Tag Archives: Roc Wieler

Iceland 2009 – Entry #2

Posted by Roc Wieler on

12:48 PM HYATT HOTEL

I had a fitful sleep, concerned with my lack of luggage.

I made my way down to the hotel’s restaurant to enjoy a hearty breakfast. My stomach was already fantasizing about the meal it would receive. Back home, $8 could buy a good sized, filling breakfast. It might not be healthy, but right now I could only think about energy for the day.

I sat down and received a menu; my stomach cried. I politely made my order, limited to $8 as I still didn’t have any additional funds at this time, and waited for my English Muffin to arrive. That’s right, you heard me; I had an $8 US English Muffin. I suppose next time something like this happens I will ask Air Canada for the cheapest hotel to go with the food voucher, not the 5 star hotel where it costs $15 for two eggs…

I asked the waitress if the little jam carousel on the table cost extra. She looked at me with disdain, shaking her head no. I quickly piled six small jars of jam onto my muffin. I really didn’t care what I looked like then; I was too damn hungry to care about anyone’s opinion other than my stomach’s.

A few seconds later, the muffin was gone, and my stomach voiced its complaint. Nothing I could do about it.

I gathered up my backpack, and checked out, thanking them once again for their kind consideration.

1:05 PM BOSTON LOGAN INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

Well, only 9.5 hours until my flight… fun fun.

I headed back to Air Canada to find out about my luggage. They had no idea where it was. They were reasonably sure it was with Icelandair by now, and I would have to ask them at their ticket counter. Of course, with only one flight per day out of Boston, their staff didn’t show up until 4 – 4:30 PM. Perfect, now I could spend the entire day worrying about whether my belongings were still in Toronto, had made it to Boston, or were in Iceland.

I went upstairs to the ticket counters, sat down, and waited. I read a bit more of the book I had with me but I was finding it a challenge to get into. The concept was interesting enough, but the story was slow to find its feet.

I opened my laptop, hoping to tap into some free internet. I mean, I could easily eat up 9 hours playing Eve… sounded like a good plan to me.

$9.99 US per day for the airport wifi. Dammit.

Right about then Lars walked by. Lars Loge (I don’t have the right o character on my keyboard. I could save this draft, walk over to the free hotel internet computers, and use their European keyboard, but I am too lazy). Where was I? Oh yes. Lars Loge was a Norweigan Documentary film maker whom had also missed his flight, heading to Iceland for a two day film festival they were having there.

We sat and chatted for a bit, finally coming to the topic of MMOs and EVE Online. From there, we spoke for a good hour before he couldn’t take anymore, salivating at the bit, wanting to get in touch with CCP to do a documentary about the entire system CCP has built, why they won’t commercialize it and sell out like other MMOs, how they manage to maintain such a complex market system, etc, etc. So, CCP, if you’re reading this and are interested, let me know; I have his contact information.

I texted Chris Whiteford about my boredom, and about how Boston sucks. Now to be fair, it was my mood that sucked, not Boston, and Chris politely reminded me of that, suggesting I go find the “Cheers” pub from the famous TV show.

So we did.

Lars and I spent the better part of the next few hours walking around Boston, looking at many of the historical settings Boston has to offer. It really is quite the beautiful city to experience.

I had fully planned on posting pictures, but the one thing it turns out that I forgot to pack was the adapter for getting my camera connected to my laptop. Ugh.

We headed back to the airport for around 4:30 PM, giving the Icelandair people the benefit of the doubt.

Nobody was there yet.

I asked around again, only to find out they weren’t to open their ticket counter until 6PM.

You know, I have to rant here.

Every other transportation medium has advanced significantly in technology. Train stations have no problem communicating with each other, finding out exactly where things are located at any time.

Even FedEx has a system for tracking between planes, trucks, etc. You know exactly where your parcel is, what it’s doing, when it was there, and when it will be where it’s scheduled next.

Apparently our parcels mean more to us than ourselves.

There is ZERO inter-airline communication. Air Canada has no way of talking to Icelandair. They have entirely different systems, and can’t even pick up a phone on their customer’s behalf to make an inquiry for peace of mind.

You would think this would reinforce my hatred of Air Canada, but it’s the same for all the airlines. Even the information desks really were lacking any information about the airlines. Hell, I had to ask four different TSA security officers where to even find the information desk before one of them knew.

End rant.

Lars and I sat around until 6:30 PM, when the Icelandair people finally decided to show up.

Our luggage was waiting for the plane. It was amazing to physically feel the stress roll off of my shoulders. I felt lighter, happier; I couldn’t remember the last time I experienced such a thing.

We entered the gate for our plane, found a decent restaurant, then Lars treated me to a few beers and a decent meal. He felt bad for me being broke and hungry, and who was I to turn him down?

We were sitting at a table for six, the only one in the restaurant, when the waitress informed us we would have to go on a waiting list for a table for two. My story is out of order here, as this occured before the good meal I mentioned above. My brain works that way sometimes, sorry.

We stayed sitting, both a little tired and cranky from our day, when an older gentleman sat down with a pint at our table. We invited him and his wife to join us, thus securing the table with enough bodies to tell the waitress to go to hell.

We introduced ourselves and quickly found that traveller’s kinship I’d heard so much about.

The couple were from England, though mum was Irish. I say “mum”, because we introduced them as our parents to the waitress, just to have some fun with her.

We spent the next hour finding out about “dad”, his military service, many anecdotes from English life, and that they were both fascinating people. Lars had also served in the military, as drafting is still mandatory in Norway, and shared a few of his tales of youth.

Not to feel left out, I told a few of my own memories from my days in the Tribal Liberation Force, my stationing in Dal, and my rank of Colonel… go ahead, laugh out loud at me; I wanted to have a story too!

Dad then told us about their current travels, and how they were lucky they could do it, given how much they had spent on our education. We nearly had bankrupted them, and should be grateful sons, which we were.

We had a few more rounds of beer, Samuel Adams. Now previously in my life I had always found American beer to taste like cold piss, but this Samuel Adams was actually pretty damned good.

9:05 PM BOSTON LOGAN INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

Finally, the call was made over the intercom for our flight. We boarded quickly, found our seats, and the smiles of relief we felt were all that needed to be said.

Lars and I switched seats, him getting the window, as he was only going to get the five hours sleep the flight offered before he had to make up a day of work he had lost at the film festival. He would be going all day whereas I was hoping to check in to my hotel and go to sleep.

As Lars slept, I enjoyed Zac Effron in 17 Again. It even brought a tear to my eye. Yes, it was cheesy. Yes, it was overdone. Yet still, it was a touching moral story none of us should forget. Maybe I was just really missing my wife, and the basic story was about a guy who married his high school sweetheart, regretted it and blamed her for all his failings, then got the chance to go back and do it all again.

Honey, if you’re reading this, I love you. You are the most supportive, most loving woman I have ever known, and if not for your constant patience, encouragement, edification and support, I wouldn’t be where I am now. Thank you for all you are and all that you help me to be.

6 AM KEFLAVIK INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

Honestly, this was one of the most modern, gorgeous airports I had ever seen. It was less than five years old, and totally of unique architecture. If the rest of Iceland was anything like this, I was going to have an incredible time.

I quickly made it through customs, found my luggage waiting (phew! again) and made my way up to the waiting car CCP had provided.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one CCP was waiting for.

I spent the next half hour ignoring the barren, rocky, treeless landscape of Iceland, instead chatting up a few CCP employees on the ride. CCP BigDumbObject was there, one of the mission tech support guys, one of the Minmatar Wildfire Epic Arch content writers, and one of the Sleeper AI programmers and his wife.

Eat jealousy, bitches!

I handed each of them autographed Roc Wieler pictures (of COURSE I brought autographed Roc Wieler pictures, duh!), and we all had a really fun time, arriving at our final destination, the Grand Hotel in Rekjavik.

The hotel was gorgeous, and even though the sun was now rising over the barren, rocky, treeless, sulfur smelling Iceland horizon, I couldn’t wait to crawl into bed.

“We just require a credit card deposit for any additional costs you may incur.” she said at the counter.

*sigh

Within seconds I discovered the difference between the people of Iceland and the people of North America. The people in Iceland were genuinely nice. There, I said it.

I explained to her that I didn’t have a credit card on this trip, and hadn’t made it to a bank to exchange some Canadian for some ISK (snicker, ban his account!)

She said, and I quote, “No problem, sir. Get some sleep and when you feel refreshed we can take care of it with a cash deposit.”

I momentarily fell head over heels for this woman that was giving me sleep… sorry honey.

I went upstairs to room 749 of the Grand Hotel, threw my bags down on the extra bed, took a quick look around, then felt my stomach grumble. I swear it never shut up.

I went back downstairs to ask about the breakfast menu. I figured I might as well get to the bank, get some money, have some breakfast, then maybe rest.

“The breakfast bar is open now, sir, just through those doors.” the lady at the main counter said.

“And how expensive are the items?” I asked, remembering my nightmare in Boston the previous morning.

She looked at me, confused. “Sir, the breakfast is included with your room.”

My eyes opened in excitement (thanks stomach for that).

“Which items are free?” I asked, cautious of anything free.

“All of it, sir.” She said with a smile.

I thanked her, then practically ran for the breakfast buffet.

The CCPers were there enjoying their meal, and I quietly joined them, having even more interesting conversations.

Over the 90 minute breakfast I learned a few things about CCP, just from talking with these people.

  1. They take their responsibilities VERY seriously. Not a one of them would let anything slip. They know the rules. They respect the rules. I respect that.
  2. They are a lot funnier than I would’ve thought. Most geek type programmers are hardcore and serious. Not these guys. While I’m confident they are among the best programmers I had ever met, they managed to keep a light hearted sense of humour about not only themselves, but about the game. I like that.
  3. They can eat more than a starving Brutor. Seriously, I was shocked.

After I finished my gluttonous meal, calling for a wheelchair to get rolled to my room… ok, that part didn’t happen, I just wish it had.

After I finished my gluttonous meal, I slowly walked back to my room, wiped away the meat sweats and brushed my teeth. I collapsed under an incredibly warm duvet and was dead to the world… for a few hours.

Blog Banter #12 – EVE Mobile

Posted by Roc Wieler on

Welcome to the twelfth 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 banter comes to us from CrazyKinux himself, who asks the following: First there was the MMO on the PC, and now with the recent announcement of DUST 514, EVE will soon be moving onto consoles. But what about mobile? Allow your imagination to run wild for a second and describe how you would see EVE being ported to mobile devices, whether the iPhone/iPod touch, Blackberrys or Android-based devices. Dream the impossible for us!

Too soon. Those were the first words that came to mind when I saw this month’s topic.

It’s interesting in a way though, as this very topic is virtually all I’ve been able to think about during my flights to Iceland.

As I sit here now, in the lobby of the Grand Hotel, I wonder anew what will COSMOS be like? Where does Capsuleer fit into the grand scheme of things? What other surprises is CCP not telling any of us?

  1. EVE Mobile – I don’t see it happening, plain and simple. Not yet, maybe not ever. It reminds of the CCP client for Linux. It was made because some people use it, but eventually dropped because the market just isn’t there. For me, mobile is the same. You’ve got a few different platforms out there, but in the end you can narrow it down to iPhone, Blackberry (Storm and Bold only), and Windows Mobile. I just don’t think the others are even a viable solution: graphics capabilities, hardware capabilities, market viability, etc, etc. And even if we look at the three I did mention, there are still too many limitations: hardware again, developing across multiple platforms, etc, etc, it can eat up a lot of resources financially as well as development wise.
  2. COSMOS – So we know COSMOS is going to bring some cool things: Evemail, market, interesting ways of keeping us connected to our ingame counterparts from anywhere we are. Isn’t that the point in the end? CCP makes their money from us renewing our subscriptions. Look how many times they’ve reworked the New Player Experience. Eve is a harsh game; so harsh that I’m sure at least 60% of the players out there that try it quit before peeling away the layers of complexity and seeing the beauty underneath that is Eve Online. COSMOS, while able to provide a general means to keep track of things currently done in other fantastic apps like Capsuleer, is going to have limitations as well. Primarily, it’s a web app. As such, it will have to work across multiple platforms, meaning it can’t be optimized for any specific one. This is good in that provides a way for everyone to access the ever important character data, but at the same time it can’t leverage any specific advantages other platforms can utilize.
  3. Capsuleer – Over 24,000 users and one of the most beautifully designed, well coded apps out there for iPhone. It makes use of the EVE API in a fantastic way, and continues to grow and grow in both features and hype. Will COSMOS be API based? If so, then all third party apps like EveMon and Capsuleer will benefit, as they are written for specific platforms, and can be tailored to maximize the end user experience. But if COSMOS isn’t, then is it a Capsuleer killer? I certainly hope not, as Capsuleer still fills a need COSMOS may not. Even though it will work through Mobile Safari, it’s still just a web page at the end of the day. It won’t be customized like Capsuleer. It won’t have the same slick interface of Capsuleer. It won’t make you want to keep pulling out your phone to see what’s going on with your characters or the Blog Pack. So will it be a dead tool? I don’t think so. I think there is room in the universe for Capsuleer and COSMOS to both do well.

So yeah, too soon. We’re just not there yet.

My hopes is that COSMOS opens up all kinds of new API data; that would excite me. I hope it provides a mechanism for players to keep in touch with other outside of game. I hope it attracts new players to simply sign up so they can become part of a community greater than just a MMO.

But EVE Mobile? No. Never going to happen.

CrazyKinux’s Musing – Tying the dots and locking me in!
A Merry Life and a Short One – I Don’t Own a Working Phone
Yarrbear Tales – EVE on Mobile Devices? Eh.
Hands Off, My Loots! – EVE Mobile…Possibility?
Achernar – Trapped on Planet Horror
Rettic’s Log – The Cronofile – Blog Banter: EVE Mobile
A Mule in EVE – EVE Mobility
Inner Sanctum of the Ninveah – EVE Mobile
My Life in EVE – 12th Blog Banter
My God, it’s Full of Stars! – 12th EVE Blog Banter
The Wandering Druid of Tranquility – WOW, look at that ‘micro-Dust’
Adventures in Mission Running – 12th EVE Blog Banter
Ecliptic Rift – EVE Everywhere
Roc’s Ramblings – EVE Mobile
EVE Monkey – EVE on a Mobile Device?
Nashh Kadavr’s EVE Blog – I-pod Capsuleer
Escoce – EVE Trade – Dynamic System Security
Break Vol – EVE Blog Banter 12
Mikeazariah – EVE Mobility
Pods and Pills – The 12th EVE Blog Banter: EVE on the MOVE!
Eve Monkey – Eve on a mobile Device?
Many more to come…

Iceland 2009 – Entry 1

Posted by Roc Wieler on

Where to start? I was thinking of posting as Roc, but honestly thus far I’ve had more of an adventure as good ol’ Marcus J. Dickinson than even the Colonel could imagine…

3:30 PM SUNDAY, TORONTO PEARSON INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

Finally got things sorted with my booking. Helluva way to begin my adventure.

I sat and enjoyed a pleasant meal with my lovely wife at Wolfgang Puck’s. $15 CAD for a burger, but you know what? It was a fantastic burger.

It was going to be a “chance in a lifetime” trip; CCP had invited me to Iceland for Fanfest, and to discuss business opportunities for Capsuleer, along with my partner Chris Whiteford.

Originally, my wife and I had planned on attending Fanfest this year since around March, but with the expense of the wedding, and other unforseen costs, we sadly gave up on it, which was ok.

She has always been incredibly supportive of my endeavours, and knew in my heart of hearts, I wanted to go to Iceland more than anything.

She prayed it would happen.

I had honestly resigned myself to the fact I wasn’t going, and with work as busy as it has been steadily, it wasn’t viable. However, I had previously booked the time off, and due to business, laziness, whatever you want to call it, I never “unbooked” the time allotment.

Then we started corresponding via email with CCP. We were asked if we would be attending. Chris was coming of course, but regrettably, I could not attend.

I made the joke that I’d be happy to come if they would be willing to pay my way.

Two days later, we get the email. We were going to Iceland.

My heart nearly dropped. I was close to having tears in my eyes. My wife was ecstatic and so proud of me.

Chris called, and my shaking hands could barely push the correct button on my iPhone. We were both freaking out.

We finished our meal in the airport, and checked in, walking that long hallway to our final goodbye.

It was bittersweet.

The line moved far more quickly than either of us wished, and instead of the romantic Hollywood passionate kiss with dip I was planning, I was shoved along in the line, and ended up barely able to give her a peck on the lips, then I was gone.

Sadness.

Alright, time to go through customs. No biggie. I took my shoes off, my jacket, emptied my pockets, ooh, my iPhone. I turned it to vibrate. Put it all in a grey plastic tub, then put my backpack on top.

It was just as the Customs lady was handling my backpack that my iPhone decided to vibrate. Without even having to look, I knew it was my business partner, Chris, and I wagered he was trying to prank me. He couldn’t have picked a single better moment.

“Step away from the bag, sir.” The Customs lady said sternly.

“It’s just my phone, I can show you, it’s ….” I replied.

“Step AWAY from the bag, sir.” She repeated, more firmly.

I was surprised how quickly the two burly male customs officials had seized me by the arms, and pulled me out of line.

Sunuvabitch, I thought. I’m gonna kill Chris.

After a chemical swab of all my belongings, and a near naked pat down of myself, I was allowed through customs.

This trip was just getting better and better.

I checked my phone, and sure enough, Chris had called. I called him back, relaying the tale, and he laughed hysterically. I’m sure even now as he reads this blog post, he has tears in his eyes recalling the incident.

I will get you back, bitch. Don’t ever doubt it.

I tried to stay optimistic. It was 6:30 PM. My flight was 7:20PM to Boston, with 90 minutes or so to catch my connecting flight to Iceland. Piece of cake.

I took a seat, and did some reading.

“Attention passengers, flight AC 366 to Boston has been delayed due to poor weather conditions in Boston.”

*grumble.

I hated Air Canada. Every time I had flown with them in my life, something always managed to go wrong, but who was I to complain? I wasn’t the one paying for this trip.

Alright, so the new time of arrival was 8:50 PM. My connecting flight was 9:30 PM. That left 40 minutes to do a transfer in Boston. Doable.

We finally got on the plane, only to experience another 20 minute delay on the Toronto side before lifting from the runway.

The flight was uneventful, though they did give us free drinks to compensate for the delay and potential missed connections.

9:15 BOSTON LOGAN INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

The doors to the plane opened far too slowly. I raced out of the terminal, screaming for directions as I went, and found out I had to get to Terminal E. I was in Terminal B.

I ran out the outer doors of the terminal, and saw the terminal shuttle bus there, pulling away. I had been told they only come once every ten minutes.

I had to catch it.

I sprinted about 300m after it, 13 pound backpack bouncing away on my back. Thankfully, airport traffic is nuts, and the bus wasn’t moving when I caught up to it, slammed my palm against the door, and begged him to let me on.

He did, and I made it to Terminal E by 9:22PM.

I flew up four flights of stairs, and sprinted another 400m through the terminal. It was 9:26PM.

I had made it, with four minutes to spare.

I presented my boarding pass.

“We’re sorry, sir.” she began in broken English. “The plane has already departed.”

I waited to catch my breath, which to my surprise, took less than a minute (my personal trainer would be proud), then blasted her with full verbal fury.

It only made things worse.

Half an hour later, I was talking to the Air Canada representative. To his gay credit, he gave me a complimentary suite at a five star hotel across from the airport, an $8 voucher for breakfast, and a $12 voucher for lunch.

Score.

I then asked about my baggage, as I really didn’t want to be without it, you know, clean underwear and all.

I went back to the ticket counter for Icelandair. Nobody was there. Lovely.

I returned to the Air Canada desk for further assistance. Nobody was there. Lovely.

I finally found a general baggage claims area, and after dancing around the issue for about 45 minutes, I finally convinced someone to go into Icelandair’s baggage room and find my bag for me.

There were no bags there.

So, either my bag hadn’t left Toronto, was somewhere in Boston Logan airport, or had already made it to Rekjavik in Iceland to enjoy Fanfest before me.

Lucky baggage.

Finally, I called the shuttle service for the hotel. All I needed to do was checkin, go upstairs, and go to sleep.

“And we just need your credit card for a security deposit. Money will only be withdrawn for additional charges.”

Man…

My Mastercard had been used fraudently the previous week, dropping me to -$31 dollars, and I had been fighting all week with them to dispute it. Don’t get me wrong, the people at Mastercard have been very friendly; they just haven’t gotten any results for me.

Frankly, you can be the biggest prick you want to me, provided you get the results I want.

“I don’t have my credit card this trip, I’m afraid.” I replied, trying to be as charming as possible. My wife would’ve cringed at my transparent attempt, but hell, it worked on her didn’t it? (Sorry honey if you’re reading this).

“Well, we could take a cash deposit.” she said a little flirtatiously.

“That could work, IF I had any American currency. I wasn’t planning on being here in all truth. You take Canadian?”

Back in my youth, I travelled the States a lot. I had noticed that the further south you went, the less likely they were to take Canadian currency. But I was in Boston, in my mind, no problem at all.

“I’m sorry, sir, we don’t.” she replied, a little less than polite now.

“Look, I’m stranded. Icelandair only flies out of Boston once per day, so I have to wait until 9:30PM tomorrow night. I just want to go upstairs, collapse, wake up sometime around noon, then be on my way. I’ll be having a shower, might steal your toothpaste, as I have no baggage either, but that’s about it. Can you please cut me some slack?”

Her fingers glided over the keyboard effortlessly, and a few moments later, she was ready to talk to me again. I waited patiently, silently.

“You look honest, and I feel bad for ya. I’ll waive the deposit. Hope your trip gets better from here.”

I took the room key, flashed her my most charismatic smile, winked her way, then went upstairs to my king size bed.

1:15 AM Hyatt Hotel

I wrapped the warm duvet around me, lost myself in the 8 pillows on the bed, and collapsed into a deep, rewarding sleep.

Dead End Intercept

Posted by Roc Wieler on

I accepted Nilf’s mission to kill the RSS traitor.

Good. His name is Lomar Vujik. As soon as he emerges, terminate with extreme prejudice. Recover any data that wasn’t destroyed and then report immediately back to me.

I had sworn to myself that I would not kill his family, which he had taken onboard his escaping vessel with him.

What did that kind of action say about a man?

Lomar obviously loved his family; that was respectable. He was obviously in a blind panic; no husband nor father would rationally put his family in harm’s way unless he was completely desperate and without hope.

If Lomar had become that irrational, he would be prone to reckless mistakes, clouded judgements resulting in possible catastrophe for those he sought most to protect.

The very ones he cherished most might suffer if this wasn’t handled delicately.

The soldier’s voice in my head reminded me that he should’ve thought of that before betraying the Republic; and that orders were orders. But things were never that simple. There was always a reason behind action. I was sure the truth would surface before this was finished, one way or the other.

I made good time to Fredagod, warping the Onslaught to the RSS Residential Suites. My crew was made well aware that if they did not respond to my commands within nanoseconds, there would be severe disciplinary action, and past toothbrush bathroom cleaning sessions had instilled a healthy fear in them.

While in warp, I took a moment to review the data Nilf had transferred to me regarding the RSS Residential Suites.

This reconfigured station houses thousands of RSS agents along with their families, and serves as just one of many secure locations for employees to settle down. Often the line of work RSS agents undertake brings with it a risk for recriminations. In order to minimize the threat to their families and keep agent’s minds on the job, the RSS often heavily subsidizes the accommodation at these residential suites. For the RSS it is just another way to approach internal security; the cost of these subsidies pales in comparison to the amounts the Amarr would pay for just one good defector, and the damage done from a high-level leak would be significant for an entity that built itself on the security of information.

I felt uneasy. At first I thought it was because of the nature of the assignment I had been tasked with, but further introspection revealed a more alarming truth; my world view was being challenged.

Thus far in my life, decisions had been very black and white, very clear. There was a line. There were consequences for crossing that line. I had always been able to discern what was right and what was wrong.

I was starting to see just how many shades of grey there were in this universe, and it left me unsettled at how easily the vast majority of the population lived within them. I didn’t like when things became unnecessarily complex, but the longer I lived, the more complex my life became.

I missed clarity from simplicity.

I exited warp 100km from the residential station, my overview quickly filling with RSS ships. Frigates, cruisers, and a single Fenrir freighter. I flagged them all as friendlies to avoid any confusion should things turns sour.

I began moving towards the station when I received an open transmission from the docking authority. At first I thought they were requesting credentials, assuming I was moving to docking proximity, but there was no talking. I was privy to overhear an unauthorized debarkation of a Republic Fleet Tempest battleship, and the ensuing firefight as the ship broke free of the station.

This had all been planned for the benefit of Lomar Vujik, but it gave me all the information I needed. I cycled up weapons, set the crew to red alert, and moved in, locking the battleship and launching my Valkyrie II drones.

This wasn’t going to be an easy fight.

This variant of the frontline battleship of the Minmatar Republic had been heavily modified with only one purpose in mind: destruction. It had been supplemented with decks of top-of-the-line fire control systems, and its entire power distribution structure had been redesigned to provide as much power as possible to its weapons, resulting in a truly fearsome battleship.

Thankfully, the Onslaught wasn’t a stock Sleipnir; I had some surprises of my own for any enemy I faced.

The battleship hammered my shields hard, and I returned fire in kind. Very slowly, I peeled away his shielding and his armour, not letting up as his hull began to flame.

By now Lomar must’ve known he had reached the end, and that his family was going to suffer his fate if he didn’t act quickly. But what was he to do? I had him locked down tight, at my mercy, but had it been me in his situation, I would be of the mind that it was better for my family to die with me than to suffer torture at the hands of the RSS to reveal what they did or did not know. I would take them with me, selfishly, not thinking it through in the heat of the moment.

“Stand down.” I broadcast with authority to every ship within 250km, not knowing the exact frequency he would be using. His ship continued its barrage against me.

“Lomar, stand down. It doesn’t have to end this way.” I said with as much compassion as I could muster. I used his name to try to establish familiarity, relationship; it was a device often employed in negotiations.

Still, his ship continued to assault me, my shield dropping dangerously low.

“You have my word that your family will not be harmed. Simply stand down and…”

“Your word?” Lomar replied on an open channel for all to hear.

“What good is your word, Colonel, when you act as the uncaged bear of the RSS? Your word means nothing to me and my family. You will die, or we will die fighting you.”

Did he not see the dozen frigates and cruisers surrounding him? Did he not realize I was giving him an out? Impressive as his ship was, it would not stand against this fleet.

“You don’t have to do this, Lomar.” I said, genuine sincerity pouring from my voice, the use of his name pleading to his subconscious mind to hear me as a long-time friend.

“Yes Colonel,” Lomar paused. “I do.” The regret was clear in his voice.

He was not irrational at all. I had been mistaken. He had weighed all his options, and this was the choice that he had made for his family. There would be no swaying him; this I could tell from the grave finality of his tone.

He opened up with a new volley against my ship, dropping me into armour. I quickly gave the mental command, which was relayed to my engineering deck, and a size 800 capacitor battery was used to top up my ship. Seconds later I activated my shield booster, regaining about 30% of my shielding. I let the booster cycle again, and was close to 60% shield strength within six seconds.

I was trying to make it clear to Lomar that he would lose everything he valued most if he continued on this way. If he was so far gone that he would sacrifice them all, maybe I could push him further, to the point of breaking, to the realization of defeat, triggering his survival instinct to the foreground of his mind. It was never too late to change your mind; that’s what it was made for.

He simply continued firing at me, telling me his answer without uttering a single word.

With great regret, and a burden that still haunts me some nights to this day, I gave the command to the destroy his ship.

My eyes closed as it exploded brilliantly, a single tear escaping unseen within the liquid of my pod.

“Send a team to check for survivors.” I croaked, emotion slipping unwanted into my voice.

No life signs were showing via ship scan, but they weren’t 100% reliable in my experience.

Within fifteen minutes, my search and rescue team confirmed my ship sensor readings; there had been no survivors, but they had been able to recover a single singed datapad.

datapadThis barely functioning piece of personal electronics turned out to contain ledger upon ledger of financial statements, high-level meeting transcripts and company rosters from several public and private Minmatar organizations. A large portion of the data was encoded in some sort of advanced cipher, leaving it completely unintelligible to me.

I returned my findings to Nilf Abruskur, the pressing burden I felt only increasing in weight, crushing my spirit.

It’s good to know we’re on the same page, Colonel Wieler. Our asset in Ammatar sends their thanks. They’ve been gathering information for us; there will be something shortly. Get back to me in a minute or two.

I closed off the comm link, and squeezed my eyes shut, until the physical outweighed the emotional pain. I was angry at Nilf. I was furious with this entire situation. I was enraged at myself most of all.

Lomar hadn’t comprimised. He had stood by his beliefs until the very end, despite it costing him the lives of those he loved most. He had known the consequences of his choices, but for him, it had remained black and white until the very end.

I envied the man quietly.

If there was a god, I prayed that my superiors would be held accountable for my actions. After all, I was just a soldier following orders; that left my soul unblemished did it not?

I had hoped my own rationalization would cheer me slightly, allowing me to focus on the very real tasks before me. Instead, my inner voice could see through the self-deception, the lie, the attempt at justification for something I knew in my heart of hearts was clearly a wrong and despicable act.

What was I becoming?

The Cost of Preservation

Posted by Roc Wieler on

The docking tube retracted from Takalo’s Fleet Issue Tempest. I had returned to my ship and nestled myself back into the familiar warmth of my pod after having delivered the Olfei Medallion.

I mentally reviewed the conversation Arsten Takalo and I had just finished, and prepared myself for the new mission I had accepted on his behalf.

“Very good, Colonel.” Arsten Takalo said, eager anticipation in his eyes as I handed him the Olfei Medallion. He inserted the medallion into a sizable machine, enclosing the medallion in a plexi chamber, then quickly ran some diagnostics against it; my guess to verify its integrity.

I mentally thought of the punishment I would inflict on that double crossing merchant should this prove to be another fake after all.

A few minutes of silence passed, but I was a patient man.

Finally, Takalo turned to me, unable to hide the happiness in his eyes.

“Concord contacted me not too long ago about the actions of a certain Matar Colonel threatening a civilian insystem. The entire incident was recorded via dronecam. I told them you were tasked directly by Republic Security, and that subsequent to the Concord Treatise section 2010.514, were within regulations to use necessary force.

Had this turned out to be a fake, I would have seen it necessary to recant on that of course.”

So it was the real medallion. Good.

I let the man’s veiled threat slide easily off of my shoulders. I had been threatened by worse than he, endured more at the hands of more powerful men (and women), and was no longer as subject to my emotions as I had been in the past.

Isolated incarceration can change a man at his core.

Takalo continued.

Now that we’re past the small talk, perhaps you’re ready for some proper work. I guess we’ll see.

There’s this Gallentean guy, a historian named Aillon Boufin… yeah, I know. The story is that he’s been studying Minmatar history for years now, and as you’d expect, he’s come across a whole shipload of information and documents in that time. Apparently he has one of the largest unofficial collections of documents and artifacts from our earlier days. We’re talking real old here, Roc, some it going back to when it was just us, alone against the Amarr.

Now, I’m told that normally whenever we want to look at something of his, there aren’t too many problems. Recently however, when some of our academics from the Republic University asked to see a particular document known as the Hauteker Memoirs, they were denied. Since that time, they have bent over backwards for this guy. They have even tried to buy it back – this document that Matari people wrote, this document that belongs to us. They have tried that repeatedly, raising and raising the price and yet each of these times more refusals.

This is when things got ugly. Boufin recently made a statement to the University, saying he is only trying to “preserve Minmatar heritage”. After that insult, they called us in. The implication that RU staff would somehow endanger our own history by simply studying a document… it’s almost like he was trying to piss us all off.

Well, the insults stop here. The Brutor Tribe has arrived, and with a capsuleer to back their word on the matter no less. It has been decided by the tribe that the return of this document to Matari hands represents a higher priority than staying on good terms with some overprotective historian, Gallente or not. You will see to this. And before you go jumping in there, there is a five million ISK collateral to cover associated risks. The tribe is not willing to risk our own property falling into foreign hands again. Perhaps you can see why we’re looking to hire an egger? With that kind of money it’s not really an option.

I smiled inwardly. Apparently my own tribe, the Brutor Tribe, was out of touch with the cashflow of capsuleers. Five million ISK was nothing. If this document turned out to be as valuable as Takalo stated, it could easily fetch hundreds of millions on the black market. What was five million when compared with that profit?

That is what a lesser man would do. I was not that man.

As a Matar Colonel of the Tribal Liberation Force, as a child of the Brutor Tribe, as a proud citizen of the Minmatar Republic, it was my sworn duty to do what was right for our people. I would retrieve and return the document.

I had Aura retrieve the details of the last registered ship to this historian, Aillon Boufin. I then had her scan for the appropriate warp signature trail insystem, on the chance he hadn’t strayed too far yet. My stereotypical opinion of historians was they would be skittish and hide as quickly as they could. Public stations wouldn’t be a good option for them; too easy to track. No, this guy would be hiding in a safespot somewhere if he was still in system.

Aura’s search yieled four results. One of these went to the only station in Frarn. Two of these went to the Rens jumpgate. The final one trailed off somewhere insystem.

I took a gamble and decided to stay insystem, launching probes to scan down my potential target. It didn’t take long to isolate a location, and I warped quickly.

As soon as the Onslaught reverted to real space, I was hailed on open comm. I accepted.

Leave now, egger. I know why you’ve come and I know who has sent you. If you think you can just march in here and take things that took me years to find, you’re sorely mistaken. I won’t give you the courtesy of another warning.

The comm went silent.

Seemed this historian had more balls than brains; never a good thing.

I quickly targetted his Gallente cruiser and closed the distance between us. His ship was armed with civilian grade weaponry. It wouldn’t even scratch the Onslaught. I could simply latch a warp scrambler onto him, then have my marines board his ship and forcibly extract what I had come for; easy as taking candy from a baby.

I should’ve known better.

At fifty kilometers, Aura warned me of multiple incoming warp signatures. I cycled up the artillery cannons, optimized capacitor flow, and readied myself.

Seventeen mercenary vessels dropped in nearly on top of me, ranging from frigates to battleships.

Apparently this document was more important to the historian than Takalo had decided to tell me.

I slowly aligned the Onslaught towards the enemy fleet.

The next several minutes was a symphony of artillery, railguns, explosions and chaos. A lesser ship may have succumbed to the sheer number and strength of enemy, but the Onslaught was equipped with a Pith-X Type X-Large Shield Booster, which was effortlessly regenerating shields under this hailfire.

Slowly but surely, I prevailed, never losing my warp scramble lock on the ship of Aillon Boufin. I had more than enough experience to know that often the cowards would warp away while the main force served as a distraction.

After the battle had finished, my marines had no problems retrieving the Hauteker Memoirs, my new Sergeant handing them to me personally.

They looked painstakingly written by hand in an antiquated Nefantar script. These memoirs outlined the short-lived fortunes of an Ammatar clan known as the Hauteker – long since lost to time. The memoir’s focus seemed to be on the preservation of family tradition; the highly detailed passages documenting everything from the way the Hauteker family dressed to where they were all buried.

I could see why it would be of interest historically, and it did spark my interest to know there had been some lost tribe of the Minmatar, but I didn’t understand why anyone would go to such lengths to hide this fact, or monopolize this document.

I left a small salvage crew behind to loot the wrecks and strip them for raw materials, and to deliver everything to my hangar in Rens, taking their cut of the sales profit.

I returned to Arsten Takalo.

He wasn’t comfortable with a face to face, so while I had a drone deliver the memoirs to his ship, we debriefed the mission via vidscreen.

So things spiralled out of control in there. Don’t stress it, Roc. It was to be expected, and if it wasn’t you out there, it’d be Republic Fleet vessels with clone-less crews. You did a good thing; don’t doubt it for a second.

His ignorance continued to astound me. Capsuleers had clones; my crews tragically did not. I had made far too many calls to next of kin in my career to think otherwise.

Hopefully the foreign press will let this one slide, they’ve got enough of us in their own borders to sit on it, but there’s always a few. So long as the big outlets hold their tongues I’m happy.

I sincerely hoped he was right. The last thing I needed was more bad press.

Here’s your ISK back, plus some extra as thanks. Don’t blow it all away though, you’ll be doing other work that requires collateral.I may be starting to respect you, but trust is a damn long way off. We’ll need a moment to pass this on to our friends from the University, but they’ve asked us to hang around, and by us they mean you.

I could barely hold back my mirth at his continued foolishness, yet how he presented himself as so “in the know”. Still, I was intrigued by everyone’s interest in these memoirs, so decided to stick around and see how things would play out.

If you want something done right

Posted by Roc Wieler on

There is an old adage that states “If you want something done right, do it yourself.”

I’m a firm believer in doing things myself.

There is another saying that should go with this, 1% effort from 100 is always more effective than 100% effort from 1.

I was learning that the hard way.

One of the personality traits I took the most pride in was my ability to manage all the various passions that occupied my heart, mind and time. I was able to always have my hands involved in things that moved my dreams closer to realities.

Sadly, there came a point when I was overwhelmed, starting to burn out, so I delegated. As a Matar Colonel, I was used to getting others to do what I commanded so got some sorely needed assistance.

Unfortunately, as inevitably happens, others don’t necessarily share the same passion I would have for a given task, and ended up doing a half-assed job of things.

This was resulting in me having to do twice the work; I had to redo what the original ask was to get it done correctly to my standards AND then finish the task beyond that.

It just made me more bitter; wasn’t even worth the bother of enlisting the aid of others in the first place as far as I was concerned.

End result? Quality suffered, timelines got delayed, and my blood pressure and frustration level rose exponentially.

Slowly, I was getting things back to normal. Slowly, I was bringing balance back into my life. I missed the consistency of my journal; I’m sure my therapist wouldn’t be pleased with the large gaps in my chronicling either.

Slowly.

Slow and Steady wins the race “they” say.

Always with the elusive “they”. Bothersome.

Slowly, my Sleipnir class Command Ship Onslaught approached the gate to Frarn. I opened the comm I had received once again before embarking on my latest adventure, my gut telling me this was going to be more than simple work for Republic Security.

Colonel Wieler,

It is with humble respect for all you have accomplished in your career, and your unwavering heart for your people, that I am asking for your help with a most sensitive matter.

I wish to say no more through unsecured communications, save that if the situation were not dire, I would not hope to enlist the aid of someone so notable in the history of the Republic.

I am currently located in Frarn in my Tempest, location secure. Please use these transponder codes when you enter Frarn, and I will send you my location at that time.

Please make haste, Colonel. Time is not our ally.

Sincerely,

Arsten Takalo

I willed Aura to enable “Leash Protocol”, a small program I had commissioned before setting off on this journey, having learned from my previous months long follies. A passive, encrypted burst transmission would be sent every six hours to my contact at Rens VII – Moon 17, Brutor Tribe Treasury. Should the burst not be received on schedule, I had a squad of loyal Renegades ready to come to my aid. I could’ve asked for help from my corporation, Kinda’Shujaa, but I still didn’t feel comfortable with them. That was something I would have to change.

Verifying the program was running, I rechecked my weapons systems; 7 650mm Scout Artilleries at the ready. I activated the transponder codes from Takalo, and jumped into Frarn.

—

OOC: There is a new “Star Wars Science” toy line recently released in North America, featuring the Star Wars Force Trainer. I am so totally getting THIS for Christmas.

Blog Banter #11 – Salvation

Posted by Roc Wieler on

Welcome to the eleventh 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 banter comes to us from Joe Brusati a long time reader of CrazyKinux’s Musing, who asks the following: CCP states that T3 Strategic Cruisers are just the start for the T3 line-up. In future Eve expansions what would you like to see as the next T3 ship type. Please be specific on details about what role this ship would play, cost of manufacturing, and the different modules that would be available for it, and of course you must give your T3 ship a name!

The dream was so vivid, so real, that I honestly believed it to be just that.

I had awoken from my slumber to the sound of my neocom buzzing. I haphazardly reached around my nightstand for it, until my club-like hand rested on it, thumbing it to life.

“What?” I asked groggily, one eye squinting, my sinuses full, having been pulled from a deep sleep.

I threw the blankets off of myself quickly, suddenly brought to full alertness by the news I had received on the other end of the line.

“I’ll be right there.” I said, disconnecting the call, my feet almost immediately finding their places in my boots.

—

Four minutes later, I had raced to my hangar bay.

There she sat, though I wasn’t quite sure what she was. She was sleek and beautiful like my Firetail, but held that muscular look of a Rifter.

My chief mechanic was grinning from ear to ear standing beside her.

“What have you done?” I asked in shock, my jaw hanging open in awe.

“Well ye been moanin’ fer months bout wantin’ somethin’ a lil more. So ere ya be lad. Ya gots more.”

Running my hand along the seams of the hull, I could tell that the ship was modular by design, but still it was a work of art.

“What’s it do?” I asked.

“She be whateer ya wants her ta be; the perfect woman.” My chief mechanic replied. “Right now, she’s setup for the Dusters, and she’s mighty good at it I might add. But she can be stripped and refit in under an hour for whateer ya needs at the drop of a hat.”

He handed the spec sheets for it.

Configurable high, medium and low slots. Adjustable weapon mounting points. This ship was a technological marvel.

I flipped through the schematics until I laid my eyes on its current dropship configuration. Inertial compensators, atmospheric aerodynamics, ground and air assault turrets, able to hold a full squad of marines… and the entire fit was under 20 million isk. I liked it very much.

“In and out in under two minutes.” My chief mechanic hollered, his toothy grin growing even wider.

“I don’t know you keep doing stuff like this, but damn.” I replied.

I had recently volunteered to aid the ground troops in my downtime, my own personal penance for the loss of Daul Halwick, but had immediately noticed several inadequacies with the infantry ships.

This ship would solve all those problems. She was … Salvation.

—

I awoke the next morning, melancholic over the loss of Daul versus the exhilaration I had felt over that ship.

What the hell was a “Duster” anyway?