The Eve Online 0.0 Experiment - Post 045- Falling Down
Falling Down
The ramifications of my violent act of destruction washed over me like a great barrage of waves, relentless, pounding, crashing and smashing into my memories like a crate of bricks being dropped from a high height and relentlessly pounding on my fragile sanity.
I stared down at the items I had looted from Jessica's destroyed vessel:
Was it really worth it? To cause such pain and misery for a few meaningless trinkets that would soon long be forgotten.
The memory of Jessica, however, would not...
I wiped the blood from my hands and flew back to the station, wondering why it was that every time I docked at one of these mercenary places, a box popped up on the screen demanding money.
It was most peculiar:
In an instant, my calmness and sadness had dissipated and I once again felt the rage building inside of me like a shaken bottle of Coca-Cola on the verge of bursting. I felt like Spock from Star Trek, desperately trying to control my emotions, as the anger and hatred at the world around me swelled more and more into an all-consuming bubble of poison.
A minute later and I could not take it any longer. The venom inside of me boiled over and I suddenly found myself aiming my guns at anyone and everyone who so much as crossed my path. I had destroyed my first ship, so why not do another? Why not sink into an endless cycle of destruction?
The rage overcame me, and like Michael Douglas in the classic film Falling Down, I exploded in a volcano of hatred. I did not care any more and mercilessly opened fire on a unsuspecting Mercenary Coalition captain:
I was about to inflict my first brutal podding upon another pilot and the fury and the rage and the fury and the raaaaaage was building and rising and building and riiiiiiiiiising.
"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR" - I screamed, my lungs channeling the air around me as fast as they could.
In a microsecond I found myself sitting there with my veins furiously pumping, sweat streaming and cascading down my face, as I bitterly and brutally podded that motherf***ing b**tard:
One was not enough!
I needed moooooooooooooooooooore!
Moaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar!
GIVE ME MORE! - I shouted, in a very evil manner.
The desire for carnage and revenge was overwhelming me. This was retribution for all those nasty attacks and bitter onslaughts I had continually suffered throughout my journey.
I had tried my best to be polite and nice, but I had now been reduced to the basest, lowest of common denominators and I just did not care any more.
A man in a shuttle had just evolved into a deadly killer with one serious attitude.
I aimed my gun at yet ANOTHER mercenary and horrifically let rip:
I sat back and laughed maniacally as the shrapnel from my compressed coil gun tore into his pod and I let out an infernal grin of satisfaction as my mercenary friend Squagel became Squishgel....
Just as I was about to find yet another victim to brutally pod, my evemail started to flash. I had been unexpectedly contacted by a journalist from the EVE tribune.
Her name was Kia Lotus and she wanted to interview me because she had heard that I was a really nice and helpful n00b who was always pleasant and did his best for others. How ironic.
My guilt began to overwhelm me and I lied my way through the most difficult interview I had ever given.
I was overcome with sorrow as I wondered what else this bitter-sweet EVE universe would throw at me next.
LINK TO INTERVIEW
(to be continued.....)
The ramifications of my violent act of destruction washed over me like a great barrage of waves, relentless, pounding, crashing and smashing into my memories like a crate of bricks being dropped from a high height and relentlessly pounding on my fragile sanity.
I stared down at the items I had looted from Jessica's destroyed vessel:
Was it really worth it? To cause such pain and misery for a few meaningless trinkets that would soon long be forgotten.
The memory of Jessica, however, would not...
I wiped the blood from my hands and flew back to the station, wondering why it was that every time I docked at one of these mercenary places, a box popped up on the screen demanding money.
It was most peculiar:
In an instant, my calmness and sadness had dissipated and I once again felt the rage building inside of me like a shaken bottle of Coca-Cola on the verge of bursting. I felt like Spock from Star Trek, desperately trying to control my emotions, as the anger and hatred at the world around me swelled more and more into an all-consuming bubble of poison.
A minute later and I could not take it any longer. The venom inside of me boiled over and I suddenly found myself aiming my guns at anyone and everyone who so much as crossed my path. I had destroyed my first ship, so why not do another? Why not sink into an endless cycle of destruction?
The rage overcame me, and like Michael Douglas in the classic film Falling Down, I exploded in a volcano of hatred. I did not care any more and mercilessly opened fire on a unsuspecting Mercenary Coalition captain:
I was about to inflict my first brutal podding upon another pilot and the fury and the rage and the fury and the raaaaaage was building and rising and building and riiiiiiiiiising.
"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR" - I screamed, my lungs channeling the air around me as fast as they could.
In a microsecond I found myself sitting there with my veins furiously pumping, sweat streaming and cascading down my face, as I bitterly and brutally podded that motherf***ing b**tard:
One was not enough!
I needed moooooooooooooooooooore!
Moaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar!
GIVE ME MORE! - I shouted, in a very evil manner.
The desire for carnage and revenge was overwhelming me. This was retribution for all those nasty attacks and bitter onslaughts I had continually suffered throughout my journey.
I had tried my best to be polite and nice, but I had now been reduced to the basest, lowest of common denominators and I just did not care any more.
A man in a shuttle had just evolved into a deadly killer with one serious attitude.
I aimed my gun at yet ANOTHER mercenary and horrifically let rip:
I sat back and laughed maniacally as the shrapnel from my compressed coil gun tore into his pod and I let out an infernal grin of satisfaction as my mercenary friend Squagel became Squishgel....
Just as I was about to find yet another victim to brutally pod, my evemail started to flash. I had been unexpectedly contacted by a journalist from the EVE tribune.
Her name was Kia Lotus and she wanted to interview me because she had heard that I was a really nice and helpful n00b who was always pleasant and did his best for others. How ironic.
My guilt began to overwhelm me and I lied my way through the most difficult interview I had ever given.
I was overcome with sorrow as I wondered what else this bitter-sweet EVE universe would throw at me next.
LINK TO INTERVIEW
(to be continued.....)
13 Comments:
Give in to your hatred, give in to your anger ..
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And BTW
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Iamyourfather !!!!!!!!!!!!!
Have fun
Ian Novarider
Just collapse and scream
"What have I done??", "You Damn Dirty Bastards!!!", or "KAHN!!!".
-Xtravious
poor MC
Yaaarrr³² !!
Lol, Ben. Khan as in the Wrath of Khan?
I should add a disclaimer to this, to desperately pretend that I have no fanatical interest in Star Trek whatsoever...
i'd suggest you fly into stain and kill every f*cking person you see in there, good luck on your new violent adventures!
Alpine
OK now that was an awesome read, hearing all that bottled anger inside of you let rip into a few violent pod killing turned out to be more satisfying reading than i expected ;) Keep up the vicious piracy, guilt is merely a feather wall in your path to becoming truly ebil.
All that for 300k isk!? You've been offered 500m to activate a railgun on a thorax, get a grip man!
i'm not mad at you, just disapointed
I knew the day would come...
zero zero--nothing like it.
Beware Innominates Ibis of DOOM! If you do want to invade D2, msg me in game, you could organise several hundred ibises invading d2 space! Take that emilio!
>>>several hundred ibises>>>>
Lemming Run ? :-)
http://djstora.co.uk/lemmingsleap/
Have fun
Ian
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