OOC: RIP Mate

This is not the post I had in mind for today, but logging on tonight I was greeted with the news that a fellow pilot and friend had succumbed this morning to a heart attack. EVE may just be a game of bits and pixels, but that doesn't make the relations between its players any less real.

RIP Psi Cloned - you made a difference.

Introduction

"You should write about your adventures!"

"'Adventures'!" I roll my eyes at my little sister. "I don't have 'Adventures'. Running BPOs to the market, shepherding our miners, general carebearing - that's what I do." I wave at a screen where various capsuleer blogs are scrolling through: "Exploding ship! Ransoms! Tight fights! That's what people want to read - not how the fr**ing damsel got rescued yet again!"

"How do you know?", insists Eta. "Just because not many people write about what we do, doesn't mean that there is no interest. Besides, who here recently lost an Interceptor in Providence?"

"Allright, allright, I can give it a try. If only to shut you up." Eta just stuck out her tongue. "And I wager you already have a name in mind?"

"Yup. 'Hazardous Goods.' Just think of how often you woke up in a new clone after heading out in a hauler."

"I prefer not to," I reply, suppressing a wince. Getting into a new clone always gives me a headache. "Very well. But if this doesn't work, there'll be a bounty on your head!"

"Promises, promises... Listen, sis, I have pay attention to my flying now - the gauntlet is upon me. Talk to you later - Eta out." With that, her holographic image flickered and disappeared from the viewer.

Leaving me with the task of entertaining you, my dear readers, with tales of the life and many deaths of a carebear in EVE. Enjoy!