Ground control to make major ch-ch-ch-changes (OOC)

1. Stop following this blog, go instead to Criminal Countdown Lounge (RSS)
2. Follow my pictures at Pics in Space!
3. Hang out with me on Twitter
4. Say o/ to me in-game. I am a friendly pirate. Very often AFK. Even at gates.

So. Yet another "back-in-game-after-long-break-post". This time I have been out of the game for about 5 months. Leaving just after having launched a bunch of community projects and stuff. Not a good thing for anyone, really. But this is how my relationship with Eve is now: I have played it so much that the moment I feel like not logging in, then I won't. And that moment comes whn you least of all expect it. And it might take a week before I am back. Or five months. So, that calls for some major changes.

1. No more community projects on me.
I am leaving the timeline project and handing it over to anyone who might want to take care of it. Get in touch if you want to be a caretaker. Preferably in our tweetfleet Slack channel: #eve-timeline. I am continuing Pics In Space! (this website will soon be gone) as my private solo project, but with no advertised activity or any sort of ambition, only to continue to take pictures wherever I fly. And should someone want me to do a photo mission, they may contact me in-game or through twitter. The #tweetfleet community of Twitter is by far the best place for me personally to stay in contact with the community. Good attitude, fun loving dudes and dudettes, low on drama, high on content. Love it.

Who is next to be biomassed?

2. Downsizing all accounts and characters.
I fly a lot of different characters. Some known to be my alts and others completely disconnected from Saftsuze's public world. I am biomassing a few of them as soon as I have extracted all possible skillpoints. Then consolidating six character into two accounts. Some toons will ramain obscure and disconnected from my public appearance, others continue on. Uncle Earl will continue his shop in some manner, I think, but with a deteriorating selection of refurbished stolen goods. The feminist-ecologist punk-rock activist Simone Kingston will probably not be able to continue her skill training. And reclaiming ore is nearly impossible these days. She has enjoyed a more violent and aggressive asteroid protection through war, but wardecs demands constant log-ins and some research. As for my other associates, they enjoy their anonymity and take care of my growing funds and assets.

3. Changed blogging.
I have never blogged a lot, but lately I have raised the bar for stories worth writing. Now I want to lower it again. And that is why I am also going to move from blogger to tumblr. It is just a way more practical platform for short updates in different formats. Expect more short stories and reports. And pictures as well, I really like that. Going to keep my photography tumblr separate for now, and have a slightly different approach to what pics goes where. Quick illustrative pics related to my pirate life for the Criminal Countdown Lounge, and longer series of pictures of general interest over at Pics in Space! In addition there will be quotes from interesting chats and longer transcripts from chats. However, if something amazing happens, it will probably become a longer story just as before. Oh, and I will try to stay semi-in-character all the time.

4. No commitment
So, yeah, there you have it. See you when I am playing, but don't expect me to be around all the time. But I will probably never cancel my account, because Eve Online is the best MMO ever created. Period.

When the stars align

In space nobody can hear you celebrate. But inside this white and shiny little frigate were two men—or more correctly, one demi-god and one mortal, one projected as a hologram and one physically present—dancing around in the tight space between the drone bay and the massive container that took up most of the space in the cargo hold.

“Here’s to our first T3-dessie solo kill, Sins! Take that, you fucking Amarrian bastards! Your silly Confessor shredded to scrap metal by the Sister’s little sissy Astero!”

I raised my imaginary glass. Man, I was looking forward to getting out of my pod and kick back in the lounge area.

“Hell yeah!”

Bleak Sins, my mechanic and partner in crime, had to shout through the loud terran rock music playing from entertainment system. One time I visited the Eve Gate I found a terran artifact floating in space containing a huge selection of music. I love that old-time stuff. We were shouting and screaming for a couple of minutes, then we docked up to refit a salvager.

“We have a signature ready for fishing in Isenan, boss, remember that!”

I was damned proud of my mechanic. His transformation from a timid mechanic into a mean bastard of a pirate was something to be proud of. It reminded me of my own journey towards the life of freedom.

“Yes, I just want to know it there are some shiny stuff that can be salvaged from this T3 wreck first.”

There was not a lot, to be honest, so off we went to Isenan. And there we found a freshly graduated capsuleer going about his data salvaging, in our very own pre-probed little fish pond. We mopped the dance floor with him and sent him back to his cloning station.

“You know, Sins, let us show him the way of true freedom. I am transferring him 10 million ISK to show him our way of life is good one, a life of choices—your own choices. I am free to take whatever I want. I am free to give back. Nobody tells me anything.”

“You’re a god.”

I didn’t catch the sarcasm.

“Yes!”

And then I got a message from one of my planetside enterprises that needed my immediate attention. I ordered my ship to cloak and transferred my consciousness to a planetside neural communication gateway, a so-called Automated Flexible Keyway, often referred to by capsuleers as “being AFK”.

I did not catch the error message my neural interface sent me:

W4RN1N6
U R UNCL04K3D
0 @ 64T3

I mentioned some time ago that I was looking forward to waking up in a new clone. That clean shaven chin (not the upper lip, of course!) and the feeling of youth. Beeing 27 again, even though I have aged quite a bit since I became a capsuleer. I hate the headache that follows, and the goo you wake up in is disgusting, but after a spa treatment and some fine dining, I always feel good in a new clone.

But this. This was brutal. This was pure evil. This was punishment for my hubris.

I was not cloaked. I was, according to my systems log, sitting at a gate. While AFK. My long lived and very expensive customized Astero was gone! And my clone with implants. And Sins! Bleak Sins! Where was he? Had he survived?

An Astero that is clearly not cloaked.

I quickly checked my official report from CONCORD’s Loss Matriculation And Investigation League (LOSSMAIL). And thank you holy mother of god or whatever fairy that choose what to survive when spaceships explode: He was alive! *

I opened up my Neocom and quickly sent a message to the capsuleer, Distai, reported to be the cause of my recent loss. Would he be so kind to release my mechanic back to my service?

“Oh sure thing. It's not my place to separate you two. I’ll charge you 10.000 ISK for the release, though.”

Bleak Sins had survived yet another explosion!  And  now he waited for me to be picked up at the Federal Navy Academy in Vitrauze.

I was still butt naked and covered in goo. And I needed a new ship. But, first things first: A shower.

But before the hot water got through the stations subpar plumbing system, I was greeted in the local communications channel by a Yukio Wantanabe. It was the newly graduated capsuleer that I had shot down earlier! He sent me a short message thanking me for my contribution to his career and wondered why all the pirates he meets are so nice? I smiled and thought to myself: It is because we are the truly free capsuleers. I will have to send him a message to tell him that.

The hot water arrived. The cold water knob, however, was tricky and it was a choice between scolding hot or ice cold. Damned Concord plumbing. The local communication channel made a noise again.

“Saftsuze! How are you doing?”

It was Doctor Genocide. Terrible name. Good man. A free man. We shared corp for a short stint in R1FTA, and we have been in multiple communication channels over many years. He continued:

“This is where my medical clone is based!”

“Wow, and you just woke up here as well?”

“Yeah! I was warping out of a fight to a station for repairs as I burnt out my guns, but bounced off some guy; cancelled warp then the call went out to get the fuck out and align to top station…”

I could obviously see where this was going as we were both wearing our new baby skinned clones.

“... and a Proteus point got me, no chance of burning from that one. So, do you have anything in station? ”

I was butt naked. And a quick glance over at the inventory told me I had one Velator.

“Nope. I need to go shopping.”

The station's personal trading interface gave a quick notification about an incoming offer.

“Which do you want?”

In front of me my neural HUD-interface displayed a wide selection of different shiny frigates. I tried to be modest, opting for the Firetail. But a wealthy capsuleer like the Doc won’t let you take the cheap stuff. I could hear the noise from the stations docking drones as my hangar overview presented me with a new ship: A shiny new Garmur was now parked outside my captain's quarters! I ran out on my balcony completely forgetting to even grab a towel. I just hope there were no camera drones around to record my ere… reaction from seeing that ship.

The Friend Ship

“Hey, Doc: I'll send you the report from the Loss Matriculation And Investigation League.”

He laughed. Not a laugh like what you might expect from a person named Doctor Genocide. More like the likeable chap at the pub.

“Cool! I hope you get some good kills in her before she meets her doom!”

And off I went to pick up Bleak Sins in Vitrauze.

Yeah, I never bothered to take that shower. I just jumped straight into the pod goo again.

* I have Bleak Sins registered as a janitor because of a lot less paperwork in regard to work permits and such when crossing the different empire's borders. You won't believe the shit you have to do to bring a licensed mechanic into Caldari space.

I love the smell of nanite paste in the morning

After an extended vacation on one of my amny planetary spa-installements, I have returned to my trusty Astero together with my mechanic, Bleak Sins. The drone bay is filled to the rim with Hobgoblins and Warriors and we have a route plotted for Thera.

My accountant and procurer of spaceships has been given a shopping list and we are setting up in a cheap hanger container in Thera. From there we will spread our love to the entire cluster with some oldskool fittings of some harmless-looking Rifters and Incursi. We are going back to the roots. Taking a break from the luxury of the Astero and it's wine cellar and jacuzzi and all that jazz.

It is time for grease and plasma and the smell of hot nanite paste on burning auto-cannons and neutron blasters. It is time for that great feeling of waking up in a new clone, all clean shaven and feeling young an fresh again!

In the meantime have a look at the scenery we are enjoying en-route to Thera.

Time and Space Organized

“Ready information evacuation!”

Angelita was shaking heavily.

“What the fuck?”

Sins was probably on his way to the escape pod. But I was worried about my recent work.

“Transmit all work to corp mainframe!”

“We have 10 percent armor left. Fuck the research work. Do it yourself. You’re a capsuleer. I am going to my escape pod. I want to live.”

Sigh. The timid and shaking mechanic I recruited several months ago was no longer a pushover. I liked that. But I was still the captain.

“No! You secure the research now, or I will get a contract out on your sorry ass. I will make sure you get to the pod. Do. It. Now!”

I overheated just about everything I had. I had been taking a bait and now I paid the price. I could have escaped earlier, but I was so close to getting the Ishkur. I had decided to get it and then escape. Bad choice.

“Information secured. I am leaving ship.”

A bright flash. Then everything was quiet. And I was in a warp tunnel.

“Sins? You hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good to hear your voice, Sins. I’ll get a rescue team to pick you up. Catch an interbus shuttle and meet me back at HQ. And get a new Astero ready.”

I think I heard another of his rapidly increasing amount of sighs on the comms. But it might have been cosmic distortion on the channel.

“Yes, sir.”

2 weeks later. Upper Lip Finesse office somewhere in Placid:

“Your Astero is ready for shipping. And your finance guy tells me to let you know you are running out of ISK with your habit of exploding expensive Asteroes. At this rate you will be broke in a few months.”

Sins sat down in the sofa. The Scope was reporting some news about a Drifter autopsy report in Yulai.

“Bah! Tell him to mind his own busin… Hey, turn that up!”

The broadcast from Yulai was scrambled and the signal lost.

“Wow! Get me linked up to all alternative news channels and give me a report about the status in Yulai. Then fire up the login procedures for the Terran networks Slack and Twitter. I need to get my research published. We need a comprehensive timeline to grasp the magnitude of what is happening now. These Drifters... I wonder...”

Sins sighed and got up from the sofa. 

“I’ll get it for you. By the way, that container with tinfoil you ordered arrived today. It’s in the hangar. To the left. Behind the delivery of books from University of Caille.”

The Monolith in Dead End. I went there just to see it and did not get one single killmail from the trip. Something strange is happening to me.

The Old Man and the Universe

My blood was boiling. And my head spinning. And was not even in my pod. I was at my newly installed study, inside the Angelita - the very customized Astero that Sins had prepared while I was ... ehrm ... incapacitated for a few months by expensive bubbles from Luminaire VI. Or Gallentia as I’ve recently started calling it.

How could this be? How could being in my study be as exciting as a battle? Yes, I was as surprised as Sins. Well, he wasn’t surprised. He was shocked. Almost disappointed and angry, especially when I had asked him to remove one of the jacuzzies from the spa area and instead install an office with the latest technology for historical and scientific research. I could barely convince him by ordering a cryogenic wine cooler for the desk as well. I don't blame him. I was like that when I first discovered the freedom of a pirate's life. And Sins used to be a low rank crew member of an Astero dedicated to archaeology. I had freed him from that. And now he was worried I was giving up life as a pirate. Am I?

No. But I am getting older. Not in the mortal sense. My clone is the same sexy beast. But my mind, my mental state, my consciousness and awareness—my very soul—is getting older. And it has made wonder. Who am I? Why am I? What is the purpose? Until now, my life has been an effortless breeze of enjoyment with no time for questions only craving for more instant gratifications. Be it explosions in space or of the more intimate kind. 

But now I have time. And it is time. It is time to tell the story about me. And my place in this universe. And to do that, I need perspective.

“Sins!”

I could hear a yawn from the cargo hold. 

“Yes, boss?”

“Get me a copy of all the official historical records archived in the Imperial libraries, the libraries of The Society of Conscious Thought and try the Jovian Directorate as well.”

“How the fu…”

“Just get it done, will you?”

He grumbled. I think I heard him say something in the line of “You want me to fit that relic analyzer instead of the warp scrambler as well?”

But he was soon out of my mind. I was buried deep in an interesting story about how Quafe once negotiated between the Gallente Federation and the Ammar Empire. I almost wanted to taste that sugary crap. But thankfully I had the new cryogenic wine cooler from Gallentia.

I poured myself a glass of dry bubbles from the foot of the Kaalakiota Mountains and continued on my work.

Just Like Talking to an Angel

“Boss, you've gotta wake up!”

I was receiving strange signals from outer space. But all I could see was a beautiful nebulae. And from it emerged a thousand mining barges. And they were singing with deep voices. “Come with us! You can shoot us all day long! Ravage and pillage our fittings!”

“Boss! Wake up!”

Oh, that beautiful deep humming of mining lasers soon to be shut up and shot down by burning projectiles.

“Boss! Get up now!”

Some ugly bright star appeared from nothing. So bright! Like staring directly into a pair of dual focused lasers.

“Fuck! Get that light out of my eyes!”

“Here, boss, have some synthetic coffee.”

“Where is my bottle!”

I think I said that. That was the intended message. Although it didn't really sound like that.

“I poured it out in the pod goo drain.”

My head was making that structural integrity warning sound. It was ringing in my ears.

“Say what?”

I wanted to kill this person talking to me.

“That was some pristine bubbles from Luminaire, you fuckhead!”

I screamed out the words as I lashed out in the general direction of the light and the ugly voice. I think I lashed out. It sounded more like… No, I was not lashing out against anyone, I was throwing up in the direction of… Well, there are no directions in space. I was in space.

“No, boss, you emptied the last bottle of Luminaire bubbles two weeks ago. You have been drinking the samples of the new product line Saftsuze’s Aftershave with Pro-B Nanite Sexystubs Formula… whitch is basically fifty-fifty alcohol and rocket fuel…”

I got some ugly flashbacks of being utterly sick, undocking in my pod to self destruct just to get a new fresh clone to soak.

“Who are you?”

“It’s me, boss! Blique Cins! Your mechanic!”

I threw up on him.

“By the Amarrian gods, Sins—”

I burped.

“It’s good to see you. Or, at least hear you.”

I squinted. Something was on it’s way up again. I swallowed. And something dawned on me.

“But… didn’t we die?”

“Yes, sir, you did, but I was rearranging inside the container when ship exploded. I hid inside the packed hull repper and managed to slip out just before the guys who looted your ship sent it to the reprocessing plant. I almost ended up as some biological titanium alloy...”

He started laughing.

Fuck me. This guy was laughing. I remembered him puking all over my cargohold before our first expedition. This guy was quality.

“Well, the ship is ready, boss. You wanna undock and selfdestruct again to get you freshened up a bit?”

“What ship? You just told me we exploded!”

“Yes, we did, but I took the liberty to make your second Astero ready for some exploration. I believe she is called Angelita. Remember? You bought her along with Anastasia. I’ve made some custom modifications to her. I think you will like the spa area.”

I think I will.


TLDR OOC: I’ve been away for a while. I am back again.

Do you need my Counsel for Stellar Candidates?

There comes a time when even lurking pirates and lonely scumbags must engage in politics. And that is when the Council of Stellar Management is going to be elected. We need someone to fight for our freedom. To make our beloved low security space attractive to our prey. To lower the obstacles to obtain shakes of adrenaline. And to GET US MORE WHITE CLOTHING!

Anyway, I am going to keep my endorsements here on a separate page, so you can consider it for your own ballot. Please head over and have a look!

That’s all for now. Go shoot down some spaceships while I come up with the next few candidates for the list. Just remember to pick up the goddamn drones after your fight, alright?

The Prisoner

“Procurer scrambled. Drones deployed. Webs applied. No enemy drones detected. All systems working and so far no need for overheating. Standing by for new orders.”

Bleak Sins was no longer the puking nervous wreck of a mechanic. He had participated in more than 50 kills now. And never experienced one of my inevitable losses. He was certainly a prime candidate for complacency.

“Alright, invite the capsuleer to our negotiations channel and transmit our initial demands.”

The orbit was established and system intelligence reports were favorable for negotiations.

“Mr. Todorov, would you please consider to make me an offer?”

I try to keep business meetings polite and formal, but in a friendly manner.

“I don’t know, how much do you want?”

I was about to explain my business model of customer initiative when it comes to suggesting the monetary size of a ransom, but then, out of the blue, my customer turned all sour and started screaming!

“At least stop shooting me when we negotiate! For fucks sake!”

What is it with customers these days? They always want me to stop the treatment while discussing business. The really do not value my time very much! I do not work for free and certainly not without risk! Well, I ordered my drones to chill a bit, and tried to get negotiations on track again. It is risky to let the damage application rest, but the system was still calm, and I had already dealt a decent amount of damage.

“OK, let me make an exception and suggest for you that you pay me 25 million ISK to keep your ship in one piece?”

“If you don’t stop shooting me now you get zero!”

He clearly was stressed as I had already ordered my drones to stand down.

“I have already stopped shooting and you have 10 seconds to comply, sir.”

He returned a condescending hiss.

“Who do you think you are?”

I relaunched my drones.

“I get more money from insurance.”

I sighed and shouted to Sins in the cargo hold: “You hear this guy? He really has a lot of nerves while being punched in the face by hobgoblins, eh?”

“Or he has friends behind the nearest gate” Sins replied.

I was probably wrong about my earlier analysis of Sins potential for complacency. That conclusion should have been reserved for me. He was right. We were running a huge risk here.

Our customer interrupted us with a teasing chant:

“Looser! Looser! You have a small dick!”

I was a bit perplexed. Was this someone I had had intimate relations with? What did he know about my private parts? Was there a hacked camera drone inside my pod? A hacked camera drone lacking the warning text “Objects may appear smaller than they are”?

“Looser! Looser! Looo-oo-oo-oo-oser! You get zero! Better kill me fast, bro!”

Maybe Sins was very right. Maybe there was a hot drop incoming? A cloaky Falcon emerging from the space dust? I was actually attacking as hard as I could, but the Procurer-class mining vessels are known to be slow to explode.

“People are coming” my customer proclaimed and followed up with an evil and mad laughter. “You are so weak, dude! You can’t even kill a defenseless miner! Looser!”

More laughter. His armor was almost gone now.

“Is that all you got?”

He started to remind me of some ancient terran holoreel about some knights and a grail and something. “Hey, Bleak, you getting this? He is starting to become really entertaining!”

“You did hear the part about people coming?”

“Yeah, yeah, Bleak, I heard, but he is bluffing. Trust me.”

“As I might have mentioned for you before, Saftsuze, it is a tiny bit harder for us without instant cloning services to take such information lightly…”

The miner was laughing again. A hollow and eerie laughter.

“How much time is this gonna take you, bro? This is just boring, dude!”

“No, no, no!” I chuckled to myself. “Keep it coming!”

I could see bits of the Procurer falling off now. The drones blasters eating away at the inner workings of his hull. And just as the Procurer exploded I swear I could hear him scream with his twisted voice: “What a moron!”

And then there was just a wreck and a frozen corpse in the asteroid field. And quiet. The beautiful quietness after a battle.

“Look behind you, douche!”

Ouch. My customer had been transferred to a new clone but still connected to the negotiations channel. Dammit.

“Did your dick get bigger?”

I tried to feel it. Not really. About the same.

“No, sir, but it sounds like your did?”

“You are so good at killing miners. A real professional combat capsuleer! Just another looser with issues…”

Ah, my customer was a psychiatrist.

“I must admit I do have my issues. The lack of white clothing in the NES store is one example. It is driving me mad!”

He laughed his evil hollow laugh again. Although it was more like a hiss now.

“No, man, you are just low. You can’t fight real combat capsuleers, so you hunt miners instead. If you had any dignity you would go fight combat capsuleers and not miners. You better use the time here while you can because soon you won’t be so lucky.”

I am always amazed how many of my customers that expect my profession to be so honorable and just.

“But, sir, you must understand I have no dignity. Only freedom.”

“No, sir, you don't have freedom you are a prisoner to your low mind.”

Ouch. That was a bullseye. I think I heard Sins laughing in the cargo hold.

“Ah. You may have a point there, actually.”

I must admit it. I am a prisoner of my low mind. And I love it.

Epilogue OOC:

The above dialogue has been edited for your reading pleasure, but is as accurate as possible in regards to content and meaning in the original chat logs (and my added roleplay with my mechanic aboard my Astero). A few hours later I received a convo when Fox Todorov warped through a system I had parked in, this is the unedited content of that conversation:

Fox Todorov > hey sorry for beeing rude today when you killed me
Fox Todorov > accept my apoligies
Saftsuze > no worries, it provided me some good content for my blog :D
Fox Todorov > hehehe
Fox Todorov > well happy that i helped you in some way then
Fox Todorov > again sorry for beeing rude i just let emotions get the better of me
Fox Todorov > since that was my last ship left :P
Saftsuze > Totally fine. Thats eve. It is about emotions. The sense of loss.
Fox Todorov > well i hope i find a way to get into a new ship since i'm dont to a 100 isk
Fox Todorov > guess i need to buy a vantrue or smth
Fox Todorov > it was stupid of me to forget to insure that proc

HA! I knew it!

Fox Todorov > did you actually get any money out of killing me ?
Fox Todorov > i'm just curius
Saftsuze > a mill or something
Fox Todorov > hah i'm pathetic :D
Saftsuze > nah, youll get the hang of it
Fox Todorov > sry for loosing your time sir
Fox Todorov > and thanks for beeing a good sprot and killing me it helps me in more ways than it looses me isk
Saftsuze > no waste of time for me, this is my job!
Fox Todorov > i guess you are pritty good at it
Fox Todorov > ^ ^
Saftsuze > Well, Ive been doing it my own way for about four years, so im getting the hang of it, yes :)
Fox Todorov > ah i was just stupid enough to let my guard down
Saftsuze > number one: never fly something you cant replace instantly
Fox Todorov > yeah i know that but i didnt had much choise
Fox Todorov > since i was still learning and all that
Fox Todorov > i dicided a few ice could help me get on my feet again
Fox Todorov > but you came and liberated me off of that dream i guess ^ ^
Saftsuze > well, you just gotta get back up on your feet and follow the number one rule
Saftsuze > get help from your corp
Saftsuze > do stuff together with them
Saftsuze > help each other out
Fox Todorov > will do
Todorov > thanks for sharing wisdom with me
Saftsuze > make sure you know about the risks vs. rewards on your activity - take risks, but with insurance of a backuo
Saftsuze > *bakcup
Fox Todorov > yup i just forgot to insure that ship
Fox Todorov > very stupid move by me
Saftsuze > insurance is good, but a backup ship or five is more important
Fox Todorov > will remember that
Fox Todorov > and pls dont write too bad stuff about me in your blog :P
Saftsuze > Nope. It will be funny. And I'll be nice as well :)
Fox Todorov > funny is great
Fox Todorov > i love self irony so i'll just have a cool story for my corp bros
Saftsuze > dont worry, you'll get the chance to be self ironic, theres some material in the chat logs :)

Home System Hellcamped

Just a quick note OOC:

Yup, it is that time of year when family comes first first and this year they all invade my home system as well. That means I am camped in planetside from now and until the beginning of January. Very little flying in space from now and until then. See you later!

Feel free to browse my old posts: They are all personal tales of adventure and very few has an expiry date stamped on them.

o7 Saftsuze

WE WANT WHITE WEARABLES!

So, I bought some white pants. Gold and white actually, from some odd Amarrian mysticist that had been cloaked in enemy space for five years practicing the ancient art known to the connoisseurs as “AFK Cloaking”. But, I digress, this odd space Buddha sold me his fancy pants and I also found a white tank top from some hipster shop in Jita 4-4. Yeah, not the 4-4 all mainstreamers go to, no, the other 4-4. Anyway, not really important where I got these clothes from, the important thing is that finally I had an all white outfit! I tried them on, and damn if I wasn’t the most handsome MF this side of Jove-space! Time to find some white sandals to go with this outfit. No luck. No sandals. And no white shoes at all? No. Nothing. Well, I’ll go for the yoga style barefoot look, then. No problem.

Mr. Fancypants and his sexy bare arms.
And look at those toes! Rrrrr!

Not sure about those non-functional hipster glasses,
but the top is just perfect I think.

But, when I was leaving the changing room, an alarm sounded and a message was sort of chanted to me in a cold Caldari accent: “Stop! In the name of the Caldari Fashion Police! Stop! You can’t leave the room, without some proper boots! Stop! Go buy some shoes, you don’t wanna look like a poor Minmatar bag lady!” I tried to stop it. I tried remotely accessing the hacking module in my ship's cargo hold to see if I could find a way to bypass the Caldari Fashion Control System. But there was no way. The door would not open unless I put on some shoes. But I refused to add black boots to this relaxed and casual zen-sex outfit. It was just plain wrong.

So I put on the good old outfit again and was finally allowed out of the changing room. 

Seriously, the Council of Stellar Management must take this to their overlords and demand some serious fashion freedom! I am a goddamn Gallente with a free spirit! I must be allowed my bare feet if I so choose to? I am butt naked in the pod anyway! And if bare feet is not allowed, at least give us some white sandals! Some more white stuff! CSM, WE WANT WHITE WEARABLES!

I am going to send this report to Sugar Kyle, a very much respected CSM representative so she can see for herself how my free spirit is being limited by the fascist fashion police forces of New Eden. Something has to be done!

The White Virgin

The mechanic looked rather uncertain. Looking for something on the hangar floor. Just anything to keep his eyes from meeting mine.

“A bit uncomfortable being alone with handsome men, are we?”

He coughed and stuttered:

“No, no, boss, I am just surprised to hear your plans for this vessel. We are just more used to work with less ... ehm—”

“Criminal captains?”

“—uh, well, thats your words, captain."

“Dont worry, ... Sins, was it?”

“Yes, captain. Cins with a C for short. Blique Cins is full name, sir.”

“Bleak Sins, well, we will have to work on that, I guess.”

I paused. I had fired the rest of the crew when I bought this Astero. They were all highly skilled scientists specialized in hacking and archaeology. But I just needed a guy to make sure my mods did not burn out, and to help with refitting and loot scooping. My exploration goals were not cracking up old containers—I wanted to crack open some fresh hulls!

“Well, Sins, we are gonna continue to use this vessel for exploration. Just be ready to explore her capabilities under fire as well. That is why we will bring more than just hacking modules. In those containers over there we have extra drones, excellent Minmatar and Gallente quality light drones. We have tracking disruptors and extra scramblers and drone interfacing modules and a variety of armor hardeners and resist boosters. And that thing over there, that is our Beauty Parlor!

The mechanic blushed. He was not the metrosexual type.

“You know, when our lady in white needs to brush up a bit!”

Of course he knew what the packaged installation was. It was a mobile depot for refitting and short term storage. He tried to get the conversation back to technicalities.

“Have you remembered to order scripts for the disruptor? And sufficient probes?”

“Everything should be there, but it is your job to do the check lists. And do not forget those crates over there, there is some quality non-augmented old fashioned dry Prosecco from Luminaire in there."

I was already looking forward to the out of pod moments in deep space when I could take a shower, and sink into the white leather couch and red velvet pillows with a glass of bubbly white. The gravity system on the Astero really gave you that sink-into-the-couch-feeling. Sins snapped me out of my daydreaming.

“Excellent, I'll get right to it, boss!”

He ran away. Relieved to get started on his work. I turned around and looked at the newly acquired Astero exploration vessel. Anastasia. That was her name. She was a beauty in white. She looked so innocent.


A few days later. In Amoen. Anastasia is cloaked in an asteroid belt:

“Look at that, Sins! Time to explore the hull strength of Anastasia!”

“But... it is a Vexor class cruiser, sir! Do you know how many drones can be stuck inside that drone bay?”

His voice was cracking.

“Oh yes, Sins, but look at the drones he is using. A mixed bag of crap. And look at this report from BattleClinic: This capsuleer has a history of bad choices. That is what matters, Sins, that is what matters! Let's warp to a safe and whip out that Beauty Parlor!”

The time to anchor the damn thing took forever.

“Get the tracking disruptor ready for installation. Remove one of the webs. I want to avoid damage from the blasters so we can fully concentrate on the drones.

“Eh.. Sir, we don't have a disruptor... only the scripts—”

“What! I told you to pack—”

“But it was not on the list—”

“Well, you should have put it on the list, then! Oh, whatever, dump all our cargo in the depot and let's do this the dual web style.

“But can we do that? Will we sur—”

“Shut up and do your job!”

One warp later.

“We are already loosing a lot of armor, captain!”

I was laughing. Almost crying. My hands were shaking. The blood boiling.

“I told you we were going to explore the hull, didn't i? Just make sure everything is working and i'll make sure it is we that warp out and not that fucking Vexor!”

I know I sounded less than sane.

“Easy for you to say, you have a hydrostatic capsule wrapped around you.”

Armor warnings were screaming and I was concentrating hard on targeting the drones.

“What was that, Sins?”

“Nothing, sir. Nothing.”

It was quiet. And beautiful. Just the distant sound of drones hitting the mobile tractor unit. The sunlight gleaming around the silhouettes of the asteroids. Anastasia in her coat of white nano membrane.

“I thought… I was sure we—uh, I—was gonna die.”

Cins was sitting on a crate in the cargo hold. He was sweaty. Still shaking.

“That is a great feeling, isn’t it!”

He threw up on the container wall next to him.

“I love exploration! Now, clean up that mess and get ready to organize the loot from the Vexor. That damned tractor unit scooped it all. And, yeah, leave the corpse in space, I am not collecting anymore.”

He threw up again.

Anastasia's innocence was lost.

Hey, look, she even matches my jacket!

The New Star of New Eden

There is a new bright star in New Eden. I found this story in a big black skill book from the Gideon Corporation that was laying in my Captain's Quarter:

The Third Account

In those days Caesar Mittani issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire New Eden Cluster. This was the first census that took place while a Goon was governor of Deklein. And everyone went to their own starting system to register.

So Joseph Capbuilder also jumped up from the system of Nazhgete in Derelik to Tash-Murkon Prime, because he belonged to the house and line of Tash-Murkon. He went there to register with Mary Hauler, who was pledged to be his alt and was expecting a noob. While they were there, the time came for the noob to leave the clone vat, and she gave 10 million ISK to the third alt, a son. She installed some learning implants in him and placed him in a separate Captain’s Quarter, because there was no room available for more than one capsuleer in each Captain’s Quarter.

And there were some miners living out in the asteroid fields nearby, keeping watch over their precious rocks all night. An Angel of the Cartel appeared to them, and the glory of the Cartel shone around them, and they were terrified. But the Angel Cartel Commander said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the capsuleers. Today in the star system of Tash-Murkon Prime a Noob has been born to you; he is The Third Account, a saviour of CCP. This will be a sign to you: You will find a noob boarded in his noobship and ship spinning in a hangar.”

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the Angel Cartel Commander, praising CCP and saying,

“Glory to CCP in the highest north, and in New Eden peace to those on whom their favor rests.”

When the Angels had left them and warped into space, the miners said to one another, “Let’s go to Tash-Murkon Prime and see this thing that has happened, which CCP has told us about.”

So they hurried off and found Mary Hauler and Joseph Capbuilder, and The Third Acount, a noob, who was ship spining in the hangar. When they had seen him, they spammed all open chat channels concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who read it LOLed and WTFed at what the miners said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in one of her jumpclones. The miners returned, glorifying and praising CCP for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.

The Men Who Stare at Boats

The Upper Lip Finesse new elite group of New Age Warriors has been formed. They, well, I, spend an enormous amount of time just meditating in deep wormhole space. I am trying to focus all the energy in the universe to create that perfect moment in space and time where a stealth bomber gets to uncloak and launch it’s torpedoes at a viable target. In order to do this, a lot of time has to be spent levitating above enemy starbases staring at other space ships. Sometimes I feel they can feel me being there.

My mental powers trying to slip through the POS shields.

And this transcendental strategy is paying off. The first wreckages from mental and torpedo power have already (well, “already” is of course a relative term in transcendental practice) been achieved. Although I have yet to make the enemy explode from my thoughts alone, I am certain I will reach that point one day. Because, as I said, I feel that they can feel me staring at them. And when you feel something strong enough it will start to hurt.

Today Upper Lip Finesse awarded me the Bad Boy Space Buddha medal for excellence in the New Age Warrior service: “Awarded for extensive period of cloaked meditation in deep transcendental wormhole space resulting in glorious and explosive enlightenment of other ship.”

OK, I admit it, I took some time off from the meditation to create a medal. 

Hm. Maybe I’ll make another one as well? Then get back to meditation? 

Yeah, just one more.

Space Buddha out.

Sneaking Pirate, Hidden Moustache

All that we are is the result of what we have thought.
The mind is everything.
What we think we become.

a terran thinker called Buddha

It is something I have tried to do a lot of times. But my patience was never there. The adrenaline junkie always craving action. Always warping to the next possible kill. Always roaming. Constant movement.

Now I am still. I am quiet. I am contemplating and observing. I am learning. I am chasing while sitting still, I am moving without effort.

Among Sleepers I shall be the awaken one.

The Criminal Comeback Timer

The last post I wrote before I unplugged from my pod for an extended planetary vacation was about patience. I feel it is a very relevant read as I am now returning to the New Eden space lanes.

I am trying to take it slow. Not to burn the candle in both ends - or dual prop as we capsuleers call it. I spend more time ordering my associates around. Making an effort to get a feel for all the aspects of capsuleer life. I have also moved all my associates into low security space. My uncle Earl is busy shutting down his shop in Aeschee and my more clandestine industrial organisation started the low sec move over a year ago. Inspired by my CSM representative, Sugar Kyle, I have embraced the low sec lifestyle for all my pilots. But all in slow motion. There is no rush.

I have liquefied my assets and I am in the process of training up for more jump clones. A big shout out to Suleiman Shouaa's jump clone service in Hevrice. A great place to reinvent yourself when flashing red without any standings to speak of. The plan now, is to operate from one location and only buy a few ships and fittings every time the hangar is empty.  New Eden is changing faster than ever and almost 90 percent of my ships was utterly useless when I came back. Hence the liquefying process.

There are interesting events in low security space as well. With the very profitable Mordus Legion lurking combined with the security tag carrying clone ships, there should be more bounty hunters scouring the belts. I know I will spend more time in belts. And one of my associates have already lost a ship to the Legion. Fascinating. I almost got the shakes from that experience. With a belt rat!

Some colleagues have also reported that the militia pilots have hardened up and swapped the warp core stabs with damage upgrades. And it seems so, as I have had a few good fights in factional warfare space as well the last few months. Although, I still prefer the untainted free-of-politics-low-sec-space.I feel there is more potential for adventure there. Like finding a stranded whale. Or kill Santha! Hunt down a battle sheep. Make a shake. Have some sexytime.

Well. Finding adventure takes time. Be patient and there might come a new tale from the travelling moustache wax salesman.

How To Become A Pirate: Patience.

A gentleman contacted me from the other side of the universe. I accepted the call and what follows is a slightly edited version of our talk. Some content has been taken out, some polishing has been done on spelling and structure, but it should not have affected the content.

Sal Corleone > Greetings!
Saftsuze > What may I help you with? Facial hair growth treatment?
Sal Corleone > I had a conversation with you yesterday through my associate.
Saftsuze > Ah! It’s you!
Sal Corleone > I downloaded and read a copy of your log “The Criminal Countdown Lounge”
Saftsuze > I am glad to hear that. Did you find entertainment?
Sal Corleone > You have converted me! I have decided to become a pirate - a well groomed and attired one at that.
Saftsuze > Sir, I am very happy to hear that!
Sal Corleone > I may ask you for advice on pirating once in a while, if you would be so kind with assistance?
Saftsuze > No problem! My first advice: You will lose a lot of ships.
Sal Corleone > I’m going to build my first pirate ship now. An Incursus-class frigate.
Saftsuze > Excellent choice. I have more than 400 losses now. 250 of them is probably from my first 3-6 months as a pirate. And the 100 first are probably that very same class of frigates: Incursus.
Sal Corleone > Losing ships won’t bother me. I have a rich benefactor.
Saftsuze > Excellent. So do I. Well, not very rich, but he keeps me in frigates. My uncle Earl runs a shop called Guns & Banjos in Aeschee - go visit him should you ever need anything while in low sec.
Sal Corleone > I think I have enough to support my losses for a while.
Saftsuze > Excellent. Isk is one thing. Another is pride and self confidence. You will lose quite a lot of them as well, so keep them stocked as well. And patience. Did I mention patience? I run out of it all the time. Number one killer of my ships.

[break]

Sal Corleone > I won’t bug you anymore tonight, but thanks for talking.
Saftsuze > No worries, mate. Any time. Join 'The Autocannon' as well. One of the most important assets for a solo pirate is to have other solo pirate friends. But if you get over the psychological and financial obstacles - being a solo pirate is the best life you can choose in this universe. I would highly recommend joining a solo pirate corp like Black Dragon Fighting Society - and later earn yourself a black jacket from the Black Rebel Rifter Club.

And with some pleasantries the conversation ended. I am looking forward to hear from him a few months from now. I’m sure he will have ships enough. But patience? And self confidence? My spirit has been overheated and burnt out many times.

Making A Name For Myself

The Moustache Mystery Man

A questionable scumbag with the name of Rixx Javix has included me in his Pirate Trading Card collection. I must admit I feel more honored than I had thought I would. To be honest I did not believe I would make it into the collection. I sure was hoping. I have to admit that, even though I tend to look to Rixx more for popcorn-friendly drama than honorable recognition. But he sure is one hell of a contributor to the general capsuleer population and I am one big sucker for compliments and recognition. 

And Rixx really deserves recognition for his work. Relentless provider of content. Both for planetside and in-capsule consumption.

So. I would love nothing more than to give Rixx Javix a well deserved armortherapy and some deep structure peeling. Free of charge with love from Upper Lip Finesse. I'll probably end up with a sore clone, though.

And my name? It sure is a mystery.

Very Important Customer

I had been chasing a pair of sexy lips for a while, but they were slipping away all the time. Then suddenly they changed their mind and embraced my hard Kestrel of love. Instant karma.

Now, in this intense moment of intimacy, a whole fleet comes bursting through the gates of Onne. They are old corp mates of mine:

sexylips2012 Gaterau > gf
Brink Albosa >Saftsuze o/
Saftsuze > gf
Merk Stainz >Saftsuze o/
Lucas Padecain >Saftsuze o/
Saftsuze > o7 riftas
sexylips2012 Gaterau > Hahaha you called all them for me
Saftsuze > heh, yeah
sexylips2012 Gaterau > noob bye any wAYS
Saftsuze > she mad

Some customers really think highly of themselves.

Life In The Upper Lip League

So, there has been some trouble lately, in my favorite holoreel reality show: “Real Life”. The main character got a rather serious illness and there was a lot going on in his life in general as well. So I've been glued to the holoreeler for a few months and not plugged my clone to a capsule for a long time. So Upper Lip Finesse got a rough start. Or rather not a start at all. But, it seems most of the drama in “Real Life” is over for now, the main character is alive and well and I finally have more time to spend in space!

So, with more time to spend, why not spend some more ISK as well? A lot of fun for a lot of ISK. That’s how we play it here in Upper Lip Finesse. It’s a hedonist lifestyle with focus on beauty and pleasure and magnificent explosions. There is nothing like a close shave with a blingy blade!

Upper Lip Finesse

An era is over. I have left my beloved Black Rebel Rifter Club and all the R1DERs. There is no dramatic rage or intrigues involved in this, it is rather a result of a slow enlightenment process and a lot of looks in the mirror. Who am I? The Rebels have shaped me into what I am: The most handsome scumbag New Eden has ever seen. 

And a loner to the bone. Even when I could join fleets in R1DER I often chose not to. But now I cannot even turn them down, because of the new schedule and timezone of my favorite holoreel show “Real Life”. So I came to realize that I had little reason to stay in R1FTA. My friends in R1FTA is in all my public communication channels anyway.

It was time put my perfectly haired clone into some good use. To give back to the community in low security space. To help their clones to achieve the same level of sexiness as yours truly. I had to do it. Open up my own beauty shop. So, welcome to:

Upper Lip Finesse [WAX3D]

Beauty Parlor for the Low Sec Gentleman.

Special services:

• Shield and deep structure peeling.
• Laser removal of unwanted hairy fittings.
• Armortherapy.
• Express tanning at zero at the sun.
• Pedicure for nail biting frigate pilots.

Free Moustache Waxing and Trimming for every appointment. We recommend using Saftsuze’s Special Nanite Wax™ with Energized Pro Nano-Vitamins Formula® for extra shine and volume.

Hope to see you around!