EVE: Day 1
December 17, 2009 6 Comments
I’m going to try something mostly different for me. I’m thinking about writing my impressions of the days in EVE from the perspective of my character. A bit of roleplay, if you will. I know very little of the actual history of EvE (EVE? eVe? which is it!?), so I’m sure I’ll be way off in some bits of it, but it’s all in good fun. Maybe I’m just in a roleplay mood lately, what with my earlier letter to Sigmar and all that. I didn’t accomplish a whole lot yesterday, basically did the crash course all the way through, bought the “Learning” skill book, and queued up a lot of skills to plug away at. I’m hoping to get out there and do some missions tonight. I will say, the new tutorial is a lot more user friendly than it was even earlier this year, so props to CCP on that one.
Ezekeil Rage, Log book, Day 1
The first noise I remember hearing was an annoying, sharp beeping. It’s persistance and level was one that could not be ignored no matter how willfully my mind wished shut out the unwanted intrusion. With a soft groan, I rolled onto my stomach, palms flat against the deck of my ship. Exerting sore muscles, and protesting joints, I pushed myself up, and swung a knee forward to provide balance. As I lifted my head to look around the compartment, my still-blurry vision slowly registering the reality of my situation.
A red light infused everything my eyes fell upon, an ominious portent of some disastrous events that may yet still come. Panels rent open, with snapped wires sparked flashes of angry bluish-white as the current they carried sought out a path to continue its journey upon. Ductwork and piping that hugged the walls released thin streams of mist, leaking vital gasses from some miniscule crack. Looking out the front panel, all I saw were stars, asteroids, and the dust clouds that were the hallmark of any view into space. I had to prioritize my problems if I wanted to get back to something recognizing civilization. A plan, enforced order, and hard work would see me through any problems. But first things first, that damn beeping had to stop. A short search and strong pull quickly brought peaceful silence to the ship, and I could get to work.
After patching any leaks in the life support, I set about rewiring what I could and patching together some semblance of a computer interface. The ramshackle results proved sufficient for the most minimal of actions. Engines would fire, some sensor arrays worked, and my mounted turret would be able to at least deter any weak threats. I pulled up coordinates for the closest docking station, and set the autopilot. Satisfied with the work, and confident that imminent doom was no longer about to descend upon me, I relaxed and tried to go over in my mind what brought my current situation.
They say idle hands are the devils workshop, and perhaps this can be applied to my situation. While going through the motions of survival, and working on keeping safe from the cold vastness of space, I was behaving off of instinct. Each movement and action taken as naturally as I run my stylus across the datapad in front of me. Forming each letter and word without consciously partaking in the activity. With a time of reflection and introspection, I’ve come to the frightening realization, that I have no memory prior to that horrendous beeping. The only evidence I have of my identity is the name-plate hanging around my neck, the few scraps of clothing I found in a foot locker, and a collection of reading material stored on the drive of this data pad. Mostly military and political history. I should be terrified by all of this, and a nagging portion of my head is telling me that something is terribly, terribly wrong and I should be able to see it.
Hopefully when I dock at this nearby station, I can figure something out, someone who knows me or recognizes me might be able to point me in the direction of some answers. If not, I’ll see what I can scrounge up in regards of repairs for this old Ibis and then work my way up from there, I may just have to learn everything all over again.
Hope for the best, plan for the worst.