Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Downward Spiral

So it has begun. In keeping with the mandate set forth in one of my previous posts, Vasavia has been making great strides. The last week has been an eventful one. Truth be told, it's been about the most active week Vasavia has had in quite some time. The day that journal entry was created, Vasavia strapped into her pod and set out for more fun.

Gunpoint has been very active in the last week. Part of this is due to the simple fact that we've been enjoying a small spike in membership. Having now grown to a small band of 11 capsuleers (about 8 or 9 of which are regularly active), most of whom have an abundant amount of pvp experience, we now have the backbone to take on more gangs then we previously could confidently engage. Couple this with the fact that we also enjoy pretty healthy relationships with some other Molden Heath pirate corps we not only have our own bigger internal resources to pull from, but also that of our friends. Thus, the opportunities for better engagements has opened up quite a bit.

In all honesty, the past week and a half or so has been the most fun I've had in New Eden since first starting my journey down Yarr-bear Lane. Don't get me wrong, running around with Sard, Raxip, and others has always been fun. Shooting shit, getting blown up ourselves, has never ceased to be of utmost fun. Lately though, the mood, the action, the explosions, they're just fucking moar fun now. I think a huge part of the increased fun comes from one common denominator - Gunpoint as a corp has started the great flashy downward spiral (again).

Sard had previously expressed to us the tactical importance of staying above Concord's threshold for labeling capsuleers "criminal". Naturally, he was right. It does make more sense, especially in lowsec where the non-aggressor in a fight taking place on a gate would enjoy the support of the sentry guns. Honestly though, we were finding ourselves spending a considerable amount of time taking bounties on Angel rats in GW to try to keep ourselves within the "decent"-graces of Concord, and not getting decent fights unless we were the aggressor on the gate (which defeated the whole purpose of staying above Crim status).

When I made the "New Year. New Rage." post I linked above, I didn't know it at the time, but Sard also shared my sentiments. He actually was already back to being a criminal. I had some catching up to do. Having thrown our previous concerns regarding our security standings out the window, as well as the old tactics playbook, we set out in the last week simply to rage on everything we came across that was an advantageous target. Given the 75 kills (give or take - I counted quickly) we've enjoyed since just this past Friday alone, it indeed was a good change in operations.

As a side note, today marks my 1-year anniversary with Gunpoint Diplomacy since returning to her from my brief excursion into null-sec with another outfit - as detailed in this blog post. I can honestly say, I couldn't be happier that my 1-year mark has fallen at this point in time in Gunpoint's history because it's the most fun I think any of us have had in a long while. It's been an absolutely fantastic return to pirating roots, just getting out there and shooting everything, our gangs scooting around Molden Heath flying with reckless-abandon once again. And quite frankly, Sard and the entire [RANSM] family are the best people I've ever met through an online game. Love em all.

The last couple weeks have been filled with so many kills, all of which providing great lolz, and fun times that no one in particular stands out enough to really detail thoroughly (because they were all just fantastic fun - you'd be reading this post for days if I tried to detail everything). So, a link to the front page of our Killboard will have to suffice for juicier details on the recent actions/violence [RANSM] has achieved. That being said, I raise my glass for moar [RANSM] infused Violence.

o/


p.s. [RANSM] I <3 U FOR EVA

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

OMFG! I found Raxip on the YouTubez

I swear to God, this dude sounds like Raxip. Be warned though, this video, while funny in a pathetic way, can be really hard to watch...

Rage Mode Engage

In keeping with the theme of yesterday's post, all I can say is Rage Mode engage. I logged in to the docking bay of Gunpoint's base of operations in Egbinger and checked in on our top-sekret unofficially official corp chat channel. I quickly was brought up to speed - the corp was out around Odde having some haphazard fun in frigates.

Thankfully, my Rifter was already sitting on the tarmac, cargo filled with ammo and ready to roll out of the station at a moments notice. I initiated the undocking procedures and slid my Rifter into the appropriate traffic lane and announced my departure to my corpmates already on the hunt. I set the navcomp to destination Oddelulf and made best speed for that system.

Odde is just a handful of jumps away from Egbinger so the trip across the different star systems took mere minutes (thank the Gods for warp drives and stargates). It is easy to take for granted how quickly we can traverse light years now, especially having never known space travel without warp drives and stargates. I digress however.

I arrived in Bosena (a lovely pirate system home to the blood-thirstiest of the blood thirsty yarrbears in Molden Heath) and sat in a pounce several 100km from the Odde gate. Sard and Wensley were already working scanners trying to pinpoint a couple potential targets for our lovely frigate swarm to devour. I sat idle, listening in on comms, when Aria came through announcing (with much glee) that there were a pair of Hulks in neighboring Teon that needed violenced.

Aria asked all pilots in fleet to dock up in a station in Odde where she would distribute ganky Thrashers to purge the Hulks from that asteroid belt in Teon. Destroyers were quickly issued to the fleet, primed already for the ganky love-fest that was about to befall those helpless mining barges. The fleet was split into two wings, the plan simple. 1st Wing would launch its attack while the 2nd wing would hold back to take out the other Hulk, or hunt down a new Hulk in Teon. It only takes a certain number of Thrashers to suicide a hulk before Concord arrives to wipe the system of the gankers, so there was no need to have the entire fleet warp in and destroy the Hulk - it'd be overkill and a waste of a few destroyers.

I was assigned to the 2nd Wing with Wensley leading while Aria and Sard led the 1st Wing into Teon to issue [RANSM]'s brand of great justice to the miners. The 1st Wing made short work of the first Hulk. Naturally, Concord arrived just as the Hulk's structure was giving way and our pilots of 1st Wing flew home in their pods.

By now, 2nd Wing had amassed on the Bosena Gate in Odde, ready to start making our way to Teon via the Odde - Bosena - Teon route. We sat on the Bosena gate and watched our fleet members from 1st Wing jump back into Odde in their pods. It's pretty much the only time seeing so many friendly pods flying around is a righteous occurrence. As the last of 1st Wing's pods came back into Odde, Wensley gave the order to 2nd Wing to jump into Bosena and make for the Teon Gate.

I initiated the jump sequence of my Thrasher and soon was enveloped by the cyno field of the jump gate. Odde vanished and Bosena faded in to existence. Wensley initiated a joint squad warp and all Thrashers of 2nd Wing sped off the gate towards the Teon gate in unison. As our Thrasher wing landed Wensley gave the "jump jump" command, the pilots of 2nd Wing pounced into Teon. We had a scout in a belt already with another Hulk and Wensley gave the order to warp to Masty. Our primary target announced, Cronox Xon was about to become a very disappointed miner.

Our wing of pain landed 10k off our target. Sensor boosted, I engaged my targeting computer, the lock resolved quickly and I engaged my artillery cannons. My shells flew through the belt towards their mark, impacting the shields of Hulk. With the combined force of the wing's artillery cannons, the Hulk's shields quickly gave way. Damage bled through into armor which also quickly gave way to the Hulk's structure.

The Hulk succumbed to the barrage of our artillery in short order. The local comms channel had already lit up with the first volley about our criminal transgressions and Concord was already on the field working through our wing of Thrashers. The plan had been launched, and had succeeded. As my Thrasher gave way to the fury of Concord I launched my Pod back towards lowsec and made best speed back to Odde.

While neither Hulk yielded much in the way of loot, they did provide plenty of lols for us. Much to my delight, the lols (for me atleast) did not end with the destruction of the Hulks. No no my friends, the victim of my Wing's violence found it necessary to hail me through private comms. As my communications interface announced the incoming hail from Cronox Xon I launched my fingers for the accept button.

The private communications window from Cronox Xon's hail popped up on my communications interface, and the tears began to flow. The butthurt was immense with this one. I'll need to edit this entry, as I'm currently not in a position to access my communications logs, but I will post Cronox Xon's brief tear-capades later this evening. Be warned however, his English is broken, or he was really just that upset he couldn't type coherently. I like to think it was the latter rather than the former.

OOC: My action was short and brief last night as I was at home with Kiddos as my wife was working into the evening. Between the Kids' dinners, and the eldest proclaiming his unyielding need to make "pee-pee water", and his proclamation of "poopy's commin' Daddy!" (we started the whole potty training business), I did not really have the freedom to continue on with the fleet and logged for the evening. Nevertheless, it was a most excellent way to come back into the fold & start abusing my sec-status. The fleet continued on however and had a successful evening of spanking more locals as evidenced by the front page of corp Killboard. It is good to be back in the saddle.

Monday, January 17, 2011

New Year. New Rage.

Yes, It's basically been a year since last post. Sorry :( I just haven't felt inspired to write much. Lots went on over the last year. Sard continues to boggle my mind with everything he knows about pvp. Raxip still wants me to hold him. We have some new pilots with us in RANSM now, exceptionally good pilots (great...moar people to make me feel like a lemming).

Aria (sorry deary I don't have your blog link handy) and the Wens-inator (New Eden's favorite Drifter in his Rifter - actually, he doesn't fly these much anymore). Aria is fucking fantastic at everything from 'splosions to sammiches. Wens, well, I haven't had much time flying with him because he came right around my burn-out. He's the fucking Dread Pirate though, so his name speaks for itself.

I've spent the last few weeks contemplating my EVE journey (/me rolls eyes *drama*). I have to admit, I think I got a little burnt out. I've been trying a few different things in game to take a break from what was the norm (mission alt *gasp*), and of course, some other games. I've spent alot of time in the last few weeks playing Armed Assault 2 (fucking awesome milsim for people who are into that stuff), a little bit of FFXIV (since it's currently free to play in it's currently borked form), and I finally picked up Starcraft 2 cause I was just in the mood for an RTS - which is totally out of character for me I usually despise RTS games...cause I suck at them. Starcraft 2 is made of Win though.

I've been getting the itch to go out and roam around Molden Again though, with much less focus on maintaining that sec-status. Months ago, while I was out methodically ratting around Great Wildlands trying to keep my sec status around -2.0, Sard told me he thought I'd just have to accept the flashy status. Literally, "Dude, Vas, I think you're just gonna have to accept your ass going flashy".

I've thought about that ALOT over the last few months and I think he's right. I've become to focused on maintaining my sec-status because it made the most tactical sense. I had become more focused on game mechanics and making sure I was putting myself in the "right" situation at all times, then actually, you know, going out there to blow shit up for fun. My pews had become all business and no fun (queue sad clown face).

So. In short. New Year. New Rage. To hell with the bullshit.


(P.S. Next Year, I predict the theme will be: "Holy Fuck. What the hell have I done to my Sec-status?!?!)

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Exequror of Doom

Made my morning.

Monday, January 25, 2010

Yarr-Pews & Lulz: The Second Coming

Greetings! It's been an incredibly long time since I've really had anything to write about. I've been busy in New Eden, but have not really had much of anything worth taking the time to write about. Until now. Below you will read a little bit about where I am currently with my character's life.

To keep a long story short (as what follows is long enough in it's own right), I decided to take a break from piracy and moved out to experience life in null-sec. It wasn't really what I was expecting. It wasn't really what I enjoyed doing with my time in EVE period. It wasn't for me, atleast not in the environment I found myself in.

What follows is my first real attempt at an in-character post. Forgive me of any quality short comings. Forgive me for piss-poor gramar. Forgive me for the length - it was actually longer, but I managed to cut it down. I hope you enjoy it though. I'm not sure how much in-character writing I'll do moving forward. I'll probably still post battle-reports as just, well, battle-reports. If I'm inspired enough, as I was with this event, I'll certainly be more apt to write about it in person.

So, please, go take a bio. Go have a smoke. Go grab a coke. Then come sit down and read. Again, I do hope you enjoy.

Edit: Jeebus! This is ridiculously long. Sorry. And no I'm not cutting it down anymore then it already is :)

____________________________________________________


Vasavia awoke in her room, dimly lit as the sun broke past the curved crest of Planet 6 in 5C. The air in the room was dry. Stale. She rolled over in bed, fighting with her mind to wake. Fighting to force herself out of bed. As sleep finally subsided, and her mind gained more control of her spirit she arose, flinging the sheets that had provided the barest of warmth through her restless night.

It had been little more then 20 days since arriving to the lawless space of Insmother. Null Sec - cold, heartless, forsaken by CONCORD. It was early in the day. Earlier then when Vasavia normally awoke, but this trend was quickly becoming the norm. In the days since arriving to the "Casablanca" (as it was affectionately called by its residents) Vasavia had slowly started to have second thoughts about her move to Null Sec. No, it was more then just second thoughts. It was outright doubt, doubt that was leading to regret.

The first couple days had been interesting, indeed. A new environment, a new home, a new way of life all together. She had known before making the move to 0.0 that things would be drastically different out in the lawless space of Null Sec. However, after a few days of exploring her new environment and making observations of this new world Vasavia started having trouble sleeping. She began to wake up with more unease about her new home. She began to miss her former life.

Rolling out of bed, Vasavia worked her way to her desk sitting across the room. Bringing the terminal to life, she browsed the updated media reports about the current capsuleer conflict in 49-. As she read the latest combat reports coming out of that system, her mind began to unfocus from the words her eyes were scanning over. She was completely lost in her memories of low-sec, memories of the Molden Heath & Metropolis regions. These areas were the grounds from which she truly grew into who she was. These areas, and the actions that she had been apart of, were what defined her.

Memories of her Frigates screaming into a belt, asteroids roaring past her ship just mere meters as she would come blasting out of the warp tunnel into the belt. An unsuspecting target sitting in that belt, ratting, salvaging or sometimes mining. Vasavia was missing that hunt. Missing the exhilaration of frigate combat. Missing the satisfaction that came from piracy.

She missed the comradere that she had enjoyed with other pirates she had met throughout her career as a pirate. She missed the Yarr. She missed the "lulz". She missed the moments of laughing at each other when an engagement went wrong, when she missed a tackle that should have been hers. She missed that those moments...were okay thanks to their comic value. A stark contrast to the current reality in this new environment that she had found herself in.

The annoying ring of an incoming eve-mail broke her mind away from those fond memories and back to the reality of where she was. Vasavia sighed. Refocused on the "now", she opened the alliance mail that had just arrived, taking note of the other neglected mails she had been avoiding reading. Beginning from the oldest unread mail and working her way up the list to the newest arrival, she began taking mental notes on the items she needed to catch up on, and those tasks she would need to try to get ahead-of.

Vasavia had noticed that the tension coming across in the eve-mails from the Alliance-mates, as well as those coming from her own corp-mates, had started to increase. With this increase, her patience for her new existence began to dwindle. Half-way through the remaining unread messages Vasavia jumped up from her seat at the desk, flicking the terminal off.

"I can't do this anymore, this isn't who I am", she whispered to herself.

She glanced around her room, sizing up the things she needed to get organized. Clothes, personal weapons, datapad, comm-link. Vasavia hadn't spent enough time in her new home in 5C long enough to really accumulate much in the way of personal possessions.

Twenty minutes and I can be gone, with little evidence that I was ever even here, she thought to herself.

Her corporate-assigned Maintenance Chief would have already been up and on duty for the last 2 hours. Vasavia quickly walked back over to her bed-side, her eyes fixed on the comm-link resting quietly on her nightstand. She grabed the comm-link and reached out to her Chief. The Chief answered, uncaring, almost as if he was bothered by this interruption in his workday,

"Yes...?", he answered.

"I want all my ships repackaged and ready for transport, save for the 3 Rifters. Leave them in the hanger as they are," Vasavia commanded.

"...," the silence from the Chief could only mean one thing - suspicion.

"Relax Chief, in my enthusiasm for my new assignment out here I over extended on my funds when purchasing new ships to build up my hanger. I simply do not have the funds to support what I have in station. I'll better serve the alliance for the time being by liquidating the more, extravagant ships in the line, and reinvesting in some cheap tackles. I've taking a disturbing note of the lack of tackle-pilots we have had during defensive engagements anyway. We need a dedicated tackler, and that's my specialty," was the justification put forward by Vasavia.

"Makes good sense, Vas. I'll make the arrangements and have everything, excluding the Rifters, repackaged and placed on the regional market," was the Chief's reply.

Vasavia grinned. She had learned through her time as a pirate one had to be quick with the lock, quick with the trigger, and even faster with their mouth to survive in the world of New Eden. Within a matter of just a few seconds she had moved the Chief from high suspicion, to utter and complete acceptance of her Will. None-capsuleers could be such fun putty to play with.

"Oh, and Chief, I need to make a quick run to pick up some skill books. I don't want to risk any of the Frigates for such a task. Please ready my Pod. I'll go out in that," Vasavia requested.

"Roger that, Vas", the Chief confirmed.

And with that their communication ended. Vasavia quickly threw on her clothes and grabbed what little personal gear she had tucked away in her storage locker at the foot of her bed. She quickly walked back to her desk, and slid into the chair. The terminal sprang back to life. There were only two things left to do.

Vasavia brought up her contacts list, skimming down the list until she found who she was looking for. Her eve-mail to the recipient was simple:

"Sardie-Poo,

I'm returning. Application is in the mail.

PS - You are showing stubble on your scalp. Get your shit shaved up."

Next, Vasavia made contact with a Clone Specialist in a sparsely populated Station located in Teon. The station, while not ideal for Clone activation, did have limited Clone storage and animation capabilities. Vasavia had previously made arrangements to have clone placed there in the event she needed to make a quick return to Molden Heath. Even though this station lacked the more sophisticated Cloning technologies, it was perfect for her. She could quietly reanimate, and make her way into Molden Heath low-sec with ease from this location. The downside, of course, cloning here would put her pirate-flashy ass in high security space.

Flicking her terminal off one last time, Vasavia jumped up from her desk chair. The force from her sudden movement slammed the metallic chair hard into the wall. It bounced off and rolled towards the center of her room. By the time it's roll came to stop Vasavia was already out of the room, down the corridor and around the corner.

The ride down to the hanger of the station was more exhilarating then when she first arrived to her new home in 5C. It was the same exhilaration she had felt when she first truly realized her calling in the world of New Eden was a calling to Piracy. It was the same exhilaration she found in combat, the same exhilaration she got from the unpredictability of a ransom, the same exhilaration she got being chased by hostiles and CONCORD. Again, the memories she had of these acts of piracy came flooding back as the lift she was in descended deeper into the outpost on its path to the hanger. Chills of excitement raced up her spine.

The lift stopped with its usual sudden halt. It's doors slid effortlessly open. Vasavia, snapped back to reality, stepped out of the lift with more energy and vitality then she'd had the last couple weeks. Powerful, confident strides that had been absent from her recently had now returned - fueled by the anticipation of her return to her true identity in this world. Vasavia moved down the long corridors to the hanger entrance. As she drew closer the sounds of the hanger grew more audible. It was obvious, today was a busy day in the outpost.

Entering the hanger, Vasavia made her way quickly towards her line of ships. Her maintenance crew was already well into the repackaging process, prepping her ships for resale on the local market as she had instructed the Chief to have done. Vasavia looked towards the undocking lanes and admired the chorus of Battlecruisers and Battleships coming and going in the station. Interceptors and Frigates weaved their way through the slower traffic. Her Pod, her coffin, her vessel back to her life idled just down the catwalk. The Crew Chief came up behind her.

"Pod's ready, Vas. I noticed a couple issues with the propulsion modules on one of the Rifters. I have my best guy working a diagnostic on the propulsion systems now.", the Chief reported as if business was usual.

Vasavia looked at him over her shoulder as she turned to face him, "Very good, Chief." She extended her hand.

He gave the slightest of winks, as if knowing what was truly going on, "We'll make sure everything is in order, Capsuleer. I'll over look the sale of assets personally and see to it that funds are transferred to you immediately".

Caught of guard slightly by the exchange Vasavia could only give a small, friendly smile, "Very good, Chief. Very good indeed."

She turned back towards her Pod and made her way down the catwalk. When she reached the Pod she opened the small personal storage compartment and slid her flight bag in containing those few personal items she had packed from her room. She climb into the Pod and sealed herself inside. Running through the checklist all the Pod's essential systems were in order. The propulsion systems came to life, the navigation computer was brought up, but no destination set. Vasavia contacted the outpost's traffic control and requested permission to undock and join the exit lane traffic pattern.

"Pod Vasavia, initiate undock procedures and join traffic pattern in Taxi 01-B, continue taxi to Lane 01, contact Casablanca Tower for final launch approval.", came the request from the Traffic Control Officer.

"Casablanca Traffic, Pod Vasavia. Good copy taxi 01-B to Lane 01.", Vasavia returned.

Vasavia disconnected the lines feeding the fuel cells of the Pod, and disconnected the power lines supplying power to the Pod while in dock. Next, the docking clamps that kept her tiny Pod attached to the catwalk she had just walked down unlocked their claw like grip on her Pod. The Pod hovered on the same plane, and drifted just a few meters out on its own. The catwalk retracted and Vasavia initiated a slow turn, pointing her Pod towards her assigned taxi lane.

The Pod joined the taxi traffic puttering along towards the main launch lane in use. Vasavia, looking through the Pod's camera monitors, watched the busy Capsuleers and crews of the station going about their daily routines. She watched the larger traffic cruising into the station via the Docking Lanes. Before long, she heard the buzz from her navigational computer telling her the entry into Launch Lane 01 was coming up. Vasavia got on Comms with the launch control tower:

"Casablanca Launch Tower. Pod Vasavia. Permission to take Lane 01 for departure straight out.", she requested.

The tower's controller came back over comms, "Pod Vasavia. Lane is clear. Cleared to take Departure Lane 01. Fly safe."

"Casablanca Tower, Pod Vasavia. Copy, taking Lane 01. Depart straight out Lane 01.", was her call back to the Tower.

Pfft. Fly-safe., Vasavia thought to herself as she maneuvered her Pod into the departure lane.

I can't wait to get back to flying reckless., she thought.

Her Pod now aligned straight down Lane 01, and any traffic ahead well distanced from her heading & course, Vasavia punched the throttle forward and her Pod instantly accelerated to it's max propulsion. The stations walls surrounding Departure Lane 01 sped by in a solid stream of lights and metallic surfaces. Their finer detailed blurred by speed. In a matter of seconds her Pod burst out the departure lane opening on the face of the station. The station quickly fell behind her. Vasavia quickly brought up her list of "bookmarks" in her navigational computer.

Browsing down the list for System 5C-, Vasavia selected the "Tactical Undock" bookmark for the station she had just launched from. The warp-drive of her Pod almost instantaneously spooled up to full force, throwing her egg-shaped vessel into warp. Her Pod burst away from the station even further. Within a matter of just a couple seconds, the Pod's warp-drive cut out and her Pod slowed to a complete stop. There she idled over 250k out from the station. Vasavia turned the cameras towards the station and watched the monitor. From this distance the "Casablanca" and the Capsuleer traffic buzzing around it looked beautiful.

Vasavia pressed herself back into her seat more, reclining into a restful position for the next phase of her journey back to her former life. She thought about her current body, this shell that had been brought to life months before now, months before even entertaining the thought of moving to Null Sec. She had been through a lot in this body. She felt a little remorse for how the journey would end for this clone.

Turning her attention down towards the various control panels of her Pod, she turned her eyes towards the Pod's life support systems. With a few quick movements of her fingers the Self-Destruct sequence for the Pod was initiated. The soothing, calming sound of Aura's voice - that wonderful A.I. Diva all Capsuleers become acquainted with - reported the count-down:

"This Pod will self-destruct in 2 minutes...", Aura reported.

Vasavia closed her eyes.

"...1 minute 30 seconds until...", Aura returned.

Vasavia opened her eyes and fixed her gaze towards the station again.

"...1 minute remaining until...", Aura updated.

Vasavia started to drift back to those fond memories of her former life as a pirate. She grinned.

"...45 seconds remaining until...", Aura persisted.

Eagerness and Anticipation began to build up inside of Vasavia, so much anticipation she felt like she could literally burst this Pod apart herself.

"...15 seconds remaining until...", Aura called.

Vasavia closed her eyes, held her breath, and pressed her head back against her seat.

Within an instant Vasavia's Pod burst apart into hundreds of shards of metal and thousands of pieces of components. The explosion would not even be visible to the traffic below flying around the "Casablanca". However, one thing would be noticed by all those pilots. Vasavia's frozen corpse, idly suspended in the coldness of space, would now be listed on the other ships' overviews. Perhaps someone would come and clean up the mess, perhaps someone would try to reprocess her corpse in hopes of finding salvagable implants. It didn't really matter either way.

On the otherside of New Eden, Vasavia was waking in a new body. Reanimated. Reborn. She would soon find herself back in Molden Heath, claiming back her true identity. She, again, would be flying reckless.