I awoke.

I didn’t know what year it was, let alone what day or what hour.

I was ravenous with hunger. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten, but I needed to feed now with an urgency that threatened on obsessive.

My joints creaked from lack of use, my vision dulled and blurred on one side. Perhaps I had suffered sickness while in cryo sleep? It wouldn’t matter soon. Soon, my hunger would be satiated.

I remembered the days when I never suffered from illness, from when I was a capsuleer. They told us we would live forever. They lied.

Things had changed when Empress Jamyl Sarum I married Tibus Heth. That was the end of immortality for all of us. What made things even more interesting was the fact that our bodies then began aging at an accelerated rate. The top scientists of the Union (the new name given to the merging of Caldari State and the Amarr Empire) couldn’t find a cure.

Many of us believed this genetic virus had been engineered all along by Sarum towards the extinction of all capsuleers. Not surprisingly, very few Amarr capsuleers took ill, and none suffered this genetic mutation condition.

When we had fled New Eden in our Hel carrier, there were only a few hundred of us; time and necessity had seen our numbers grow.

The alarms blared. The attack had already begun. By now, some unsuspecting vessel would be locked in our tractor beams, having already been disabled by whatever fighter drones we still had functioning. Our existence was a risky one, jumping into high sec for a quick ambush, then retreating into the nearest wormhole we could find.

We were always cautious. Our scouts were very thorough. Over the countless years we had learned what could happen if we were reckless, having had our wormhole collapse on us previously, leaving us stranded in high security Empire space. CONCORD was quick to react to our presence, and it took us decades to restore our ship to fully operational status. Many lives were lost that day, but it was fewer mouths to feed in the end.

Still, maybe today we would be lucky. Maybe today we would pillage and burn, topping up our cargo holds and stuffing our faces until we could gorge no more.

Limping slightly, I left my room, if you could call it that. Even though we were on an old Minmatar Hel carrier, space was at a premium. There were thousands of us aboard, maybe tens of thousands, it was hard to keep track. So a room? No, more of a storage locker really.

The hallway was packed with fellow crew mates, all of us staggering forward to our posts. We reeked of body odour, not a one of us having had the luxury of a shower since before I could remember.

I made my way to a landing bay. As part of the assault team, it was my duty to get into the enemy vessel quickly once it was within our docks, neutralize any onboard threats, then return to whomever was in command that day. We were not to loot, or feast, before any others.

It was a rule.

My anticipation grew as I entered the main hangar deck and saw what we had captured; the largest luxury cruiser I had ever laid eyes on. There would be thousands of people aboard, enough to keep us going for years. I could feel the saliva building in my mouth, and my stomach growled, audibly chastising me for not fulfilling its needs already.

Three dozen of us boarded the ship.

The electrical systems had been shut down via EM pulse, knocking out not only the ship’s systems, but any energy based hand weaponry they might have aboard. The dark didn’t bother me; it never had.

Immediately upon entering the boarding ramp, we were attacked.

A male in light armour took a swipe at me with a weighted baton. My left hand thrust forward, open palmed, catching him in the muscle of the forearm, twitching reactively of their own accord, his hand opening, dropping the baton. The stunned look on his face was quickly erased as I drove my forehead into the meat of his cheekbone.

I grabbed his shoulder with one hand, his jaw with the other, twisting his neck perversely until I heard it snap. The saliva in my mouth threatened to spill outwards.

I was hit across the back by another security guard, and while I acknowledged the blow, it didn’t hurt. I turned, my one clear eye glaring at the terrified man who was already backpedaling away. He stumbled, falling onto his rump, and I winced a little at the thought of him damaging himself.

He rolled over onto his front, clawing and crawling, trying to escape. I reached down and grabbed him by the ankle, pulling him towards me, eyeing his meaty legs, but my planned attack was interrupted by a fellow crew member diving on top of the man, ripping through his armour and shirt with his bare hands, blood spraying everywhere.

I pushed forward more deeply into the ship.

There was screaming to be heard reverberating in every direction, and it was music to my ears. My heart raced with excitement. It had been so long, too long, since I had been awake. I was going to savour every moment of it.

I turned a corridor and came face to face with a red haired woman. We both stopped for an eternal moment, her horrified at my appearance, me shocked by an ageless memory of a woman I once loved.

She shrieked. My hand snaked out, grabbing her by the throat, hard, stifling her shrill voice. She grabbed at my arm with both hands reflexively, already weakening from my vise-like grip. Her knees began to buckle.

I punched her in the face, so powerful was the memory of that other red-headed bitch. I drove my fist into her nose, her jaw, watching her lips split, her eyes swell, knowing I was committing a horrible sin amongst my brothers, knowing I was bruising our food, and that I would be punished later.

I didn’t care.

I continued pommeling her as I lowered her to the deck of the luxury cruiser. I drove my knee into her sternum, rewarded with the rushing sound of what little air remained being pushed from her lungs, and laughed as she spit up teeth onto the deck.

She could barely struggle now, and I was so sexually aroused by the indecent act that I was performing, I could hardly contain myself.

I smashed my fist into her face once more for good measure, then leaned close to her, taking in a deep smell of her fear.

I licked at the blood on her face, delighting in its metallic tinge. Her skin was so soft, so lovely. It would look beautiful on me.

Unexpectedly, she reached for my ear, ripping the earring out of it, taking a piece of my precious skin with it. Again, there was no pain, but I was filled with such rage at her defiance.

I drove my fist into her face. And again. And again. I could feel my knuckles splintering, and laughed with glee as her visage became more and more unrecognizable.

The sound of bones breaking, the canvas of blood, I was nearly orgasmic. I knew she was already dead, but I couldn’t stop. I wanted to reach into her face and pull out her spine, sucking on the tangy sponginess of her marrow. I wanted to consume her, strip her flesh, add it to my own.

I was tackled by three of my own crew mates before I could fulfill my dark indulgence. I was furious and turned against them with animal savagery.

It was my last mistake. As a pack, they surrounded me, inching closer, and I knew my miserable existence was at an end.

I had broken a rule.

I cast one more look towards my fair-haired prize, filled with a momentary regret that I would never get to feel her skin from the inside, that I would never get to eat her organs, or suck her bones dry.

With a guttural howl, I attacked fiercely, but was slowly, and literally, torn to shreds.

I awoke.

I was trembling. Aura had gently brought me to consciousness within my pod. My Vigil class frigate had arrived at my preset destination.

I had arrived in 0.0 space.

I tried to shake my mind free of that horrific and disturbing nightmare I had experienced, but failed.

Clearly, there was something wrong with me.

UNDISCLOSED 0.1 SYSTEM
ENROUTE TO CURSE REGION

My Vigil class, exploration fit frigate rocked again against the missile volley from the Serpentis ships. They had setup a gate camp on the jump gate I had just made use of.

It was terrible luck really. Had I been travelling the other direction, I tentatively could’ve broken through their blockade and accessed the gate controls before they could’ve locked me down. Unfortunately, it hadn’t gone down that way, and as I had tried to align the nimble frigate towards the next jump gate along my destined path, the Serpentis had surprised me with their competence.

Now I was suffering from my underestimation of them, two Daredevil frigates raking me with missiles and turret fire while keeping my frigate webbed and scrammed, allowing the turrets of the much larger Vindicator battleship ample time to track me.

Aura warned me that my shields had dropped as I felt the metallic structure of my ship groan and strain. It wouldn’t take long for that battleship to incinerate me.

I had decided to head towards Curse Region, following a lead I had received from a contact within Republic High Command. There was growing concern over the Angel Cartel’s technological advancements, rumours they had been reverse engineering Jovian technology and selling it to the Serpentis, whom they were known to be closely allied with. The ramifications of Jovian technology in the hands of such a widespread and powerful pirate ring were staggering, if true. It was my job to uncover what I may, being the poster boy for the Republic’s current “Anti-Pirate” campaign. A victory would further help to restore my tarnished reputation, whereas a failure wouldn’t surprise anyone, and the blame would fall squarely on my shoulders.

I hated the situation I was in. My heart was pure, my motives noble, yet no matter what I seemed to do, the bureaucracy and political machine of the Republic was destined to spin things however they best saw fit to protect their own interests. But was that beneficial to the longterm prosperity of the Republic? Were the secretive directives of a few influential members of parliament really what the foundations of democracy were intended for?

I was beginning to see Shakor as more of an impotent figurehead than anything, and felt empathy for him. Him and I were very much alike, men with the ability to see right from wrong, possessed of the desire to improve the quality of life for our people, to do what was right, and yet surrounded by those lacking the forward thinking ability to enlist true and lasting change.

It was a growing frustration for me.

My travels had been surprisingly quiet through most of lowsec; there seemed to be a mass emigration towards Empire space recently, though I couldn’t be entirely sure why. Did it have to do with the very thing I was being sent to find out? I supposed only time would tell.

The battleship landed another heavy salvo against my frigate, penetrating my hull, venting oxygen from my ship’s life support systems into space. I had Aura seal off those sections immediately. The ship wasn’t responding at 100% anymore, and scanning the damage control systems, I knew I was done for unless I took drastic measures.

I had finally managed to align to my intended gate, and fired an ECM burst. I knew the Vindicator wouldn’t be in range, but I was hoping to at least shake the two frigates long enough to make the jump to lightspeed.

I felt, more than heard the burst, and was elated when I watched both frigates lose target lock. I was free, and made use of those precious seconds.

Moments later, my ship shook violently as I sped through warp, and I encouraged the ship verbally under my breath to just hold on long enough to make it to a station.

As I half-expected, there was another gate camp setup, awaiting my arrival. I blazed forward, Aura activating the jump gate, and I was away without further incident.

Three systems later, I docked up at a relatively non-hostile station, and engaged them for repairs to my ship. They overcharged me, but given the remote location I was in, I was more than happy to pay their fee without argument.

During the forced downtime, I reviewed my intelligence reports on the Guardian Angels. I had transferred every piece of RSS data I had been provided onto my NeoCom, and while most was vague assumptions and spun yarn from aging pilots, I put together a disturbing theme: from all indications it did look probable that the Guardian Angels had indeed advanced ancient Jovian technology.

My mission objective was clear. Achieving that objective would be an arduous task, and I had no idea what was going to happen next, but if anything, I was sure it would prove interesting, as life often was.

When I started EVE Online I didn’t know that once I created my character’s appearance, that would be it. I’m sure many of us made this same mistake.

Please understand I came from Star Wars Galaxies. In SWG, you could change clothes, wear accessories, have every facet of your appearance changed by an Image Designer for an ingame fee.

Even though EVE Online is all about internet spaceships, I foolishly assumed that I could change my character later on.

So Roc looks like he does.

Then I started messing around with Roc in 3D, as many of you seen, and I’m really pleased with the results. So much so, that I used an empty slot on an alt account to fool around some more with how I think Roc Wieler should look ingame.

Here’s the results:

This looks a lot more like his high resolution 3D representation. I like these lights because of the Minmatar feel they give to the image.

Then there’s this:

I like this one as well because it has darker glasses, and overall gives a more ominous feel.

The bottom line is that I’m considering paying CCP to have my avatar redone. Do I wait for Incarna? Does it really matter? Does anyone care?

Fill out today’s poll and help me make a decision!