The Eve Online 0.0 Experiment - Post 093 - 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:
......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...)