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Tuesday, February 12, 2013

You Can't Cheat the Reaper

          I have to apologize to all of my wonderful viewers for not keeping up with the blog to much as of late. After all I know those of you like Lucas that have no lives must be very saddened by the lack of maddening disaster filled entries. I however have found myself with a few extra minutes before I pass out from boredom so I thought I'd regale you all with a few tales of what has been going on around essence lately.
         The past few weeks have seen the rapid decline as I see it, of my beloved Black Rebel Rifter Club. Even my good friends, Lucas and John, as odd and dysfunctional they may be have decided to part ways with the corp leaving me utterly alone and quite saddened by my newfound lack of people to go kill shit with. This naturally left me in a rather sour mood, so I thought to myself, "Why not go kill nubs to satisfy my now gaping emotional emptiness". And set off to kill them I did.
        It was a rather unproductive day as I recall and the slow flow of targets did nothing to assuage my anger at John for becoming a null bear and Lucas a dirty tusker the day before! On top of that, the application I submitted to Shadow Cartel had been denied on the sole reason of my low SP (this did not sit well with me at all, I think corps should accept on skill and facts rather than paper statistics, but hey I'm just a 11m Sp nub right?). The day had not been kind to me at all. So after a little bit of milling around the station and pouting in my room of pilfered valuables from blapped mining vessels, I couldn't sit in the hangar any longer. I had to get out and at least do something productive.
        As I undocked I casually warped off to a safe spot in space and cloaked up. Nothing presented itself immediately so I pulled out the newest addition of Pirate weekly and began reading the editorials and about how everyone hated the Venture more than ever. This did not surprise me in the least. With a +2 warp core strength the could even slip out of the clutches of all but the most specialized tackling ships. With a ship as illusive as this a competent pilot could avoid all but the worst of situations. But as many people in the EVE universe know, there is a key word here, competent, and most of the pilots around here (John being a prime example) dear reader are the exact opposite of competent.
        Not long after I finished laughing at the miserable failures of my flashy colleagues, speak of the devil, a venture appeared on scans. I quickly narrowed him down to a belt and warped in to end his misery of shooting space rocks for isk. I found him about 30km off me so I decided I'd get a little closer so I could spam his comms with demotivational gifs as my furious torpedoes reduced his ship to what it should be at all times, a floating pile of scrap metal. I prepared myself for glorious battul and decloaked and locked up the poor bastard. I could practically visualize the unsuspecting miner staring at his overview like a deer in headlights as his shields melted away. Trust me if you've never experienced that feeling before you haven't lived yet, or you're just a bear that likes rock mining like John.
        At any rate, I digress, as the torpedoes smashed his rickety vessel to pieces he managed to get a lucky align time and warped out in structure. The bastard not only escaped but also proceeded to troll me in local as he considered himself elite for having escaped me by the skin of his teeth. Threatening to return and kill me with a larger ship, I warmly welcomed him to try his luck and come on back. He promptly turned tail and ran. Much to my surprise however he did return with a Corax class destroyer which did worry me a little as the dps could in theory melt my bomber if light  missiles were fit. After even more smack talk he left again. Now he was going to die in a fire. No one pisses me off and lives. So I made it the days goal to go and kill him as well as his pod.
          I lurked around Adirain a little while longer and even ventured out a few jumps to see what else might be out there. and just like usual, there was pretty much nothing. Then the unthinkable happened. The little shit that made me death threats was spotted by one of my associates in the Lisbaetanne Solar System. Time to die mother fucker. I made all haste to his last known location and found a very satisfying sight. It seems my little friend had taken his destroyer into a belt and gotten in a little over his head with the rats that were quickly melting away his shields. I had been looking forward to this all day long. I decloaked and savored every second like a drug as I pointed the poor fool. Now to have a little fun. I decided the most hilarious way to make him die would be to let the rats get him into hull and then pop him with one last volley. I trolled him very flagrantly over local chat and after many healthy lolz decided it was time to end his sorry existence. I promptly fired all weapons and opened a hailing frequency for my oh so sweet victory yodel. Seeing the blue explosion of his little destroyer was the most beautiful thing I'd seen in days.
          The sound of his hull buckling as his cabin depressurized was unlike any other. There's simply no simulated sound that could ever be half as exciting. After looting his wreck and loling like a baus at him I returned to my cabin, victorious. You can't cheat the reaper bitch.

1 comment:

  1. Even though one cannot cheat the Reaper, one must not fear it

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ClQcUyhoxTg


    Lol. Nice post, it was an entertaining read.

    ReplyDelete