, I’m 212lbs. I’m not quite back the shape I was in before trade school when I ran triathlons, but I’m more fit than I’ve been in a very long time, and it’s given me the push I needed to start back into martial arts as well. It’s even inspired some of the guys I work with to get back into shape. I owe you one dude.

So I was thinking, if you’re ever in Caldari space (har har), and find yourself in the mood for a steak dinner, my treat, look me up. It’s the least I can do to say thanks – just forgive me if I order a salad instead of a baked potato…

Feel free to have Aura ping the hell out of me to make sure I’m not a stalker. I’m just another guy saying thanks to one of the few living legends we have in this universe.

All the best, and thanks again,
Garlon Das

Funny the things the mind latches onto for strength. Thanks Garlon.

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.

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:

• Prano’s Journey – Grapevine
  

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.