Speed Fairy

Racing Loss

2011-11-05T15:35:00.008-03:00

There is often a time when one grows attached to something. Something, as in a thing, as opposed to a person or any other kind of living being. An inanimate object.

Nonetheless, one grows attached to this object because... who knows? Do you have one? Something you may have had by your side for so long, or that has become a trusty sidekick, maybe the secret of your success? Or saved your life? So many reasons...

--

I know it sounds silly.

Capsuleers, for us it it usually our ships. And for me, it was 'A Wing and a Prayer'. Oh, how I love her... my second racer, ever, and together we grabbed the T1 championship, what, four years ago already? Large polycarbon rigs which I crafted myself, some other special equipment and that nice emblem on her sides...

I did something very stupid today.

5 November 113, NE-RA Season 2.0 Race 1
The Bleak Lands

Hello, I am Catherine Delorois and I am team Scuderia Caille's manager in the pro racing circuit. I do not race anymore, or so they say. If you remember last season...

Well, for starters I did retire last season and went planetside. (Of course we all know how this goes, hotshot retires then keeps away from the sport, runway, politics, movies or whatever, then after much expectation comes back to glory and sponsors. Then more often than not gets injured, falls on her behind, melts down, is caught red-handed or whatever, then hotshot retires for good). I am still retired.

Today was the first race of a new season. A full hour before the race I was still retired. A few minutes before the race I decided to support the team an show up flying a frigate... of course it would be fine, being the hotshot that I am, with the best implants and racing equipment, with my racing legend ship and kickass team, what could go wrong?

I am feeling like such a idiot voyant: I so fell flat on my ass. To make a long story short, the Amamake waypoint was camped, I was not careful enough and out of practice, so horribly out of practice.

My clone I can restore, but I am going to miss the Wing.

For the details, you can check Kay's account of the race.

The Wing. It feels as if I have been unfair to her, putting her at risk in racing so... carelessly. She was (is? Do frigates go to ship heaven?) unique and she was mine. But otherwise, what could it have been, a museum piece? A ship belonging to a pre-nerf era long gone? Or a comme-si comme-ça racer, a slowpoke relic racing amongst Dramiels? Museum or last place? Forgotten until sometime I go planetside for good? And then what?

But she went in a shower of sparks. Racing fearless at the forefront, unafraid of tricky waypoints and fighting for the top spot in the class. I had not felt this way since a couple of years when I stopped racing, and it felt great. I like to think she was meant to go that way, in an electrifying move, doing what she does best.

So, my Wing, we both died today and although only one of us is back, I am going to miss you. I am happy it happened when we were racing together. You were truly my wingmate and you were my Champion Ship.

Merci pout tout.

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Eejit

2011-10-02T23:50:00.002-03:00

"So, where shall we go?" he said.

"Somewhere expensive!"

He took me to the NEX store.

:(

Perpetual Motion: Hints

2011-07-20T23:10:00.001-04:00

Age twentysix, Metropolis

Quin, wake up.

I was curled up lying sideways in bed, with the duvet pulled into a nice cabbage around me. There is only one way to sleep, dear, and this is it.

Now leave me alone.

--

Quin, wake up.

My eyes were so puffy I could barely open them. You know how it feels when it is warm under the covers and everything else behind a slightly colder haze. You don't even want to move. At all. Maybe except your feet. I can stay for hours lying in bed, just slowly moving my feet and my toes. It's a gift.

So I did not even bother to open my eyes, wanting just five more minutes, five more.

Go. Away.

--

Quin, wake up.

"Oh please, make it stop."

Yup, because waking up can be ignored only so much.

I turned and stretched, yawning lazily. Nice bed. I opened my eyes and looked straight at... the ceiling, wondering where I had woken up, the baritone voice being about the only thing I recognised around me. I looked for clues, as usual.

After a second yawn I noticed the sounds, there was rain mixed with this incessant hum that could be air conditioning in the room, plus something vaguely industrial far away.

I rubbed my eyes. Ceiling, yes, as unrecognisable as the sounds, with a metallic yet unpolished look with a hint of rust. I spy... a Republic-style building?

Sounds of water. Not rain, coming from behind a door, so maybe a shower. Someone showering? Had I spent the night with...? Yah -you go ahead and laugh- I could NOT remember who I had spent the night with, or even if.

It had better been amazing.

Propped on an elbow, I looked for stuff. The clothes lying around were mine, as was the suitcase, so it was probably my place. Hotel room? No trace of whathisname's stuff, not even a shirt.

Ah, the shower. You know how it sounds different, like movement, when someone is in the shower but it sounds flat when no one is? The rain also sounds alive by the way but this one was flat, so the shower was likely empty. Either that, or there was a body in the shower, ha, ha. Ew.

Alone, bummer, and that was my wake-up shower.

Earrings, my last clue. I reached for my left earlobe and counted: one, two, three. Clone number three, in other words, Business Clone. Money Me.

So:

Republic hotel, by myself and wearing my business clone? I remembered, barely. I was in Teonusude for a marketing pitch, having clone-jumped and flown in on the previous evening for dinner and a whole night of sleep.

I am very good at sleeping, by the way. Not so good at waking up.

And I needed to be in top shape because, racer history would not matter. I had to show off my keen sense of market, the fact that I can buy my own expensive stuff and justify that yes, hiring the real deal would cost them dearly. They would not care how many Nomads I had plugged in some other clone, if my mind and my +5's right here were dozing off and wandering somewhere else.

Anyway, it was time to get ready.

"Mirror, mirror," I asked out loud, "Is there time for a bath today? And will you please find me an actual mirror?"

The baritone replied "Quin, you have a meeting scheduled in three hours. This room is not equipped with a holo mirror, although you may use the reflective membrane on the wall as per local custom."

Reflective membrane... a flat mirror?! How precious! Ever tried one yourself? I know it takes getting used to and you end up twirling and twisting your neck so you can not really look at yourself -which was the whole point of this mirror concept to begin with. But it is such a quaint thing, and the feeling that you have to use this ancient object in the same way they used to, in the old days. Like an Amarrian Holder Princess of yore, ha!

As I stood up I found what looked like a window into another room and saw... myself, looking back. A flat mirror, how cool! It had been years since I had used one but, you know how it is, once you learn how you never forget. Only last time it had been mounted on a proper golden frame.

Bath! Right. "Please cancel the shower and prepare the bath."

"Quin," the AI voice said, "the shower is currently in use."

Oh?

I turned around, surprised, and walked back towards the closed door, listening carefully for any extra hint. Clone jumping always messes my mind up, but maybe there was enough time to remember what I was up to last night.

"In that case," I grinned, reaching the door, "please order breakfast for two."

--

You get used to it, and even come up with ways of coping. Ways of making it appear interesting or even funny, the fact that sometimes you may even not have a place regular enough to call home.

So you smile, you laugh. At every chance, every little thing you observe. The way people walk, or that silly monocle, or how the sun feels different or moves the wrong way. Because it is new, true or not, it should be exciting, and finding excitement in the little things, that makes all the big changes worth it.

And it keeps you going.

Racing not

2011-06-01T22:48:00.004-04:00

It feels odd that, upon the start of a new racing season I should be writing about not racing. Yet here I go.

Hello, I am Quin and I am not a racer.

Well, for starters I did retire last season and went planetside. (Of course we all know how this goes, hotshot retires then keeps away from the sport, runway, politics, movies or whatever, then after much expectation comes back to glory and sponsors. Then more often than not gets injured, falls on her behind, melts down, is caught red-handed or whatever, then hotshot retires for good). I am still retired.

Then there is this little thing about the team. We were once two teams, Kay's Dragonstar and Quin's Scuderia Caille. Then we were Scuderia Dragonstar and it was the best of times. Now due to corporate politics we have had to split the team, which albeit done on the friendliest of terms still resulted in, you guessed it, two teams. Kay will race with Dragonstar and I will not-race with Scuderia Caille.

Which leaves us one little problem: racers. DS is welcoming all racers her corp's bigot policy (sorry, I just said that - but it's a sport for goodness' sake!) will allow her, which leaves SC quite weak in numbers. Demon, our frigates champion, seems to be as retired as I am; Searaph is around but not with SC; Lief is probably racing away from police as the good smuggler he is. Our roster so far includes two.

Which by the way is ironic as we started out as an the University of Caille racing team, an inclusive bunch that reaches across borders, affiliation and ethnicity in order to go fast, have fun and learn. And this gets us? Two racers.

Not that I have been doing much team management work either. I went planetside, remember?

So I am not racing and am torn between placing my racers with someone else, while maybe putting SC on ice... or coming up with something for the team that is completely crazy and as fun as competitive racing once was. I have talked to some of the other team managers about placement and they have been nothing but supportive. Thank you, by the way :)

Anyway, last Saturday was the first race of the season and what did we have? One racer showed up.

Nicoletta's first race ever (did I mention she is also a rookie?) ended up with her taking 3rd place in the AF podium. Not bad. Even though she was a team unto herself (I refuse to say 'racing alone') we were on comms during most of the race, sharing tips and hints and trying to figure out where she was. Besides, she did not blow up which is like doing twice better than I did on my very first race.

Waitaminute...

First race, not blowing up, podium? Hey, not too bad at all!

Still, I'm really wondering about what to do next.

Maybe we need to be closer to our roots as a team - remember when in season 3 we kicked ass and took numbers? And though we were the best frigates team out there we still got zero season score due to our not meeting the requirements to register as a corporate team. And we did not care a bit about not getting points.

Or maybe our mission is to really be the little league of the sport. All we need is a few good newbies and good instructors, as when we registered for S4. To teach the racers of tomorrow! And looking back, I do feel proud about SC racers joining other teams and showing what they've got. That's what we said back then we would do: teach people. And we did it!

Or this could be a business opportunity. Want to race? Want to ride shotgun with the pros? So we go into the consulting business to help a team, any team or teams, beat the others. Our racing R&D is still unrivaled off and on the track - who flies frigates with large polycardboard rigs? Who developed the away-from-can opening? The jump-clone shortcut? The blind warp? SC did, that's who.

Possibilities,endless possibilities...

So be warned. We are still on the track, one way or the other. A blip in your overview, a shadow in your rear-view mirror, a system ahead, sniping at you in chat. One way or the other...

We are good. We are creative. We are Scuderia Caille.

And we are BACK.

Q

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Cee Vee

2011-03-19T17:51:00.001-03:00

It is midnight and the man pushing the cart down the street stops to catch his breath. If it only were easier. A life of hardship has taught him to be strong, to be steadfast, but he has always wondered, and even now, looking up at some of the lighted housing in the arcology. He wonders how it would be if he had a life like that.

It is midnight and inside, another man stands up from his paper-covered desk and walks to the window. Oblivious to the man and his cart downstairs, he is too worried to notice. Expenses, mortgage, payments, ends having to meet; his climb up the corporate ladder slower than anticipated and now changes with the new CEO. There are needs that must be filled. If he only had a chance...

It is midnight and the new CEO looks down her domain from the top floor building. The pressure, the people, the petty strife amongst corporate divisions; public appearances and secret negotiations. Right now, she would rather be free amongst the stars, flying from planet to planet until she chose another star, any star in the sky and start over. If she only could fly like they do...

--

It was midnight and I put the finishing touches to a description of my entire life. It is grossly unfair to sum it up on just a handful of pages, but that is the way it must be. And if I spent any more time making it perfect, I would show up and next day's interview being sleepy, grumpy, stupid and with bags under my eyes. Not the best first impression, I am afraid.

I hate job hunting. Hate it, with passion.

--

Interviewer X> Can you tell me about your combat experience?

Quin> I have, ah, seen combat.

X> Do you have any killboard references?

Q> Not really. But here, see, I have two kills.

X raises an eyebrow> Two kills in four years?

--

I do not know which part I hate the most, whether it is the constant application/rejection cycle, or the part where I have to pretend to be someone I am not, just because everyone else pretends.

Okay, I get it. Really. Eggs must be broken to make an omelet. You have to apply a hundred times to get one acceptance. I do not have to like it, do I?

What I find disgusting out there is the sheer amount of people wanting to oversell themselves and embellish their life with fantastic details. Should I pretend as well, or is it better to be honest up front?

--

Interviewer Y> What are your best strengths as a pilot?

Q> I can go fast. I used to race in the pro circuit, you know.

Y> So you are a tackler...

Q> Yes, I could be.

Y> Could? You are either a tackler, or are not. What else do you consider a strength?

--

So I do not pretend and that usually lands me in trouble. Or, rather than trouble, -here is to positive thinking- saves me the time and effort of attending a second or third interview with the same people.

I have been saving a lot of time and effort lately.

Everyone else pretends. Then again everyone else is, well, not me. They have skills people want around here. Maybe I am looking in the wrong spot?

--

Interviewer Z> Your CV states you are committed pacifist; you also state you have trained Advanced Weapon Upgrades to level 5...

Q> I am an angry pacifist.

Z> What makes you think you are a good fit to our corporation?

Q> I think that people skills are a valuable contribution to any organisation. I mean, you can have all the technical stuff in place but your corp still needs the right approach to people to work and endure in time. The current skillpoint system does not really reflect that...

Z> Oh. Okay. Shall we... Is there anything you would like to know about us?

--

Or maybe I am the wrong candidate?

The worse that I have been called? I would say it was me being 'management material without management experience.' I think the proper answer to that one is feeling somewhere between flattered and insulted. Like I would be just right for the job if I did not know jack shit. Small detail.

I think I may be doing this the wrong way. I have been out of the picture for too long now, out of the loop. Maybe there is something I could do to make myself fit better, a skill or certification that looks good on my CV but is something real, substantive and useful. That way, I would not have to pretend being someone I am not. Rather, I would be interesting because of what I can actually do. Because of who I am. Which, incidentally, is the same woman I was before, only now with a nice certificate on the wall.

I think that's it: I am off to learn some skills.

I still hate job hunting, though.

--

What do people see when they look at capsuleers? Giants, gods, monsters, mythical creatures, insufferable snobs, unreachable heights?

Capsuleers are not gods, just people as well like everybody else. We bleed, we die, we look for acceptance, we look for a life to call our own. There are needs that must be filled, because we are human. And because we are human, it does not matter how many things one gets for granted.

There are still needs that must be filled.

Racing Blob

2010-11-02T22:48:00.001-03:00

November 109, ISGC Season 4
Race 3: Sinq Laison

This race was nuts. I mean, I can barely recall all the way back to Season 4* but whoever was there for race 2 will remember that one, such a complete and utter mess that it was. Complete. Utter. Mess.

The race region was Sinq Laison, home of Uni of Caille (rah!). Back then we were mostly a UC student team, we flew as Scuderia Caille and were the shiny underdog to Kay's all-star DragonStar and Takashi's challenging Venture Racing Team. But Sinq is our region and we were flying as locals. We had something to prove.

Speaking of locals, by the way, Sinq is also home to Rancer and a whole lot of fun people who like to hang out with blasters and gatecamps. They do not take lightly on trespassers because, you know, it is their region.

You do not have to live in 0.0 to see the problem there.

That was, at least, what we expected.

We started out in Auberulle for the pre-race. Gyra had warned us that she would be a bit late, she had been having other commitments during the week and had had to outsource the track to someone else, but finally made it to host the race. She gave us the undock signal and, like lovely little lemmings that we are, we hit the first few waypoints: Olettiers, Rancer, Miroitem. Not finding the dreaded space pirates was a big relief but also a bit meh, we had been wondering how to evade them. Maybe it was pirate day.

We did not stick around for long anyway and went on to the next waypoints deeper into lowsec, Lamadent, Otou and Rorsins.

I know you must be thinking but Quin, what about the race itself? Like, who was in front and who was falling behind?

The answer: what difference does it make? It all went wrong starting waypoint seven. But now that you ask and just for the record, I would like to point out that I got there first.

Waypoint seven, Thelan.

[ 21:01:09 ] Quintrala > can 7 empty?
[ 21:01:26 ] Kayleigh Jamieson > Can 7 empty
[ 21:01:28 ] Takashi Kurosawa > Yes I think so too
[ 21:01:33 ] Saithe > is it just me or is there notging in wp7

There, see? I just wasted twentyfour perfectly good seconds, waiting.

A racer ages about a year in that time.

Gyra directed us to WP eight, Crielere which meant going back through Rancer again, ugh :/

[ 21:05:50 ] Quintrala > wp8 empty too?
[ 21:05:59 ] Kayleigh Jamieson > Um, WP8 appears empty as well.
[ 21:06:22 ] Kazuo Ishiguro > Ok, where's wp 9?

How is it that they say? "Once is an accident, twice is coincidence..."

We were directed to WP nine, Ambeke

[ 2007.11.11 21:08:37 ] Takashi Kurosawa > I cannot open can at WP9
[ 2007.11.11 21:08:44 ] Quintrala > bad password at Ambe
[ 2007.11.11 21:08:49 ] Kayleigh Jamieson > This is so not my day :(

From there onwards, almost every single waypoint was messed up in some way or another. WP10 had the wrong password, as did WP12 to WP14. While we waited, we even appreciated the irony of WP11 being okay. Gyra only knew the right password so she could not help beyond following the rules, that is, waiting for the second racer to report an error and then direct the pack to the next waypoint. Every time this happened, the few in front of the pack got delayed and the ones in the back had time to catch up.

The result? We were pretty much a racing blob.

WP15 Olettiers VII - Asteroid Belt 4

[ 2007.11.11 21:25:01 ] Quintrala > bad Wp 15
[ 2007.11.11 21:25:11 ] Kazuo Ishiguro > Finish line?
[ 2007.11.11 21:25:12 ] Takashi Kurosawa > confirmed
[ 2007.11.11 21:25:13 ] Kayleigh Jamieson > Coonf

See, right there? That was me, 10 seconds in the lead. Which, by the time ISGC confirmed, looked up and typed the finish line, would have evaporated. That's like a hour of flying, with 10 seconds to show for it, already gone by in the time it took you to read this but now that everyone was around I could be first as easily as last.

Unless... it occurred to me that it was not the destination but the journey what mattered: I would just pick a gate and warp. What was the worst that could happen? Did anyone know where to go next? Tell you what, certainly not at the can.

So how many gates did we have in that system? Four. Eenie, Minnie, Manny, Moe... Dondenvale!

I warped off, fingers crossed. If I was wrong, I would just have to do the exact same thing everyone else would: warp to the correct gate. Nothing lost with trying, that is, if Gyra so kindly waited to announce until I had already landed at the Dodenvale gate. Now if the announcement caught me mid-warp...

Of course, the announcement came in when I was nine seconds into my warp: FINISH: Unel IX - Chemal Tech Factory

I frantically punched the new navi data as my destination and, as a result, one gate in my overview lighted up in yellow. It was Dodenvale.

Just in time, I jumped on contact while they were all in mid-warp behind me :)

As it turns out it was a short, mad dash to the finish line. The entire blob was docked within two minutes of the winner. Kay was fourth, Tak was second and I... I had beaten him by those exact same nine seconds I had gambled back at Olettiers, yay!

After all that practice, after trying so hard... my first interceptor win!

Race results: annulled

ISGC Gyra: ... for those that attended will attest to the complete chaos that ensued during this evening's race.

...

This event will be considered an exhibition, or practice exercise, and will not be counted towards the League scores. We will return to Sinq Laison at the end of the season as a make up event. For those interested in the details, I have provided track information and a raw data of the performances from the participants that attended this evening.

Damit.

At least we met no pirates on the way. **

--

* ((I can not remember so I cheat. Having a crap laptop helps, it is full of logs that go back forever.))

** ((Stay tuned if you want to know what happens when you get this false sense of security around dodgy places..))

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Perpetual Motion: People

2010-10-15T12:12:00.005-03:00

At some point in your life you realize that it is not places but people that make you feel home.

So it is only natural that, as you leave places behind, you will want to bring your people along. A gift, a memento, a promise to write or to call, maybe visit. A social network link because, you know, you will also be chatting, talking, conferencing each other face to face across the chasm. Like being home.

Is it not great? Keeping in touch with people is so much easier than keeping in touch with places.

And maybe, if you are lucky, you will meet them again somewhere.

--

Age ten: Pator

Sitting on the rocks next to the beach, I was holding my knees to my chest while Taro basked in the sun, lying on his back with one leg dipping lazily in the water. The murmur of the ocean blanketed everything and was a lovely background to idle chat.

"Dunno. Journalist. An artist like Maman," I said, "something with people, definitely."

Taro chuckled "Like your mom? I hope not. She's fierce."

He had been one of my first friends back in Eram and one those who had left ahead of us. As it turns out when it had been time for my family to move out, dad's next assignment had been Pator. Down in Matar, actually.

Have you seen it? Of course everybody knows about Matar, the cradle of the Republic and everything, but have you seen it? From above it is also a beautiful blue ocean world, with green dots here and there for people to live on. And on the ground, from the snowy mountain ranges to the plains and deserts to the jungle islands... oh, my favourite part used to be the islands. We lived on an island.

This is was where Taro's family had returned to. this was their 'home.' By some amazing coincidence we had ended up living on the very same island where they hailed from and it was cool because some of mom's old friends from Eram also were there.

Someday I would learn to do that, to manage coincidence the way mom did. ;)

Anyway, funny how knowing someone from my previous life had helped so very much when I arrived... how long had it been, five years now? How time flies. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath of salty ocean air. It felt great.

I felt home.

I swear there must be this law of the universe that says whenever I start feeling at home, it is time to move to some other planet. I did not want to tell Taro. And besides that there was much more to say but... I did not really feel like it. Somehow it just felt as if it would make things more difficult. So I just looked at the horizon and kept the small talk going.

"And what about you?"

"I want to be a soldier with the Marines."

"Oh, I see. How typical, you want to kill people," I teased, "you suck, y'know."

"It is not about killing, Kü, it is about fighting for my people." He replied matter-of-factly.

See, most in his tribe, the Brutor, feel different about fighting than the rest of us. For them it is usually about people and freedom, not about conquest, profit or sport. Fighting is Freedom. Fighting is Life. I knew that.

Maybe I could poke him with that.

"That's just an excuse, you know, so all of you can go and beat the crap out of each other like in the holos."

He just grumbled and pretended to ignore me.

Hey, maybe that is what I really needed, a good fight. A good break-up fight so epic that we would look back, remember this day and think good riddance! That way we would not have to miss each other. Terribly, every single day. We'd hate each other's guts, good. I could live with that. Half a universe away, that's what I would do.

In case you have not noticed, I am really good at fooling myself, sometimes.

So there, Newly Discovered Fact: Fighting is killing, fighting is crap. I hate you because you want to be a killer. 'Cause I said so. Just like that.

I pushed it. "No, really, must everything be solved by fighting?" now seriously enough for him to take notice. "Stupidest thing in the world."

"Sometimes you can't avoid a fight."

"I think there is always a way, if you really want to. And if you are smart enough."

He grumbled again and, in the corner of my eye, I could see him tensing up. I kept my sight on the horizon, thinking of how to tease him next. There is something not quite smart enough about trying to pick up a fight with an islander, boy or girl.

Oh, whatever. Keep poking.

"So, are you?"

"Am what?"

"Smart enough?"

Without actually looking in his direction yet keeping all my attention on that corner of my eye, I think I saw his head move. He was there allright, maybe he was wondering why I was suddenly hostile. Or maybe his tribal instinct was sizing me up for a well-deserved beating.

"Taro?"

"Hrmpf."

"I'm leaving. Dad got transferred..."

A movement, then stopped. I finally turned my head and found him propped up on one muscled arm, the other resting on his knee, curiously looking at me.

"Kü," he still called me that.

"It's Amarr."

"Kütral, listen," he slid closer and drew me in. I felt his arm gently pushing me closer, firmly across my shoulders, and I nested my head against his chest. I did not hug back.

"It's Amarr, Taro, it's fucking Amarr. I am going to live in the Empire now."

You know what some people say, right? Only two kinds of people live in Amarr: slavers and slaves. Even in this day and age. Yah, yah, I know, and already knew back then it's not like that... but how about everyone else? Did my friends know? What would they think, what would they say? I was moving to the Empire. What would he say, what would he think of me?

And I did not want to go but, what can you do? Sometimes there is just no alternative but going wherever it is comes next.

"So what? We will always be friends," he whispered to my ear, "You are one of my people."

WTF? Hello? I was trying to break up and he was coming up with this? And why was that, genius, to make things more difficult? Put me through the grinder and make me hate even more already what I was about to go through? I mean, was it that hard to figure out that we were over anyway, whether we wanted or not. Take a hint, you obtuse, uncaring and simple-minded idiot. I am going anyway, so let me.

Why bother? He has never been good at hints, even today. I pushed him away slowly, deliberately.

"Goodbye Taro." So much left unsaid.

I stood up.

"N'de rendape ajuta," he said to my back as I turned around.

Yah, right, I thought, I would love to see that. Ten-year-old crosses the universe to be with friend, news at ten.

I did not run, I walked... and I did not look behind, I just stared ahead all the way home. No running, no looking back, no crying. Hey, two out of three, not bad.

Only halfway my sore feet reminded me that I had left my sandals behind.

I did not care. Wish it had been only sandals.

--

Now by the second time you move, you have already learned it doesn't quite work the way you expected. There is always something in between: distance, timezone, time apart, the fact that no matter how many times you call each other, the nuisance of a call will never feel the same as sitting in front of each other for drinks. Or a hug. Or a kiss. And then you start drifting apart.

So it does not work, and it turns out that you do leave friends behind, as much as you may want not to. But you expected this already, right? I mean, you learned that the very first time you moved.

One thing though. Maybe, if you are lucky, you will have good friends; they will keep you in their hearts, the same as you keep them in yours. And the day you see each other again, it will be like you were never apart.

For good friends, those are forever.

Perpetual Motion
Previously: Places

[OOC] Do-over

2010-10-12T00:09:00.005-03:00

Lights check, ears check, eyebrows check, do-that-is-not-from-Lazytown...

Check.

With an aprés-pod look too.

There :)

[OOC] Face Time

2010-10-08T16:24:00.005-04:00

I have been rather busy lately.

See, I saw Myrhial's post and then I had to look for myself. That pic over there is a first go at what I would look like in Sisi.

I liked the sculpting tool, although I felt that it is sort of limited in range. I mean, you can move the cheekbone a bit but not too much, the jaw a bit but not too much, there is no control over the shape of your head -which limits the kind of hair you should be legally allowed to sport- but you can control the shape of your temples tho, and the corner of your eyes (WTF? "wow, did you see the temples on that guy?"). Yay. I guess that this has been done this way to get a more realistic look and, anyway, they do achieve that in spades.

It would seem that cartoonish pics are no longer that easy to create, whereas the classic pic maker made it more challenging to create verosimile ones. Way to go!

Sorry, you gallies all look the same to me.

I wonder what will be the implication though, maybe we will transition from people that look all cartoonishly the same, to people that all look realistically the same? Then again, I have not played enough with this to build radically different faces within the same bloodline.

Maybe it is possible. We shall see.

Then again, maybe that's ethnicity at work, people looking alike. I remember that ethnicity did limit some of the choices you could make before, like no red-headed Amarrians, Brutor being generally more tanned and the Lonetrek facelift -that weird tight hairdo- only being only available to Civire and Sebiestor.

No such limits this time but again, test phase and we shall see. It would be cool if choices were ethnical (hair, eyes, tan) and some location-based (hairdo choice wherever you re-cast a character)

Fashion emergency

Regarding clothing you get the basics from what I guess are each race's designs of one piece of each top, pants, jacket and shoes. You can mix and match, and I happen to think Matari boots work surprisingly well with an Amarrian tunic :)

Designs are indeed gorgeous and very detailed; from a heavy-looking ornate tunic to a running tank-top. I can only imagine what the CCP wardrobe design department will be coming up with.. and I can't definitely not imagine all the many different ways that people will use them.

One thing though: no accessories yet, but these are promised for the future. I want backlaces!

Full freckles ahead!

You have many different face options, from hair to eyebrows to makeup and eye colour, no tattoos allowed. Sculpt sensitivity is weird, it takes some time to figure out what happens when you pull features in different directions with up/down/wide/narrow being an easy guess and smile/smooch/frown/sneeze being not so intuitive.

Eyebrows do not really work well on Gallentean faces yet and with my freakishly huge in-character ears, I guess I will be sticking with the bob for the time being.

Oh by the way? The round sliders are not that difficult to work, if you hate sliding it is possible to just click on any position and voilà, it slides by itself.

Express yourself!

After sculpting, I was surprised to find that you can make faces. I mean, you can smile or frown or squint, which is not the same as -and trickier than- pulling your mouth up or changing the size of your eyes from the previous phase. Range is again a bit conservative (see if you can tell wide-eyed smile from squinting smooch above and... yes, wide toothy smile was possible but I rather not). The pre-set poses look natural and are a much better starting point than the old ones.

What is cool is that the pic is alive as it is posing! Slight movements, eyes that wander here and there, light changes in expression... you get the idea. Which also means this is only the tip of the iceberg: come Incarna, I think you will find your avatar fidgeting, frowning or making faces you may not have intended and well beyond the control of the posing environment.

Which, I think, is a good thing.

And this is where the game is -'cause character creation is a game, did you not know?- in making a character that looks lifelike, real. Someone you could be talking to on the holo, or an ID card snapshot, or a realistic expression of happiness, anger, sadness, vengeance or whatever background history your character has. And it is still as challenging as it was before because, even if you get all these aids like the pre-sets and limits, the entire process from head to toe has now so much more complexity, that it still leaves you lots of room to come up with something unique, genuine and yours.

All things considered, I am quite impressed. It shows that there has been a lot of care and hard work done on Incarna, so I would like to send many thanks and kudos to CCP.

Also, thank you for allowing us to see this!

-Q

PS: I tried the Deteis and they look stunning already, just by pressing "continue" all the way. They sorely need to look uglier. Really. Lots. Nerf please!

PPS: I can see a meme calling. So, what do you look like in Sisi?

Planetary Interruption

2010-09-20T12:05:00.001-04:00

Dear employees:

Operations in Hek II will be down for maintenance on 23 September 112. Regular downtime will be extended from 0900 to 1100 HST.

During this period the Company will upgrade the planetary Command Center to an Improved Lava Command Center, which will result improvements to overall productivity and employee experience. The soda vending machine at the SS-HIP launchpad office will be fixed as well.

Unfortunately it will be necessary to tear down all corporate structures on the planet and rebuild these from scratch; this shall happen, of course, on budget and on schedule.

We apologise for the inconvenience.

Employees are advised to take all personal items with them as they leave the office for the day.

With kind regards,

Management

(this item contains a hint: Bring a large supply of oxygen with you.)

--

OOC: Oh my. Was there not an easier way to do this? Why do I have to scrap everything just to upgrade? Tsk, tsk...

[OOC] The Return of the Quin

2010-09-15T06:34:00.001-04:00

Wee, that was some downtime! Take that, CCP :P

Anyway, I think it has been like about a year since I stopped flying regularly, with a couple of fun exceptions. What have I been up to? I have been playing Real Life, baby, like an addict and let me tell you: I HAVE HAD IT.

So I sit down and look at that capsule... and there is so much stuff to do.

I want to fly again.

I want to do new stuff in space.

I would like to, for once, get that next racing season going. There were many interesting ideas, and so little time.

No, I do not think I will be racing again but that's OK.

I want to roleplay.

I think I am definitely going to keep blogging. Stories, fiction, race reports.

You have no idea how long I have been staring at this one post and would really have liked to have much more to say than "I'm back..." but, as they say, just do it and inspiration will come.

It's good to be back!

Hugs,

Q

Perpetual Motion: Places

2010-01-29T19:11:00.008-03:00

Age five: Eram

I was six the first time we moved. I guess I should have seen it coming.

Funny. As far as I can remember, there has been a steady trickle of people disappearing from my life. You can't imagine how tough it is to realize as a kid, that friends are only temporary.

At first it was my friends from the crèche moving out. Thierry, Cathy Q, Taro. But new kids would move right in so there were always people around. They would stay just enough to cease being strangers... and then would go.

Vanish, rinse, repeat.

Angèle was one of my best friends. Not only had we known each other forever, we had also witnessed together the curious acts of disappearance of friends and schoolmates. We used to talk about that sometimes and afterwards I would pepper mom with questions about them, where had they gone, why had they gone and when they were coming back.

Apparently there is some mysterious time when grownups "must go" somewhere. And when it comes, they drag their family along. Stupidest thing in the world.

Then it had been Angèle's turn.

How predictable, you must be thinking. Right. I'd love to see you explain 'predictable' to a five year old.

Mom always did, she would explain with infinite patience and something like "She went back home, Quin, where her family is. When people have their home somewhere else, sometimes they want to return."

Okay, I was beginning to understand going back 'home.' Gallente kids went back home to the Federation. Caldari kids went back somewhere else called the State. Some had returned home to Pator. Blah blah. Apparently they would not come back on Monday nor the rest of the week and, unlike going back home for vacation, once they returned home... they were gone. For ever.

"Oh, no, not forever. All of these places are faraway stars in the night sky and, see, each one is actually an entire world full of people. They are so far, far away that it is difficult to attend the same school or to even visit, but maybe one day..."

So, 'home' was this place you had never seen in your life, huh? Full of strangers and empty of familiar faces or places. Any place else could be home.

Except, of course, the one where I had been born. Where I was brought up, learned to talk, walk, made my friends, knew everyone in the neighbourhood, climbed every tree... where I lived. The one place that was mine yet somehow, was not my home. 'cause home is elsewhere.

I got to stay while all of my friends had to go. Maybe I was just lucky.

All of my friends. All. of. them.

Lucky? Maybe I am looking for a different word here.

But... certainly not Angèle? She had been there all my life and my party, she was supposed to come to my sixth birthday party in a couple of months. Unfair!

"Why did she have to leave?"

Mom had heard so many of these questions before. "Why?" "Because people miss their home, sometimes very much so." "Why her?" "Because everyone has a home."

"Why do all of my friends have to leave? All of them? That's unfair. Must everyone go?"

"Because..."

"Why me?"

Yes, mom, why does this happen to me? Why?

She just looked at me and -you know how it is, to look at someone's face right that very moment they can't hold it back any more?- her eyes began to water. Looking away, she brought the back of her hand up to cover her mouth.

My, oh my, oh my, oh my, did I do something wrong, am I in trouble? Did I just hurt her? What did I do? I must have said something terrible, I did not mean to!

She began to weep quietly. Suddenly I saw it was not just me... it also happened to her. She was also losing friends, places, roots. It was not my fault. So I hugged her, we cried together and, for a couple of minutes, my mother and I were the same.

We were friends.

I really should have seen it coming. We moved a couple of days after my sixth birthday.

Perpetual Motion
Next: People

[OOC] EVE Blog Banter #14: Now what?

2010-01-13T11:42:00.000-03:00

Welcome to the fourteenth 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 CrazyKinux. The EVE Blog Banter should be directed to crazykinux@gmail.com. Check out other CrazyKinux. The EVE Blog Banter articles at the bottom of this post!

The first banter of 2010 comes to us from the EVE Blog Father, CrazyKinux himself, who asks the following: As we begin another year in New Eden, ask yourselves "What Now?" What will I attempt next? What haven't I done so far in EVE? Was it out fear, funds, or knowledge? Have I always wanted to start my own corporation, but have never dared doing so? Is there a fledging mercenary waiting to come out of its shell? Or maybe an Industrialist? What steps and objectives will I set myself to accomplish in order to reach my ultimate goal for this year? EVE is what you make of it. So, what is it going to be for you?

--

Such an interesting question, in so few words. What, now?

I guess that my plans for the year 112 are simple: I have just retired from racing in 111 so now I am able to care for the ISRC a bit more as an organiser. Hopefully we will make ISD headlines like we used to in the past but, to do this, I think I will need to find help with the stuff I cannot do by ourelves so we are a bit stuck there. Graphics, movies, etc.

Also, now that I am mostly finished with the social skills I have been dabbling with antisocial skills. You know, Advanced Weapons Upgrades, T2 guns, etc. Who knows? Maybe they will become useful sometime.

Speaking of that, there are some loose ends. I shot someone in space last year, another capsuleer. Maybe I have yet to find the right way to deal with it, other than thinking it was a mistake. Maybe it wasn't. I think I know someone who can help there.

Finally, I need to get my blog up to date with all the stuff and stories that have crossed my mind, especially the memoirs for past racing seasons. Every season is unique, for different reasons...

((OOC:

I cannot begin to explain how complicated things are right now in Real Life. Things keep falling into place, sometimes the key word being 'falling' and sometimes being 'into place'. Lately, there has been much more good than bad so it's worth it.

Anyway, I will go away for a month or so. Yah, those holes in my blog have been planned to get you guys used to my absence ;) When I come back you will probably not notice, but I will be four, five or six timezones away from here and maybe permanently. And over there, I do not really know things are going to be, how soon or how much time will I have to fly, play or write.

But again, what to make of all of this is my choice.

And I choose to go with the flow. My weird resolution for Real-Life 2010 will be to draw inspiration for in-character 112. That way, no matter how awful things are, I should always have something interesting to blog about.

Anyway, it looks like this is going to be a year for writing and roleplaying.

Now if only I had the time...
))

Names you learn as a child

2009-12-15T13:29:00.005-03:00

Some time ago I was watching the video by DireLauthris, about Admiral Tovil-Toba and his defense of Caldari Prime. Wow, what an excellent video! Makes you proud to be a patriot, n'est-ce pas? All my Caldari friends were so full of themselves when it came out...

Anyway, it's because it is impressive! Go take a look, if you haven't yet...

I showed it to C. and he was very impressed. All the way until "to this day he is revered as a national hero and his name is one of the first things every Caldari child learns."

That's when I got an earful...

Anyhow, I was reminded about a story from RealLife(tm), of a XIX century war between the two Matari Tribes, shall we call them Chilestan and Peruvia. I already knew about it, but C, he went into excruciating detail.

It's story time!

--

Once upon a time there was a young naval officer, Captain Arturo of Chilestan, who was in charge of camping an enemy harbour. He had been left by his FC with strict instructions no to let anything through while the main fleet sailed away to some big battle. He had two wooden ships (T1 frigates, I kid you not!), badly fit and in worse shape, but that would suffice in a place where there was only civilian traffic to block.

Only there was not just civilian traffic.

The enemy was spotted by dawn. As usual, intelligence had sucked, they had crossed the main fleet in the dark and were fast approaching the port with two lean, mean hi-tech armour-plated ships. Captain Arturo was so screwed. Not able to call for reinforcements ('cause vent had not been invented yet), he roused his crew with a moving speech and they went to battle, intending to fight till the end. He was brave but he was also smart, fighting a gun battle inside the port against one of the iron ships -they were not his civilians being shot at port anyway- while his wingman took off distracting the other ship. When the enemy FC decided to ram his own ironclad into the wooden frigate, Captain Arturo did the unthinkable and took a small boarding party across. They all died as heroes. Shortly afterward, his ship broke in two and sank straight to the bottom.

The enemy had broken the camp.

But Captain Arturo became a rallying cry in Chilestan for the rest of the war, to this day he is revered as a national hero and his name is one of the first things every child learns.

Captain Arturo had not really meant to be a warrior; he was but a young lawyer who had left an even younger wife back home when he enlisted. He had not asked to be a hero. He just did what felt right.

--

Captain Miguel from Peruvia was a military genius, an officer and a gentleman. He had come back from a cushy retirement seat in Congress to fight the war, commanding the very same ship he had seen built to his specs fifteen years before by the Brutish, which he had then updated, refitted and rigged. As the FC, his mission was to harass and interdict the much bigger enemy fleet, a juggernaut that included wooden boats, ironclads, logistics, advanced ammo, some of the first battleships to ever exist and maybe the kitchen sink. His tools would not be brute force and firepower, but stealth, finesse and surprise.

Captain Miguel saw many successes breaking enemy camps, capturing transports, messing with enemy pets, bombing ports, sinking stuff. His small gang would appear from nowhere, strike and then vanish. At a certain battle, he rammed his ship into the enemy frigate once and again until it broke in two, sank straight to the bottom and, hear this, he then had all the survivors picked up from the water and carried to safety before x'ing back. And after the battle, he sat down to write a poignant note to the young widow of his adversary, which he sent the very same day with her dear husband's belongings and his deepest condolences.

A true gentleman if there ever was one.

Silly politicians back home wanted to promote him to Grand Admiral of All the Fleet, a honor he protested would not allow him to do what he did best, FC'ing from the front in their best command ship. So they compromised.

Rear Admiral Miguel met his fate at a fleet battle in high seas. As usual, politicians had sucked, ordering more raids and ignoring his calls for refit. Following orders and against his very own judgement, he would thus fall to an enemy BS gang rigged for gank, speed and devoted solely to hunting him down. He died in the gun battle and his legendary ship was captured. Losing the war had become a certainty.

But Admiral Miguel became a rallying cry in Peruvia for the rest of the war, to this day he is revered as a national hero and his name is one of the first things every child learns.

Admiral Miguel was a warrior, a genius and a gentleman. He left three loving widows: his wife, his ship and his country. He was probably always destined to be a hero, whether he asked or not.

--

You can't make these things up.

Both stories happened at the same time, over a hundred years ago. Every nation has a national hero but what is remarkable is that in this case is that two Heroes that fought in the same war and fought each other, ultimately became their own countries' greatest. Both died on the very same deck.

To date, people from Chilestan and Peruvia learn these names as the Hero and his Enemy, and vice-versa. To date, after more than a century, they are still taught to hate each other's guts. As children, no one is told about the flip side of the coin; as grownups, only a few wonder if there is a flip side at all.

Tools.

And there is a reason They teach you that stuff as a child in Real Life, so you don't question Them.

That keeps you a good patriot and a good tool.

The ugly face of patriotism, captured with such a simple phrase in Admiral Tovil-Toba's two-hundred year old story.

"To this day he is revered as a national hero and his name is one of the first things every Caldari child learns."

((Don't you just love it when they bring worlds to life, warts and all? ;) ))

Racing Spy #3

2009-12-08T07:54:00.007-03:00

December 109, ISGC Season 4,
Between Races 5 and 6

It had been weeks since my racing interceptor had been scanned at a training session, by a friend. Only problem was, this friend was the owner of a rival racing team, had scanned me and Kay unawares while on a friendly flight.

To mend our friendship, I had entrusted him with something of incredible value. To get even, I had asked him to promise the impossible.

I had offered him a miracle and a curse. He took them both.

Oh boy.

--

Races 4 and 5 went by and ISGC had lifted Ken's suspension from racing; he had already brought the ship I gave him to a race already and much to everyone's surprise.

The cynics thought it was just a rumour, that it could not really be my beloved Wing; others really believed it was -and it was, mind you- and chided me for being too kind with Ken, after what he did.

Maybe I was too kind. But I also wanted to get back at him.

Yin. Yang.

In spite of everything I still wanted to remain friends with Ken so, sometimes, I invited him to tag along when I explored in my Covops. The idea was, I would go in and find a radar site, Ken would then warp his Domi in and deal with the Sansha rats, and finally I would hack and salvage.

That's how we ended up in lowsec Sukanan.

It seemed such a good idea at the time.

Making a long story short, there was this radar site that took ages to pinpoint, we were a bit careless... and ended up with me hastily cloaking and Ken warping out in his pod. Before that, I had no idea you could be probed out so fast.

I know what you are thinking but, no, it was not my doing. Too crude and, besides, we were genuinely making up.

Afterwards, he gave me the chance to speak at the Fed Navy for the dedication of his replacement Domi.

As I prepared, I could not help but notice the irony. It was him that was being too kind to me. I did not deserve it.

Damit, he did not deserve it.

That was what I had in mind when, blinded by reflectors in my eyes, in front of the assembled crew of the Enduring Friendship (awww) I made my way to the podium and read a passage from one of my favorite poems.

If you can make a heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

People must have thought those were tears of emotion.

They... were, but not quite the one they would expect.

--

As soon as I got back from the ceremony I called some files to my desk.

"Mirror, mirror, may I see the files tagged dagger and twist please?"

The nice synth baritone voice replied "Quin, I do not have anything to show. Additional files may be available to you if you plug in, would you like to try again?"

He can be so discreet. "Yes please."

I plugged. Two files were conjured and appeared as if hovering over my desk. Anybody else would have seen me stare into thin air.

I checked the dagger file carefully to make sure it was what I was looking for. Anonymous contract for a mercenary hit on an Executioner-class racing frigate.

Yes, that one.

Ken had promised to race to win and had also promised to bring my ship back. No one, not even Ken himself expected to... but it was still possible. Unless one made sure that, ah, expectations would be met.

The twist file was a draft of a personal note where I explained everything: "Ken, it was me all along..."

Drive the dagger home. Then twist it.

But there was no need for it anymore. "Cancel the contract, discard both files and please confirm no backups remain."

"Quin, all done and confirmed."

Sigh.

We were even already, my friend and I.

--

((OOC: Now again, who says that roleplay is dead in this game?

Anyhow if you are wondering, we only got halfway there. Eventually, Ken himself withdrew from the season, returned my ship safely and would not race ever again. In the meantime, he wrote some short pieces of fiction based on this, which I think were beautiful.

There is some difference between what I am willing to do in-game and out-of-game. Ken's player became more and more absorbed by RL and at some point in time I felt that going ahead and hurting him in game would hurt him in RL. That was a no-no, so I just dropped it. A few months later the Ken character died in his sleep and was biomassed. I am still friends with the player or at least I like to think that.

I do not think I ever told him about the entire plan, I certainly did not warn him in advance of the RP angle. Yes Ken, I would have had my ship blown up from around you. Or maybe you would have surprised me, and I would have had to deal with the guilt. Real surprise gets you real emotions -> great RP. Now I can only wonder how this would have played.

What I do know is that by giving you the ship I loved the most, I did get to see some of the best RP I have seen, and most of it was actually for real.

In any case, if you are reading this I hope you can forgive me for being such an awful person. And enjoying it. Immensely. Thank you!))

Racing Series
See what happened before
Wait for what happened next

Racing dev Blog

2009-12-04T12:18:00.004-03:00

(Originally posted here)

I think we have learned a thing or two during the last couple of seasons... like, we are still too few racing and even fewer organizing, and that organizing does take a lot of time. That we need to keep the attention of spectators, sponsors and, if possible, of ISD (I wonder if that piece on Season 7 will ever be published?). We have learned that it is not good to race during holidays -wait... I think we knew that one already.

We also learned that we are not Gyra. We have been trying to do things Gyra-style and while she was good at that, we will never be as good as she was.

So we will change the rules.

We have been thinking about how to make ISRC-style racing more appealing to more racers, how to make it a bit less dependent on so few organizers, how to bring in and involve sponsors, how to make the calendar more flexible.

Finally, we have learned that sometimes good things in life come with dev blogs. A dev blog is a statement that says that what we are doing is not baked but under construction... under constant improvement, if you will. A dev blog says 'change!' and gives you the chance to prepare. A dev blog represents opportunity to change and the will to improve. It gives people (that's YOU) the chance to discuss what is on their mind and a forum to influence what kind of changes will come in the future.

So with this in mind, I give you the first ISRC dev blog.

Out of the comfort zone, shoo!

One of the issues that has plagued the ISGC first and then the ISRC have been related to the multiple-class racing format. I mean the part where ships of different classes like Interceptors, Frigates and AFS run on the same track at the same time.

One of the problems is that people tend to stick to the same classes so we would never truly know how great a racer is, for example the Frigates Champion vs. the Interceptors Champion? Also, there have been semi-deserted racing classes, first a destroyer class and then an AF class (with what, one race out of four having, you know, racers?). We have frigates and assault frigates overtake Interceptors because of team tactics, which is actually cool if you are on a good team, but maybe it lends lots of impact to team makeup. Finally, we have the same people winning the same classes season after season.

Based on the "Exhibition Race" concept that we have been running once in a while, it is actually fun when people step out of their comfort zone and race something different like Cruisers, Industrials or that little Frigate on the 0.0 rally. Also, we have found that more rookies tend to show up for exhibition races, maybe because the field is even, as opposed to season races where teams and scores are important.

So the idea is that now each race (or most of them) should be a single-class race. We would vary the class from race to race, but now everyone get to compete head-to-head with everyone else!

Update: Optional slowboating? KJ has suggested that we could allow out-of-class racers compete, as long as they fly a slower class. In other words, you could enter the Interceptors race on a T1 Frigate. It allows rookies to participate and gain experience, while keeping the competitiveness of the class race intact.

Roleplay Races

We will be giving each race a unique personality. Up to Season 7, we had ultimate bland "Race 1, Race 2, Race 3..."

Next season will see these, for example:

The Federation Grand Prix (Frigates)
The State Open (Interceptors - the Gariushi Cup?)
The Empire Championship (Assault Frigates)
The Republic Derby (Faction Frigates)

These would be our four big events. Each race will be held once yearly; 200M prize each one and, say, 2000 ISRC points to the winner (1200 to the 2nd place, etc, etc) . We go out there and get regional sponsorship and stuff, maybe local celebrities to host or race or just give it some flavour. Heavy ISRC publicity would be devoted to the race the region and the sponsors.

Then we could have the little ones: Interceptor races, Frigate races, AF races, 0.0 Rally, whatever races, worth 1000, 500 points and with varying prizes. Depending on the race and the score awarded, we could have the new hires (see the Organisation part) start out with the smaller races and earn the right to host the big ones. And if someday someone wants to scam us, like EBANK was, at least he would have to host a whole lot of races.

What changes with this?

Entry is easier. Anyone joining has a shot at a cup and a prize, no need to play the entire season.

Easier to skip races. We schedule the Grand Slams for dates no one has trouble with. We schedule little cups for conflicting dates. We could do this bi-weekly.

Vacant classes are no longer an issue. Everyone runs the same class on a given race. Or they can skip it if they do not like flying AF's or whatnot.

((At Roland Garros people either play on clay, or stay home.))

More Roleplay. Some of the ISRC executives, whom I am not going to name by name ;) , object to having races in the Amarr Empire. I feel this is a legitimate position to take... and I really look forward to working this out together. Maybe this is a challenge that the ISRC will have to meet?

Update: Militia? Eek. I thought I had no issues but then someone comes along and offers to sponsor in the name of a Government-sponsored Militia. I am not sure why, but I am not comfortable with that... we will see what happens.

Scoring

Did I mention score changes? We are currently thinking of having yearly scores. You add 52 weeks of scores back, and that is your ISRC ranking at any given time.

This has a couple of cool things. Someone may be the champion at any given time; at the same time, someone else may still be the unbeaten ace of the Republic Derby. Maybe winning all Grand Slams is an achievement worth looking forward to...

From an organisation perspective, this allows us to run stuff in a more flexible schedule too... as opposed to having two yearly seasons with weekly races that should not overlap summer nor holidays. We did not want to interrupt the season because of holidays, nor wanted to spend the best days of summer laying track no one would race. With the yearly thing, the pressure to keep going during holidays goes away. If you race, you are scored, as simple as that.

What do we lose? The seasonal aspect. Bye-bye Season 8, hello ISRC Circuit. There is some sense of loss there, maybe you guys have some comments about that?

No more remedial races

We tried this officially for Season 7: best 10 races out of 12 are scored. The result was people skipping races, less racers showing up, less competition and less excitement.

Well, no more remedial races.

That's why we are also setting up a handful of big races and many small ones, so the pros can skip small ones if they want, and the rookies may catch everything and still have a fighting chance. So you can still skip races if you are ahead enough...

More people and mini-professions

There has never been enough people organising. From Season 1 to 5 we had Gyra Rho and her many alts. That's one person -albeit with superpowers- organizing the entire thing for a full five seasons and then half of season 6.

Starting Season 6 and then 7, we had Killjoy Tseng organizing the races, with some help by myself on the PR side. But, we were not truly backing each other up, he was race host and I was racer. But now that I have retired, we are two.

I do not think that two is enough.

So for season 8 we are introducing the mini-professions "Race Host" and "Race Designer" for all of you to play with.

(Yah, we could have called these 'roles' but, if we are already stealing the devblog concept, why not go all the way and steal some more? Plus, mini-profession sounds cooler.)

Someone willing to help as a Race Host will have the opportunity to, well, host any of a number of races. In the host role, he or she will be present during race time (Sunday 20:00 usually), act as referee for that race, call the start, make judgement calls during the race (ohmygosh, the waypoint is not here!) and note the official times. Two hours of work in exchange for the princely sum of... well, we are thinking about that. Maybe 20 million, but don't quote me on that.

Someone willing to help as Race Designer will have the opportunity to design and lay the racetrack. This has a theory part which is easy and a practical part that sucks. First, think where the real and fake waypoints go, some fifteen minutes. Then, prepare the waypoint cans and go anchor them, some 3-4 hours. Again, there is money on this one but we are thinking how much and how.

Eventually we could put a tutorial up on EVElopedia about these aspects of organizing. And speaking of tutorials, we could have one for racers too (it is a profession after all, right?)

Points exchange

The racing community is more than just the ISRC. We have friends in the House Rigel races (hi Julius!) and would love to make more. With all these different leagues and racers, the wild thought is that maybe we could have some other races assign ISRC points on a per-race basis.

In this mode, owners of the race would organize and operate the race as usual, ISRC would do some checks to confirm the race adheres to our so very strict quality standards (Got track? Check. Got racers? Check. No cheating, mkay? Good to go.) There would be some cross-sponsorship and publicity, and racers would get points for the ISRC circuit. Maybe ISRC could help run the race if needed.

This gives ISRC more people, more visibility, gives other races more visibility and staff, and bring the racing community together.

Update: Keeping it simple. Julius had told us it looks like a great idea but that we seem to be throwing too much complication into this. I guess there is only one way to find out...

The Official ISRC Pace Frigate

The Gallente Navy Comet has a blinky on top. That's our new official pace car.

We are withdrawing our petition for ISD to lend us some Polaris frigates. We did not want them anyway ;)

(Credit to Julius Rigel for having the same idea before we did and, no, we did not ask for Polaris frigates. Teleport feature on the Comet would be nice though. Killjoy must train Gallente Frig up to 3 now :P)

Live Race Tracker

It is an insanely cool idea of Killjoy's and coded by Takashi, this one: sometime in Season 7 we started testing a live tracker. Basically each racer opens a browser window to the Racer URL, this will update the racer's location as the race progresses. Meanwhile the Spectator URL has a list of all the racers and where they are, and constantly updates the overall location.

We would like to make the Racer URL mandatory now...

Early on, this means that the Race Host will have a picture of what is happening with the race. As he knows the track layout, this enables him to do... live commentary!

Eventually, if we do this right, this could result in a cool live tracker in NOHi-color for the general ticket-buying public ;)

Update: The dog ate my tracker! Really. We got word from some of our racers in Singularity that the tracker would no longer work and, sure enough, come Dominion it stopped working. It has something to do with session changes not being reported anymore.

So, bad Moondoggie, bad!

We will have to send the code back to Tak for fixing, or wait for Moondoggie to learn this trick, or have the Teleport ability added to the Comet (so we can track everyone, right?).

Racing bets

Some time ago there have been several efforts to run bets on the ISRC circuit. It has sort of worked but it has never been permanent. It would be nice to have it done on a more official/permanent basis.

Personally, I have absolutely no idea how betting works... so I would be asking the expert: Kazuo, what would it take to make the betting side of races permanent?

So these are our ideas for now... The floor is still open!

Cheers,

ISRC Quin

Patch the patch

2009-12-02T18:29:00.003-03:00

See patch download.

See patch fail. Why do I even bother anymore?

See Quin download the installer.

See installer crawl.

See install fail. Rinse, repeat.

See some creative use of digital camera memory sticks -I am such a junkie. Maybe I should upgrade some of my stuff.

See? We are finally good to go.

Wait... what do you mean there is another patch tomorrow?

Racing Future?

2009-12-01T07:10:00.004-03:00

Season 7 is over. So what happens now?

We start all over again.

With one little difference, mind you: I will not be racing. I am done, I quit.

No, no, I retire.

Wow. I look back at three years in space and this has been what I have been doing: racing.

Getting up on Wednesday to look at the next racing region, setting up spares and moving jump clones... bookmarks... spying on the locals... jumping into my race clone on Saturday afternoon so I am ready for race day on Sunday, to either clonejump during the race (ha, ha :P but it worked only twice out of maybe thirty I prepared) or right after the race, for flying free.

I feel as if pro racing has been a freaking job.

And I am so going to miss it.

Also, I have the feeling that I have done so much. I got blown up many times. I started my own racing team, recruited people into, and gently kept people off it. I have been racer on the track and manager off the track; spent so much time coming up with ways to outrun, outlast or simply outsmart. We went through a merger with the best of the best. And then, I won three championships, one for each class. Who's the Quin?

I had to train skills to build wonderfully weird ship fittings. Sure, speed in the low slots, tank in the middle and who cares about the highs. Shield-tanked badass-neut large-polycardboard cloaking racing Malediction anyone?

I have met many interesting people within, around and outside the racing circuit. Fostered friends and grapevine the size of half of Auvergne. Kept deadly secrets, and saw mine revealed.

It has been so much fun.

So, there. I am done because I feel that I have done everything now.

So what happens now?

I think I will have more time to write my racing memoirs... Season 4 still halfway, there is quite a bit of writing yet to be done.

I am sure that Kay will do a wonderful job running our team. Her team now. It feels funny to say that.

I will take up that part-time job at ISRC and help KillJoy with race organizing. I will probably get to write on the races from a sports commentator point of view -I never really liked Bouchard's style anyway.

Maybe I will have some free time to try stuff I have never done, outside of the races.

It feels like an entirely different game. I have some ideas...

It should be fun.

Racing Series
See what happened before
Wait for what happened next

Chameleon

2009-11-18T20:05:00.013-03:00

I picked up some new Caméléon tights yesterday while holiday shopping.

They have a shop here in Clermont and we know each other well. My favourites are black nanite Artémis; from a long pullover to a Devereaux gown, they can make any outfit kill rather than simply stun.

I love how nanite tights keep all the style of fabric and then bring it up to an entirely new level. Start at sheer, fishnets, lacy, opaque -whatever you feel like, actually- and the pattern slowly changes, so subtly that you do not notice at first but your legs never look exactly the same at second glance. Depending on the model, the playlist will fix, cycle, improvise or follow your mood during the evening, always hinting but, naturally, never telling.

And turning heads is not all of it. Every step, every bit a star as you look outside, that is how you feel inside. Luxurious and daring, able to walk on any edge. So very tired after an evening on your feet? A nasty tear? Dancing in stay-ups? Don't worry, it will be alright -besides making stay-ups actually stay up, nanites know a couple of other tricks to make a girl feel like a million or two.

Caméléons carry a stupid expensive pricetag for tights you use only once. But are absolutely worth it.

And stray hands, beware. Chameleons do bite.

-Q

Answering chat questions from readers...

Updated:
- Nanite tights: Made out of nanites, not fabric. They can change appearance and texture, but not colour.
- Caméléon: Gallentean luxury hosiery brand. They invented nanite tights and hold patents on pattern playlists.
- Caméléon black nanite Artémis: A model in the collection, my favourite...
- Stay-ups: sometimes do not. Unless with nanites, then they do stay. They'll even crawl up, which is creepy.

Updated, again:
- Of course they are not going to burn the boyfriend, they follow one's mood. He would feel something like a soft touch of fingertips. Mine was very surprised.
- Come to think of it, if you are mad at the BF, ouch. You had it coming, sweetie.
- I am not sure how much nanites would like the wash.

Racing Finale

2009-11-14T12:32:00.021-03:00

August 111, ISRC Season 7 Final, Race 12
The Bleak Lands
(You can also read this race from Kay's point of view)

It was the last race of the season and there were so many loose ends.

One of these was Ayre Rowan, our team rookie. She had been doing wonderfully during the season and this was her last shot, ever, to capture the rookie title. You can't be a rookie forever.

Then we had Demon Flir. He had been frigates champion once... and again, and this season he had again collected enough score to go home and have the cup shipped to him afterwards. But nooo, this time he did not want to just win: he wanted to bowl perfect.

Then there was me. The AF class had suddenly heated up, with Venture Racing Team planning to make a last push for the team AF title. And I was the designated AF driver for Scuderia Dragonstar.

Bad things happen on the last race.

Especially when there are loose ends...

--

Pre-race was livelier than usual. There had been this huge preparation and discussion, about where the track would go from the Bleaks. Would there be pirates? Would there be shooting among racers?

The plan involved lots of ammo, lots of drones. And lots of clones.

Ayre was uneasy. "Does this mean I can race safe? As long as I don't shoot anyone?"

Maybe it was all that talk about clones. We were all a little bit uneasy though, not about losing ships, but about losing time.

"Ayre you should run like the wind..."

So we had placed our team racers, four of them, at the starting line at Netsalakka. And then some seven spare ships across three or four regions.

I would start in a Jaguar.

It would be fun.

--

ISRC gave the starting signal and everyone but me undocked. As the slowest in my team, I held back and called gate - "First gate, Iesa, Iesa!" then dived the Feline Fatale into the undock blackout.

If you ever see space and you do not know where to warp, then you are falling behind. It was my job to set the course and make sure they knew. I slipped out just in time to see Takashi's Malediction warping away, chased by Demon, Kay and Ayre.

Have I mentioned we have such a kickass frigates team? They all fly like interceptors.

And now we knew who was racing. VRT had Tak in his Malediction and Koronakesh in a Retribution; this meant that Tak would fly slow to anchor Koro at the waypoints. And he could afford it, he was definitely getting his own interceptors cup shipped home regardless of what happened on this race.

There were also three independent racers, an Executioner and a couple of Rifters.

Waypoint one, Uusanen. Warp in, approach, wait, get the waypoint, warp out. Same old, same old.

Waypoint two, Kamela. "Holy crap," came Demon's voice through vent.

He was point. Just in case you are wondering, no, a racing team point does not point people. It is the racer in front, pointing stuff out for the rest of the team coming behind.

"Four cans... four cans, five cans. Pedaling towards waypoint two."

"Kay going to two."

This place had containers marked as waypoints two, three and up to seven! Everyone dreads this in a race, a waypoint so confusing that no amount of experience or fitting will beat blind luck. If you make the right guesses, about which cans to open and which ones to ignore, you can make a podium finish. Go ahead, you have a full split-second to decide.

My second favourite behind blind luck is team tactics.

"Two is open, points to three in Lamaa, so the three here is fake. Pedaling waypoint four now."

"Kay going on to waypoint three."

"Quin approaching five."

Demon swiftly took the role unto himself to stay behind in Kamela, accessing every one of the five, while Kay sped ahead to Lamaa and other places; we would still figure the track out faster this way. Ayre had somehow dropped from vent but was still racing, and I was doing everything at AF speed.

Kamela, Lamaa, Kamela, Kourmonen, Kamela, Tannakan. We were racing in circles.

I reached waypoint five in Kourmonen. "Tak is here." He should not have been.

"Yeah, he is behind me," replied Demon "I'm still not sure what he is doing - is he waiting?"

"And he is gone. And Koronakesh is just warping in, he's just overtaken me!"

Crap. It did not matter how fast or how far ahead our frigates and interceptors were. If Tak could pull his AF team mate faster than I could go, they would win.

By waypoint nine, Kurniainen, Tak and Koro were slowly but surely overtaking our entire team when Demon called ten.

"Ten is Oyonata control bunker."

I was a minute behind, still two systems from nine and jumping into... Oyonata! I smiled, I would collect ten, then nine and -with any luck- I would be closer to eleven.

Now I was calling for the team: "Eleven is Gratesier, ha!"

See, that's why I love blind luck, that move put me a minute ahead of Demon.

"Anyone has eyes on Takashi?"

Kay was wondering where VRT was. The last we knew of them was Tak leaving everyone in the dust at nine, not to be seen again, with Koro in tow and thumbing his nose at our best. With any more luck -please?- Koro would slip and I would catch up.

Four jumps to Gratesier, then five to Archee. Somewhere in between I noticed this blue blip in my overview, so brief I could not see who he was. I jumped and, as I warped away, the blip reappeared on this side of the gate.

Takashi was gaining on me.

Excuse me? That does not really happen in real life? I was actually racing my AF ahead of the entire pack. I was in the lead!

Three to go and I could see reality catching up anyway. There was no way to keep that up. Tak, my team, the pack and Koro would all fly by me. I asked my team about Koro's position on the track again and again, while I tried to figure out how to keep him behind. Three to go, only three shots for Tak's flying to help; on the fourth one he would be docked.

In the meantime, Ayre had been cut off team vent and only on chat, which made her miss some of the Kamela waypoints. By the time she realised that... it had became such a long way back to the beginning of the track that she almost quit the race. Almost... but she pushed on.

Thirteen was Egghelende. We were so screwed.

Tak overtook me on the way there but at least he would be getting mugged before me. I arrived at Egghelende in third place, there was no one to bother us. Pirates must have been on a break.

The next waypoint was fourteen jumps away, Carrou. Jump, align, warp.

Maybe it was a short break. Kay's voice warned us "Oh, Koronakesh says Egg is being camped by pirates? I did not see anyone..."

Then my in-ship comms went crazy with our navigator suggesting a clone jump. Where to? There was no time. Jump, align, warp.

VRT had an impossible situation now. Tak was already past the Egghelende waypoint and Koro was blocked from it. He could keep staying close to Koro... or drop him to fend off by himself. He had fourteen jumps to make up his mind.

In the meantime I really needed to check, but you can't stop your ship in the middle of a race to check the map. And in space no one can hear you ask for directions. What to do?

Jump, align, warp.

Carrou was now eleven jumps off and geting closer. I had a spare and a jump clone at Jel, the same at Faurent. Jel was close to Carrou, right? Jump, align... dock.

"Oh whatever, I am docking."

A last look at the autopilot saved me from a stupid mistake: Faurent, not Jel, because it was on the way to Carrou. Doh.

The fit crew jumped on my ship as soon as it docked, extracted the pod and prepped me right there. No, I do not know how they do that and I doubt that we have a freaking racing-grade jump clone flash-freezer.

I jumped.

--

"Goodmorning everyone," I awoke to a bunch of unfamiliar crew in green jumpsuits.

I must have been racing.

They wasted no time briefing me on what was going on, what I had to do next and sending me on my way. There was no time for coffee or croissants, damit, and I would have to finish waking up on my way to -where had they said I had to go?- Carrou. They set me in a Ishkur and I undocked.

Kay updated me "I am now seven to destination, Takashi is... about to overtake me, it will take like, one jump maybe two for him to overtake me. I am lagged now, loading systems. Nice, Quin!"

I was one jump off the next waypoint and in the lead again!

"It's Crielere, right next door to Rancer," I said, calling waypoint.

"You did not post the next waypoint on chat, you know that?" complained Demon.

I warped out and then posted the full navi info. "Warp now, questions later," I would not let the lead slip away this close to finishing.

As I arrived in Crielere, Demon was being overtaken back in Carrou.

"Tak left, just as I was warping out. Slightly ahead of me now."

Apparently Takashi had made up his mind that there was no helping Koro. No matter how long he waited at Carrou, Koro would never catch up on the AF race. There was nothing to prevent Tak from going all-out.

I warped out as soon as my systems had locked onto the next waypoint, the finish line.

"Warping out. Ooooh, bad, bad, bad," I looked at my navi info "seven jumps to finish, I do not know if I can beat him."

Finish line at Stetille. The last seven jumps of the race, the last of the season. Last of my career.

Takashi is very good at long jump sequences. For all we know, he can gain five seconds on you on each system, and that is if you are racing the same ship. But his Interceptor vs. my Assault Frigate? Eeek. I only had a lead of four systems on him.

I docked at Stetille with a not-so-comfortable lead of 48 seconds.

Yup, I think I may have seen a blue blip in my overview.

--

After-race was livelier than ever.

We were all still feeling the adrenaline rush; everyone in the team had something to celebrate.

Ayre had survived the comms loss and finished the race to become the Rookie Frigates Champion, keeping in the finest Scuderia racing tradition. Demon had won frigates and scored a perfect season for the first time in history: every single race a win! Kay had risen from 3rd to 2nd place interceptors ranking thanks to this race and, although she had not won any championship for herself, she had led the team to our best season ever.

No one had been shot. We had used only one clone, mine.

And I? I had finished the race in first place and beaten the legendary Takashi Kurosawa, in an Assault Frigate! I had won the AF Team Cup for SDS, and the AF Pro Cup for myself.

And all those loose ends? Tied now, in a nice bow knot.

Racing Series
See what happened before
See what happened next

First Kill

2009-10-29T19:55:00.012-03:00

Sometimes you find yourself in a situation you never intended to. You may have done something terrible, hurt someone, disappointed people... What do you do in this situation? What do you do when you disappoint yourself?

You deny, of course.

--

My father's forehead has these deep wrinkles, telling wrinkles.

We talk once in a while, by holo. Last time, I was having breakfast at my place in Clermont and he was having his after-dinner brandy somewhere in Mies. There is something funny about having a guest sitting in an armchair, in your kitchen, eyes level.

Back to the wrinkles. I can read those, you know. No one can read his mind but I will settle for the closest thing, his forehead. You would imagine that after years, no, decades in the service he would have perfected his poker face.

Well, he did and it does work with most people... but not with me. I am dad's girl.

Right there, three horizontal. Question.

"You know I look at the killboards once in a while, Catherine," said his holo across the table, "and I must say I was surprised to find your nom de guerre on the killing side last week."

Oh, merde.

I just looked back at him while I munched on my granola. I did not want to lie and besides, he almost always caught me.

He can read me right back.

--

It was a 0.0 roam with NOX, the first for me in so many ways. First outing in months. First time flying a Taranis. First time in fleet with Redkiwi as FC and the first time I ever heard many of them on vent, although Loras was a voice I knew. First time I had gone looking for trouble.

In my defense, I thought I was only looking. I had wanted to bring a Covops.

I have so many more excuses like those, if you ever want to hear.

Oh well, my Hell Hath was scout for the fleet and had just landed on the gate at the same time as a neutral Rifter. I was alone, two systems away from the nearest friendly and unsure about what to do. I was sure he was looking at me and I just looked back at him for a moment... Not wanting to shoot, I burned towards him and started orbiting.

What was I supposed to do?

He decided to lock me and that is when I freaked out. I am not sure who fired first, I simply flipped every single module I had and then waited for a quick death. Did I mention he targeted me first? He did.

And then it was over... as quickly as it had begun.

His ship had exploded, I found myself in half armour, my MWD turned off and warping away on instinct.

A minute later, I was warping back to the scene of the crime, to the sight of the NOX fleet inspecting the wreck and the sound of their voices cheering my kill. Again, a first in so many ways.

My first kill.

My first solo kill.

I felt great.

--

I felt awful.

You get some perspective when the rush is over. A week had passed and I was not done having a guilt trip. Lots. Of. Perspective.

Dad's holo was looking at me. What was I supposed to say? Sorry, Papa, it was an accident? I freaked out and shot the guy? He was threatening me?

Oops?

Sometimes, maybe it is best not to answer. "I think it speaks for itself, Papa."

Wrinkles again, two vertical. A frown of concern... annoyance? Yes, you will have to take it from me.

"I am not saying you did anything wrong, I just want to understand what you were doing in 0.0 and flying with Atlas. I know you realise that by taking sides -any side- you are closing doors to yourself in the future, so I will not try to..."

Uh, say what? Something did not fit there...

He went on "... red to CVA, the Empire and possibly also..."

"Wait, did you say Atlas? I do not think the guy I shot was from Atlas..."

Wait... busted. It took him ten seconds and a freaking mindtrick. Yes, so I did shoot someone.

But he did not expect me to be genuinely confused. To be honest, neither did I.

"No, no... that is not what I am saying. Ah, take a look at this, Catherine. Help me understand it."

He made an off-holo movement and a two-month old killmail popped up and hovered over my table. Sure enough, Atlas had killed a Thrasher in N-RAEL.

Somehow I was listed as the top damage dealer. Was it a joke? WTF?

"Oh, what? I had no idea," I replied, which was completely true. "N-RAEL? I remember two months ago, this guy podded me at a bubble camp there. I was on my way back from an expedition with Amarrian acquaintances, if that makes you happy. Of course I shot back! I wish I had got him, at least... are you telling me I did?"

"It was self-defence, of course," he asked-without-asking, "Do you need any help? We stand behind you, all the way."

"You bet it was. I woke up on a clone half a cluster away. Maybe this bozo managed to get himself killed by Atlas later. So yah, I am glad I shot him up, at least a little."

I was still surprised about having that kill and about not knowing for months. And I was angry.

How did that idiot dare to get killed? I had perfectly clean hands, no kills in almost three years of flying. I had just wanted to get away but, no, he had to go and get me on a killmail. Come to think about it, it was his fault and not mine that my record was ruined now. Once CONCORD has you on a killmail, eveyone knows. His fault.

And then there was Dad, subtly running damage control. Wondering if I had ruined my career. Or his contacts. Or his expectations? I did not even want to know.

Oh, I was angry and upset allright.

So upset in fact, that Dad had the tact to not ask about the Rifter kill. Nor about the Broadsword kill after that. And he would not know of that Dominix, because the stupid killmail never arrived.

Three, maybe four kills. A freaking spree.

What am I supposed to do?

--

In the end, it turns out that you can get away with a terrible deed. You just deny it and may even be able to fool some people, some of the time. But there is someone that already knows, the one person that really counts. Yourself. Can you pretend not to know?

And for just how long do you think you can try to fool yourself?

Ghosts of Banters Past

2009-10-27T07:39:00.001-03:00

Old IOU´s...

EVE Blog Banter #10: Voting with your feet

xiphos83 of A Misguided Adventurer asks the following: "Victor Davis Hanson argues that western culture, comprising of ideals such as freedom, debate, capitalism, and consensual government, are what make western society so successful at waging war. These ideologies create a warrior who's direct participation in government, ability to think freely, and desire to remain free, fights harder and is willing to suffer more than his conscripted foe. Though a military must remain a structured oligarchy to fight a war effectively, why in a world where military conflict is as familiar as breathing are there so few alliances that embrace these ideologies when governing their members?"

I do not think there are any conscript alliances out there. How do you keep someone in against his will?

In EVE people vote with their feet, so everything still feels sort of like a democracy. If you do not like the alliance boss then you pick up your stuff and get a new one, elsewhere. You shop for leadership. That's democracy.

See? Not that democracy in the age of jump gates and warp speed needs to be about space, it's about people wanting to stick together.

EVE Blog Banter #11: T3 Frigates

Joe Brusati, a long time reader of CrazyKinux's Musing, 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!"

T3 frigates! And these should be roughly 1/5 the size of a cruiser, and would fit a single cruiser module. Any module. Mwahahaha...

Role? I do not think you can peg "a role" to anything T3 but, of course, I would like to see them able to race ;)

EVE Blog Banter #12: Sorry boss, it's an offworld call I have to take

CrazyKinux himself 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!"

OK... I spy, with my little eye... a world where mobile devices act as a window into the game, but do not directly play against the main thing.

Say for example: the iTouch acting as a neocom, looking and changing skills, showing me the money, inventory, lab jobs, reading blogs, sending evemail, strategic maps, FW stuff, online chat, EVEMon and EFT for mobile.

Most definitely *not* doing market nor contracts. I'm sure the moment macro-miners and real money traders have those we will have Maddoff's droids running the market for us. Forget about making any ISK yourself unless you have a planetside fund with Garoun Investment, UBS or BNP Paribas.

So, make it able to see but not able to compete with the game...

There. I'm up to date now :)

-Q

[OOC] Witness Relocation

2009-10-26T06:59:00.002-03:00

The last couple of months have been an unbelievably harsh time in Real Life and I have had to take a step away from so many things. For me in EVE this has meant no flying, no blogging, no bantering, chatting just barely enough, while the world goes upside-down. Accepting, adapting to Real Life changes and... arranging for things to happen.

Relocation stress.

Maybe this is how it must feel like being a mafia wife. You keep away from the family business... but when it is time to go, you definitely notice. Everything changes around you.

And you just jump, hoping to land on your feet.

-Q

Racing Challenge

2009-08-18T17:12:00.004-04:00

August 111, ISRC Season 7, Race 11
Metropolis

This is going to mess all the right order in the racing reports that I have not filled yet... but the race last Sunday was so much fun I just need to!

You may remember that I started the season racing the Assault Frigate class. Although I won that one, by Race 2 I found myself bringing my Jaguar to the starting line and no one to race her against -maybe because AFs have never been the most popular class to race- so I switched back to interceptors, where all the action is. After nine more interceptor races and no one showing up to race AFs, funny, I was about become AF champion after winning just a single race. Talk about minimal effort...

It turns out some people had different ideas. Takashi, after securing an unassailable scoreboard place as Interceptors Champion, devised a cunning plan to make a play for MY AF TITLE. MINE.

Out of the blue, he showed up for Race 11 with two new racers: DeVinces and JinJup Han. One of them was even seen docking an AF at the starting line. We were prepared so I had registered to fly my AF just in case. Making things more interesting, both Kay and Ayre were busy planetside. With no interceptors, demon in his Firetail would be my warp anchor -now it all depended on demon's frig going as fast as Tak's inty, and on Tak having to slow down to pull his AF teammates. Possible, barely...

This race would be made or broken before even starting, just a mater of having the right people racing the right stuff. Oh, how I love racing tactics ;)

Only there was one additional surprise: upon starting, Tak undocked a racing-fitted Wolf AF himself!

If you ask me, that was a mistake. Big one. No one is faster than Tak, he had decided to handicap himself racing a slow boat and relying on his inty mate to pull ahead? Why him, was it the lure of the cup? Hmm... Me, on the other hand, I was not as fast but now I had the fastest, most experienced friggy racer to warp to on every waypoint, scout for me and show me the way.

Gues what... Handicap, my ass. Takashi still beat his interceptor anchor to the finish line, it was a good gamble.

But at the end of the race, our frigate slowing down turned out to be an even better gamble and we beat him handily! :)

I was fuming, waiting for him at the flight deck when he docked. What nerve! How dare he? To switch class at the last possible moment, unannounced? This close to the end of the season? Since when had he been planning this? I had not seen anything like this since Season 5, and it was... it was fun! OMG, it had been fun! It was a surprisingly fun race, one of the best of this season - the feeling that you have teams trying to outrun each other on the track, and to outsmart each other out of the track, all the maneuvering, tactics, ideas and practice. Kudos for a great challenge, Takashi. Thanks!

After the ceremonies, he made some remarks to the crown, er, crowd, I mean crowd:

I guess I wanted the AF title so much my subconscious wanted Quin to be in her usual Malediction. Grats on that title, Q - it does feel better now, doesn't it, when you've earned it in more than one race?

Sweetie, you bet it does :) Individual AF title, yay!

And you know what? It is going to feel even better next Sunday when we take the Team AF title for SDS.

See you on the track!

-Q

Racing Series
See what happened before
See what happened next

Sand in my pod

2009-08-18T15:09:00.000-04:00

Don't ask me how it got there. In my hair, on my feet... my podsuit? I swear, I have no clue.

You don't just take your flip-flops off and dive into a pod, there are steps to follow, showers, chemicals, checks, plugs... people to make sure everything is allright before you go. And I could swear everything was.

Yet there is sand in my pod.

They found it during pre-flight and now they will not let me go like this. So I wait. It is going to take some time to fix, maybe a couple of hours. Just enough time to pause and think. Oh, I do not know how the sand got there but I think I know where it comes from...

I blame it on the sunshine :)

It is good to be back...

Fair Play

2009-07-06T13:26:00.011-04:00

It began like this...

Oops.

Act 1: Teh typoe

Rigs are expensive.

Generally, the price of rigs goes from high to ridiculously high... I think it has to do with the expertise involved in modifying a ship and the materials, of course. Rather than spend all that money, I have learned to shop around for the best regions for materials and prices, to set up clever buy orders, bring all the stuff in and let my fit crew do the work themselves. It has been years since they learned the trade from Prof. Jalvon Ryder at UC, and that 3-run T2 polycardboard BPC he brought; since then they have become rather good at inventing new variations.

Anyway, having rigged my racing ships, I still like to collect the materials so these accumulate in the hangar -just in case I have to ever build a replacement. Occasionally we will take all that stuff, build a rig and put it for sale. So Tuesday a couple of weeks ago, late at night the rig came out of the oven, I gingerly took it to Dodixie and checked market prices. There were a couple of people buying but, who cares, it's not like I sell stuff a buy order price...

Just before going away to sleep, I set my sell order. Looking back, I think I may have made a typo. Or three.

Click.

"Yes, I am sure." Click.

"Wait a minute, I take that back. Can I take that back? Oh..."

Four hundred million ISK.

Do you have any idea how much time it takes to save that money? And how much fun you could actually have spending it? Imagine the kinds of ships and fittings, maybe even faction... several times over. How many fully-fit cruisers? How much time to fly, I don't know, as militia or pirate or anything, because, you know, you can afford to lose your ship?

Well, I think it is like a small fleet worth of money. I had just given away a small fleet.

Hissy fit.

Act 2: Talk to the man

Having come back from my walk, I apologized to those around I upset with all that yelling and, with a fresh dose of caffeine by my side, looked at my screen. The holo smirked back at me.

The rig had sold, of course, immediately. And because it was a sell order at basically one thousandth of its price -as opposed to, say, a direct sale to the best buyer- the system had dutifully sold it at my price. Right, the one I typed in myself. Not at 50%, not at 1%, but at 0.1% of market value.

May I say, this does not exactly feel like leaving a good tip.

And, how frustrating of course, there was nothing I could do to take it back. Rewind time? Undo my mistake? I don't know, raise the price, anything? Nothing! To! Do!

So I did the next best thing and I shared my feelings with the happy winner.

2009.06.23 21:39
Grr... I should not play this late at night..

Enjoy you rig :)

He had done nothing wrong, he just was there at the right place and the right time to win Quin's Stupid Typo Lottery. I just let him know how upset I was for having done something while sleepwalking.

I thought he would laugh all the way to the bank. Instead, he replied two days afterwards...

2009.06.25 21:05
I put buy orders up for t2 rigs mostly to keep the scammers buy orders from working. I base my prices on current jita buy order prices. My point is - even tho you may not have gotten what you could have using a sell order, you didn't get scammed and you got jita fair market value for your rig. If you were tired and not paying attention the result could have been much worse, you'd have sold it for 451k instead of 340mil w/o my buy order up to prevent it.

Now, now, he thought I was accusing him of scamming (I was not), politely pointed out he was buying at a fair price (he was) and that, had I been scammed, it could have been worse.

But... how come I did not even get scam price?

Wait a minute...

All I got was my lousy price. Was he telling me he'd paid 340M to someone?

I replied telling him I was not blaming anyone but myself. By the way, could he please double-check that he had paid all that money?

2009.06.25 23:16
No, no... I am not blaming you, I'm blaming me. Just wanted you to know why :) I really felt awful when I realized I had sold it and at how much, and thought "this guy is going to think I am stupid." Nah... just way too sleepy. It was a three-figure typo. Okay, it was stupid.

But not a scam.

Yes, I saw there was an order for 300M or more and that made it all worse, 'cause I did not even get a million.

By the way, could you check again how much money you paid? Because in my log, the rig went at 444K -that was my sell order price. I know the buy order was yours, but did it really take 340M from you wallet?

Oh... had he sent all that money, that I did not receive? If he was right, then hundreds of millions of ISK had just gone poof. Suddenly it was not just my money, it could also be his money that was missing in the trading system. Our money. And if something was missing, maybe we could get something back. (Some NPC was probably pocketing them. I have lived in the Republic, you know, and I recognize the fishy smell of government corruption - I just did not expect the same from the SCC. Someone would have to explain this. Petition! Lawsuit! Death by a thousand papercuts!)

So, first step in a corruption case: get the receipts.

At least we had moved on from "lost all that money" to "maybe will get some of it back."

Act 3: Surprise, surprise!

I came back next day to find an evemail.

2009.06.26 09:32
Ah!!

I didn't think to check my wallet transactions. I have no problem correcting the situation for you. :)

It turns out there was no need to petition, the money had not disappeared. He had paid my price originally but genuinely thought he had paid his price so he really thought he was poorer. He was actually sitting on a pile of money and just had not noticed.

Then I checked my wallet:

Fair Play

He had transfered the difference over to my account!

I am impressed. I mean, it was a stupid mistake on my part and maybe he had no obligation to help me fix it, other than what he thought would be fair. And he thought it would be fair... to pay the buy price! I also have my own theory about this, I think that if you are nice and polite to people, people tend to be nice and polite to you -but then again, I am reminded that "asking nicely" is not the the fix for "stupid mistake."

At the end of he day, I am actually happier it all turned out this way. This means that not everyone out there is out to scam, backstab, burglarize, gank or grief you, that there is genuinely good people that do care whether someone else is having a rough time or made a mistake. Or maybe it means that being nice to other people really takes you places -charisma tanking FTW. Maybe I was just lucky.

And the difference between sale price and buy price? I think that is the best money I have ever spent. 'cause a ship can be killed, even a small fleet can disappear in the blink of an eye (doh), but the feeling -no, the certainty- that there are strangers in the cluster capable of a random act of fairness, well, that is so much harder to kill.

So here is to Ballistic Mystic, thank you so very much!

I am setting you +11 blue forever. Maybe we will meet again...

-Q

EVE Blog Banter #9: Down with Downtime!

2009-06-30T09:04:00.018-04:00

Welcome to the ninth installment of the EVE Blog Banter and its first contest, 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!

"Last month Ga'len asked us which game mechanic we would most like to see added to EVE. This month Keith "WebMandrill" Nielson proposes to reverse the question and ask what may be a controversial question: Which game mechanic would you most like to see *removed completely* from EVE and why? I can see this getting quite heated so lets keep it civil eh?"

Two minutes - Molden Heath - Occator-class Transport Carillon

The ship shook as another missile hit.

Without looking away from his tactical display, the Captain barked orders. "Damage control, status!"

"Sir! Armor at 27%, we are overheating resists up, repair unit is offline, repeat, offline."

"Capacitor?"

"Zero, or close to," reported Engineering, "they are neutralizing as fast as we can generate, but I think I can keep the hardeners going."

Competent, he thought, shame she would have signed up right before this hauling mission. The pirates had ambushed them on the last low-sec gate of the return trip, before entering warp. Now the pack of frigates was slowly taking the ship apart... but there was a small window of opportunity and he would jump through it or die trying.

"Helm, keep trying to align to any celestial out there and warp to it."

"We are being bumped, captain, cannot align.""

"Align, damn it! Just keep trying again and again. Engineering, buy us all the time you can get!"

--

One minute - Tash-Murkon - Exploration vessel Voilà

"Nothing on scan, ma'am. Shall I scan again?"

Fire at will!, she thought, and smiled at the prospect of a silvery trail of scan probes abandoned in space. Oh, what was the point... there was nothing in this system... nothing in this region. There was probably nothing left in the entire cluster. She looked at the time in the display. Less than a minute.

"Yes please. Move pattern, then scan once more."

The point was practice. To keep skills sharp.

--

45 seconds - Essence, 25th FDU Defensive Patrol 1000h

(Graveyard Shift)

They had been flying for the entire shift and spotted no targets.

"So I says 'careful, that's not one of ours' just as he realizes he's trying to dock at the wrong station. Sentry guns almost get him good, warped out in half structure, har, har, har..."

The squadron had a clean record. Not impeccable, but clean. No kills, no loses, no action, no nothing. They came out at 1000 hours every day, patrolled until 1100 and handed over to the next shift.

The banter on comms was interrupted by the flight leader's voice "Ladies, cut the chatter. Time's over, dock up and get some sleep. See you guys tomorrow."

One by one, the squadron aligned and docked at a friendly station. All but one.

"Sir, Beaucheff here. What if we overstay shift?"

The militia flight leader started to reply a string of obscenities, then thought better. It was actually amusing. "You know what, Bo? That is the best damn idea I have heard in some time. But we seem to be all docked up so, why don't you do just that, overstay. We meet afterwards and then you tell us all about how it went, mkay? By the way, you keep your clone updated, don't you?"

--

30 seconds - Tash-Murkon - Voilà

"Thank you, that would be enough. Retrieve scan probes."

--

15 seconds - Molden Heath - Carillon

"Sir! Hull integrity 50%, I do not think she will take it!"

"She can, and she will."

The PA system blared "all hands brace for emergency warp, all hands brace for emergency warp."

--

DOWNTIME - Essence - in the dark

Lieutenant Beaucheff saw his flight systems shut down, then everything went dark.

--

DOWNTIME - Tash-Murkon - in the dark

"Latte, as usual?"

"Yes, a small one please."

--

DOWNTIME - Molden Heath - in the dark

The transport hung half-dead in space, far away from gates, celestials, pirate ships or anything else. All alone. Inside it was pitch-black, the incessant hum of a living ship having been interrupted.

But it was not quiet.

There was the cheering sound of a living crew.

--

DOWNTIME - Essence - in the dark

Beaucheff tried again to bring the systems back to life.

"Come on, 600 seconds to cluster restart? You have to be kidding me..."

It would take time.

--

30 seconds - Molden Heath - Carillon

The transport came out of emergency warp and immediately started aligning to the high-sec gate. The hull breaches were not visible anymore as armies of nanites worked furiously to patch the armour up, powered by newly-restored capacitor.

The small pirate gang, returning from their own emergency warp dispersed and disorganized, was too slow to react in time.

Their quarry had escaped.

--

One minute - Tash-Murkon - Voilà

"Ma'am, readings confirm the presence of kernite, jaspet and, whoa, hedbergite? Here? We're rich!"

She smiled. "Please inform base of the find, and make sure they send an Orca with the miners. We are only rich if we can mine all that before anyone else, you know."

"Aye, Ma'am. Woohoo! Will you look at the size of that rock!"

--

Two minutes - Essence - FDU Defensive Patrol

Beaucheff went for a last tour of the constellation. He had crossed paths with the Offensive Alpha Shift as they were heading for their own patrol, and had briefly talked to them. It was almost funny how the voices on the other side sounded worn out, nervous and jumpy in a way that no one from his shift ever did. He did not want to imagine how they would sound by the time the shift ended. Maybe it had to do with all those bunkers open for business now, and the enemy fleets roaming.

Anyway, would have loved to stay and chat but it was time to go home. His autopilot warped him to the last gate.

Right in front of him, the gate activated. Local spiked.

"Oh, sweet mother..."

DOWNTIME: that time of day, every day, when everything stops in space. No matter how important the battle is, how close you were to docking, how many zillions you have at stake in the market, everything blacks out at 11:00. Ships disperse and warp away, resources appear, conquered areas are to be contested again. A tired universe is made anew, during downtime.

In any case, here is why I think that aspects of downtime are bad: lots of stuff is generated at the same time. Asteroids, bunkers, exploration sites. Opportunities. Not that opportunities are bad, no, no, but having everything generated in one go is sort of unbalancing.

This gives people who fly right after downtime, more opportunities than the people who fly long afterwards.

So what are the chances that downtime is going to go away? Not many, I think. And what can be done about it? Well, downtime is not going to go away by itself overnight. Maybe it needs to be gradual. Maybe some of the stuff that happens at downtime should be replaced by new mechanics. So:
Stop doing all of it in one go.
Re-spawn some stuff spontaneously during the day.
Eventually, re-spawn everything spontaneously during the day.
Do away with the need for daily downtime.
I do not think that downtime will go tomorrow or next next week, there may be reasons why it's necessary. In the meantime, maybe we can start walking (ha, ha, walking) away from it. And I will still enjoy my downtime coffee.

Go visit the other participants of the EVE Blog Banter:

Diary of a Space Jockey, Blog Banter: BE GONE!
EVE Newb, (EVE) Remove You
Miner With Fangs, Blog Banter - It's the Scotch
The Eden Explorer, Blog Banter: The Map! The Map!
The Wandering Druid of Tranquility, "Beacons, beacons, beacons, beacons, beacons, mushroom, MUSHROOM!!!"
Inner Sanctum of the Ninveah, Kill the Rats
Mercspector @ EVE, Scotty
EVE's Weekend Warrior, EVE Blog Banter #9
A Merry Life and a Short One, Eve Blog Banter #9: Why Won't You Die?
Into the unknown with gun and camera, Blog Banter – The Hokey Cokey
The Flightless Geek, EVE Blog Banter #9: Remove a Game Mechanic
Sweet Little Bad Girl, Blog Banter 9: Who is Nibbling at My House?
One Man and His Spaceship, Blog Banter 9: What could you do without?
Life in Low Sec, EVE Blog Banter #9: Stop Tarnishing My Halo
Cle Demaari: Citizen, Blog Banter #9: Training for all my men!
A Mule in EVE, He who giveth, also taketh away?
Dense Veldspar, Blog Banter 9
Morphisat’s Blog, Blog Banter #9 – Randomness Be Gone !
Facepalm's Blog, EVE Blog Banter #9: What a new pilot could do without
Memoires of New Eden, You're Fired
Kyle Langdon's Journeys in EVE, EVE Blog Banter #9 Titans? What's a Titan?
Achernar, The gates! The gates are down!
Speed Fairy, EVE Blog Banter #9: Down with Downtime!
I am Keith Neilson, EVE Blog Banter #9-F**K Da Police
Ripe Lacunae, The UI… Where do I begin… (Eve Blog Banter #9)
Clown Punchers, EvE Blogs: What game mechanic would you get rid of?
Estel Arador Corp Services, You've got mail
Epic Slant, Let Mom and Pop Play: EVE Blog Banter #9
Deaf Plasma's EVE Musings, Blog Banter #9 - Removal of Anchoring Delay of POS modules
Podded Once Again, Blog Banter #9 - Do we really need to go AFK?
Postcards from EVE, 2009.07.02.00.29.06
Harbinger Zero, Blog Banter #9 – War Declarations & Sec Status
Warp Scrammed, Blog Banter 9 – Never Too Fast
Ecaf Ersa (EVE Mag), Can a Tractor Tractor a Can?
Thoughts from an Accidental Minmatar Revolutionary, EVE Blog Banter #9 - Aggression timers, WTs and Stargates
Mike Azariah, I don't put much stock in it...
Rettic's Log, Blog Banter: Overview Overload
A Sebiestor Scholar, [OOC] EVE Blog Banter #9: Slaves
Diary of a pod pilot, [OOC] EVE blog banter #9: Because of Falcon
Roc's Ramblings, Blog Banter #9 – Taking Things Slow
The Gaming-Griefer, EVE Sucks, But I Love It: The Memoir of a Masochist
Letrange's EVE Blog, Blog Banter #9: Bye Bye Learning Skills
Lyietfinvar, Remove that monopoly
Sceadugenga, Blog Banter #9
Industrialist with Teeth, EVE Blog Banter #9

Going places

2009-06-20T02:07:00.007-04:00

Come on babe
Why don't we paint the town?
And all that Lag!

-Jita, the Musical.

Remember way back, when Kirith Kodachi came up with this meme, about posting the map with the places you have been? I think I may be a bit late... but anyway, here it goes:

Town, painted

Funny, I did not expect that. It actually does look like I have been around most of Empire. Come to think of it, it has been over two years in space and, with the racing scene, you do get to see places.

I am not a good shot, see, but that is not the same as being a scared shy little mouse that will stick to hi-sec only and pray she does not come across the cat.

I go places.

I still pray I don't see the cat. And if I do, I run like hell!

So, let's look a bit closer...

The interesting bit is realizing that I used to stick to familiar places because of friends and missions, and all that changed when I began racing.

Of course, a racetrack will send you through high and low-sec. That would be the obvious one.

But there is more than the obvious. Did you know that some of us move spare equipment into the race region prior to the race? Paint some more. Also, speed rigs are needed; we had to build our own when we started... that meant shopping for the best prices and hauling stuff out of lowsec. More red paint. And once you had your rigs, why not make some more and sell them? Haul it across the cluster. Or, getting the best racing implants, which in my mind happens to be the Nomad set, go mission in 0.0 for them Thukkers.

A little bit of everything, a little bit of everywhere.

Out of all this, some memories close to my heart would be:

Tash-Murkon, God bless them space-billies who would buy anything shiny at retail.
That line is my trade run through low-sec, from Metro/Heimatar/Molden (home of polycardboard) to Tash (space-billies).
Providence and the Great 0.0 Rally Race.
More 0.0, working for the Thukker tribe over at Syndicate/Placid.
Exploration in Sukanan.
Sinq Laison, home sweet home.
The EVE gate.

I guess then, that next stop would have to be deeper into 0.0...

Racing Cookie

2009-06-07T17:38:00.006-04:00

June 111, ISRC Season 7, Race 6
Black Rise, After-race party

That's a racing spec cookie.

Triple-chocolate cookie (choco cookie, choco chips, white choco chips)
The size of my open hand
Yummy

I always buy one on the morning of a race day, at a café close to home. It becomes that day's lucky cookie until after the race, when it becomes... history.

Not that it has been helping much lately, Takashi seems to beat us, cookie or no cookie.

Maybe it needs more chocolate...

Sniper

2009-06-03T15:14:00.004-04:00

I wait, motionless.

I breathe deeply, just like I have been taught, and concentrate.

I hope.

My hands feel around for the edge of the camo blanket and, finding it, pull it aside.

I still harbor hope.

I open my eyes and there are my tools: a scope and a railgun. I was really hoping these would not be there.

But I find, in front of me, tools of destruction. All mine.

How did I end up doing this? Talking, as usual. This time, I let someone talk me in.

I still have some hope that the decision will not be mine, that something will go wrong and I will have to go back. "Oui monsieur," I would say, "I did everything I could. The weapon was damaged when I got it."

Click. But the pieces fit together perfectly. So much for hope.

I plug in. Breathe in, out, concentrate and calm down my pounding heart... the railgun welcomes my mind, senses my pulse, my breathing reflex and starts learning; it comes alive, starts breathing and pulsating by itself, its -his?- movement compensating my own before starting to learn those of the wind.

I lie down and wait with my eyes closed. I can see through my tools.

And I wait, motionless.

Commotion, someone is approaching down there, in the distance. The object of my attention is flanked by people in shades -rather, Evil Things that look like shades, I remind myself. They move with precision and professional cool, yet there is a certain twitchyness about them that almost reminds me of birds scanning for danger, blinking and looking around. Agility implants, surely; they just look nervous but I know they are not. I know I am. One of them looks in my direction and -I shudder to think- right through me. Those shades, they freak me out. Do they know I am here?

My covops suit keeps me safe and hidden but, yes, they know I am here. They must know. They always do.

This means I have only one chance.

But I don't want to take it. I don't want to kill. Ah, but there is a reason they talked me into this. It's because it is the right thing to do.

Apparently.

The gun knows where to deliver its message way, way better than I do; it is a matter of physics. It knows better, so much better in fact, that I am not allowed to aim. Just watch. Ah, but I do know things my gun does not know, I know the best time to shoot: when they are looking the other way, when they have checked, double checked everything, when they have made sure. When they feel safe. When they least expect it. It's a matter of people. That's why the gun is not allowed to shoot. Just aim.

Together, my railgun and I. We know where, we know when.

It feels horrible. Cold. How can killing someone be the right thing? There is always an alternative. I should have quit. One can always not do it. Walk away, just like that.

But I wait.

Just like he told me... how did I allow him to talk me into this? I hate it. I hate the waiting, because it gives me time to think about what I am doing. This is not right.

No... this is right.

Only it does not feel right. Never mind, the feeling will go away.

The birds are calming down. They still look around, protecting the nest, but now they have turned their attention to other corners of their world. Away from me and away from my invisible touch. They start walking away, turning their backs to me. Just a little bit more.

An opening.

In my mind, I gently squeeze the ball to nothing, careful not to disturb the gun.

And we let the charge fly home...

Two men tumble, one of them my target, the other one some poor soul whose job was just to take a bullet for him. Good boy, job well done. Yet behind him, my mark still flops down. Watchful birds are startled and nervously look around for the shooter, guns drawn. They will not find me.

I am invisible.

I might as well, I have just killed someone. I want to crawl under a rock.

I have just shot Tibus Heth, the leader of the State. I have saved the Federation, the State and New Eden. It does feel weirdly right yet totally wrong. Ends should not justify means. Look at what we achieved! Yah, but look at me, look at ourselves now... we are just like them.

A few minutes later my comms confirm that he is not dead, just badly hurt. So badly that he will be sipping his food through an IV drip from now on. Anyway, he will not be causing any more harm.

I whisper a reply in my thoughts, letting my contact know that I am fine and will join him at rendezvous.

I stand up.

A chime -what is that noise at my back? I spin... he is right behind me, wait, what is HE doing here and what is he is raising in my direc... BLAM

--

GAME OVER.

602 POINTS.

At least I took Heth.

But he? He bagged Foiritan. After that he went for Blaque and, after him, was working his way down the Supreme Court for like a zillion points, before getting bored and deciding to take me out.

I put the pointer down in front of the console. Some rifle.

"Is this supposed to be fun? Killing pretend people?"

"Well, actually it gets boring rather quickly. That's why you want to kill other players -that never gets old."

"You griefer. I do not want to play anymore... it's sick. And cheesy, with the covops suit, there is no such thing as a covops suit. And it sucks."

"Do you have anything else in mind?" he asked, still grinning.

"You promised to take me out. Please tell me this was not it," I sniped back.

Racing Track

2009-05-26T18:13:00.001-04:00

17 May 111, Preparations for ISRC Season 7 Exhibition Race 3
Tash-Murkon, Domain, Kor-Azor

At long last, I set up my first race :)

It went much, much better than I expected. It actually worked!

So, where to begin...

First, track design: I sat down with a map and doodled for fifteen minutes, was evil for another five and come up with 'special' ideas for multiple-can waypoints, but not too special. Check.

Then, waypoint setup. I bought as many secure audit containers as needed, click. Assembled each one, click-click-click. Named them as waypoints, click, tippety-tap, click. Filled each one of fifteen with FORTY copies of each waypoint bookmark, click-click-clickclickclickclick-coffeebreak-clickclick-giveup-comeback-click. Click. I mean, check.

Then, someone had to actually lay the track. Paul, being in the wrong corp (not ISRC) he had to ask his CEO for permission to set it up, which he got. Goodie. He flew all the way from Tash to Metropolis in a shuttle to pick his Covops, flew her back to Tash to pick up the cans and then went to Waypoint 15... only to realize he had no role to launch for corp.

A perfectly good hour, wasted.

I was up to me to fix his mess. So I fit a blockade runner for waypoint work, covops cloak, agility fit and token tank. On the up side, my hauler-turned-covops could carry all of the waypoints in a single load, as opposed to his little figate covops, which was good. All eggs, same basket. Check.

I started like an hour before the race, jumping and warping to each location, dropping the waypoint can and anchoring. It took so much more time than I expected, which delayed the race start for a bit. A lot more than a bit.

Anyway, I did build a track from zero, by myself, and I am quite proud of it. Check!

Is this what Killoy has to do before each single one of our season races? Wow, he deserves so much credit for this.

And, for those of you who did not know her, Gyra Rho did this for five whole seasons before KJ took over. And she ran PR before I took that over.

Gyra. She is probably in some beach having margaritas.

I miss Gyra. We all do. I wish she came back, if only for a while. Then she could have track setup, and I wold have her margaritas.

But I digress. We were set for the race!

Racing Series
See what happened before
See what happened next

EVE Blog Banter #8: Charisma Tanking

2009-05-25T18:08:00.009-04:00

Welcome to the eighth installment of the EVE Blog Banter, the monthly EVE Online blogging extravaganza created by CrazyKinux.

This month's topic comes to us from Ga'len at The Wandering Druid of
Tranquility. He asks: "What new game mechanic or mechanics would you like to see created and brought into the EVE Online universe and how would this be incorporated into the current game universe? Be specific and give details, this is not meant to be a 'nerf this, boost my game play' post like we see on the EVE forums."

Crap, they were catching up. I aligned to the next gate and warped off, just as they came through.

For once I was not flying a frigate or an interceptor. Somehow I had decided to take a Stabber-class cruiser to an important rendezvous and now I was so regretting not having practiced on her for more time. I was being chased, they knew exactly what they were doing while I did not.

And they were slowly catching up. I hit the gate and jumped, with one or my pursuers slowing down from warp at 70 clicks. Oh, slow gate. On the other side I aligned and warped off, just as the tackler uncloaked and started to lock. Deeper into 0.0. I hit the next gate and jumped through with the guy 30 clicks behind me. I could already see the Huzzah Federation logo on his wings... this was going to hurt, soon.

On the other side, I was relieved to see friendly ships. I held my cloak as the gate flashed again for my pursuer, and again and again for two more of their gang - the ones too eager to chase me. We all held cloak while I hailed the Thukker battleship guarding the gate for assistance, hoping that my eight-plus standing with the Tribe would win me some sort of protection.

"The Thukker Tribe does not need enemies," they responded, curtly.

I thought fast, waited until my cloak dropped and then started burning towards the Thukker frigates - only for a few seconds as the Huzzah interceptor webbed me and the rest of his gang started locking on my ship.

"Hostile gang, the Thukker Tribe looks after their friends. You will pay for your mistake!"

Big mistake. Almost as soon as the Malediction was pinned in place by the Thukker frigates, it went poof and vaporized; the hostile Thorax and Rupture started unloading their guns on me as I turned to make a beeline towards the heavier guns of the friendly Tribals. Take that! They would have to either either run the gauntlet or run away.

They ran towards the gate. A Stabber wasn't worth it.

Moments later, salvage crews picked through the remains of the Rupture and the Malediction. Me? I had barely survived, in structure - were it not for the Thukker fleet intervening, I would not have made it.

The Battleship opened a channel.

"Red, you are late. Again."

"Fashionably late, Chief Ovi," I replied. "How nice to see you! Thanks for lending a hand with that rabble..."

--

That's what I would love, that standings with the pirate factions actually meant something in space.

You know, if you spend time on your networking skills, if you know people who know people, if you can handle hostile agents with tact and diplomacy... in short, if you show up as blue on some agent's desk, then why in the world should you not show up as blue to that faction's guns in space?

Making nice with pirate factions should mean that pirate factions are nice to you:

Pirate faction pilots would be neutral towards blues. They would not shoot you on sight, nor help you.

Pirate factions would react to aggression the same as always, of course. You shoot them or their friends, they shoot back and you lose standing. They'd be friendly but not stupid.

Pirate factions would shoot reds. Just like they do today.

With this, investing in standings or social skills (yah, right) would actually change the way that entire swaths of space look at you and, likewise, how you look at that space. The same way lowsec people invest in security status. The same way CONCORD does not like aggression. The same way Empire navies like friendly or dislike enemy militias.

I think pirate factions should hire a few ex-cops, to learn how it's done. 'Cause everyone but them do it.

Then, you could have dodgy friends in dark places, belts or gates (or, your target could, you never know). It would change the way you fit or the way you fly. The way you mission or the way you rat. Imagine surviving an ambush because... you warped back to a belt with friendly rats! :) Or jumping through a gate knowing there is help on the other side. It would spice up things.

I say that tank is anything that helps you survive. If friendlies will not shoot you to begin with, well... would that not be tank as well? Tank depending on social skills?

Definitely. I would call it Charisma Tanking.

List of participants:

1. CrazyKinux's Musing, EVE Blog Banter #8: Care for a little game of SecWars?
2. The Wandering Druid of Tranquility, Wow, that new thing is so shiny!!!
3. I am Keith Nielson, EVE Blog Banter #8 - Return of the Top Gun
4. Once More from the Beginning, 8th EVE Blog Banter May 2009 Edition
5. A merry life and a short one, EVE Blog Banter #8: In the Year of Our Awesome
6. Inner Sanctum of the Ninveah, Planets
7. Helicity Boson, Bantering the blog
8. Achernar, Unique adventures
9. Ecliptic Rift, OOC: EVE Blog Banter 8: Standings and secondary factions
10. The New Edener, EVE Blog Banter #8
11. Journey to New Eden, Eve Blog Banter #8: What new mechanic should be added to Eve?
12. Life, The Universe and Everything, Blog banter 8: mentorship
13. EVE Guru, EBB 8: Yarr! Prepare to be boarded!
14. The Ralpha Dogs, Greed Is Good, Greed Works
15. Rifter Drifter, Blog Banter 8: Strategic Gunnery
16. A Mule in EVE, Expanding EVE
17. Letrange's EvE Blog, 8th Blog Banter
18. Roc's Ramblings, Blog Banter #8
19. The Nude Nerd, Blog Banter #8
20. Scop's Log, Blog Banter #8: "We're caught in a tractor beam! It's pulling us in!"
21. Speed Fairy, EVE Blog Banter #8: Charisma Tanking
22. Industrialist with Teeth, EVE Blog Banter #8: It's Like Tetris for OCD People
23. Diary of a Pod Pilot, EVE blog banter #8: Killing in the name of
24. Talk Unfraid, Physical Communications
More to come!

I left my newbie corp and all I got was... Insomnia

2009-05-17T08:51:00.007-04:00

Name: Insomnia
Class: Ishtar Heavy Assault Ship
Manufacturer: CreoDron
Top Speed: 650 m/s
Warp Speed: 3.75 AU/s
Align time: 4.9
Service: None
Status: Not finished popping the bubblewrap
Freaky fact: She had a surprise gift in the cargohold

When some people graduate, they get a car.

Some get a trip to Lumi.

I received a fully fitted Ishtar from my friends!

I had mentioned my racing team that after graduation that I was at long last going to finish Cruisers V, then see what kind of fun ship I could get to fly then. In my mind I was flying an Arazu already -if it's cloaky, it must be good, non?- but Kay stoked my curiosity about an Ishtar... and actually persuaded me that one would be a good choice.

When I came back from vacation I had finished reading Cruisers and started with Heavy Assault Ships, aiming to ride on by the end of the week. As it turns out, before I was done training, my friends were out shopping for one.

There was an awkward moment when I told Kay I had proudly bought my first Ishtar. She was silent for a moment, my contracts started blinking and demon came back with something like "you already had an Ishtar. Look at contracts now."

Huh? Clearly something was going on behind my back.

Inside the giftbox

Wow! Hahaha, thank you Kay, demon and Searaph!

So I returned mine to the store (now she is a blockade runner) and went to Tash, to pick up the gift the very minute I was finished training.

The fit is very nice indeed, and almost everything is stuff I can use, except for the autocannons. Also, it all fits together with my skills. The last item in the cargohold was a sweet touch as well, I think I will call her "Fiona" and lodge her with the Ogres (sold separately).

Ogres on patrol

I think that the fit is meant for missioning, with the cap rechargers, the tank rigs and armor reps. Sit down, let the drones loose and wait. Tank, in the low slots, how odd -aligns in way over two seconds, definitely not a racer. I suspect it will need some changes before taking her into lowsec or a wormhole and, of course, a cloak on that free slot. Never leave home without your cloak. Now I just need to start training sentries, autocannons and start practicing.

Oh, and the name was such a nice, subtle touch. Insomnia.

Almost a hint. It means they want me to tag along missioning when it is very, very late at night...

This is the coolest graduation gift. Thank you so very much! :)

Racing Cancellations

2009-05-15T11:59:00.004-04:00

27 April - 10 May 111, ISRC Season 7
Right before Race 5
Right before Exhibition Race 3
Right before Race 5
Right before Exhibition Race 3: Cruisers

So last Sunday we have had our third race cancellation, in a row. This month is turning out to be far trickier than we expected, with KJ and I alternatively caught in planetside stuff that we just can't avoid. I have had so little time to get anything done since last month...

Some of the racers did show up for the last one, Ayre, Cai Lun, demon, Kazuo, Searaph and Takashi, I am very happy they did... and so sorry that the race had to be called off. Promise to make it up to all of you.

Now the next race, that one should be a special one -at least for me. It is going to be the T1 cruisers exhibition race (exhibition as in, for fun rather than score) and it is going to be the first race I set up myself, starting from empty space.

I am terrified.

Not for me, mind you, it just that I don't want to get it wrong. Now I feel as if I picked the wrong week to hold the race and the wrong region to start. But, I have some ideas... You never know where Sunday's race is going to take you, or what you are going to find there.

This should be fun...

Racing Series
See what happened before
See what happened next

EVE Blog Banter #7: Never been a pirate Quin

2009-05-09T13:14:00.001-04:00

I hope you guys do not mind that I am late to the party... about a week late or so? Anyway, welcome to the seventh 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 topic comes to us from CrazyKinux, and he asks: “What 3 things haven’t you done in EVE and why? Would you be willing to try one day? Why so? Why not?”

Well, I have been flying for two years and a half now and still have the feeling that I am ankle-deep into the sea of possibilities out there. I have done quite a bit, running missions, running courier, running around and running away. All the stuff with the racing league, organization and PR. People stuff. Scouting, scanning, some research and invention for going faster. Gone to 0.0 to work for them dodgy people. Went to a wormhole, once. Blogging ;) I have flown with wonderful people from several corps and had the best times with them.

And there is still so much I have not done...

Number 1: Joining a corp. I have been with my corp, Uni of Caille, for two years and a half. Why? I have always been afraid that I will not have enough time to commit myself to corp operations and stuff, so if I joined anything else I would end up being kicked out anyway. (Mind you, sometimes I do not even have time to blog, but I don't think anyone will kick me out of here :P) So I have made very good friends instead and I fly with them when I can. Money comes on its own, from the market.

I guess I have ignored corps until now but, you know, I think it has been long enough. So I finally decided to join six-year old Dragonstar corp about two weeks ago, right before vacation. Now that I am back, I find that my new corp is tearing itself apart in recriminations and stuff; I did not even have time to fly with any of them. Guess this goes back in the list: join a functional corp. First thing on my list.

Number 2: Be a spy. This seems to be quite frequent out there... people that join a corp just to betray it, or actually turn into one once inside or something like that. I have been often been accused of being a spy myself -still feeling quite insulted about that time I was invited, then not allowed to scout for that FDU fleet once, losers- but I guess it comes with being in a student corp such as UC, for years. Do I really look like an alt to you? But anyway, I think it is a question of character and of trust. Spying, it would be like throwing out the window everything I am, everything I have become since I started flying... so being a spy is one thing I will not be trying. Which, I guess, makes me sort of the ideal person to turn into a spy. Awww...

I'll say #2 never, but it's up to you to believe me ;)

Number 3: Shooting someone. I am beginning to suspect that I have been playing a different game. This is my third year flying and, well, other than rats and belt rabble, I do not think I have ever blown anyone's ship up. Not even in self-defense -I would have but it was over in like, two seconds. I have shot at people at practice, I have attended shootout contests... I have been podded by gatecamps. But I have never had the need to go all the way and, ah, help someone out of their ship. Or their pod.

I guess I do not believe in violence.

Same goes for the shooting-related professions like pirate of mercenary. I guess that people live off killing other people have their reasons. I don't. Yet. I mean, nothing in my mind, my story or background makes me lean towards living from piracy, or off shooting people. Who knows? Sometimes I do feel as I have painted myself into a corner.

But it's my corner...

So #3 is a maybe. Definitely. And it's going to be unbelievable.

- CrazyKinux's Musing, Eh, nobody told me you could do this in EVE!
- One Man and His Spaceship, Expanding My Horizons
- I am Keith Neilson, What do you want to do today?
- Rifter Drifter, Trinity
- Roc's Ramblings, The me I am not
- Morphisat's Blog, Treading waters unknown
- Sweet Little Bad Girl, Roads Not Followed
- A Mule in EvE, DD, defend against a gank & POS gunning
- Inner Sanctum of the Ninveah, Choices
- The Wandering Druid of Tranquility, One, Two, Three...three things....hahahahaha
- The Ralpha Dogs, Road Not Taken... Or Not
- Melindhra's Universe, Where no one has gone before
- Life in Low Sec, Possibilities
- EVE Guru, EVE Blog Banter 7
- Diary of a Pod Pilot, Stones left unturned
- Flashfresh - The Pirate, This isn't me...
- Nefchast's Gaming Blog, CrazyKinux's EVE Blog Banter #7
- A Merry Life and a Short One, Syphilis Doesn't Count
- Rip Lacunae, Past & Future

Messages

2009-05-07T17:32:00.002-04:00

So, back from vacation.

We went to a château just north of Clermont, but far away enough that it does not even feel like Auvergne V anymore. Beautiful! There was an old castle in the grounds a pond, vineyards and waterworks. We had the place all to ourselves for the graduation bash...

Anyhow, there is stuff even a capsuleer can't control. Like a certain someone throwing my neocom into the pond as they discovered me sneaking out a message. Bummer...

So upon our return to town, first thing besides getting a new one is checking the messages.

Message #1 - Dragonstar Corporation HR Department: "Welcome to the Dragonstar Corporation, Catherine Delorois. Your application has been accepted and we look forward to working with you upon your return next week."

Goodie, my first corp. This is going to be fun.

Message #2 - Kayleigh Jamieson: "Hi, Quin! Are you at the beach? Is it sunny? Or did you go for the countryside, the mountains.. snow? Hope you're having fun! Hugs, Kay."

Awww, thanks. Wish you were there!

Message #3 - Kanunu: "Hi Quin, I am wondering if you have any way of contacting Kay planetside? Enjoy your vacation."

Kanunu? Wow, it has been a long time since I had heard from him... season 5 of racing or so? He is a director now in DS. I wonder what it could be...

Message #4 - KillJoy Tseng: "ISRC staff got planetside issues, we are finding temps to lay the track and host the race. Don't worry, everything is under control."

Now that, that was not funny. I hate when people say stuff is under control, 'cause it means it's not.

Message #5 - CrazyKinux "Hello everyone. Still we've got time to squeeze a Banter before this month of Fools ends."

Oh, the Blog Banter, it had to be while I was away. I guess I could write something up a bit late, it should still be fun. Next message, please.

Message #6 - KillJoy Tseng "We are postponing race #5 and exhibition #3 unless we find a replacement. Take care, enjoy."

I really hoped they would find a way to run the race, even without me, or we would end up looking a bit silly as an organization. Well, everyone can have an emergency, guess I will have to do some PR.

Message #7 - Kanunu "Quin, did you find Kay? Don't freak out but the corp is under a surprise takeover; the main shareholder is forcing a vote on a new CEO in today and DS employees are threatening to leave en masse. Tell her not to worry anyway, everything is under control."

Ow, crap. My first corp? You have to be kidding me. This has to be... is this some kind of new speed record? 'cause that's like the only good thing I can think about it right now.

I better pick up the comms. I am almost afraid of catching up...

But before, I seriously need to kiss someone for having thrown the stupid neocom into the lake.

-Q

Vacation

2009-04-27T16:16:00.001-04:00

Hello, this is Catherine. I am currently away on vacation and plan
to be back in about a week, or not at all. Please drop a message or at
least say hi, I just hate it when I get a blank holo.

See you all later!

A treasure

2009-04-24T02:50:00.004-04:00

The look on his face, when he realized it was my first time... again.

;)

Au revoir l'Université

2009-04-22T15:59:00.002-04:00

April 111, Sinq Laison
University of Caille, Campus Bourynes

Text shimmers in front of me.

I have read it and know what it means. Actually, I have been expecting it. But it's still hard to believe.

No way. Finally?

The words are simple.

Gallente Business - Entrepeneur Elite
Issued via: University of Caille

This certificate is the final step of the Caille University graduate program for Entrepreneur specialists. It certifies that the holder of the certificate...
The real meaning is not that simple. It means it is time to say goodbye.

--

Have you guys gotten this feeling that you follow a pre-established path? No, no, don't get me wrong, this is not Fate, she acts in ways so much subtler. This is standing in the forest, looking around you and seeing a worn path on the ground. It may be the twigs, the grass or a hole in the thicket. Someone has been here before. That's the way to go.

And what do you do? You follow the path.

Not because they force you to. Not because it's your greater destiny. Not even because of a reason. Just... because. Because you are lazy, because it's the easiest thing to do, because it's the next absentminded step after what you were doing before. Keep still when you were still or keep moving in the direction you were. It's not Fate but that lazy slob, Inertia.

That's the feeling.

So what if I have followed the worn path all my life. Go to school. Make friends at school. Move with family, make friends elsewhere. School is over, what's next? University. Stay put for the Master's Degree. Oh, excuse me if I yawn for a bit.

I was admitted into the University of Caille some six years ago, it has been two and a half since I became a capsuleer. I started, all bright eyed and excited about spaceflight. I remember wanting to move stuff from here to there and make a killing on the market. See, I have a life down planetside and the market fits nicely with... living.

I learned very quickly that pure social and market would not be enough, so I learned to make a killing in different ways -one needs to know how to look after oneself, you know. Then I went into the fast courier business -I am just so good at the running away part of fighting,- and learned how to go faster and faster. Then I found racing and eventually, I learned to fit and invent and build my own stuff. Then T2. You know the rest of the story.

That is how I followed the path.

As it turns out, I fell right in the middle of some of the best people you can meet in space; some of them my team, some of them adversaries, all of them my friends. I have learned from them, I am a better person because of them, and I hope they feel the same. I have learned little things: a smile goes a long way; always say hello and always say goodbye; it's about the people, not the spaceships.

All these things I have learned while walking down the path. I have made small decisions in the meantime, and enjoyed some stunning views while looking that way or the other.

In the end, what I am saying is... I am grateful for the path.

So here I stand, in the middle of the forest, with most decisions having been made for me long before I took the easy way forward. And you know what? Now that I have arrived, I look around and find that there is no path ahead, no path around. From now on, there are only choices.

It feels good.

So thank you, Dean Arele and CEO Hatiniestan, for giving us safe paths to walk along. Thanks everyone here, for helping us along the way. We have reached this point where, although we will never stop learning, we will make choices that are fully ours.

To those graduating today, I say goodbye, et bonne chance. From now on, you choose how to make a path ahead of you. You have reached the end of this one path, who knows which one you will open ahead of you?

And to those of you staying in UC, I can only say... fly safe, nuggets, until we meet again.

Graduation Ceremony
Elite Entrepeneur Programme
University of Caille, April 111

--

Click.

Path no more.

A window wide open

2009-04-16T12:48:00.008-04:00

They say eyes are the window to your soul. It's true. Without a word, eyes can say 'come hither,' 'go away' or a myriad of different things. Some say that the eyes of Amarrian-raised women are particularly expressive. Your eyes convey feeling and in doing so, subtly, other things as well.

Now if eyes are the window to your soul, then pod jacks must be the window to your mind. Without a word, these can command hundreds of people, have a ship jump endless distances across the void or turn on a pin. But all jacks, they are the same -cold and heartless. They convey Information. Thought.

Nature has been wise and kind to us over a million years. Eyes are truly windows, that look inside and outside; we can see things coming. We can shut our eyes in, well, the blink of an eye. Sometimes even without thinking we can avert our eyes, cover them, duck, curl up or ultimately stand up and defend them.

Not so with pod jacks.

Humankind is so clumsy. We do not have eyes on our back.

--

"What about that one?" I pointed to the backlace on display, changing the subject of conversation.

Amerique frowned and said "I'm not sure."

"Ooh, but I like it. Let's go inside."

It was actually one of the most beautiful I had seen. Simple, elegant, crystalline and sparkling.

"I am looking for a backlace?" I asked the woman behind the counter.

"To plug? Of course," she said, "would you like to see anything in particular?"

"I usually wear small and comfortable, but I'm looking for something more, ah, dressy?"

"I think I may have something to interest you." She showed me some sets and helped me choose three before directing me to the fitting room, "Please walk this way, let me call the adviser for you."

I followed her through the door, sat on the couch and relaxed.

"Hello, my name is Claire, how are we doing today?" a lady greeted me with a kind smile as she walked in. She introduced herself as my adviser, showing her credentials before engaging in easier talk. What a peculiar mix she was, serene and poised yet at the same time precise and professional. There was no hint of the artificial charm of social implants. How... genuine. What a nice surprise!

"Oh, this one is beautiful indeed. Is it for a special occasion?" she asked after she locked the door and prepared the sets for a fit. "What would you be wearing it with?"

I made myself comfortable while the couch was raising. "I was planning a black evening gown, I have this upcoming gala in a couple of weeks." I could feel the couch on the skin of my back, moving and leaving my jacks exposed.

"It does sound like a lovely combination, dear," she said, "diamonds do go well with formal, especially so with black. They also bring depth out. Let us start with this one."

--

Of course, what you wear over your jacks is important. Not just for the self-conscious but for anyone with a set on their back.

Assuming you dress in something more than a basic straitjacket, you would want to choose something safe -safe as in, you definitely do not want people sticking stuff into your jacks. There is nothing between your pod interface and you -I mean, your jacks are you!- and, personally, I would not want people poking at my mind behind my back, plugging god-knows-what, probing into god knows which memories.

My mind, my thoughts, thankyouverymuch.

Sure, you say, security systems and stuff. But what good would your security system do about grubby fingers mistaking your jacks for an ashtray? About water and sand at the beach? About smog and dust in the city? How about lint? Imagine not being able to plug into your pod because of a candy wrapper -don't even mention chewing gum, just pod me now and wake me up!

Security systems, right.

Anyhow speaking of safe, you may want a closed high-collar shirt or a jacket that covers everything up to that top plug on the base of your neck. Caldari no-nonsense, traditional Achur or Amarrian no-skin-no-sin are your main options. That's safe. You could go designer, too.

But depending on your personality and lifestyle, you may want to dress differently. A gown with a low back, a v-neck, halter-top, any top that shows your back. Or summer on the planet, casual, a sundress, a swimsuit. Sports? Workout? I could go on. Even a trucker wants to wear his muscle shirt once in a while, non? Not many capsuleer truckers around, on second thought.

Some people keep the original socket-caps for planetside.

Me? Thank you, but I do not think you will find me wearing bright-yellow Ishukone plastic caps to a wedding.

--

As the third set of plugs clicked in place the couch announced with a beep that it would slide back into a position easier for me to stand up. Claire invoked again the mirror so I could see.

I looked at the full-body hologram, staring straight at my own back. Here... there. I made a twirling gesture with my hand and the holo dutifully obeyed, with the jewels sparkling on my back as the image turned.

"It looks gorgeous." Each plug was a little star-flower made of small clear, shiny translucent gems, arranged around a bigger one in the middle. Each one a different size, big enough to cover its socket and then some, all loosely strung by two shiny silver strands.

It looked great and I did feel great. "This one, I like this one."

"You look great with it, do you not?" She paused. "I could show you a matching necklace, if you would like to see."

She was good, a very good saleswoman.

--

Backlaces -jack-links or back-brooches or spine studs or any name you would use- have found their place in the wardrobe. You find them in all shapes and sizes and materials; rustic beads, semi-precious, precious; diamond, pearls, emerald, morphite; wood, silicone, fake skin, low-profile trit; clear, opaque; on strands or loose. Men prefer sports teams links, clocks, dice, dorsal fins or creepy little eyes that follow you around. Pandemic Legion links have become very popular this year peeking out over their collars, probably because of the Tournament.

Of course most of what you see around are not really plugs. There is an entire legitimate industry of genuine back jewelry to make you look your best, whether you are a pod driver or not; sometimes just to make people look like capsuleers. Beautiful designs, only instead of plugging into your jacks these would -don't ask me how- stick to your back. But there, now even a trucker can get those from brands and a stores that need not pay the ransom fee for an Ishukone-approved logo on the mounting. And they look almost the same. Almost.

If you ask me, I would go for clear gemstones. They don't look quite the same.

--

Claire was right, transparency did bring depth out.

She showed me how the release worked and how to wear them or will them off myself. Once done, we went back to the counter where I had my new backlace and necklace set for delivery.

Amerique had, in the meantime, fallen in love with something shiny at the opposite corner. She is such a sucker for bracelets and rings.

"Would there be anything else?" asked my newfound friend Claire, so very helpfully.

"Yes... earrings? Just like these but, do you have a crescent set of four for the left side, one for the right?"

"Why of course," she looked carefully at me and noted "you can also have your ear pierced here, as a courtesy."

I smiled back at her "Oh, thank you so much but that will not be necessary."

The customer is always right. She discreetly warned me with "a beautiful set of four..." remark, her eyes still looking with confusion at the two drop rings on my ears.

"Oh, these are not for me, but thanks again," I explained.

Technically, true. They were for my jump clone, but how would she know?

--

In the end, it is a matter of personal taste, and tastes differ. Whatever makes you feel safe and comfortable and good is right, clothing or plugs or both over your jacks.

That, or play ashtray. Why would anyone want to wear their wide open mind on their back?

Back wear restores that basic sense of security we lose with pod jacks; it helps us shut that window to our mind, when we want to. We were not born with pod jacks, it is not our fault we have to look for ways to keep them safe. And if it helps us look and feel great, all the better.

Because, remember, you do not have eyes on your back.

Not your own, anyway.

;)

Racing 101

2009-04-07T18:36:00.005-04:00

January 110, ISGC Season 4
University of Caille, Campus Odotte
Racing 101

Lesson #12: Waypoint approach

The class murmured in the darkened auditorium as the holo of last race danced over the two of us down at the center.

"So the problem is getting close to the waypoint in a reasonably short time. As you see in replay, she overshot by fifteen clicks on the first pass, then seven on the way back, then four... how do you call that move, Quin?" Gina asked with a straight face.

"The yo-yo."

"Yes, the yo-yo," she almost smiled, "I wonder why. Would anyone please tell me why the yo-yo is bad?"

The Racing 101 course was unusual in the sense that we had a mixed class: half of the attendance were engineering, mostly guys from UC Astronautics, plus a smattering of our people from UC Business and those taking 101 as optional credit. The main tech lecture was done by Juvaan Vesper; if you don't know who Doctor Vesper is, good for you. For those of us who do, he's that guy everyone will step out of the way for, just to avoid getting caught forever in a conversation. Everybody calls him Lags. On the up side, you really learn to be a good listener with him.

Anyhow, he did the theory. Gina, Brax and I, we did the practical class as instructors. We had this great show going, where two of us would take Lags' lesson of the day and dissect it from two different angles. It took hours to prepare but it was a well worth it.

The class murmured, uneasy. Right then, some probably knew the answer but were not willing to raise their hand.

I took the open question. "Because not only you look silly but also technically, it sucks. I think it took me fifteen seconds to get to that waypoint after approach. Wasted time!" I looked back at Gina.

She took the cue, "If we could save Quin fifteen seconds on every waypoint, it adds up to three minutes over the race, so the challenge is to find ways to have the ship stay a click and a half from the can on the very first pass. Ideas, anyone?"

A hand went up timidly.

"Uh, what about turning off the microwarpdrive before hitting the can? You should go slow enough to be manageable."

Gina and I looked at each other. That question was definitely for me.

I explained, "I would say that's good, in theory, but MWDs are tricky; you can't just turn them off, you have to wait until they cycle out."

Gina Ducasse, ship designer, architect and artist, would come up with the craziest ideas to fit and fly. She is this smart, serene girl whose eye will twinkle at the mention of tinkering with something and making it better.

She's our Geek Fairy.

"A MWD has a cycle time of 10 seconds," Gina continued my idea, "so I would say it is a matter of luck, rather than skill to do it that way." She had turned to the desk meanwhile and was fiddling with the holo, which was then cycling repetition after repetition of waypoint approaches turning off the MWD: overshoot, overshoot, right on mark, overshoot, overshoot, short, overshoot... I think they got the idea.

"Yah, so don't do that, ever, or we'll flunk you!" Some laughter in the class.

Another hand went up "What about using a cloaking device?"

Gina beat me to answer that one. "As a braking device? It would have the same problem. Cloak or no cloak, you would wait on your luck until MWD cycles off."

"We tried that," I added, "and found that can't brake that way when you are overtaking someone close, or navigating close to asteroids, or in a gas cloud, or close to anything..."

"... so think of it, do you really want your brakes disabled if you are two clicks from anything?" my friend mused.

"But hey, please keep those ideas coming. We would like to be creative here, there is no such thing as a stupid idea!"

Gina rolled her eyes, smiling. She actually knew how many stupid ideas we had tried during the season and exactly how stupid they had been. But that was our strength, the secret weapon of Scuderia Caille: being creative. We would take ideas dismissed by others as silly, ineffective or hopeless, turn those onto their heads and into cool racing moves. Sometimes, winning moves.

"For example," she said, "how about bumping the can itself?"

Silence.

She explained "You are flying a frigate with hundreds of shield points, so you approach the can at top speed..."

"... you close your eyes..." I interjected, to some more laughter.

"... and just don't brake. It's a kinetic hit, your shields can take it and... you stop right on spot!"

The holo obliged, showing different takes of the bump-brake: good approach, good approach, good approach. You could hear the oooohs and ahhhhs in the crowd.

"Of course people said it was stupid before we started doing it, but we showed them how it works and then we won Season 3. We don't bump cans anymore because of the risk of crew injuries, by the way."

OK, so it was sort of stupid. But it was a winning move while it lasted.

Three hands went up. I pointed to the one with the Lumi hairdo.

"So in the end, what is the best way to approach the can?"

"The best we have found so far is manual approach. As soon as you drop from warp you set a 500 metres orbit on the waypoint and then turn MWD on. When you are at your braking distance -which varies from ship to ship- you slow down to 1 km/s and, if timed right, you will just slide into orbit while the rest of the racers," Gina paused, "yo-yo around you."

"For example in an interceptor coming in at 9 per second, you brake at 25 clicks; if doing 13 per second, you brake at 60."

"But what if you do not have 60km? What if you landed closer to the can?"

"Then you may need to use your judgement. You can always go slower than full speed..."

The class was starting to flow...

Gina asked "now, what would be the optimal orbit for waypoint approach?"

"And remember, after-race tickets for good stuff we can use," I offered.

Fifty hands went up in the air.

A Night out of Town

2009-04-06T16:15:00.002-04:00

It was not a good week -couple of weeks- planetside. I missed someone's very important event, we can't go to this big party in October, also made a couple of stupid mistakes that I thought may just get me kicked out of UC. And it's crunch time, just a couple of weeks more till I earn my degree. I was sort of feeling like a fool.

Please call me April - April Fool. Nice to meet you.

But, you know, you can't just twirl a spaceship forever. Maybe I needed to get away from the world, put my mind as far away from possible from anything. Go crazy, have fun for just a while with nothing to worry about. Check out some new place, meet the locals, whatever. Do something different.

So when Kay suggested that we could go exploring, it sounded just like the thing. Away. Far away crazy new place, different. No market, no local, no acquaintances, no rules, no standings...

'The Wormhole'

Girls' night out! Loads of fun, we should do this more often :)

We're The Green Team.

Sleepers looked pissed.
I think we woke them up.

What do you mean no market? We'll take your loot instead :P
(Can't believe I just wrote that)

Out of the looking glass

EVE Blog Banter #6: The Hand of Bob

2009-03-29T21:05:00.011-04:00

This month's topic comes... from me! I suggested to "write a short fiction story about the dissolution of the BoB alliance. It could be from BoB's point of view, the Goons', by neutrals in 0.0, civilians in Empire, NPCs or even rats. Write about before, during or after the coup; give us stories of market, war, people or love. In-character or roleplay. We want to know what happened, from those fictional characters that, in your mind, were part of it."

Somewhere in Delve.

Sam leaned against the door and rested for a second.

So this is what a coup looks like.

She was hurt and was bleeding. She knew she would not go too far, not without her equipment... but she had gone far enough already. She knew she could not make it out alive.

But now, she could at least get out.

--

Nine hours earlier

Bob security was tight, as always. The Bob Security Force ran the station like their own personal fiefdom and pretty much ignoring the regulars living there. Each and every little one of those goose-stepping twerps apparently had a better right to anything than a civilian, capsuleer or not. A flash of ID and that was it. Cutting in line at the bakery. Getting shuttle tickets and bumping someone off; or maybe just bumping someone off just for fun. They were always right about traffic disputes, they had the right to stop you for a spot search, they had the right to be judge, jury and if you were unlucky or stupid, your executioner.

Only, they had no right. None, whatsoever.

The day had started uneventfully as usual. Max had gone a couple of hours earlier than usual to work, looking worried. They had still had breakfast together, he had brought in a nice selection of rolls and coffee, chatted about nothing. He had mentioned putting off vacation for later. Station bills. Mining upgrades. Moving the medclones.

Yes, some corp had made a mistake and the medclones ended up in Detorid. That would need to be fixed.

"Detorid," he had repeated, looking straight at her, "what a screw-up."

The kiss has been unusual, a good-bye kiss. Not a see-you-later peck.

Of course Samantha knew Max was GIA. A 'Goonpany Man'. They had met a long time ago and, well, you don't really choose who you fall for. They shared many things, including being both miners. Mining. The thing was so far away of spying, in most people's minds, that most spies tended to pose as miners.

She was not into his part of the plan, but from her own she knew what was about to happen. Now, for him to mention the clones, his part would have to be risky.

--

The noise had started a couple of hours before noon. Distant explosions and then the sound, how to describe it, the sound of something big. Industrial, yet more alive than robotic, of shouting orders, of stuff melting at random, of vehicles, and crashing and the odd... scream? Then the PA system started giving orders to everyone, stay inside and do not venture out into public places, but was quickly silenced.

Shortly after noon the PA came back.

It was Max's voice.

"This outpost and all inside are now under the protection of the Goonswarm. BoB forces must lay down their arms now, or face lethal force. All non-combatant civilians should get to a safe place as soon as possible and away from resisting forces."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit. That was it, something had gone wrong and they would come for her now. She stopped what she was doing and ordered her people out, they had done their part already. Time to go.

It was the last time she heard Max's voice.

--

The in-station BSF corps was ruthless and efficient. They were far better trained and equipped than whoever was staging the revolt: heavy energy weapons, armoured cars, riot-control gear and, of course, no qualms.

They had lost comms, PA, and had seen sovereignty-control systems blown up by mining explosives; they retained control over environment and surveillance. They quickly overcame some of the harder pockets by venting into space or just incinerating everything in the troublesome sections.

After that they were still outnumbered but blasting away at some poorly-armed station peasants -shooting at "tee zeros"- was not nearly as challenging as the fight in space.

BoB would have this station back, whatever the cost.

And then, they would make an example of the leaders.

--

The BSF Lieutenant shouted orders to the fire team. They had tracked the woman from sovereignty all the way to the flight deck. A sniper had almost bagged her on the way -it would have been easier if the orders were to kill- but now he was confident.

She was surrounded.

All in-station exits were blocked, dock doors were closed, ships were still being offlined, starting with those she could fly, and nothing would be there by the time she arrived. The breach team was on its way. Somehow, the stupid little wench had thought she would be safe in a pod.

--

Sam felt the gantry stop as her pod was being moved. Not that it mattered. She had a way out... she wished she was dead.

--

"Sir! Gantry stopped, working on override to bring pod back in five minutes. All frequencies jammed except for emergency & CONCORD transmissions and alliance-approved..."

The Lieutenant cut him short "Jam everything you RETARD! This is damn Bobspace, not a CONCORD-owned sissy Empire vacation resort! WE RULE THIS PLACE. Now go and do you job, you moron, before I have your ass airlocked, understood?"

The Sergeant saluted and went back to his war station. Arrogance was par for the course; the hand of BoB was supposed to be harsh, but fair. On the outside, he was as diligent and professional as ever; on the inside he could not avoid flinching at the cursing. He hesitated for a few seconds.

He reported back "Initiated, full jam will be effective in..." and then he belched as the wind suddenly picked up.

--

As its self-destruct sequence completed, the pod exploded. As it happened, the gantry had stopped in the middle of two compartments; the explosion damaged the bulkhead in between and exposed both sections to space.

The lucky ones went quickly. The less fortunate would have to recover from a severe case of decompression bends.

Samantha was very, very lucky.

--

"Dude, that was awesome. Welcome to Detorid."

Sam opened her eyes and focused on the man debriefing her. It had been years since she had been to this part of the cluster. She was not used to this way of talking, nor the accent. Nor to the smells -every station, every world has its own distinct smells and air quality, reminiscing of... nothing she could remember in this case.

The man went on "I mean, Sovereignty four is off and you guys totally owned that outpost. Huh, huh, BOB is so lame that this is happening all over their space..." he went on rambling.

Sam tuned him out. She noticed a couple of others close by in the medclone facility, nodding and grunting approval. She wondered whether handing Bob over to these people had been a such good idea after all.

She looked around the facility and found Max's clone, unused.

Oh, sweetie, at least you will not have to worry about that, she thought, smiling sadly.

Participants:

- Speed Fairy, The Hand of BoB
- CrazyKinux's Musing, No where to go...
- A Mule in EVE, Rolling to the Warzone
- The Ralpha Dogs, Two Tales of Glory and Honor
- One Man and his Spaceship, Times they are changing
- OZ's House of the Evil Dead, Every betrayal contains a perfect moment, a coin stamped heads or tails with salvation on the other side
- The Wandering Druid of Tranquility, Who the Hell are They?....
- I am Keith Nielson, He Gave Up the Stars

Twirling

2009-03-25T10:13:00.007-04:00

I twirl.

I am bored.

It has been a crummy week and it's only Tuesday. For one, I finished with all the backlogged paperwork. Which is good because I am done, and bad because I am worn out.

I am tired. I am grumpy.

Too few friends are reachable today. One of them calls to ask how I am doing; we chat. Another drops by our channel to tease me; not today, thanks.

I don't feel like undocking because I have too much on my mind. Do you know that feeling? That anything you do, you are neglecting something or someone else; but if you tend to that something you will be neglecting yet another. Graduation. Vacation. Moving. More work. Explore, write, read, draw. Fix my pod. So I don't undock.

I am an equal-opportunity slacker.

I twirl.

My comms come alive, "Myrmidon-class Battlecruiser Marmalade, this is Kaalakiota dock. Do you copy?"

Huh? I did not expect them to phone.

I answer promptly, "Dock this is Marmalade. I hear you loud and clear. What can I do for you?" Maybe this will be fun.

"Is everything OK? Over."

"Everything is OK guys, thanks for asking." Aww, how nice of them to check on me.

They don't sound like the comforting kind, though. "Your camera drone is flying inside the dock at hazardous speeds. Are you in control?"

Uh-oh.

"Yes, that's my drone." Gee, how fast I was going, officer?

"Please stop doing that."

"I am not doing anything. I am just sitting here, docked."

"Please slow down or retract your camera drone or we will confiscate or shoot it down."

"I did not know there was a speed limit," I protest in vain.

"You do now."

Crap. These people are no fun. I stop twirling, slow down the drone and eventually leave it floating there.

I'm bored.

I chat some more. Tease suggests I should look at the new fitting screen.

Hey, look, it has a ship inside! I wonder if I can... Yes, I can.

I twirl.

Racing Spy #2

2009-03-24T12:40:00.010-04:00

December 109, ISGC Season 4
Between Races 4 and 5

It had been weeks since my racing interceptor had been scanned at a training session, by a friend. Only problem was, this friend was the owner of a rival team, had scanned me and another rival unawares while on a friendly flight.

To be perfectly fair, we fully expect competitors to scan us, especially before or after the race if we are stupid enough to loiter around station, or racing at Waypoint 1 before the lead goes all meep-meep on the rest. But scanning us would mean one of them would have to sacrifice 'race fitting' for 'spy fitting,' which hurts their race. Tradeoffs.

After the incident, Kay was angry and hurt; she would not talk to Kendar in friendly terms ever again -I thought it a bit too much but, then again, there was history between the two and maybe that's why it hurt her so. I was bouncing between indignation and indifference; what bothered me the most was the laughable punishment he had earned from his team. And Ken? He already felt miserable.

So I was totally not planning to get back at him anymore.

Well, maybe I wanted to, but was not planning. There is a difference.

Some time after the incident and while he was still suspended, we were chatting and Ken was lamenting how he was such a bad racer -yes, he was always sort of in the back of the pack- that it would take a miracle for him to ever win anything. "A miracle," was the word he used. I do not really remember, maybe it was something in the way he said it, maybe I thought he just needed a nudge, or the way he looked downtrodden in my comms... then I had this crazy feeling...

How often do you get a chance to grant a wish? To perform a miracle for someone?

Without thinking twice, I contracted him my dearest championship-winning racing frigate, A Wing and a Prayer. My ISK 150 million full-poly-rigged crown jewel.

My pony.

Oh, I was not flying her anyway.

Okay, if this does not sound exactly like 'revenge,' it is because it isn't. The idea behind was so Sisters-of-Eve-ish -smother him under a ton of syrupy sweetness- that he would feel even worse about the spying incident, then wake up one day and decide he would become all the racer he could be. I wanted him to feel better, myself to be impressed and everyone to be happy. A recipe for mending broken friendships. It felt right, weird but right.

Ken accepted the contract and, as soon as he saw what it was, his eyes widened and my contract list started blinking: he wanted to return it right away.

I then realized what a big burden it must have been on him.

Oh, so that's why it had felt weird.

Look, an Executioner may be many things, none of these remotely related to the word "resilient." As beautiful as she is, the poor thing is like made out of glass, you need all your senses not just to race but to stay alive -and I should know, having raced an entire Season 3 looking over my shoulder. My head was telling me that I would not see my ship ever again - the odds of him surviving a single race with her were, ahem, a bit on the low side. I was letting go of something very close to my heart, maybe forever. He knew that.

I had a knot in my throat as I asked Ken again to please, please take her and race like he really meant it. Naturally, I asked him to promise me -promise me!- to fly the entire season on that frigate.

"I know everything is going to be alright. Just bring her back safely, will you?"

Can you see where this was going, don't you? I had done a miracle. And then I had put an evil curse on it.

What can I say? I am just that well-balanced.

He hesitated. On one hand I was sort of expecting him to promise me the impossible and race to win. I really wanted to see him try. On the other hand, this was going to be interesting... five races remained and I wondered on which one he would go off as a shower of sparks. Would he still go ahead, knowing the odds? Which promise would he keep... would he be careful? Or would he be daring? I was secretly hoping for daring.

And then he promised.

Either way, my part was done. Ken would now carry out his: whatever happened, whether he wanted or not, he risked betraying this incredible act of kindness, either by not racing or by losing my ship. Unless he raced to win.

Maybe someone would have to make sure that the ship was lost.

We were even. Almost.

(continued...)

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Racing Tak

2009-03-19T10:07:00.005-04:00

ISRC Season 7, Race 2
Derelik

Takashi Kurosawa is back.

I know. He is so good it is almost not funny.

Last Sunday's race was the first after the Seyllin disaster and after space started acting weird. Some people are still grieving Seyllin, I understand that several others have been going into "wormspace" to explore and some simply dropped out of sight. I am grateful, however, for those of you that checked in and let me know they were OK :)

Anyhow as a result, the mood before the race was a bit eerie... I think the DVR team showed up in force, but we in SDS were missing people and VRT brought a single racer, Tak. We briefly considered switching the race to "exhibition" and not score it, but decided not to. It would be for real.

Well, in a word, our inty team did not have a good race.

Did I mention I ran inty this time? No one else showed up in Assault Frigates, so I would be either racing myself, or having fun against the inty jockeys. I decided to go for fun.

We lined up and went off, and Takashi started doing what he does best, gain a few seconds on each jump. I thought I had fixed that, I could swear I was gating faster than before but, meh, he still was pulling slowly ahead. So was Kazuo.

Never mind. I would catch them at the multiple waypoints. That is what I do best.

Only I, ah, omitted turning off overload on my MWD at one of those waypoints. >POOF<

After a brief dock, repair, undock in system (got lucky, I had not checked whether there was a repair shop in system but it was there) I found myself one minute behind the pack.

Enter our lovely warp train. I was able to climb my way back into the pack and then into 3rd place overall, but it was not meant to be. This was a race with so many jumps, I was falling a bit behind on each one, only to recover several seconds at the next waypoint, then falling behind...

Note to self: work on figuring out how to gate faster.

Then there was this waypoint at a star and, surprise, surprise, we can no longer use the solar system map the way we could before. Pod changes. I must have lost another half minute there.

And in the end, demon overtook me I think on WP14 or 15 on his Firetail. He is doing that to us every race now, no matter how many times we fire and rehire him. It is good to have him on the team but, oh, does he have to humiliate us every time?

Not that we did not deserve it this time.

Anyway, Kay had an awful race too. Apparently she missed every single gate by a few meters, had a couple of misswarps and finally her pod shut down on the last stretch. Someone in the fit crew is going to get so fired.

We came in, I think FIVE MINUTES behind the lead and made 3rd and 4th places. But we carried frigates :)

So at this point I am considering whether I will be switching permanently to inties now. The AF class is OK, I guess, but interceptor racing is shaping up to be all the rage.

Because, ladies and gentelemen, the Tak is Back.

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The Wiki Witch of the West

2009-03-17T18:43:00.003-04:00

So I took a closer look at EVE's amazing wiki (heya, Mynxee)... and it rocks!

Anyway, I found the EVE wiki and I may have been writing one or two things. Go check it out.

But I must warn you beforehand. Those who know I play RL may know that my, ah, RL character sometimes writes stuff... dry stuff, sometimes so very dry that your lips will chap and your skin will peel, and that's halfway through the first paragraph. If you are still awake.

So before you read any, go drink something and put some chapstick on. Bring a pillow, just in case.

You have been warned.

-Q

(Credit and thanks go to Gyra Rho for ISGC rules PDF, which I totally cut and pasted into the wiki, now it is the base for what we do in the future.)

Racing Backwards

2009-03-15T03:03:00.001-04:00

March 111, ISRC Season 7 Race 1
Molden Heath

A good race, on so many levels. The track had a couple of surprises and was very, very confusing at times but our team had such a brilliant start of the season.

I could not decide what to race until the very last moment. Interceptor or Assault Frigate? Fast or Slow? Old or New? Safe? Fun? When I did, I picked my new Jaguar, la Féline Fatale. That was the first surprise. And then...

--
00:16 - The World Upside Down

"One jump here" came in Searaph's calm voice.

We were all in a long jump trail -what, seven jumps or so?,- approaching waypoint four. We had listened over team comms as Nakatre made a nasty mistake fumbling the checkpoint a couple of waypoints before and then was almost last in her frigate. I was barely ahead of her, racing an assault frigate for the very first time. I wondered if switching classes had been a nasty mistake too...

Other than that, everyone was falling into familiar habits. Takashi in front. Kay catching up from a slow start, right there with Searaph and demon his usual insolent self, challenging the interceptors on a Firetail.

Then the world turned upside down.

"I think I miswarped, no can here." That was Searaph's voice.

Huh?

More racers piling on the waypoint... only there was no waypoint. "It's seven, belt two," "Aww, no can here" "Report it, ah, report it right now to KillJoy!" confusion in the comms.

The waypoint was reported and ISRC called waypoint five, Skarkon. Turn back and give me fifty jumps, racer, on the double!

Suddendly, being still halfway became being already halfway.

So we were all in a long jump trail -what, seven jumps or so?,- going backwards and approaching waypoint five. We had listened over team comms to Nakatre's glee as she was the first to get there in her frigate. I was just behind her in my AF, grinning inside.

Other than that, everyone was having a hard time. Takashi one of the last but catching up fast, Kay and Searaph barely ahead and trying to keep him at bay. Only demon was being his usual uppity self, somehow quickly moving from first place frigates (moving forward) to first place frigates (going backwards).

Really, ah, fired up.

--
00:44 - That was EVIL!

Waypoint 9 was special. Evil. KillJoy is proving to be every bit a sadist about track design as Gyra was, and then some.

I think... one thing is putting waypoints in places you can get shot at and you come out feeling shaky. Cleverly setting waypoints together so you misread the instructions inside, is another -you come out feeling stupid. That hurts.

It turns out that 9, 10 and 11 were all together at an Ice Field 1. 10 was very obviously a decoy and everyone was confused thinking it was an error... The setup was such that people assumed, but did not read the waypoints... and what they missed along the way was that the real 10 was in the same object, Asteroid Belt 1. He helped us make a mistake. Very clever, KillJoy, very clever...

Let's do that again :)

--
00:51 - Knock on Goo

By waypoint 13, my only AF rival Zeke was on League chat already congratulating me on my victory -quite a gentleman during and after the race. Although I was far ahead I was not sure not to have dropped any of the bookmarks myself; I needed to put 5 minutes between us to protect me from penalty time and I was not sure I would manage.

In the meantime, I knocked on goo.

Sure enough, the track was so confusing that penalties rained afterward. Our team mates got so many of them but so did almost everyone else -it almost did not change the results.

Zeke did not get a penalty. He came in 4:40 behind me.

I did not get a penalty either.

As I mentioned before, we won every class of the race, what an amazing start to our season :)

--
00:58 - Join the Gate-Set

ISD reporters have this cool frigate, it's called a Polaris, have you ever seen one up close? They are quite bigger than the usual friggy, they do look cruiser-sized to me... but then again I imagine they must be packed with all sorts of electronics and recording stuff and, who knows, writing staff and watercoolers and anything a reporter may need to cover a story in deep space.

Point is, it is a cool-looking ship. Rumour has it, it is a very special thing to fly as well, can pull a few tricks that no one of us can and has some insane stats. Well, ISD had two of those at the finish line waiting for us. Apparently they were having their very own Rookies & Vets, with veteran race reporter ISD Zachary Zain showing ISD Ashtoth Varlon around the racing scene.

Come to think of it, I have not seen any of these new 'Sleeper' ships everyone is talking about. Now, I think I will and maybe in bunches. But a week ago, I got to see two Polaris frigates flying together.

How cool is that?

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Please be safe

2009-03-11T04:38:00.004-03:00

Like most of you by now, I have watched the news horrified. An entire planet? Half a billion people? Gone?

I can't believe it. The numbers stopped making sense so many zeroes ago. Also, a planet? How do you lose a planet? They say it was a some sort of natural disaster, which is little consolation. Could it have been avoided? Who knows. At least some people got out.

They say, eight degrees of separation is what it takes to reach anyone in the galaxy. You know what, it does not work when everyone is trying to reach everyone else at the same time. Comms went under yesterday morning as news became bleaker and bleaker, and they are not yet back to normal.

I feel secretly lucky that family is OK -got in touch with them already. Doubly so that Paul took that job in Empire instead of going back to his mining op. I found out that Kay, demon and maybe Naka are OK, some of the UC people too but I am concerned about the rest of my friends.

Apparently some in the crew were not as lucky. Thomas, our navigator, warned me he is trying to find out about some relatives and he may not be up to his usual, god bless him. I could notice people going around and dealing with it in their own fashion: some red-eyed, some dragging their feet, slouching shoulders, some simply withdrawing elsewhere inside their minds. I must admit I have never been close to my crews...

I took the Déjà Vu out for a spin. She feels it too. She is not her smooth self, rather lurches forward nervously. Yes, it has to do with the people.

I have work to do. I feel terrible about ISRC having a race scheduled by Sunday. Yah, as if, we can't raise half of the racers and some of the staff. I think this may not be the best time to push it -even if I am OK it may be very selfish to assume everyone else is. I know what to do. Words are not enough but, today, I can offer words and little else.

"Those of you in our staff that have reported relatives or close friends affected by this tragedy: we stand with you. Please know that ISRC will put travel means at your disposal if..."
...
"ISRC will decide as a corporation -no, as a family- what our next steps should be."

I finish the press release and send the holo off, holding back the tears. I hope they are watching the news.

Come on guys, please be safe. Please call, let us know you are out there.

-Q

((Out of character: Please let us know if you survived the patch -especially if you are in the racing scene. I know I did but there are desync issues and god knows how many other problems out there. Some people may have trouble patching, some may need to get shader number five or whatever, some may never come back. The plan today remains the same as last Sunday: to hold race #2 on 15 March.

However, we can swap this race with the next one (exhibition) if you guys think it will be safer; we would still be racing but without scores. Let me know what you think.))

Acropypha... Aphocry... Apoc... Patch Day

2009-03-10T09:12:00.003-03:00

'Nuff said.

By the way, you can go get your very own fix of news events right here!

Racing That

2009-03-09T09:34:00.007-03:00

I still have trouble believing it.

We won.

It is not like, "we won a race," mind you. I am really trying to be polite and not gloat in public, I know there are people reading. Really. Trying. Hard.

But I can't stop smiling every time I think about it.

In a word, our team had a very good Season 7 start. All of us, even our rookiest racers arrived before any of our adversaries. We won every class. I think this is going to change once the times and penalties are known and this will be very hard to repeat, but right now I am savoring the result. The track killed the interceptors' speed advantage and Kay was less than amused (hey, it's not like it was your fault)... yet we made it! I am very, very proud of my team.

But I would not want to gloat. So I better keep quiet, and will come back when the rush has worn off, with a better report and maybe even pics I had a chance to take.

Oh, by the way? I race a Jaguar.

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Racing What?

2009-03-05T04:46:00.002-03:00

After our first exhibition race, the serious competition starts this coming Sunday. This means I drop everything related to track design and hosting and get to race myself. I even forced my brother to resign ISRC, mwa ha ha. La Scuderia is ready, team-mates sort of ready, our competitors seem certainly ready, everyone is ready. Am I ready? Of course not...

I wonder, what should I wear to the party?

On one hand, I could keep going with my interceptor, nowadays the Speed Potion #2. I know her so well... I have raced inties for three seasons now, I have even come up with cool stuff and have ideas to improve. I would be fleet booster from the front -which gives us a faster team. With our kickass inty racers, Kay and Searaph, this makes for a very strong SDS team.

Now, remember that The Tak is Back. Since S4, we have never beaten Takashi's season... maybe the odd race here or there, but not a season. We will need all our team's strengths to beat him and his VRT team... and I make the team stronger if I race inty. And if we carry inties, the other classes benefit as well.

On another hand, I can go race an AF, something that I have never done before. It is all about following others' lead. I do not know AF race fitting, my fleet bonuses would work from the back which I guess is silly. I hate hyper rigs, such a waste of slots, but I would need them. Our team has been traditionally weak on AFs (speed-wise, 'cause our AF pilots can still shoot stuff out of the sky), this would be an opportunity to change that. We would go into FI's and Dirtside's turf. Also, if I do well it is a chance to go for a triple crown: Frigates Champion (S3), Interceptors (S6) and finally AF (S7?), first one ever! If I manage that.

So I was thinking that aloud... so loud in fact that I ended up buying and half-fitting a new racer: Féline Fatale, a Jaguar. It could have been a Wolf with all those low slots, but the Jag is lighter and I think I am more of a cat person. Plus, "I race a Jaguar" has such a nice ring to it.

And so... should I go for the safety of racing an interceptor, for the good of the team, guaranteed fun and a shot at beating the best? Or should I forgo team strength and my own, for a learning experience, possible pain and a shot at personal glory with the AF class?

I wonder...

-Q

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Mapmaker, Mapmaker, make me a Map...

2009-03-03T12:13:00.007-03:00

Mapmaker, Mapmaker,
Make me a map,
Find me a find,
catch me in Catch.
Mapmaker, Mapmaker,
Look through your book,
And make me a perfect map.

"Bad news Quin, Ombey is quitting."

"Om-who?"

"Ombey, the guy who makes maps."

It took a couple of seconds to register.

.

.

Damit, map guy is going away?!

Oh... whatever it is, good luck Ombey.

Maybe he does not know how important he is to everyone. Nah, I do not think so, he has been doing this forever and he must know already how very appreciated his stuff is. It must be something else. Something bigger. Important. Something for himself? That is a good thing then...

In any case, even if you already know or imagine, please let me say out loud how important Ombey has been to us in the racing scene because of his mapwork:

The maps help ISRC lay down the track for each and every race. It is easy to see where each waypoint should go, where the chokepoints are and how to get from here to there.

My racing team studies the region map every week before a race, they get used to the region and names. Spare racers and clones and bookmarks are set up thanks to these. I figure that other teams do the same -and if they don't, they should.

We have the fit crew on comms during the race, with the maps. They are especially helpful during blackouts like, undocking, and on occasion for detours when racing tricky regions (like that stupid Jita race).

And after using the maps for one thing, you can't really go back and do the rest without. Many of us now use the maps for everyday life, to find cool trading spots, to go exploring on a sensible path, to find the best path through dark places. there is no going back!

So we use those maps. A lot.

I can only imagine how much effort went on these; but what is even harder to imagine is how many people you have reached and use your work on a daily basis for whatever different purposes.

So I think this is a better place because of your stuff.

I guess what I am trying to say is... Thank You!

You, sir, have made a difference. Thank you and good luck Mapmaker.

Hugs,

-Q

((OOC, I can only say one thing: take care Ombey, and enjoy. We will all miss you. Two things, actually: don't biomass you character. Oh, three, you are not an 'Om-who' to any of us :P))

I, Clone Part 4

2009-03-01T22:32:00.002-03:00

Part 1: Welcome Back
Part 2: The Goodness of Our Heart
Part 3: The many deaths of Kendar Zek
Part 4: Impostor

Ockham's Razor: The simplest answer is usually the correct answer.

A) Thanks to advances in medical technology, the victim of a degenerative genetic disease can be cloned and cured. In the absence of a full neural backup, external memories can be synthesized and uploaded, giving the patient a new shot at life.

B) It is a scam. Dead people cannot be restored to life without using a capsule.

Kendar had given up on becoming all he was once. It was like trying to become a stranger, the endless study, the neural therapy, the constant forgetting of simple facts. Cloned or not, he would never be whole again. This much he knew.

He had gone back to his old habit of keeping a journal. He found those precious few moments unmonitored and, during those, he tried to keep rack of anything notable. Because it was private, he kept his journal in the same spot he had hidden Coat's wallet.

Then, there was something else, something deeper. He did not know, but he knew that something else had changed. He often found himself wondering if he old Kendar Zek would have done a particular thing the same way he had. Character, was that called character? One thing was his memories and another, his character. How do you save character for later? And, can it be restored? He felt like he had Kendar Zek's memories -some of them, at least,- but not his character.

He felt like an impostor.

Get up, let's go.

On the bright side, he had this treasure trove of memories. If he looked not at how much he had forgotten, but at how much he remembered already, it was fantastic. Flight training, connections in the Federation Navy, a name. He was already privileged to have those. There was no shame in not recovering the rest. He was beginning to feel at ease with himself.

Whatever the holes in his mind were, they were his holes. He would learn to live with them -damned if he couldn't. He already had more than people expect to have during their entire lifetime. He smiled at the thought of steering his life forward rather than back; he would become all he could be -rather than whatever he had been once. He opened the journal at a random page and read.

Who the hell was this 'Ambriel' person? Who had written this in his journal?

His own handwriting stared back at him.

--

Doctor Kraak was rightly concerned about his patient.

The patient should not have any recollection of those issues after the morning therapy. It was normal for him to have questions every day and he did his utmost to answer them, but one of the questions was out of spec.

He dealt with the fiancée question deftly. The best lie always contained an element of truth, so he did not deny anything: "You may have forgotten, but an investigation is underway."

He would have to erase that again. Maybe there was a technical glitch somewhere. How was he remembering what had been erased? Maybe there was an information leak. External? Security would have to be checked.

The next question was poignant but expected and therefore easy to answer. The patient wanted to know if he was going to live. "Mr. Zek, I am afraid I do not have the answer you want. Our technology has limits. We have restored you but cannot cure your genetic condition. We estimate, based on your biological age, that you still have three years of life ahead. On the other hand, this may be enough for a man of your resources to find a solution." Of course Kendar Zek was going to die, who would expect anything less?

The cloning story had had to be carefully prepared and, bullshit as it was, it walked the fine border between a medical clone wonder and bad science fiction. Kraak was not going to commit himself to a more outlandish claim to a miracle gene cure; he simply did not have the expertise.

Lie as little as possible, as consistently as possible to make it believable. Ockham's razor. "We brought your body back just as you were. We are unable to change things." Done. Things were going well.

--

Ken did not betray his surprise. Sugar had told him he was going to live. Coat was telling him, to his face, that he was going to die. To say that something did not quite fit would have been an understatement.

Blog Banter #5: Meet Paul

2009-02-28T07:43:00.007-03:00

This month’s topic comes to us from Mynxee of Life in Low Sec. She asks “Alts and Metagaming: Is playing two accounts who are logged in at the same time and work together (hauler/miner, explorer/combat associate, trade alts in trade hubs) a form of metagaming that is “ruining the game”?”

Meet my brother Paul.

Paul is an alt. He does not know he is one, or he pretends not to know, but I think he is an alt. My alt.

For starters, he has this uncanny ability to show up just in time and do whatever it is that I need. If I am running a mission he may show up to salvage, or to haul. Sometimes he shows up to mine the gravi sites I explore.

I swear, he must know somehow when, where and what.

We are different. He is the quiet one, I am the chatty one. He has got Maman's eyes and I have Papa's -but there is still some resemblance. I joined UC, he went to CAS. But I think that what is amazing is, how different we have chosen to be, how complementary our skills and career paths have become since he returned a year ago... it is as if we intentionally avoided doing each other's stuff, even the stuff we plan for the future! I have given up on research, for example, knowing that he will help me with my blueprints; he relies on me for fast courier runs.

Paul does stuff that I would not touch with a 10 km pole like, mining or refining. Boy, does he know rocks ("we don't call them rocks, Quin, it's ore"). He's got this sick sense of humor; often sends pics of industrial accidents signed 'Wish you were here.' You should see the guy's eyes twinkle when someone mentions hedbergite.

So what if he likes different stuff? The weird thing is that sometimes he will do stuff he does not like such as scouting ahead, joining a corp and I suspect he does not really care about getting podded.

We get along like, well, brother and sister, especially with other people around. I still remember that party at the Victory where my big brother introduced himself to everyone simply as "Mr. Delorois." Jerk. By the end of the evening some of my own friends were volunteering to spill their drinks on his face. Still, he sometimes flies me to events and parties when I have to dress up and can't ride in the pod. Maybe he wants me to hook him up with some of my friends. I have noticed how he looks at Miette...

So, lemme see.
Funny connection, we know what each other knows. Check.
Skill sets complement each other. Check.
He does stuff for me that he does not even like. Check.
Always there. Check.
Yup, an alt. Definitely, an alt.

Hmm. Does having such an amazing connection to someone else -know/complement/help/always- ruin other people's day in space? I do not think so. Everybody has their own connections, team mates, corp mates, brothers and sisters and friends and family. Stronger or weaker connections but, see, at the end of the day it is about people rather than spaceships. If you have people around you, alts or not, you are better off.

Now, it is certainly unfair. But not anymore than having a better spaceship or better modules. Maybe it does ruin life for lone wolf types but, hey, it should be a lesson for everyone to reach out and team up with someone.

So there. Meet Paul, my alt. Oh, and by the way? I introduced him to this metagame, RealLife(tm). Don't tell anyone, but we share a RL account.

Definitely, an alt.

-Q

Participants:

Epic Misadventures, This is my Alt - There are many like it but this one is mine.
Inner Sanctum of the Ninveah, I Missed This Month's Blog Banter!
A Mule in EvE, Meta what? Is it hurting EvE?
Morphisat's EVE Online Blog, Me, Myself and I
One Man And His Spaceship, Me and My Shadow
Ombeve, Blog Banter edition 5
Diving into PsycheDiver's Psyche, CK's Blog Banter #5: Everybody Needs Somebody
Dense Veldspar, Blog Banter
Ecliptic Rift, OOC: Blog Banter #5 Metagaming
The Ralpha Dogs, Me, Myself and I
Mad Rant, "Blog Banter - It's my party, and I'll alt if I want to...."
EVE Chick, The Handicapper General
The Wandering Druid of Tranquility, "...you see mate, it's a matter of leverage, savvy?..."
New Eden Diaries, It's only a game
Oz’s House of the Evil Dead, If You Can’t Ride Two Horses At Once, You Shouldn’t Be In The Circus
Diving into PsycheDiver's Psyche, Everybody Needs Somebody
more to come over the next few days!...

Pssst, ISD

2009-02-26T11:13:00.002-03:00

Haha! Quick note to say that we made the ISD frontpage news.

Thank you so very much ISD, for attending the event and spreading the word :) My name is even there as the "organizer" of all that mess.

However, there is such a thing as a proper form of address. You know, it would have been nice to add something like, "Season 6 interceptors champion Quintrala." I have worked too hard for too long to get here, and I do not think I will be ready to let go of that until someone else takes the title away from my hands.

I am not here just to plan the party and pass the cheetos. D'accord?

;)

-Q

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Racing Rookies

2009-02-25T20:20:00.005-03:00

And the race went well :)

Eight people showed up in T1 frigates, it was actually 3/5 rookies to vets, but I still split them 4/4. I had the rookies play hide & seek with me at the starting line until I decloaked, then whoever was closest got to choose his vet first and so on. Four couples flying on a "blind vet." They had ten minutes to get to know each other a bit, get on fleet and voice and off they went!

Five minutes later I was bored silly. Not much happens on chat while people are racing.

But, I had an advantage - I knew where the track went so I had my, ah, cloaked cam at a nice spot in Egmar, which proved to be the best vantage point for watching the action like I had never seen before, half an hour later.

Oh boy, where to begin? With the fleet of locals that showed up in the middle of our track? Pirate acquaintance Shae mentioned later that Egmar happens to be GIS's base, rather than our track -I think she may have a point there. What about the fleet vanishing minutes before our first racer arrived? And it was the best waypoint ever: I saw Takashi warping in, then Kay and the rest... then Kazuo overtaking them both right there, warping out followed out by Kay and then Tak. You don't see that kind of flying every day (and if you are racing, you don't have time to notice). After all, very nice view.

Kazuo ran a surprisingly good race, he was smart and consistent and even beat Tak to the finish line (Kaz got a 5-minute penalty for a silly mistake, which did not really matter for the standings anyway). Kay came in 3rd and NeonFolf closed the line -he seems to have run slow just to keep pace with his rookie Kira.

Our rookies were amazing. Cai Lun (not really a rookie but, hey) won the race for himelf and Kaz. Dracoknight carried second for Tak, and today I hear he was promptly recruited by Tak's team. Bloodpetal was engaged by... an interceptor? and not only managed to get out alive, but came in just 10 seconds behind Draco. Last but not least, Kira Storm was shot down, but she re-shipped and came back to complete the race. That was probably the best part, to see her finish -as they say, the last person to finish a marathon deserves quite a lot of respect.

In the end I think it was a good race: eight racers out, two hours, eight racers in. I am happy that there were no major disasters with the organizing and hosting. I was just surprised and a bit stressed out by all the time it took me to go through all of it from the organization point of view (8-9 hours all things considered), so I am really looking forward to having KillJoy back to organize. There is a reason I am PR...

Anyway, as a reward, I treated myself with a quick ski trip. It is a shame Mt. Kaala is no longer a destination, I used to love that ;)

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Rookies & Vets

2009-02-22T14:28:00.003-03:00

Everything is set for the Season 7 opening race. It is going to be an exhibition race, which means no scores and no official teams, basically everyone against everyone. With a twist, this time.

Some of the best racers will show up - rumour has it, Takashi coming back to the races; I think this means that VRT will be back in force. If true, this will be an amazing season. I really hope Dirtside will bring their best too.

But for this race, we are also inviting every rookie and potential racer in sight. What we are going to do is we pair rookies and veterans, ideally one and one. They should fleet, voice and race together, with the vet doing his stuff and helping the rookie along. At the end of the race, only the rookies will be scored.

The twist: awards go to the best rookies, and their vets.

So there you go. Our race is today, Sunday 22, in Metropolis. If you are interested, please come along to the "RACING LEAGUE" in-game channel at 19:00 for the pre-race; 20:00 race and we should be done by, say 21:30? Bring a T1 frigate with a microwarp drive, that's all.

--

I have this funny feeling that I am not going to finish the race this time...

Actually, I know for a fact I am not finishing. Haha, I am not even starting! For the very first time, I am running the show... KillJoy is away and so is Miette, so it falls on the PR person to do this (I must admit I also said yes out of curiosity, and not wanting to delay the season anymore)... and now because I am hostess and I know the track, I should not race.

Well, let's see how things look from the sidelines. This should be fun...

-Q

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Racing Spy

2009-02-19T20:51:00.016-03:00

November 109, ISGC Season 4, between races 3 and 4
Somewhere in Sinq Laison...

So I was testing the Poison Apple with her new rig. It was our secret weapon.

After months, we had finally gathered enough salvage for that second T2 polycarboard rig, used the second shot of Prof. Ryder's blueprint and set the fit crew loose on my racing interceptor.

Bye bye flying brick. Hello, gorgeous.

When they were finished she was lighter, therefore faster and nimbler when racing on MWD. Lots. People say Large T2 rigs are overkill, but every second counts and there is only so much that you can do with only two rig slots. You simply must have the best of the best. And there is nothing wrong with a few expensive treats. Mmmm, yes, one little problem: being dirt-poor. But having a kickass interceptor that cost the same as a small gang of battleships is sort of cool :)

It was time to go for a ride.

I eased her out of the hangar and set course to the test track. After a brief chat, Kay, Ken and I were up for it, I was going to try and see how much time I could cut the Auvergne-Renyn-Auvergne run from my 8 minutes and 20 seconds personal record. Also, I'd be watching Kay and I was sure she would be watching me. Race training is a chance to learn and improve.

Now think of it: how cool was that? The owners of the Big Three teams together, rivals chatting away at the test track. Only, Ken showed up in a Tristan and that is not exactly racing material.

A thought crossed my mind. Should I cloak? Too close. Nah, moving beyond range should be enough -MWD, eyeblink, orbit, there. Plus, he'd never shoot me.

But something was nagging me. Something was not right.

We chatted away for a while about stuff and then then Kay and I blasted off; Ken excused himself and had to go.

Eight minutes and fifteen seconds later (yay!), we were back to start another run.

--

Half an hour later we decided to call it quits. She was still faster with her Ares but, hey, I was improving my times and had been still watching her. She gated faster than I did, I rocked on align and approach. I was almost sure she was warping faster too.

Training over, we all ended up in the same chat channel. That's when it got interesting.

We talked about everything and anything and, at some point in time, Ken brought up rigs. Then T2 rigs. Specifically, Polycarbon Engine Housing II's. I complained about being a poor University student with no money -with 30M in the wallet it was completely true; it was because of the stupid price on poly materials but I was not about to say that- then Ken retorted with:

KZ > "Anyone using those things must be filthy stinking rich, or have a really big source of income."

*Dear reader. A distinction must be made now between what was said by a person (quotes), what was understood by the other person (translation) and, in some cases, what was really meant (meta-translation). Enjoy.

Translation*: I know your fitting.

Merde. Right then I knew what had nagging me: he had scanned me and probably Kay too. I simply knew it. Stupid, stupid Quin.

But Ken? He might as well have confessed right there. Why say anything to us? That was silly, in space we were vulnerable but in a chat channel we would pwn him. We would make him feel sorry for that...

Quin > I want T2, all the way :-) still wonder whether a poly/poly or a poly/hyper would be best...
Translation: I don't believe you. Prove it.
Meta-translation: I know you know and I am so going to make you admit to it.

KZ > I know who has 'em and who doesn't, so I'll know when to finally part with the cash.
Translation: Gotcha, and I am not telling you how.

How cute. Keep talking...

Quin > who has them and who does not?
Translation: Bullshit. You don't have a clue. La la la, Ken does not have a clue.
Meta-translation: Come on, tell us. You know you want to.

KZ > That's for me to know.
KZ > ...or not know. There's always the possibility I'm bluffing about my copious intel on rival teams. =P
Translation: I do have a clue, you silly woman. Wait. Damit, I think I am talking too much!

Ha, ha, too late.

Quin > Ken, just curious, are people in your team scanning other racers?
Translation: Boo! You have no secrets. What are you going to do now, come clean or lie to your friends?
Meta-translation: Game ooveer. Hello? You can tell us now.

The moment of truth...

KZ > Just so you ladies know, my intel comes from me. You've both been scanned. Whenever I've had the chance.
Translation: Aaaaah! I confess, I did it!

At that point the rest of the channel was paying attention. Kay was incredibly angry; Gyra, the Racing League organizer, jumped on him and threatened to kick him out of the channel. The point being, scanning during the race was expected and, during the race we would take precautions. But as friends... ouch. Where was the trust? He had taken pictures of stuff we wanted private.

(And before you remind me how stupid I was not to take precautions anyway, I will go and say yes, very stupid. I should have.)

He ended up feeling sorry. He had confessed not only to having scanned us both, but also to posting the results on his racing team's board. He promised to take everything down and make amends.

Moral of the story: read between the lines ;)

--

Within a day, his very own team convened to pass judgment. Before he died (no, no, that's a different story, he was not executed for this), Ken had been the owner of VRT and one of its racers, but Tak was the Captain and held the gavel. According to the team charter (his team has like a zillion rules - mine has one and it is "Have fun") he was reprimanded, suspended for like, two races, and fined ISK 10 million.

Two races. 10 million. And he did not like racing that much to begin with.

Grr. Even a dirt-poor University student can afford 10 million. I mean, paying 5 to get someone's scan is pretty much sale price. He had done it twice. At that price per ticket, even I would do that.

I was angry. And I was going to get back at him.

(continued...)

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Gossip

2009-02-16T20:23:00.001-03:00

It was October, YC 91.

I still remember Eram on my skin, sunlight warm and nice, a big green garden full of grass and trees and a pergola in the back. I was born there.

It was dad's first senior diplomatic assignment as an expert-technical-advisor-whatever-attaché to the Fed consulate to the Sebiestor tribe. We used to live in the expat district among so many foreigners and well-to-do Matari. My first memories are of stuff so alien to most that, well, it is just funny. Like people driving everywhere - sure, you can walk around at ground level but, it is so warm and things so far apart that by the time you get there, you need bug-bite cream and a clothes change. Airco rules. Or, playing with Paul in the mud, actual mud, in our garden without grownups yelling at us. Or, iguanas on the roof basking in the sun - mom once asked what could be done about those and was given a stew recipe, ew.

Totally alien, I tell you.

Anyhow, Paul and I attended this school nearby, the International School of Eram, where all the snobby kids like us would go wearing our little uniforms, learn boring stuff like reading and would go play out once in a while. I met my first friends back there, most of them Matari like Taro and Reba and Fred, and some expats like myself. On days off we would get together, sometimes at my place, sometimes at theirs.

By age four I had noticed something funny. Not a single one of the local kids was coming to my place. There was nothing wrong with the place, mind you. We had a room full of toys and dolls and holos and stuff, and my big brother even had that cool Capitaine Chasseur and the Fed Patrol set. But other than my Gallentean friends, no one else would ever show up. The strangest thing was, everything was nice and happy when I went to their places.

"Maman, why won't they visit with us?" I asked mom once.

She smiled. Did she suppress a giggle? Kids do notice, even if you do not think so "Oh, Catherine, do not worry about that, it is just a silly thing. You can always go play with them at theirs, if you want."

"But, I want to show them my stuff! Like this here my doll Anne and her friends, she never gets to play with my friends. And Taro has always wanted to see Paul's toys, but he will not come over and..."

She frowned a bit "Look, sweetie, there is this little thing called gossip. Do you know what it is?" I shook my head. "Gossip is when one talks to friends and then one's friends go and talk to their friends about the same thing."

I understood at once. "Okay, so the gossip lets us all stay in touch!" :D I had just found a new and very powerful means of communication. I wondered whose friends I could reach with this and all the new people I would meet, cool! I just needed to get myself a gossip and I'd be set.

Mom rolled her eyes. "Well yes and no."

She was being shifty, I knew, she wanted to hide this from me becausethegossipisagrownupthing or youarenotoldenoughforasubscription or something. I put my best face, smiled but stood my ground. "How so? Why? Can I have a gossip too? Please? Please?"

"A gossip is not something you have, it is something you do Cathi," -nobody called me Quin, yet- "You go and gossip with friends of yours, and they will go and gossip with theirs. It is fun but sometimes... it is not as fun."

So that was the problem. Mom then told me how she had learned from her friends, who in turn had learned from their daughters, that Reba had heard a story that went something like this:

They put something weird in the water supply at Gallente homes, so kids grow up to be dopeheads just like their parents.

And Reba was in a position to know. Her father, a chief at the waterworks, sometimes mentioned a mysterious Gallentean-sounding substance called 'Fleury' that went into the water. Our water.

Mom explained that it was called fluoride, silly, and it prevented your teeth from falling out when you grow up; that if parents sometimes acted funny, it was normal. As for the dopehead thing, our great nation is a free nation and people grow up to be dopeheads on their own, if they want to.

"So is Reba right? Is there something in our water?"

"No no, Cathi! There can only be good stuff in the water."

"Then why is Reba lying?"

"She is not really lying, she is just... mistaken. People make mistakes sometimes. She just does not know any better."

Now I know all these things, but back then it was heartbreaking. My friends would keep distance because of something I just knew not to be true. Reba never asked me directly before spreading the story, nor did any of the other kids. I wanted to scream my lungs out at her -I am not a dopehead!- but then screaming is not the most un-dopey thing there is. So instead of screaming, I talked to her the next time, to dispel her fears. Big mistake. She just took it as further confirmation that there was 'good stuff' in the water. How do you talk to people that do not want to hear? Anyhow, although we continued to be friends, she never visited chez moi.

That is how I became acquainted with The Gossip Monster. It bit me and hurt me, and there was nothing I could do but watch. But I would learn to tame it in years to come, oh yes I would. Gossip would never become an obedient pet, nor have I given to every one of Gossip's whim. But we have learned to respect each other.

I hope Reba is OK. It has been ages since I left Eram and we have not kept in touch. I hope she marries a dentist. ;)

Stay tuned. Q.

Girl, interrupted

2009-02-15T13:59:00.009-03:00

((I am sort of two-minded about posting this. Some people, including J., suggest it should be, so...))

Him > Ok, ask me one question, anything and I will answer it for you.

She was leaning back on the wall of the lift, holding down her handbag with both hands and looking at him. Why would he say such a thing? Was he trying to say something?

Something was about to happen.

Her > no, Jude, I will not. I will not ask that one.

She had only one question but she would be damned if she asked it. No, not so much in words. He had pushed her away before and, Gallic self-confidence aside, she was not about to step into that mess to be refused again. He was a mess, his own mess. She still let her eyes ask on her behalf. There would be no harm in that, would there? And she could always deny having said a thing. So she asked.

Her> /emote asks the question nonetheless, with her eyes

He had so many things in his mind. Questions, answers, words. He already had the answer, but just wanted to hear the question. However she was hell-bent on playing the subtlety game, of sending signals to be interpreted. He wanted a word. She wanted to be a puzzle? But Civire do not interpret; Civire do. Or don't.

Him > Damnit Quin, I am a Civire man, I do not do subtle.. out with it.
Her > /emote shakes her head> Welcome in my world.

Something was about to happen.

She closed her eyes. He leaned forward.

Something happened. The lift doors opened, letting all the magic out but leaving the startled two inside.

Opening her eyes, she quickly dissolved the distance between them, then hesitated... it had to be him, not her. How would she know the answer, otherwise?

((You bet something happened. After our second disconnect of the evening, the lights at his place went out totally killing RP. Going with the flow... half of that happened on evemail. Now, that sucked. Worst possible timing.))

I, Clone: Part 3

2009-02-15T09:46:00.005-03:00

Part 1: Welcome Back
Part 2: The Goodness of Our Heart
Part 3: The many deaths of Kendar Zek

Kendar had died before, several times. Like many capsuleers, he had been killed in space, safely awakening as a pre-arranged clone with his memories intact. He had also, like many of Intaki descent, been reborn a new man, to the mixed blessings of pain forgotten. But unlike many people, he had found fiery death in a sun and ultimately, peaceful oblivion in his sleep.

Death was not new to him.

His answer was always the same: get up, let's go.

Kendar switched the desk off and straightened up. Enough for the day. He had recovered fifty million ISK already, mostly from the DNA-authorized deposits. He had spent eight hours plugged in dreaming and studying his own life, passion and deaths. Apparently he had a knack for getting killed and losing his mind, so in some way it was comforting to know he had gone through the same recovery ordeal before, and survived. Sort of.

It was a month already since waking up as a clone, and Kendar had dutifully followed his daily regime. Morning therapy, a couple of hours at the machine, then study the dossier, lunch. An afternoon nap to let his brain rest and sleep to weave his newfound memories back onto his rag of a brain. After the nap, he would work until evening therapy, dinner, free time, sleep.

Now, work entailed putting his frayed memory to use. He would interact with the outside world based on what he remembered. Baby steps, had recommended Coat.

The impersonal was easy; talking to banks and people who did not care whether he was Ken Zek, King Khanid or the Spirit of Emperors past. He would just provide DNA proof and they would be happy.

It was harder to talk to people who cared. Secor, usually as together as two peas in a pod, almost broke down at first when he saw him on the holo. That was shortly before becoming impossibly defensive -who could blame him, anyway. He had not spoken to Takashi yet. Maybe he had read the news on the forums, but talking face-to-face was what mattered.

The hardest part was the unexpected. People that Ken was supposed to care deeply about: there were none that he remembered, nothing in the dossier. Yet names of strangers kept popping up as he talked to people he knew.

"Have you talked to Ambriel?" had asked someone.

Ken did not have a clue who that was. Her name was not in the file, not a single reference and -surprise, surprise- he did not remember. So he got her contact and tried calling her next. Five minutes later, an uncontrollably sobbing woman had hung up on him.

Fiancée? How could they have missed that?

--

Doctor Kraak looked at the monitors, then back at the call reports. Kenny was progressing as expected. Of course he would hit a snag here and there, something unexpected would pop up once in a while. Nothing that next morning's therapy could not fix.

For Kendar's peace of mind, they had had a Talk. Not unlike a father-son talk, he smiled, the child needed careful guidance. He had warned Kendar that not everyone would receive him with open arms; some would be distrustful, some openly hostile. He should keep in mind that his recovery was supposed to be distressing for others. Very.

Now, there were unscrupulous people in the world. Some would even go as far as to try to get advantage over him, claiming some sort of privileged relation of friendship or, god forbid, love. He should beware of any long-lost cousin, flame, attorney, fiancée or wife. Oh, one had popped up already? And not in the dossier? It could be real or it could be a scam. Better be careful about that. It would be investigated, of course, he promised.

And promptly forgotten, tomorrow first thing in the morning.

Kraak's attention went back to a more mundane issue; where had he put his wallet?

--

Kendar had spent too much time without a drink. He needed a drink.

Heck, he needed a woman.

He had been disappointed not to find 'Kendar Zek's little black book' in the dossier. That would have been grand, not just because of the fun but because it could probably help him remember. He noticed that small shift in his priorities and welcomed another piece of himself back home. In any case, not all was lost. He called out to the comms and asked for the 'S' screen - Sugar...

No, wait. 'M' screen, Martens.

She had turned him down already so many times, saying she could be Nurse Martens, honey, and nothing else. But unruly patients happened once in a while. Kendar would not take 'no' for an answer, the next day he would be back and be twice as charming. By now, he had a feeling he was getting really close...

"Call Martens."

Get up, let's go.

--

They laughed as they reached her door.

"That was fun!"

"Yes. I can't remember when was the last time I had so much fun. And I mean it," he grinned, as he pulled her closer to him.

She looked at him "I think I should go now. Goodnight, Ken, and thank you."

No night cap? No way. "You heartless woman, you are killing me. I don't think I will survive," he said in mock pain.

"Of course you will, silly..."

It suddenly hit him. "Actually now that I think of it, I am dying. I was ill, I am only back for a while, am I not?" he asked, this time honestly.

"No, you are not. Did he not tell you? You are not going to die on us," she replied with a smile.

It was an innocent statement and, while technically true, she would not realize the seriousness of the mistake until too late. He would not die.

He was surprised.

She then stood on the tip of her toes and kissed him.

More political rants, and...

2009-02-11T16:49:00.008-03:00

Échecs is an Amarrian game of strategy. It is played on a square board divided in 64 tiles, where two opposing but equal armies fight.
The Amarr call it Chess.

I have dropped by the Daredevil'ls Lounge a few times since that discussion, and I have met that Amarrian militia commander twice again.

The first time was so very brief - she was walking in as I was walking out, on my way to a study all-nighter. Somehow she managed to convey an entire evening of nasty in a couple of sentences, it is amazing how she can turn the slightest word back on you as a blunt weapon.

Wanting to part on a different tone, I turned around and, ah, challenged her to this game which I learned in high-school when I was living in the Empire -I will tell you about that some other day. Our little game started with:

White: Pawn to fourth Queen's

She just looked at me, surprised. I thought it would be nice gesture? I mean, she should feel right at home, non? Chess is an Amarrian game. It has Bishops.

The next time we met, she had an unexpected answer to my gambit:

Black refuses to play chess. It is a game for her true Amarrian betters.

Apparently, being Khanid, she is either not supposed or not allowed to play. (Clever move by the way, had she not she clarified which betters, I would have had a field day, right there.) What does race have to do with what you are allowed to play, and with whom?

White suggests that, if Black is not allowed, naturally she should try the game in secret.

Haha! Okay, I must admit I sort of intentionally over-do the Gallentean airhead thing when she is around and I know, I know, this probably strengthens whatever stereotype she has of us. It also drives her nuts. Sorry girls, but you should really see the faces she makes! I am térrible...

Black so chastises White for her lack of proper manners :)

I think that what she was actually trying to say was actually "We are all slaves. We know our place, and so should you." Whichever way you take it, it is nothing but sad. Talk about reinforcing stereotypes.

White orders a drink and so does Black.

It was a draw.

Nonetheless the the evening went on, others joined and we all discussed other stuff including checkers -which she can play,- racing and wine, while enjoying some nice drinks at the bar. The point was, you can actually have a conversation with an Amarrian, in spite of all the differences.

I think I even got some cheer out of her as I left.

--

On a different note, Jude was at the bar and offered to walk me out to the flight deck. Again. I do not know what is wrong with him, but I think we may have just airlocked a relationship. Not that there was much of one anyway. Oh, well... No regrets.

Racing Blind

2009-02-08T12:23:00.022-03:00

October 109, Season 4, ISGC race 2
Mehatoor gate, Raa system

"They are in local!"

They piled on the window. The gate crew at the constellation border had been hoping for this all day. No matter how good the ISGC holo feed was, nothing beat the view out the window, that simple fact that they were there looking at the ships playing tag among the stars and not a computer-generated image floating in your living room or your office. You never knew in advance, you could only hope the race would come your way... but now it was a fact: they had track-side seats.

"Guys he is on scan, he is on scaaan! 14 AU and closing... wow, that was fast!" The scan operator ran towards the rest of the group gathering at the observation ports. The windows had barely enough space for everyone.

Outside, a Malediction-class interceptor slowed down from warp as its AI silently negotiated with the tower, retracted its camera drone and jumped through the gate.

Takashi Kurosawa was in the lead.

---
On board the Poison Apple

It had been a good race so far, my best since switching to the interceptor class. Tak was still in local, which meant he had 40 seconds lead or less on me. I had seen Else warp off just some... 5 seconds ahead of me? I could close that. Maybe not. Second or third place, huh? Not too bad.

Plus, I was going to beat the champion. Kay was nowhere near us. Yet.

---
ISGC holo feed

"And here he comes, we have a live feed on the far side, the gate in Mehatoor, and we can see Kurosawa warping off to the last waypoint of this race. I must say, Doug, this looks to be a great start of the season for the Venture Racing Team!"

"Yes, Bob, he is not only doing very well himself, but they have managed to recruit top pilots too. Remember Elsebeth Rhiannon was one of the original veterans back in Season 1. And speaking of her, we have some gating information coming in..." Twenty seconds after the lead racer had left, the gate flashed twice jumping an Ares and then a Malediction through.

The Ares aligned to the star, then floated motionless in space.

"Can you explain to our viewers, Doug, what is happening to Rhiannon's ship, is she having technical difficulties?"

"She is not having trouble, Bob, she is actually waiting for team captain Kurosawa to approach and tag the waypoint; she will then lock onto his beacon and warp directly on top, saving approach time. This is the 'warp train' maneuver and, by the looks of it, VRT has made good use of it this race."

As if on cue the Ares racer came to life and warped off; the holo focused on the Malediction drifting in space.

"Doug, we see now Catherine Delorois, last season's frigates champion, in a close fight with Rhiannon for second place today. What is she doing now? Is she too waiting for a beacon?"

"Bob, I believe she is in trouble..."

---
On board the Poison Apple

My heart sank as I tried the map again, then the cam with no luck. I still had my overview but the rest or the view was noise.

Waypoint fifteen was at a star, so I had switched to solar system view right before gating. The idea was, it would save me a couple of seconds on the far side as I warped directly on the map, instead of having to look for the star using the camera. You have no idea how wasteful it is to look for a star with the cam and I so wanted that second place.

Yet, using the cam instead of the map was exactly what I should have done.

Somehow, on the far side the solar system map was dead, the drone cam was dead, the map was dead, everything but the overview. I could move and approach and warp anywhere... Anywhere but the star. My racing overview does not have stars on it.

"Searaph I'm blind, guide me!"

He sounded surprised on comms "Say again, Quin?"

"I can't see the star, I can't warp to it!" I answered in frustration.

"Look for the big bright thing in the middle."

Ha, ha. Funny. "I can't see, something is broken, everything is broken! How far out are you?"

"Right behind you Quin, on my way."

---
ISGC holo feed

"See, Rhiannon was waiting for the VRT point man to tag the waypoint. Delorois is Scuderia Caille's point right now so she has no one to lock onto. We cannot say what kind of trouble she is experiencing, but a spike in comms for the Caille team suggest it is, in fact, a technical issue."

"Doug, we cut to a live feed from the finish line, where Kurosawa is about to dock."

---
Raa gate, Mehatoor system

The wounded Malediction tumbled, slowly.

The control tower crowd hollered. A fan with a green Caille tree hat screamed "You go, Go, GO, show them! Allez Caille!" It was agony. At least the guys on the other side had seen a good show and a chase; on this side they were witnessing a wreck floating in space.

The gate flashed twice again. A Claw decloaked, aligned and warped in the direction of the Star, followed closely by a blue-gold-red Dragonstar Ares. Some fans started to quietly move away from their vantage window spots, shaking their heads.

---
ISGC holo feed

"And that was Kayleigh Jamieson of Dragonstar Racing Team, just overtaking Delorois who is now in the fourth, no, fifth place. I cannot believe this! I repeat, the reigning interceptors champion, Jamieson, has recovered to overtake Delorois and is now going after Searaph for the last waypoint! I wonder what is wrong with Caille?"

"Bob, we may at this point say that she is having major technical issues. It is not normal, nor safe for a racer to stay at a gate for so long, close to low security space. Clearly the Scuderia captain has had a major breakdown."

"I will remind our viewers that Catherine Delorois, piloting ship number 17 on your holo, has recently switched from racing frigates to interceptors. This is her third interceptor race, and likely the third race in a row that she fails to achieve podium. Doug, do you think she is out of her depth? Was it a mistake for her to switch to the interceptor class?"

"It is way too early in the season to say and this is definitely going to hurt her scores, but let's give her the benefit of doubt. Racing interceptors is not the same thing as racing frigates and many pilots learn this the hard way. And I have to say, this looks like one painful lesson."

"Do you think she has any chance to recover that third place?"

"No, not at this point. She will be lucky if she is able to finish at all..."

---
On board the Poison Apple

"Searaph at waypoint in five," he said, "Kay is here."

"Whatever, warping now," I said, "let's hope you are at the can." Okay, being beaten by the champion was one thing, but I could not let the rest of them do that too. It would be too much for a race that good. That had been that good... Floating inside my pod, I crossed my fingers.

Warp, warp warp warp. Warped.

I landed right on top of the waypoint can. Approach, open, password, orbit and wait. While I waited, the comms confirmed that both Tak and Else were docked. So quick? Oh, finish station must have been in that very system.

My overview blinked as both Kay and Searaph warped off. Her, then Searaph. You go girl, good for you. Bummer for my team. Searaph would have beaten her if not for my glitch but, as it were, she was beating the crap out of both of us.

---
Mehatoor I - Ministry of Internal Order Logistic Support

The after-race cocktail was livelier than ever, everyone chattering was still riding that adrenaline high, gesturing with their hands high in the air and laughing. It had been a very close finish, upsets occurring from start to finish and podium had not been decided until the last moment. Indeed, we lost third place to Dragonstar by a mere three seconds. Venture beat us by a full two minutes. One of those minutes was my fault.

Caille techs would confirm later that my camera drone hit the CONCORD billboard as it was called back early, starting some sort of failure cascade within my pod. CONCORD would bill us for billboard damage. Two plus two... Never call solar system map right before the gate.

But right then, the race was just over and we had beaten half a field of pros. We were doing well but it could have been better. It would be better. Pushing the race aside in my mind -it was time to enjoy the evening- I got ready. People wanted to meet the face of the newbie team, some wanted to rub salt on the wound and one, one probably wanted to hit on me. Before anything else, I looked across the room to find my friend and adversary's gaze, raised my glass of Auvergne and smiled warmly.

Good race, Kay. But I am totally going to get you, sometime...

---
ISGC holo feed

"This is Doug Chevalier."

"And this is Robert Bouchard, signing off. Don't miss the race report this week, and see you all next race for the Industrial exhibition event!"

Racing Series
See what happened before
See what happened next

All your base are belong to no one

2009-02-06T10:50:00.005-03:00

By now, everyone has heard the news.

BOB, the meanest alliance in the cluster, has been dealt a mortal blow by Goonswarm, the biggest alliance in known space. No, not mortal. Huge, but not mortal.

Thousands of pilots are involved. Corporate theft, espionage, sabotage, backstabbing, all-out fighting. Evacuations to safety, defections, brave last stands, a desperate rush in defence of an empire just fallen. Barbarians at the gates. A chance of rebirth. Enemies gathering to move in and conquer -will they spread too thin? Allies in panic. Scavengers move in like vultures to pick on remains that belong to no one. Things will be theirs... or maybe no one's. Scorched space.

It's war. What's going to happen?

It is up to them, the pilots. It's about the people, not the spaceships.

((The more I think of it, the more it looks like a player-driven game expansion.))

Go with the flow.

Change.

Now, go play ;)

One month blogging

2009-02-05T19:45:00.001-03:00

So I am still here, one month after starting to blog.

So far, loads of fun, and many interesting people around. This being my first blog also, so I have been learning stuff. I have found that my original fears of not having anything to write about were unfounded... if anything, I think I am posting a bit too much, a bit too fast. I need to slow down.

Then again... slow down?

I am happy I have eight followers already, it is cool to see people finding this little blog of mine interesting enough to look at. Can you guys make anything out of my babbling? I promise to get the caffeine squirrel thing under control.

I am making friends in the blogo-sphere. We chat here and there, exchange blog comments, and I get to stick my foot in my mouth once in a while. Sorry about that.

It's also a good thing that I am setting my ideas in order. See, I usually have several movies playing in my mind at the same time, some of them in EVE, and have never had a good outlet to set them free. Lagged in Odotte was a favorite idea I never wrote until now (based on a real life drama), as are the Ken Clone stories (what happens when a clone goes wrong? These will be especially fun to those who know Ken -for those who don't, Ken was actually biomassed- and actually I discussed the idea with him some time ago. Keep watching, part 4 brings the goodies). I am a sucker for clones.

Some of the stuff I am posting is older and originally posted elsewhere (Wildcards, Shipswitch). I will eventually run out of these but I think these belong here as well, to explain background, and just in case some forums go down.

Hmmm, I think I am posting too much fiction, and it's all over the place. I need to do something about that. More 'now,' less 'then' or 'what if.'

New month resolutions:

Pace myself. Higher quality, lower volume.
Save the best for later.
Damit. I need to play, and roleplay more.
No more caffeine for the squirrel.

Anyhow, I think I will stay, so any advice for improvement would be totally welcome, and rewarded with undying gratitude.

Cheers! -Q

I, Clone: Part 2

2009-02-04T17:13:00.008-03:00

Part 1: Welcome Back
Part 2: The Goodness of Our Heart

Kendar Zek died in April 110. He had been diagnosed with a degenerative disease, and there was nothing that could have been done. No treatment, no med clones, no Intaki rebirth would bring him back. Because he had been a gentle and orderly man, he died as he had lived: he said goodbye to his dearest friends, distributed his considerable wealth and finished his business. He was grateful that death had announced herself in advance, for he would leave a legacy worth keeping alive. Death would be forever this time. Or so he had been told...

And one good night, he passed away in his sleep.

"Please sign here, here and here," said Coat, pointing at forms on the tray. He knew already that his name was Kraak but to Kendar, somehow, he would always be the Coat.

Kendar read the forms, smirked and tried to sign. He tried once. He tried again. After a few more tries he gave up saying "I can't, I do not remember how to sign my name." It was a week after he had woken up in the clone vat and he still had trouble remembering some things. He read the forms again:

I, Kendar Zek, am awake and self-aware.

Coat clarified, "do not worry, this is just a formality. We just need your gesture, the statement is just a legal requirement as you are not expected to posses all your faculties yet. Keep in mind what matters, we have your DNA print and it matches the one in our contracts. We will look after you."

"Why is it that I do not remember?"

The doctor -had he rolled his eyes just there for a second- explained yet another time. "Your situation is special. We went through great lengths to bring you back. We are very proud of it, mind you... medically speaking, you were not supposed to be alive."

A memory stirred within Kendar. "Wait... I was sick, wasn't I? There was no coming back..."

"But you are back. We had a contract with you, and we are on track to meet our obligations." Coat was beginning to sound enthusiastic. "Never give up on technological advance, I say."

"Contract?"

"There is a disaster recovery contract to your name."

Coat explained how it was not a regular clone operation. The contract had been triggered the day Kendar's death was announced in the news; how agents had scoured the cluster for material, information and memories. They had found four discarded medclones, assorted biomass, news clippings and -bingo- corrupted snippets of pod emergency comms. A new body had been grown, partial memories recovered, a neural image prepared and uploaded.

Unfortunately, the best material had been three years old and synthesized memories had to fill the gaps in an image full of holes. As a result, the clone would not quite hold all of its former memories, something that was all too familiar to careless capsuleers.

"You are in an imperfect vessel, if you will, so you will find trouble keeping up," Coat had warned.

Therapy would help him recover to a comfortable level and, for the rest, study would have to do.

It made sense.

Coat was clearly enjoying himself with the story by now, a glimmer in his eye telling on him. "We have brought you back to life, we have provided you with learning implants, we have prepared dossiers for you to study your own life and help you remember. Basic quarters and sustenance have been arranged."

Ken felt fortunate. Fortunate indeed that his old self had been so cautious, fortunate to be in such capable hands, fortunate to be alive. "Gee," Ken said, "thank you so very much." So fortunate, that he wondered what the catch would be. He teased Coat with a bit of sarcasm, "I wonder if I will ever be able to repay you."

"There will be enough time to worry about the issue of payment. As you claim back your life we are confident this will be taken care of, so do not worry. Our first priority is helping you get better."

Kendar's eyes opened wide. Resurrection without guarantee of payment? What if he did not pay? What if he did not want to come back to begin with? Well, he did, but he wondered if he could use that in court. Ken smelled money.

Coat saw the question in his mind, smiled wryly and warned, "We did not do this out of the goodness of our heart, Mr. Zek. We have a contract. With you. As a business opportunity this is worth almost half a billion to us, an amount that you can easily afford as you once told me yourself. You made your down payment years ago so we are confident that when, not if, you recover your life and your assets, we will all be satisfied."

"So I owe you money?"

"You owe us your life. What is money in this case?"

Good question. How much? Better question.

Shipswitch

2009-02-02T13:10:00.006-03:00

UC Odotte
August 109. Season 3, less than an hour before ISGC race 10.

So I dropped by the hangar where everything was ready for the ISGC race, as usual, but the lights were off. Unusual. "Lights on!" I called, expecting to see my shiny golden arrowhead of a frigate. And on they went...

o.O

She's GREEN?! And slimey green at that? What the flap? Someone's idea of a joke, to paint my ship before the race? The final race of a perfect season?

And where was the wall? You know, the front right armor, the part left exposed to the hallway so anyone at UC could walk up and write a message? "Beat an inty, undying respect," "Speed Fairy!" "Good girls go to Lumi, bad girls go to 0.0, have fun!" But the wall was shiny, polished and smooth... My messages were gone.

"Braaaaaaax!"

The lights on the perch went on and his voice came through the system "ah, Quin... look closer s'il vous plaît." There were actually several people up there, giggling and pointing. Well, here is your close look, you fat Mannar joker, before I climb and push you out that window.

"Mirror mirror," I said, "systems check." The answer came back in contralto instead of baritone. -Aura? Why hello, it has been a long time - do not get too comfy, I will have you erased again in no time- No modules. No rigs. She was as good as packaged.

She is... not... my ship?

Breathed in. -Relax- She actually looked different, here and there. Fins and thrusters and circuitry. Sort of evil and menacing. Then I spotted this little green triangle and some words. "Khanid Innovation." She was an interceptor.

"What...?" The room erupted with laugther. "SURPRISE!!!"

"Quin, meet ze Tsiap-tsiap, a Malediction class interceptor. Wiz ze compliments and ze personal note from Monsieur Asabona himself."

"Asa-who?"

"Ganortchar Asabona, ze CEO of Khanid Innovation, zinks UC racing a Malediction hull would be 'mutually beneficial,' seeing how you have done such a good job on ze Executioner..."

"Oh. Cool..." A crazy plan was spinning in my head. Fifty minutes to race start and I was 20 jumps away. -Please Quin, do not do anything stupid- "And, say, how long would it take you to fit her?" -Stupid, stupid... you are about to finish a perfect frigate season, unbeaten, and want to risk flying an interceptor? Ah, but would it not be even more perfect if, by any chance, I actually win this one?

"We have your modules and can improvise rigs, mais not your favourites exactly... Look, we just wanted to show you zis but did not intend to..."

Here is to doing stupid things for fun. "Naah, go for it! And while you guys are doing that, blank that ugly name and get me some red colouring. This should be fun..."

On the news the following day...

Quintrala, individual frigate champion and perky Gallentean redhead, startled the audience when she emerged in an ominous green Malediction.

Me and my Poison Apple came in 5th place. Every possible mistake to make, I made. She was way too fast. I mis-warped. She would not handle waypoint approaches as gracefully as A Wing and a Prayer. I missed my frigate. That interceptor handled like a brick. -Together, we suck!

But we can smooth out the rough edges. She will be fast and nimble, I will learn to cope with the speed. We have time ahead. An entire new racing season, in a different class.

It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship... ;)

Racing Series
See what happened next

January Blog Banter: Opportunity or Burden?

2009-01-30T09:09:00.006-03:00

Ah, goodie, there is a Blog Banter this month. I do not really know how it works, do I need an invite? I will be inviting myself anyway, and out of character at that.

Firstly, hi Manasi, nice to meet you!

Manasi asks “How do we, EVE bloggers, adapt to changes as they are thrust upon us (speed changes, no more ghost training, all the dev blogs, etc), or as our lives make playing the game different (more time, less time)?”

Quoting from some of my favorite SF series (you get to guess which two), "you can see it as a burden, or as an opportunity." And it is not coincidence, it's fate: changes will always bring a new edge, that you can use -how? It will depend on what you do.

For me, a woman of market, racing and roleplay-lite, I choose to see change as a good thing.

It begins when the change is announced. It is always nice if it is announced, because then you can prepare. CCP will say:

Stuff is going to change, blah blah blah, the following modules are going to suck, and there shall be cool new internet spaceships to play around with.

This means I have to study. If some modules are going to suck, then which ones are going to rock? What are the new spaceships? Where will the blueprints sell? So, step #2 is to follow the news, read other people's blogs (Kirith Kodachi's for example) or to follow the advice of better informed friends (hi demon!). I even logged into Sisi once, because I wanted to know how speed changes would kill my polycardboard-rigged ships.

Then, have a plan, prepare for the change. Scheme, think new tactics, buy modules, stock up on the market (you do not need to be able to fly that battleship to buy it low before and sell it high after...). Go meet the Thukkers, 'cause they are going to have Nomad implants in a few months; get LP with the Sisters. Make new friends in the vicinity of the new regions you want to explore. Go take a snapshot at silly speeds before they slow down. Do your last gate ganks (hi Lucas!). Train skills up so you can drive an Orca, or overheat, or get stoned with the new boosters as soon as they are available.

When the big day comes, regardless of you planning or not, things will be messy but promising. You still have an edge and it will depend on how fast you adapt. Market PvP will be crazy for a few days, but there is lots of ISK there. People out in space will be learning for a few more days, you can spook them with the new scrambler super-powers. So if you are first to market, or first out the dock with the new stuff, you have that edge. Go use and abuse and enjoy it!

Finally, some of the best is the RP that comes with changes. OOC I had a blast reading the news when Empyrean Age was done, IC I was worried sick about my parents in Lumi while I was stranded with the Thukkers, of all people. It was up to CCP to bomb the planet they lived in, they didn't so they lived; I did not join FW, went peacenik instead and since then I have IC-tried to talk my friends out of the war. Lots of RP fun, to see the patriots not figure out what to make of your politics. Speed nerf was tricky, you can't really explain it well in IC.

I guess what I am trying to say, changes bring outside influences to your character. Use them, go with the flow and, if you are daring enough, let the world make decisions for you and then play with the consequences. Come to think about it, the same goes for the modules and ships - outside influences, go with the flow and play with the consequences.

So there, I choose to see change as an opportunity to plan, play and roleplay.

Curtsy, end of banter. Cheers!

Updated: forgot to mention RealLife(tm), but I guess the same applies. Best is when RL changes announce themselves so you can plan, play and roleplay. I once went on vacation to Lag-Lag Land; in the weeks before that we linked with another race team and started to covertly cooperate -imagine Ferrari and McLaren together- so by the time I was away and my season ruined, my team still did OK thanks to Kay. And then we went with the flow, eventually RPing a merger.

Now as for life-changing RealLife(tm) events, like the "Credit Crunch" expansion and RL consequences, I'm ready. I will let you know.

Curtsy, end of banter. Really ;)

Vroom, vroom

2009-01-28T17:59:00.003-03:00

Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines!

We finally got our act together and racing season 7 is about to begin! If you look at the right hand side of this page, the racing calendar should be filling up with the dates, and later with the race locations.

Some interesting stuff this time around:

Rumour has it, Takashi is coming back. He is the Interceptors twice-Champion of S4 and S5 and the cornerstone of the VRT team. The only time anyone beat them was when Takashi stopped racing in S6.

My team, Scuderia Dragonstar, is going very strong and we are ready to defend our S6 win.

No news about Cristina. She is that Sansha girl that shows up a couple of races per season, wins each one in a ship that is supposed to be the opposite of fast, then goes away. Freaky.

We are going to ask for trophies, again. This is silly, if you ask SCC they point you to CONCORD, talk to CONCORD and they say ISD, talk to ISD and, you guessed it... SCC. WE WANT REAL TROPHIES!

Still some changes to come, I think with scores. We will see what happens.

There may be a pre-season race on 1 Feb for rookies to have fun with the vets and learn the moves. Maybe, maybe not -too close.

Party on 8 February 111 at the "Daredevil's Lounge" in-game chat channel. We are starting the season in style!

Update: party has been pushed until 15 February 111. Better avoid being pre-empted by the Alliance tournament, n'est-ce pas?

I, Clone: Part 1

2009-01-27T20:44:00.008-03:00

Welcome Back

The man in the vat stirred as a mash of memories made its way through his subconscious -darkness, scuffle, yelling, people, dark, alley. Clone restoration was supposed to be an everyday procedure, but this one was different -death, sadness, goodbye, team, Victory. Something did not quite fit -reborn, determination, friends, justice. He opened his eyes and could see shapes beyond the vat -sun, fiancée, allure, academy, slave, amarr. Detecting his distress, the vat mercifully shut him off.

Upload: 10% complete. It would take an entire month.

"How do you feel?" asked a soft voice.

He croaked, and was surprised at the sound of his own voice. Trying again, he managed to answer "like shit."

"Good! It means that we are feeling something, and it also means that we are on our way to recovery."

His head hurt and every single part of his body ached. His ears whistled, his head floated in the air, things moved slowly while his own mind was a mess of hastily arranged memories. His brain was tired, as if he had spent a couple of centuries awake. He opened his eyes.

She saw his confused look. "You have to sleep, hon. You are allright and will get better but, right now, you are very tired and we must get you some rest."

What had happened? His thoughts changed faster than he could chase them. He looked at her, then looked around, dazed. With some effort, he could actually focus enough on his surroundings. He was lying in bed in a white room, the nurse standing at his side -how was that side called, right or left?- medical equipment in the room, monitors, subdued beeps pummeling his ears, a door in that corner. A lab coat standing at his side, with a man inside... he looked back at the nurse, attempted a smile but failed.

But she did smile back, and that sweet smile would become his first memory for quite a while. Hello Sugar...

The Coat spoke "I am Dr. Kraak, this is Nurse Martens. First of all, you are in good hands and will make a full recovery. Can you tell us your name?"

The patient looked at him, blankly. Name? Name, name, namenamename... He looked at Sugar, then back at Coat. He had not studied that. That, that was forgotten, irrelevant, lost... But this was an important question, a test of character. He did not want to fail. He focused, then something was on the tip of his tongue. Ken.

"Ken... dar. Ken, dar, Zek. Am Kendar Zek"

The Coat smiled widely "Excellent! Congratulations on a miraculous restoration." He nodded to Sugar who, relieved, entered a code into the bed monitor.

As the patient felt the warm embrace of sedatives, he heard one last thing before falling asleep.

"Welcome back, Mr. Zek."

Political rant

2009-01-26T16:40:00.004-03:00

I once met a man from Amarr,
in the strangest of places - a bar,
they served him a beer,
he replied with a sneer:
"I would rather look from afar."

I met a very interesting person the other night at the Daredevil's Lounge, a commander with the Amarr militia who was with a friend of mine. She shall remain unnamed, for now.

Pleasantries and unpleasantries were exchanged. She sort of made it a point to be rude to almost everyone else in there -she seems to be so very in touch with her phobias. Anyway, things settled down a bit and we had a chance to lament together the killing of innocents, toast to peace and keep chatting.

Eventually conversation went back to politics, onto the "chosen ones," and how it is the natural order of things for one to serve one's betters, yadda yadda yadda, how everyone has his place in God's plan, and how in a couple of centuries everyone will be happy, or else. You know, the typical Holder rant, but the rude version. So I told her how I totally understood that, and that tale about the chosen ones. I think that took her by surprise. The thing is, I truly think some people are chosen and that she is one of them. And it makes me feel so sad for her...

I mean, you go girl. Stand up. Be chosen. Let whoever is in charge tell what to do, you little lemming...

Objects are chosen. If someone wants to pretend she is a chosen cabbage, sitting on the premium shelf looking down on the hydroponics and telling them what to do, I don't really mind. But to push people around and be rude because they won't play veggie with them? It is so difficult to understand, to feel proud of being a thing.

Me? I will be over there with the "choosy ones," any time. I told her, see, where I come from, people from different worlds, with different stories to tell, skills to sell and goals so dissimilar... these people stick together because they choose to, every day. Not because someone is sticking a gun to their face.

That's what makes my people exceptional -our diversity and the fact that we have chosen a common destiny. We may have our differences, but that's what happens to discerning adults who make choices - they do not agree every single time. But the day -and there have been days- when we speak with a single voice? Run for the hills...

Chosen ones? Pffft. Beware the choosy ones.

Anyhow, even if she did not seem to listen I must confess I sort of enjoyed it. How... different. I wonder if I will be meeting her again.

Sunglasses

2009-01-22T19:49:00.010-03:00

There is something about the hustle and bustle once you land planetside. This is so especially true in Minmatar worlds...

We were going to the beach.

During the shuttle ride from station down to one of the beautiful Mioar islands in Pator, I had managed to leave my handbag behind. It was likely to be delivered at the hotel anyhow, but that would take hours and, no way I was going to wait inside. So it was off to the small market to get some basics!

The market, a collection of houses on stilts, was a short walk away from the hotel but an entire world apart. It was totally not the aluminium-clean feel of a station, nor was it held together by duct tape; it did not have that phony plastic feeling of the many foreign-owned hotels around. It was real, in its smoky, noisy, messy way, it was totally real. And, real people too, hurrying here and there, letting you know with their elbows that you are on the way, or with their pickpocketing fingers that you have too much money.

Anyhow, no handbag? No problem.

Seafood here -how could there not be?- a row of 'restaurants,' each one roughly the size of your closet. "iced tea, iced tea, would you like some iced tea?" (let me tell you it is not tea and definitely not iced -it is just their way of selling moonshine without a permit. Not that anyone cares anyway.)

Souvenirs of all kinds, wooden, plastic, you name it; relics "this is one of the last remaining from before the Amarr came! Two for one ISK!" hats for the sun that were such a big hit with us foreigners, tannin pills -got my own, thankyouverymuch. And sunglasses, that is what I was after.

"Get you rule-100 sunglasses here! Get your rule-100... lady, how about the coolest sunglasses you have ever worn?"

You have to admit, if there is one icon for the Brutor people from Mioar, it's got to be the sunglasses. It is not just the cartoons and the movies, not the stereotype, it's... it's real! Half of them wear sunglasses even inside and they do look cool. There is something to be said for a people that has lived under the sun since forever: they do know their shades.

But "rule-100?" That was new to me, I visited often and made it a point to get my shades from places like this. I asked the kid, what rule-100 was about.

He looked at me with a mix of surprise and pity, as if I were the village idiot or something. "Ya kidding me? Rule #100, look very cool in sunglasses! Everyone knows that!"

So I decided not to ask any more silly questions, lest I officially became the village idiot. He just threw his head back and laughed, then proceeded to show me his 'officially endorsed' merchandise. Finally, I saw these and fell in love with them...

So here is a holo from the beach with my rule-100's. Wish you were there!

Ship Profile: A Wing and a Prayer

2009-01-22T18:44:00.020-03:00

Name: A Wing and a Prayer
Class: T1 Frigate
Manufacturer: Amarr Imperial Navy
Top Speed: 11.9 km/s (pre-nerf)
Warp Speed: 6 AU/s
Align time: 1.2 s
Service: ISGC Seasons 3 (University of Caille), Season 4 (loan to Venture Racing Team)
Status: Lost 5 November 113, racing
Freaky fact: Was part of a subtle revenge plan, called off

The first thing many will point out, yes it is an Amarrian frigate. So what? Well, it is not like the craftmanship compares to a Roden or a Duvolle ride. Amarr Navy? No leather lined passenger seats, little or no ergonomics, some of the trimmings are really, ew, utilitarian like that one handle, or the odd ugly service hatch in plain sight. Zero luxury. Nor does it have the raw engine power on a Boundless or any other Minmatar ship. Can't fit a nice egonics system, even the basic sound system on a Caldari ship will kill the CPU dead on mine; flap, I can't even chat on local without having navi problems.

And you know what? Whatever!

This one is mine mine mine and I love her. Look at her, a golden, shiny, beautiful arrowpoint. Built for speed. A Wing and a Prayer, she is called and... can you see the wing logo on the right side? The name was a good idea at the time, and I still think so. A mix of raw speed and fragile beauty.

See here, the Ammy Navy got a couple of things right. Totally right. The ship herself is very fast, and very light to begin with. Now the armor has been removed in so many places to install racing stuff - you can see the holes and some electronics right inside - yes that is the work of our UC boffins. They took their time to patch her back and in the meantime, I had to race a sieve. Also, there is so much polycardboard inside that you can probably push her around by hand. She has been altered and tweaked so much that by now, she is as close to an interceptor as she can get, while still being T1. She thinks she is an inty, I swear. Did you know she can beat an Ares in a series of short jumps? Of course the Ares will win on the long ones, but still, wicked riding...

The point is, she is the fastest racing frigate, ever. I flew her mostly during season 3 of the ISGC racing league and we won the T1 championship :D We won every single race we flew together... except that exhibition we lost to Tak on season 5 with the navi error. And the S6 one we lost to Kay, on the long jumps. My bad, 'cause she? She is perfect!

Blackhole

2009-01-21T17:15:00.003-03:00

Dear diary:

I found a magnetometric site in high-sec last week. It sucked.

Never again. Never...

(Come on, ISK 80K in stupid loot does not even cover the expense and time it took to find).

Lagged in Odotte

2009-01-19T20:54:00.006-03:00

Somewhere in Odotte. University of Caille Campus Station.
Season 4. Two hours before ISGC race 10.

Locked, scrambled and webbed...

The man continued. "... and so, Miss Delorois, it is important to understand that this is now a team effort. This is no longer about personal ego..."

No, no no no... far worse than scrambled and webbed... Can't run, can't shoot, can't even complain for God's sake!

So I sat still in the chair and smiled. Doctor Juvaan Vesper, PhD, head of the Astronautics Department at the University of Caille, a methodic workhorse, devil of the details, an unstoppable force, had agreed to help out on our little project that season. The University racing team was going pro: Professor Ryder of UC Business School would contribute funds, blueprints, media and PR, Dr. Vesper and UC Astronautics would bring in the technical talent. I had somehow agreed to be caught in between.

And right then... I was finding out exactly how unstoppable Dr. Vesper could be...

"... find that things need to be a little different... the department trains some of the finest minds in the Federation, and we must take care to teach them well... failure to follow proper procedures... terrible mistake... this work represents an excellent opportunity for them... a real-life situation for extra credit"

Oh, come ON! I just want to race the thing, not understand it! Gimme my ship!

Doc Vesper was, of course, the right choice. He ran the Laboratoire Astronautique Gallentoise and his team of undergraduates was better than appearances would suggest, one of the very best. His garagistes worked on everything and anything: mining research, bike repairs, technology concepts for the Navy, pod modifications, airco, whatever you could think about. Also, he knew people, had contacts. I mean, not that people would actually seek him for a chat -oh gosh, no- but he could certainly get his hands on some pretty rare items. Maybe people gave him stuff to make him go away?

Maybe if I give him something he will let me go.

That was it. But what? Looking around his office for inspiration, nothing came to mind. Books, including a copy of Dr. Ishiguro's "Speed," unfinished papers, electronics. A photo of a much younger Doc Vesper, standing proudly with this ancient guy -his dad? grandpa?- in a workshop.

Others were trapped in the office with me, they were coping in their own fashion by either faking interest or discreetly snoozing, but I was the focus of attention while Vesper talked and talked. And talked. No wonder his own people called him 'Lags' behind his back, he could probably make a stone fall asleep. And then talk some more.

That's it! "Would you like some coffee, Doctor Vesper?" I interrupted, still smiling.

"Uh, good idea. Miss Ducasse, one cup with no sugar if you please?" Gina jumped off her seat "I will bring some for everyone..."

No, no, no! -I saw my chance walk away and just knew she was not coming back; I would have done the same- Run, Gina, save yourself!

Doc turned back to me. "You do not seem to understand. Let me explain how this works. While under the care of our team, this is not your ship; it is our ship. We will exercise all due..."

Explain?! Again?!? Kill me, please. Kill. Me. Now.

Time went on. I could hear him talking but I was no longer really listening. It was so hard to stay tuned, with things moving slower and slower and his monologue going on, I could make out individual words but no longer understood the meaning of it all. My eyelids were heavy. I nodded once in a while and responded with a polite "mmhm" or "I understand," just to show I was there.

But I was not. I was free. -We can fly- I was already reviewing the upcoming race in my mind. -We have wings- Sinq Laison, would we race through Rancer again? -We can touch floating dreams- I needed to be quick on my wings. -Call me from... so far...

"Miss Delorois?"

Everyone was looking at me. Had he asked a question? Merde. I gambled my sinking heart on a safe answer - "Yes?"

He did not skip a beat. "As I said, your ship is ready."

"My... ship?"

He looked at the time. "Being fifty-eight minutes to the race start, it is not our ship. It is your ship now."

I got up, thanked him politely and walked to the door. I am free!

"And, Catherine?"

Uh-oh... "Yes?"

"Be careful out there."

"I will. Thank you."

What do you know. He is human after all...

The holo rang. "Lags, was that really necessary?" "Hello, Ryder. What do you mean?" "Do you really have to lecture her like that? She is not one of your guys, you know..." "I know, but in case you have not noticed, she is not the type to be driven by a regular pep talk." "Was that your version of a pep talk?" "If it works, then yes. Look out your own window and tell me when you see her undock." "Actually, she went by a moment ago." "Well, that makes it under seven minutes. That is the fastest anyone has ever bolted out of my office and into space. I think she is going to do great this race."