Joe Phoenix > and yet with all these griefers on your side you still cannot break me... and its driving you instain...

Last night I failed, big time.
Not so much in the way that Damien McCandless Esquire ME OBE IDST hasn't failed before mind, I have often been trapped, killed reborn, walked into another slightly different trap and been killed again.  Its par for the course.  It helps me understand people better each time.

No I failed because I did not take my own advice.
"Never listen to what your opponent says but pay close attention to what he does."

It wasn't Joe.  I would like to make that clear.
CVA Security have been hounding me for a few days now.  Its a rarity that I wake up, check the local and not see such wonderful people such as my friend CrimsonWar waiting for me in camp or in station. 

Last night, I went into Providence to look for Joe, and was followed for the best part of an hour.  Dodging from safe spot to safe spot, cloaking, uncloaking warping again, claoking and then sitting for ages unmoving in my Kestrel S Boat 13, CVA's Torpedos finally decided to head me off at the pass.  It only took them an hour and a half to fighure out I was heading to see Mr Joe at his local hang-out at the Casino ROAL.

When I got in system, I issued my standard local greetign to Joe so he knew I was in .
"HIYA JOE!!!!"

About ten minutes later, I was commed by one of God's Holy (Bag)Rollers (I can't remember which one exactly).
"Do you want Joe?"
Heh who wouldn't?
"Come to and you can have him.  He annoys us now"
Yeah, he'll do that.
"Im only in a Kestrel." I say honestly.
"Thats okay," says the Torpedo, "We will kill him."

Alas, dearhearts, at this time, Macca's legendary greed and avarice kicked in.  My voices screamed at me it was a trap, that this was stupid, that it was clearly total bollocks.
ITS A TARP ITS A TARP DONT GO DONT BE A MORON YOU WILL REGRET IT
But I so dearly wanted to see CVA kill Joe, I let a child-like sense of smugness enter into the equation.  I was sitting in a 30,000 isk ship, with about 10,000 isk of kit on it and an unaugmented clone body, I didn't feel I would lose anything of value.  Plus I would wake up in a nice Amarrian clone tube in Empire.

Five minutes later, I woke up in a nice Amarrian clone tube in Empire.

Pros:  I saw the gang who was waiting, presumably most of the group assigned to patrol for IEEE Investigators.  I know that they will happily do anything to protect a guy like Joe from his creditors.  And I know that they are very matter-of-fact about their killing, evidenced by the lack of smack talk of any kind at all.  I learned a lesson.

Cons:  I was very very stupid.  I got angry not at being killed but because of how they must have laughed at my stupidity and greed.  I lost about 150000 isk, which isn't much but is a loss so it goes here.  Most of all though, I acted like Joe. 

And that is now my cross to bear.  Perhaps there is something to this Amarrian God Image deal, perhaps not.  It was an extremely minor incident in a very very tiny war in a corner of not very important space, but it is informing my attitude to how this place works.  And has caused me to rethink that line of advice from earlier;

"Never do what your opponent does but pay close attention to how he does it."

Plus, I was inspired to build a new ship.
A nice little Rifter fitted for unsupported piracy in deep space called Flagellant 13.  She will be my hair-shirt :).

Joe Phoenix > hope you don't treat your uncle like this

I've decided to take a rest from illustrating my wretched life for a while and concentrate on the philosophical quandaries that plague a not-quite-a-pirate-not-quite-a-mercenary-certainly-not-a-carebear-definately-an-IEEE-Investigator like me.

This is not because life is dull, but the way I figure it, the ghosts and lurkers who may actually read what I write aren't particularly interested in the minutae of countless stealth-bomber runs on Joe's poorly-tanked Drake while he cries for help from CVA because he can't fight worth a crap himself and no one in his so-called corporation wants to come and help him do whatever he thinks he is doing in Providence.  And don't get me started on why is all-powerful Allice hasn't formed up yet to sweep the skies clear of every last glowy red IEEE agent, deputised or official.

No, dearhearts, this is more about WTF.

As in WTF is going on?  What is going on in EvE?  Who lives here?  Why do they do the things they do?  Is this blog going to be amusing?  Thoughtful?  Anger-inducing?  I doubt it.  But lets see where this takes us.

Lets start at the beginning.  What's in a name?
Eve/EvE/EVE/The Atrocity Simulator, whatever you prefer to call it, its still a better and more fitting name than WoW, which is poor (in that it doesn't feature a whole "World", there isn't actually any "War" and the "craft" is basically no more than mining/fishing/sewing/putting the kettle on for when the boys come home from the dungeon.  I guess the "of" is apt.  If its short for "offal").  I have thought hard about why my current game of choice is called EvE and for me it boils down to it being E vs E
.
In a PvP game, Players fight other Players.  In a PvE game, the players fight the computer, the Environment.  Therefore in EvE games, the Environment fights itself.  Now, besides what some popularist-gaming-filth (PGF, more on these later) may claim, there is NO PvE in EvE.  Ratting does not count as "game" anymore than cutting the grass for Rupees in Zelda counts as "game".  Ratting/Missioning is the only "quest" type (urg I feel unclean) in EvE, and as it is easier than BREATHING does not count as GAME.  Therefore, there is nothing but hot player-on-player action.  Furthermore, the players make stuff, do things, create, rant, rp etc etc etc all of this creates the rich environment of New Eden.  The players are the Environment,.as there is virtually nothing else out there, so therefore it is truely and E v E game.  So expect to get messed with.  If you don't want interaction with human beings of dubious intent (ie all of them), go back to your console, you PGF.

Life: None
Actually there are a great many people who seem to live only within the walls of the EvE servers.  Some of us (such as myself) are characters from other game-worlds who have become trapped in the new digital age.  Some are the alter-egos of the Users, some are nothing but soulless programs designed to perform monotonous tasks, and some are just bots.  Im not sure which of these Joe Phoenix fits into , but generally most of the folk I regularly encounter fall into either being literary memes or soulless robots.

Popularist Gaming Filth general gravitate into two camps, either the Carebear or the Failed Pirate (these are not mutally exclusive).  Popularist Gaming Filth love Call of Duty: Modern Warfare.  They love any so-called "game" which basically allows you to "win" by leading you around by the nose telling you to do stuff and offering no threat above having to repeat the same sequence over again, only now you know what to do. Ever played Soldier of Fortune?  No?  Well its a good example of what I mean.  Player walks into room, allows himself to be shot by the enemies so he can see where they are and then kills each one in turn with a a single shot each.  Repeat ad nauseum.

 I was like this when I played CJ's Elephant Antics on the Commodore 64 when I was 12, but thankfully both games and my ability to enjoy them evolved.  PGF are not like this.  They like their games like they like their music; bland and chosen for them by Simon Cowell.  I like my games like I like my coffee; in a cup and far to hot to drink without training Thermodynamics V first.
PGF become failed pirates when the rage-o-meter hits over 9000 after their fourth ganked retriever sinks beneath the waves of the methane sea, and they discover that CONCORD is a harsher mistress than fate.  Thankfully, this can often lead them to the way of the True Pirate, a noble profession to be sure, or even more noble, the Registered Mercenary.  Some even decided to sell their XboX 360s and PS3's, but sadly too few.  I'd just rather they went back to watch football with the rest of the herd and left me alone to enjoy my video games in peace.  Or rather war-crime filled carnage.  Whatever floats your boat.

Okay Im bored now.  And I have to go back to work.

Part Two maybe later.  If I'm bored again.

TTFN

Joe Phoenix > this is againest the rules of this conversation, good bye

The war declaration against CVA draws ever closer.

Good times, to be sure.  But that said we had a run in (a few actually) with Mr Joe last night.

Hoking around outside Providence, I was waiting on a delivery of a brand new factory fresh (and hopefully non-malfunctioning) Manticore.  I had plans about fits, but it was going to take time to get it to me.
Rabbit was late, so I got a hokey old Kestrel S Boat 13 out of storage and fitted it to be a false Manty with a Proto-cloak and some Caldari Navy light missiles and headed into CVA territory.

I nipped past the gate-guard and headed to a safe spot.  Checking the local channel,  there was Mr Joe.  I decided to announce my presence.

"HI YA JOE!!"  I beamed

Immeadiately, he began to rant in local.  "Kill the reds!  20 million isk per corpse!"  He screamed.  The demands were met with a mix of derision and false interest by the locals.  However, the self-appointed guardian of security decided that he was itching for a fight, and talked Joe into undocking for us.  Several other of my IEEE allies were in system, albiet just in frigates and stealthbombers, but when we scanned Joe and his escort down, we decided to go for it.

Coming out of warp right on top of him, Joe's mining Badger transport died in seconds.  As usual this was some sort of victory to Joe, who seems to consider losses to his wallet, no matter what size, to be a bonus to his own prestige.  Then the security guard opened up, and some of our ships came to pieces, but we expected it, we were here for Joe, no other reason.  It was a short fight, and I managed to run for it before his attention fell on me.  One thing that was apparent though was that the security didn't even lock us until Joe's ship had melted. 

I cloaked again and awaited Joe's return.  He seemed to have ejected a shuttle first, presumably his plan (and this would have been moronic to attempt) was to board it in his escape pod when his ship was destroyed.  It clearly hadn't worked.

Sure enough, minutes later Joe arrived in an Ibis (a basic Caldari noob ship) fitted with a salvager to take advantage of the wrecks left by himself and our frigates.  His escorts were no where in sight.  I de-cloaked, targetted and gave him a spread of light kinetic missiles.   The Ibis detonated in seconds and once again Mr Joe ran for the hills before I could lock onto his pod.

"OOOohh an Ibis, well done, Damien!" He mocked.  If there was a logic to Joe's actions, I had no idea what it was.  I didn't have the luxury of time to think about it either as a swarm of CVA-friendly frigates appeared on the grid, and deciding not to throw my Kestrel away pointlessly (she was proving to be a very good little ship) I left Providence once more.

Rabbit commed me to let me know my delivery had arrived and I headed back to my war-camp to pick it up and fit it.  I decided that I needed to take a different track in attacking Joe.   Mr Joe's favoured combat vessel is a Drake Battlecruiser fitted for tanking and very little else.  There was no way in hell a single stealth bomber could ever break its shields, but annoying him was another matter.  PT Boat 13LRPV was fitted with extra fuel cells for the torpedos, longer ranged launchers, ballistic control computers and sensor boosters, enabling it to target very quickly and launch from distances far in excess of Joe's own lack-lustre heavy missile batteries.  This proved very handy when the Joe Appreciation Network lit up with reports of his location (a big thanks to all the guys providing intel on his movements by the way.  If you ever need a favour just ask!  Ill not drop any names for security reasons though). 

Joe had headed back to the Amarr home system, presumably to resupply.  Soon a small IEEE fleet had him pinned outside the station.  He was webbed and scrambled, his ownn Warp Core Stabilisers no match of the might of combined scramblings.  Coming in system, I warped to the declared position and began my attack runs.  I love torpedos, they look great streaking to their target and makes such pretty explosions.

"20 million to anyone who can help me get back to the station!" Joe begged.  Help was not forthcoming.

I orbited outside his engagement envelope pounding away at his shields.  As soon as they collapsed, the other IEEE frigates tore his hull to pieces in seconds.  It was a glorious victory, flawless with no losses.

Mr Joe waved his fist in the air

"Ill be back, meddling Standards and Practices!" He vowed and warped his pod into deep space.  We may have won the battle, but the war goes on..........

Joe Phoenix > i don't cause grief because that is hard

Ok it would appear that Banco Santander have as low an opinion of good Standards and Practices as the Grand Commander of the Imperial Commonwealth.  They have BLOCKED my access to Zedrik Cayne's EVE Blog and so I have lost my access to the vault of archived IEEE Investigation notes that I use to help write my memoirs while I'm bored at work. 

This WILL be DEALT with.

Sigh.  Well in the meantime, I suppose I should fast forward to the present, to keep everyone entertained with my meanderings.  (Incase you were wondering how the last story actually ended, [IC] Viceroy Jane shot down my Manticore "To look it make look more convincing" and Joe promised to pay me back for my loss.  I am still waiting for a replacement Manticore.  There was some stuff about the drugs, but if you would like to know more, head over to Zedrik Cayne's EVE Blog - The Joe Show: Drug Edition.  I would link you but it seems Banco Santander has decided I'm not allowed to look at my own blog. >.<) <  http://zedrikcayne.blogspot.com . You lazy ass.>
Anyway.
Fast forward to the present.

This morning, I awoke in my ship as usual and stumbled over to the coffee-mat.  I put my head under and thumbed the on-switch, drinking the cold black liquid directly from the machine as I had done every morning since a stray round from a Kage-Maru autocannon had made my power capacitor look like a collander.  I'd replaced the damn thing twice but for some still unidentified reason, the conduits that directed power to some tertiary systems still weren't functioning correctly, the coffee machine being one of them.

Chewing a few stray coffee grinds as a cow chews cud, I stood upright again, facing the small filthy starboard porthole situated just above my coffee-tap.  It took a minute or so for my eyes to focus outside and another for my brain to register what I was seeing.   
My memory kicked in.  I was in a CVA station, and was suddenly very aware from the amount of station security heading my way that I was no longer welcome here.  Null Sec isn't usually a friendly place, but Alliances like CVA try to make it at least pallitable, enforcing their own rules and regulations.  I had come here to the Providence region in pursuit of the fugitive Joe Phoenix, but discovered he had manilpulated CVA's rules to prevent me from exacting justice on him.  Anytime we attempted to apprehend him, he ran crying to the CVA, and they demanded we stand down, as Joe was neutral to them, and declarations of war between neutral parties are not recognised here.

It would seem that they finally decided what side they were on.

Fine, that suited me, and cursoury checking of IEEE comms showed that it was advisable to GTFO ASAP.  Not a man who needs to be told that twice, I lept into the pod, heaving the door closed and willing the ship to life.  PT Boat 13 IIc groaned as it left the mooring clamps, I could feel shudders through her superstructure which were hold overs from previous engagements and the recent fitting of a Heavy Bomb Launcher.  The ship was supposed to be able to handle it fine, but I'd noticed she handled far worse with it installed.  I began to wonder if this Manticore was a shoddy cheap knock-off cobbled together from scrap in some backwater Minmatar station.

Blasting free of the bay, I ran for the jump-gate to what is laughingly called High-Sec around here.  Fortunately, it seemed that local security weren't quite on the ball and I was able to engage my cloak before any of them locked me up with their targetters.  Thundering down the warp-tunnel, I dreaded to think what might be awaiting me at the station.  Coming out of warp and cloak simultaneously perilously close to the gate, I was very very happy to see the local security ships engaging Lana Torrin of the Minmatar Military Skool and a flight of her ships.  Though she doesn't really know me, I knew that as someone with no love for either CVA or Joe Phoenix she wasn't likely to break off her combat to fight a nobody like me, besides the Skool is well known for their hatred of anything CVA-friendly, something I most certainly wasn't now.

I threw myself through the gate before anyone changed their minds or their target preference, coming out in a fairly empty system and in sight of some rather handsome CONCORD Armageddon class battleships.  Feeling safe but not sure, I slammed the ship into a warp to the next system, and docked up at a friendly Amarr resupply point where I had stashed my brand new tackle-ready Hawk class Assault Frigate.  Panting I collapsed onto my bunk, and flicked on the Gal-Net.  Looked like more than just random blastings had occured while I'd been asleep.........

Joe Phoenix > why don't you come out and face us.. settle this thing..

For several weeks the IEEE sparred with the Imperial Commonwealth.  It soon became readily apparent that Joe was neither letting his corpmates know of the dangers they were in due to being under an active Standards and Practices Investigation nor informing his newer employees of how to appropriately equip a ship for combat.  I don't know how many pilots died screaming with sharp things in their heads, but at this point the IC was haemorraging members, dropping from around twenty or so at its height to something like five or six with no more than two or three pilots active in space at any time.  One particular unfortunate, Cpt. Tenbears, kept insisting on mining in a Bantam light mining frigate in New Caldari system for about two weeks, and must have lost at least three or four of his ships before he decided to vanish.  The last time we saw him that I can remember he ejected from his ship the instant Zedrik appeared in his asteroid belt, and I appropriated his ship.  Bantam Bear 13 is still in my hangar, and I have been known to use it as a spy-ship, can-flipper and baiter from time to time.

Around this time, Joe built a nest in Jita.  The Navy station orbiting Jita IV became his home and was (and often still is) the easiest place to find him.  We also discovered his affinity to the Warp Core Stabiliser, a device which prevents enemy ships from scrambling your engines and preventing you running for it.  Sadly, Joe's shields rarely last long enough for this to be an issue, even though he generally fits three or four of them.  It has since become an amusing urban myth that having the corpse of one of Joe's clones in your cargo hold gives a boost to any WCS you have installed. 

The Imperial Commonwealth also for a time joined the Hydra Reloaded Alliance, a rather.... eccentric group of ex Null Sec pilots, and was given the title "Rear Admiral" and put incharge of the mostly-mythical Hydra Capital Fleet.  The one thing he did gain out of this was several blood thirsty combat pilots who would actually help him.  This gave us a fairly good number for challenging targets, but also opened the way to a rather exciting time for me.

I was taking some stuff to Jita for Rabbit to sell.  Nothing exciting, just mission-salvage and some light minerals, buying myself some replacement torpedoes and repairing PT Boat 13 after I accidently-on-purpose rammed a Hydran Battleship the night before when I was hailed by the man himself, Grand Commander Rear Admiral Joseth Phoenix.  I set down my coffee and stared for a few seconds.   What could he want?

I decided to be open and civil with him; I'd not had the pleasure of his scintillating conversation before and this was not an opportunity I was going to pass up.

Joe Phoenix > hi

Damien McCandless > Good Evening Mr Phoenix

Joe Phoenix > hows it going

Damien McCandless > Im doing well thank you, how are you?

Joe Phoenix > ok thanks.. sorry we have to attack you but we have noo issue with you personally

Oh really?  Excellent.  My brain started to run through several possible scenarios, aided and abetted by the bag of Drop I was inhaling like so much Chinese Sky Candy.  The conversation continued.

Joe began to allude to the idea that Zedrik Cayne and the IEEE officers were leading us badly and that they weren't telling us anything (Joe would try this tactic with every new member of the IEEE he identified.  It never worked, but we adopted it and used it on his personnel with great effect to help explain why they were turning into explosions regularly).  I liked the thought of this, untrue as it was, and started to construct and elaborate ruse around it.  Before I could reply, Joe asked how much I was being paid.

Paid? I thought.  Joe I do this because I dislike you!

I thought quickly, glancing down into the cavernous and mostly empty bag of space-crack I was enjoying.

Hmm.....

I told him I got paid in drugs, and gave a random amount off the top of my head.  He replied that he felt this wasn't enough and that if I came over to the IC/Hydra Alliance I would get paid more drugs than I could possibly imagine.  As a great smuggler once quoth "I dunno, I can imagine quite a bit!".

 

I rolled up my bag of Drop-crystals and put it in the shielded compartment under my pod.  I was being bribed to switch sides!  Awesome.  Of course, I had no intention then of actually doing it.  This was more because I knew fine rightly that Joe did not have more drugs than I could imagine.  For a start, how could he hide a planet made entirely of drugs?  The final proof that he did not have these drugs was that once I'd mentioned them being part of the IEEE Health and Dental Plan, the Grand Commander began to quiz me on where Zedrik was getting these drugs;

 

Joe Phoenix > so does zedrik cayne actuelly produce these drugs?

Joe Phoenix > do you have any stations?...

Joe Phoenix > it should say on the corp main page...

Joe Phoenix > supply me with infomation and il give you enough drugs to last you a year..

A year?  Hmm okay, that would be an entire solar system made of drugs!  You got yourself a deal, Joey, I thought to myself.  After spinning some yarn about top secret officer meetings in the IEEE and how I was working my way up, I had him completely fascinated.  It was at this point that Joseth came up with a plan.  I was going to help him nail Zedrik Cayne.

Joe Phoenix > ok heres whats going to happen.. you come out to an astroid field.. we'l warp and scramble you.. and then zedrik comes along.. we kill him

Damien McCandless > ok

Damien McCandless > now I want to make this clear, if I lose my PT Boat, the deals off, ok? I cant afford another one right now

Damien McCandless > Assuming everything goes to plan tho, once you engage him, Ill zip off and be safe, yes?

Joe Phoenix > yes indeed
Damien McCandless > Ok Im going to go to the other station in Jita 4 first, I have to do something so its not suspicious. what system and what belt?

Possibly one of the most stupid plans I'd ever heard, but Zedrik was onboard with this (I was telling him everything as we went along).  As for the doing something that wasn't suspicious, I flew from the Navy station at Jita IV to the other station orbiting the same planet and removed every last piece of expensive or advanced technology from my ship.  I didn't trust Joe as far as I could throw him.

This thought proved to be quite prophetic as the plan moved into action..........

Joe Phoenix > this isn't hello kitty?

I began to watch the unfolding drama with great interest.  It had moved from being just another angry pod-pilot ranting about the injustice in the world to something far more intriguing and it soon became apparent that Grand Commander Joe Phoenix had a serious issue with authority that was not his own.  For the dirt and nitty gritty I would point folk to http://zedrikcayne.blogspot.com/2009/09/so-new-brand-of-stupid-has-appeared-on.html.  I'll give you a second if you wish to go and read it.  There's about a month's worth of stuff before I get involved, so I'll forgive you for wanting to skip through to the good parts, but this is the start so its worth reading.

Ready?  Ok.
Meanwhile I was starting to get together some stuff in case something fun went off.  I half expected it to all die down after a few days, but incase it didn't, I stockpiled what little I had brought from low-sec into a hangar at Perimeter, one jump from the trading hub system of Jita.  Jita is an arabian bazaar, an irish cattlemarket, the Roman Forum and David Koresh's Waco compound all rolled into one.  If you can buy something, chances are it may have passed through there at some point in time.  I don't really care for the place, it makes the simu-scanners on my pod act up as the ship's computer tries to update the movements of up to two thousand ships coming and going, plus drones, errant cargo canisters and debris, but its where you go when you need to go shopping so I popped by to pick up some Navy-grade torpedoes and a few bombs.

After shopping, I took a few days out to watch things develop in the comm channel and swing by to see Rabbit, who was doing very well for himself, he and his compatriots were working their way up the security ladder and had a fairly respectable defense fleet as well as a number of contacts throughout Caldari space.  I hung around with him, telling him and his corporation about the Joe Phoenix situation and getting it together to make my own resupply network.  Those who know me will be very suprised at the amount of work I put into this really but to be honest there were many days when I was far too wasted to actually launch my ship or extract it from between asteroids and so its a bit of a blur.  Suffice to say, around half-past October I woke up , and checked the logs half-expecting the Joe Show to have come to an end with more of a fizzle than a bang.  How wrong I was.

http://zedrikcayne.blogspot.com/2009/10/joe-showthe-smack-talk-edition.html

I know I know its just a chatlog.  But the sheer amount of idiocity and smack issuing forth from Grand Commander Joseth Pheonix' mouth was simply unbelieveable.  As unlike me as it was, I knew I couldn't wait any longer.  Something had to be done.  Immeadiately I jumped out of bed, stood on the jagged edges of a torn open beer can, screamed and passed out.

When I awoke, I stemmed the bleeding and hobbled to the Neo-Comm and signed in.  As I was flicking switches and closing breakers to bring PT Boat 13 to life I began to pen a request for formal membership of IEEE.   I was already very impressed with Mr Cayne's attitude and his willingness to confront head-on the entropic powers which were slowly destroying the society I had come to enjoy leeching off.  If people like Joe Phoenix were allowed to prosper, then who knows what would happen.  A universe full of madmen hell-bent on bringing "peace" to the galaxy through a mix of insulting smack and incredibly bone-headed business plans?  That was not the universe I intended to abuse myself in, no Sir!  I immeadiately applied for an IEEE Junior Investigator's LicenceTM (I already had the little silver badge, it came free in a box of Sweeky Weets).

Three-ton servos whined as they loaded each Caldari Navy kinetic torpedo into the launch tubes, the ship shuddered as the engines flared brightly and I got nekkid and squeezed into my pod, connecting the tubes correctly as per the diagram on the side wall.  Last time, I got the feed-tube and the waste-tube mixed up and didn't notice for two days and I had no wish to repeat that unfortunate circumstance!  Once I was ready, I disengaged the cloak and set a course for IEEE headquarters in Balle.  The communication with Mr Cayne had come back.

"Congratulations Mr McCandless, you have been provisionally accepted as a Junior IEEE Investigator, please dock at our offices at Balle to sign the paper work and receive your FREE pen and stationary set!"

I was so excited, I mangled my landing gear on a chunk of Veldspar............

Joe Phoenix > i did not say i wouldn't or couldn't. i said i will.. now.. or later.. i will

So its about three months ago and Im sitting in my fairly new Manticore "Stealth Bomber" orbiting some half dead rock picking the last of the plastic off the command couch and idley flicking through the Gal-Net comm channels looking for a clue to where /Emote has gone and secreted herself.

Now, to be frank, I wouldn't have described the Manticore as as a "bomber" such, its more of a PT Boat crossed with a submarine due to its cloaking device, the fact its teeny-tiny and it carries 3 Farfire LRM-Grade heavy torpedo tubes and a fitting for an madly-damaging bomb launcher but I guess thats not really much to do with the story.  Suffice to say PT Boat 13 was just the cutest lil bomber-car I'd managed to find myself so far and its stealthy nature suited me just fine.  Okay, its rust-brown (or as one unkind critic had suggested "the colour of Winnie the Pooh's pooh") but I guess its against the law of starship design for a ship to be cool, effective and also look hot.

I'm not sure why one particular comm-thread caught my eye, but for some reason I was drawn to it.  A small trading concern by the name of Imperial Commonwealth (herein known as IC) who, judging by their corporate mission statement, had very grandeois plans for the future of not only themselves but New Eden as a whole had got into a scuffling match with a corporation called Serene Storm Society (SSS).  It seems that the IC's CEO (corporate leader) had given SSS members several warnings to stay off his patch or they would get a smack in the mouth.  When SSS moved and gave the IC a pre-emptive smack in the mouth and caused rather expensive damage the leader of the IC, the very vocal Grand Commander Joe Phoenix had begun to request help from any interested parties.  This sounded like fun, so I read on, considering coming to the aid of the IC simply to get some more combat experience.  Little did I know what was to follow, and that the name of Grand Commander Joseth W.C.S. Phoenix would be one of the most significant I ever encountered in New Eden.

I set a course back into higher security systems, making some money bounty hunting independant pirates (or "rats" as they are known) who live out in the asteroid belts around most systems on the way in order to purchase weapons and ammunition for my ship.  The closer I got, the more interesting the story became.  It turned out most of this stuff with the IC and SSS had happened nearly a month ago.  In the intervening time, Phoenix had attempted to hire a mercenary unit to help defend his assets from the SSS attacks.  When the "mercenaries" turned out to be scamming him and ran off with his money without actually doing anything (Phoenix wasn't wise enough to use an escrow service and simply transferred the IsK to the mercenary's account), Joe became enraged and vowed to declare war on the offending scam artist.  It was a declaration that would never materialise.

Others were following these events with interest too.  One of these was Zedrik Cayne of Standards and Practices (IEEE) (see the following for more information: http://wiki.eveonline.com/wiki/Standards_and_Practices_(Player_corporation) and http://zedrikcayne.blogspot.com/ ).  Standards and Practices exist to promote healthy and efficent procedures within New Eden for the betterment of all the inhabitants and they provide investigations into allegations of poor management, health and safety violations, anti-social behaviour issues and disaster managment, amoungst others.  At one point, the IEEE were going to investigate SSS on behalf of the IC, but it became apparent that Commander Phoenix was unwilling to follow up on his threats to declare war, the focus of the investigation changed to the IC and in particualr its CEO..........

Joe Phoenix > oh im guessing this is your next post?

Space is pretty big. 

I'm not going to do a pastiche of Douglas Adams here, but its pretty fecking huge.  Suffice to say it took me about two months to track down Rabbit.   It turns out he came out of a Caldari vat about three weeks before I did and after bumming around the safe systems for a while signed up with one of those small mining concerns that seem to exist in their thousands around places like Jan, where the minerals are good, but the can-flippers are common as well.  Guess he wanted to work on his combat skills too.  He'd made a bit of money from missioning and was mining for Isogen when I found him.  It was quite a surprise for us both because I was about to flip his can when he recognised me.

He had had a total reconstruction job, one of those ones the Techs were offering for those who came out of their vat with a Genetic Integrity of over 97%.  He was looking 15 years younger, 30 lbs thinner (which was quite a feat for such a skinny chap as Rabbit) and very very Achurian.  I thought the look suited him, but he claimed he simply wanted to avoid any undue entanglements with anyone that might recognise an old friend of "Macca" McCandless.  It also turned out his combat skills were better than mine, and after towing my capsule into his Retriever's cargo bay, we had a "no hard feelings" drink, a few Drop hits for old times sake and he gave me a cheque that would cover a couple of replacement Manticores and an old Badger transport ship he had gathering dust in the Vaajaita station he was working out of.  Niether of us had managed to catch up with /Emote yet but we knew that if s/he was still alive, it would be her/him that caught up with us.

I suppose I should explain about /Emote.  /Emote was a huge fan of a skill we cultivated back in the old days called "Skinwalking".  Possession would be an old-Earth term for it.  Since the installation of my cybernetics, I discovered I had a much lessened ability to bend reality to my whim, and so it was with great regret that I had to give up this rather fun ability.  /Emote however can only exist in this matter as his/her original body was "killed" many years ago, and we never could work out if he/she was male or female.  I always tended to assign female attributes to /Emotes reactions, so from now on I will refer to her in the femmine form.

Anyway, we expected that /Emote would be out there somewhere raising hell.  Of the three of us, Rabbit is the sensible head.  He likes to follow the rules and be the good guy, he generally never smart mouths off and is excellent as a spy because he takes his job really seriously.  /Emote is... well she's a fecking psycho really.  A bundle of hatred thats all too easily stirred up.  She has really twisted views of good and bad.  There are no grey areas for /Emote, and her exaggerated sense of justice led me to suspect she would end up either dead within seconds or furiously hunting down some poor guy who called her out on something minor and then exacting revenge far in excess of the original (probably imagined) slight.

Me?  I like to have fun.  I go and do things simply because they are funny.  I didn't think that I was going to find big lulz out in New Eden, so I was going to sit stealthed around some dying sun, drunk out of my mind, taking huge amounts of Drop with a cargobay full of cheap rentboys having a great old time. 

I thought that until the day things started to change. 

Until something other than gratutious self-interest came along.

Until I met the one person who actually managed to press all the wrong buttons with me.

Until I met Grand Commander Joe Phoenix of the Imperial Commonwealth..........

Joe Phoenix > this is what happens when an imovable object meet a bunch of stupid dickheads

I came to be in New Eden somewhere around August. I can't remember the exact date. Perhaps someday someone will record the day that Damien McCandless came into New Eden, changing it forever, orphaning millions and causing rivers of tears to flow. For me, I think it was a tuesday.

Grand statements aside, I remember waking up in a tube (often the way, I've done this so often now its losing its novelty) and was pleasantly suprised to see that when I looked at my hands, eight fingers and two thumbs smiled back at me, so different from the stumps or bestial claws that often followed such a revelation. I had been reborn human again.

My memories of life before Rebirth are... hazy to say the least. Trying to remember anything before I woke up in a tube-station orbiting New Caldari is like trying to read a document that has been produced by a printer low on ink, faxed, photocopied, faxed back again, stamped, used as a coaster for a coffee cup, photocopied again and faxed back to the original sender with "Not Known at This Address" written over it in big letters with a cyan crayon. That said, those things I do remember from my lives on both The Many Earths and Mort aren't really conducive to a good night's rest or family viewing and so it is best that I do not dwell on them.

Contenting myself with the thoughts of a fresh start as the fluids in the cloning tube drained, I was a little annoyed at having to go through the implantation process required for the cybernetics that the Caldari Techs seemed so proud of, but it was explained that they served two purposes; firstly, they allowed me direct neural interface with a spacecraft's "Caspule" (similar to the VDNI system employed by the Word of Blake, an ultra fascist humanist organisation I previously encountered on "Zombie Earth". They used the system to network themselves into huge robot war-machines known as BattleMechs), and secondly my Genetic and Memetic codes had become corrupted and certain parts of me had not formed properly and required replacement.

This concerned me somewhat, but I calmed down when I noticed that they were not particularly essential parts; mostly a bit of skin here and there, a section of skull, my left ankle and my pancreas. The Techs were somewhat upset that the data on file for me was consistantly corrupted in this manner, but I decided against enlightening them as to the possible reasons. I felt quite pleased to have escaped oblivion once more as well as arriving somewhere I felt at ease communicating.

I discovered I had an inherent understanding of the Caldari language (remarkably similar to that spoken on Mort) and though their culture of obediance to the State was not one I wished to immerse myself in for long I was very grateful for the small amount of cash, clothing, equipment and the Ibis Class light spacecraft the state provided.

I noticed that Rabbit and /Emote were no where nearby, and assumed that though they would definately also be in New Eden, they could be anywhere. The first thing I needed to do then was hire on with the Navy to get my feet wet in space. VDNI makes piloting spacecraft exceptionally easy, even if it means laying in an egg-shaped pod full of slimy muck for months on end and after a week or two I found myself flying various light Caldari combat craft, mostly salvaging from the wrecks of the less forunate around the Gates at Nonni and Aunenen. I learned to duck and weave in tiny Condors, align and run in nimble Kestrels, and to fight those who had clearly made a very bad life-choice in the mighty Merlin.
Before long, I had accumulated the skill and cash which allowed me to climb into my first Manticore, the ship that would become my signature, and I began to look for my compatriots.