The Eve Online 0.0 Experiment - Post 093 - Breaking The Language Barrier
Breaking The Language Barrier
Like a clock handed from one person to another, I passed the time by resting my hands on my face, and staring blankly at the invisible dark matter that surrounded me.
Every now and then, a faint communications signal whizzed past me on a high frequency. Like an air traffic controller with a malfunctioning listening device, I imagined that I could almost hear the distant chatter of pilots on a collision course with their terminal destinies.
Perhaps the noises were all just radio ga-ga, radio goo-goo, radio ga-ga...
Having previously been interviewed by the EVE Tribune, and also by the hammer-clenching Viking Gods of EVE for a news article, I now found myself being offered the chance to speak live on air, to literally tens of listeners....
The thought of spewing my dulcet tones over the wireless was indeed tempting, and like a man chewing on a loud bang, I was very excited by the prospect of creating some explosive sound-bites. However, in the end I decided to teasingly retain my mystique, and to politely decline the kind and generous offer.
Some time later, I encountered several more heroic BoB pilots, and was extremely surprised to find myself becoming friends with Jennifer Aniston, whilst raiding the tombs of Angelina Jolie...
His statement had caused my mind to snatch a glimpse of a parallel timeline, where I had lived behind the dark side of the sun, in Oceans XI, Moon III - Formulaic Hollywood Blockbuster Assembly Studio, where I had felt like:
The Mexican........
......who had spent seven years in Tibet:
CLICK TO VIEW IMAGE
I had once learned that the Devil's own devices for turning a pilot astray were the seven deadly sins, which could all be found in many legends of the fall of celebrities from positions of power, to their shameful full-frontal public confessions of a dangerous mind filled with gluttony and indulgence.
I violently resolved to fight this club of overpowering instincts.
Not entirely unlike a man walking into the middle of a giant book, I then entered into another conversation, and bemusingly found myself parsleying the thyme by partaking of an oreganol chat with a very sage pilot:
The Herbster was a seasoned veteran who had been playing since the very beginning of EVE, and who had resolutely refused to train any Caldari skills, thus leaving himself unable to fly a basilisk.
Whereas most pilots spend their evenings shooting the enemy in violent fits of rage, The Herbster whiles away the hours by playing the following game with himself, whilst cooking delightfully aromatic curries:
Dill or no dill?
A few handfuls of the sands of time later, I slipped up Robert's back passage and ventured deep into his bowels, in search of an entrance to the inner sanctum of his crushing war machine.
Eventually, after finding the "Machiavellian School Of Philosophy" and stopping to talk with the brilliant evil geniuses who lived there, I made my way into the vast underbelly of Robert's mechanical inferno of doom.
A few minutes later, I gasped in utter astonishment, as I came across the immense propaganda machine at the very heart of his body of systems.
I bravely ejected from my shuttle and left them a suspicious message:
CLICK TO VIEW IMAGE
Confident that my warning would be singlehandedly responsible for stopping them taking over the whole map, I smugly docked at the Mining Coalition HQ, from where I then stylishly jumped into a jump-clone on the other side of the universe.
Little did I know, that not entirely unlike meeting a group of politicians, I would be set to encounter a terrifying army of clones...
(to be continued...)
Like a clock handed from one person to another, I passed the time by resting my hands on my face, and staring blankly at the invisible dark matter that surrounded me.
Every now and then, a faint communications signal whizzed past me on a high frequency. Like an air traffic controller with a malfunctioning listening device, I imagined that I could almost hear the distant chatter of pilots on a collision course with their terminal destinies.
Perhaps the noises were all just radio ga-ga, radio goo-goo, radio ga-ga...
Having previously been interviewed by the EVE Tribune, and also by the hammer-clenching Viking Gods of EVE for a news article, I now found myself being offered the chance to speak live on air, to literally tens of listeners....
The thought of spewing my dulcet tones over the wireless was indeed tempting, and like a man chewing on a loud bang, I was very excited by the prospect of creating some explosive sound-bites. However, in the end I decided to teasingly retain my mystique, and to politely decline the kind and generous offer.
Some time later, I encountered several more heroic BoB pilots, and was extremely surprised to find myself becoming friends with Jennifer Aniston, whilst raiding the tombs of Angelina Jolie...
His statement had caused my mind to snatch a glimpse of a parallel timeline, where I had lived behind the dark side of the sun, in Oceans XI, Moon III - Formulaic Hollywood Blockbuster Assembly Studio, where I had felt like:
The Mexican........
......who had spent seven years in Tibet:
CLICK TO VIEW IMAGE
I had once learned that the Devil's own devices for turning a pilot astray were the seven deadly sins, which could all be found in many legends of the fall of celebrities from positions of power, to their shameful full-frontal public confessions of a dangerous mind filled with gluttony and indulgence.
I violently resolved to fight this club of overpowering instincts.
Not entirely unlike a man walking into the middle of a giant book, I then entered into another conversation, and bemusingly found myself parsleying the thyme by partaking of an oreganol chat with a very sage pilot:
The Herbster was a seasoned veteran who had been playing since the very beginning of EVE, and who had resolutely refused to train any Caldari skills, thus leaving himself unable to fly a basilisk.
Whereas most pilots spend their evenings shooting the enemy in violent fits of rage, The Herbster whiles away the hours by playing the following game with himself, whilst cooking delightfully aromatic curries:
Dill or no dill?
A few handfuls of the sands of time later, I slipped up Robert's back passage and ventured deep into his bowels, in search of an entrance to the inner sanctum of his crushing war machine.
Eventually, after finding the "Machiavellian School Of Philosophy" and stopping to talk with the brilliant evil geniuses who lived there, I made my way into the vast underbelly of Robert's mechanical inferno of doom.
A few minutes later, I gasped in utter astonishment, as I came across the immense propaganda machine at the very heart of his body of systems.
I bravely ejected from my shuttle and left them a suspicious message:
CLICK TO VIEW IMAGE
Confident that my warning would be singlehandedly responsible for stopping them taking over the whole map, I smugly docked at the Mining Coalition HQ, from where I then stylishly jumped into a jump-clone on the other side of the universe.
Little did I know, that not entirely unlike meeting a group of politicians, I would be set to encounter a terrifying army of clones...
(to be continued...)
posted by 0.0 Experiment at 9:07 pm
18 Comments:
W00t, the new region exploration starts o/
May your "Shuttle of Paranoia" stop the raging war machine and bring back love and peace to our beloved universe...
You Innominate Nightmare are my hero! \o/
...But first I would like to see the Avatar go `pop´!!
I was offended at first by Mysterious Jade's comments about us Mexicans not being able to speak german . . . then I remembered that I've forgotten most of my german, and can now probably only pass myself off as a turk fresh into berlin (I must avoid turks though, or the jig is up).
"I slipped up Robert's back passage and ventured deep into his bowels"
LOL
I wonder what is happening in the new regions now, i would assume ASCN would have expansion plans into the new territories, as well as nearly every other alliance.
My shuttle of paranoia will sow the seeds of discontent, and the solar winds will carry them far and wide in the most neutral manner possible, in order to stop the map being conquered by Robert...
You should pay a visit to the Blood Brothers little chunk of space my freind =)
Quickly Inno, Save my friends.
Sally forth to Geminate, and with you, the winds of carnage and hordes of pestillence.
Beat back the the fore runners with your chaos and violence, dissuade any more form leaving our backwater home in empire.
Save us from their unpreparedness until we are truly ready to cast our fortune to the wind, and our luck to 0 Space.
Save us Innominate Nightmare. You (and the violence that follows you) are our only hope!
Also, say hi to Smash, as well as to Roadkill when you're there.
Cheers!
"and like a man chewing on a loud bang, I was very excited by the prospect of creating some explosive sound-bites"
OH LORD WHY WONT IT STOP
Luv you :P
Clone army......
GOONFLEET! :)
wow that was so awesome. And if the clone army is indeed GF then I will be looking forward to more entries!
Love this blog. Just wish I had been in Greater Wildlands when you flew through it.
I found a station in MM with an interesting message spray painted on the side of it...
"Innominate Nightmare wuz here!"
You look like death warmed up ^^^
DEATH TO THE HORDE! and their undead minions
Long live the Allaince . . . without those pathetic night elves.
Inno if your heading to the new territories make sure to say hi to the people In the Southern Coalition fighting RAGOON
I wonder if Inno got podded for the last time...
It occurs to me that people who make up BoB are also the reason that most other MMORPG have sharding -- at some point people get tired of being conquered.
This blog is very good and informative. It is difficult task but your post and
experience serve and teach me how to handle and make it more simple and
manageable.Thanks for the advice.
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