This is a new installment in a series of music compilations at The Chronofile called Sounds for Flying. You can find all of the volumes here.
Download Sounds for Flying Vol. 2: Western Suite.
The outer rim of the ‘verse is freedom. It’s a frontier waiting to be explored. Untapped space waiting to be claimed. Unimaginable riches waiting to fill a prospector’s pockets. And the very reason empire dwellers fear null sec to their core is the same reason the rest know it as the only way to live: no Law.
This isn’t a story about the greater Alliances and their wars. This is a story about other side of 0.0: the wandering pilot looking for an upper hand in a desert landscape. It’s you and your boat, a few bullets to your name, and a gang of bandits on the other side of that jump-gate. You’re a gunslinger on a horse, in search of a little serenity.
Welcome to the wild west, space cowboy.
The wise are not wise because they make no mistakes. They are wise because they correct their mistakes as soon as they recognize them.
— Orson Scott Card
Lumenarious Rex at the Scout’s Domain has written a pretty fantastic, comprehensive piece about the efficient use of voice comms in fleet engagements. Some of these points can’t be reiterated enough to some fleet commanders I’ve known in my day.
As the fleet commander, it is of the utmost importance that when you speak in voice communications that you are accurate in the information you give, that your instructions are brief and concise and that you are absolutely calm while you are delivering your instructions.
If you know any budding FC’s, make sure they read this. Please.
If you haven’t seen it yet, head over to CK’s site to check out the new banner I designed for him. It was a pleasure to give a little back to a site that not only got me on my feet in the blogging community, but got me into EVE as a whole. Cheers CK!
An article remembering one of the most influential science fiction artists of our short stay on Earth, who passed away at 90 years young on Friday. Yes, you know his work.
“I think when we finally are living in space, as people will be doing soon, we’ll recognize a whole new freedom and ease of life,” McCall was quoted as saying. “These space habitats will be more beautiful because we will plan and condition that beauty to suit our needs. I see a future that is very bright.”
We’ll see you there, McCall. Rest in peace.
Welcome to a new series at The Chronofile: Sounds for Flying. A major part of gameplay for me is having the right music for the situation at hand. It seems purely a cosmetic decision, but I find it brings more immersion to the universe I can’t get enough of. It enhances the experience.
I spend a lot of time making sound mixes to fly to, so I figured why not share them? This will be a series of audio mixes I’ve assemble of found sounds & music that I will continue to release occasionally. Each volume will have a new theme, and new artwork designed by yours truly.
The theme of Sounds for Flying Vol. 1: Exploration.
Download here or click the image below.
Nebulae. Solar wind currents. Collapsed relics of wars past dancing a ballet under the glare of the stars.
With probes as your hands reaching across the planetary system, your purpose is to document the unrecorded, salvage the abandoned, and be wary of the awoken. Each turn might be a prosperous discovery, or the end of the line.
These are the sounds of the unknown.
Side Note: I want to reiterate that this is not my music. However, I’m not going to release any track names as to 1) not draw attention to any copyright hounds, and 2) a little mystery keeps it immersive. Some of you may recognize a track here and there. If you need to know the track list or have a question about a particular song, email me.
The latest Dev Blog gives a warm, fuzzy feeling on how well the CSM4 summit in Iceland went, but nothing Xhagen could say makes me as cuddly as the actual meeting notes. I could spend all night writing a post with my line-by-line reactions to everything that was discussed, but I can save both of us some time and sum it up with: Slow. Freakin. Clap.
Spend the 10 minutes it will take you to read it all. It gives me high hopes for the coming year, and much pride in the real competence of our player base representatives. I salute you, CSM. Keep the fire going.
It was happening again.
Rettic awoke in a panicked sweat and ran to the sink, his stomach retching as he expelled an orange bile from his mouth. Pod fluid.
A flash of brightness suddenly filled the room with a perfect simulation of atmospheric morning sunlight. The window projections in the cheap Oursulaert temp-dwelling had mistaken his sudden movement for a wake-up routine. “I’m still sleeping,” Rettic said as he squinted so his eyes wouldn’t adjust to the light that was feeding his migraine. The room dimmed in apology.
The first time Rettic felt this he thought it was a faulty clone. The extreme disorientation. The need for sleep. It was more than a physical pain—it was an ever-present feeling of being lost. It pulled his brain, tilted his sense of place. It wasn’t safe to fly this way, but he had persisted with the intent to get himself in the wrong situation until the clone was finally ripped from its pod. Finally, relief.
But it didn’t last. In fact, over time it had gotten worse. The physical clone had nothing to do with it. It was a mental sickness—a psychological needle in his mind that he carried with his metaphysical existence.
Every time it happened the same way: He was born into a new clone body with the feeling of being able to breathe again, and over a few days, maybe weeks time, the pressure returned. The longer he stayed in the body, the more smothering it became.
Rettic washed his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror display, breathing slowly.
It was known as pod sickness. Independent bioengineers had claimed for years that research proved the potential of such a toll on an unchecked capsuleer’s mind state. Between the eternal sleeplessness, adjusting to artificial gravities, going years at a time without looking out a window, and the utterly surreal feeling of walking again after weeks in a pod—the earliest capsuleers were sometimes driven to extended states of psychosis. Sometimes they’d eventually recover after adapting to the realities of eternal life. Others remained as mentally capable in space as a rolling ore.
But with the regulation of cloning technology, Cromeaux Inc. now injects first time capsuleers with enough stabilization meds to have even the youngest of minds accepting their godliness as easily as they’d accept an ISK handout.
These days, the only capsuleers that still suffered from the now fabled ‘pod sickness’ were black market capsuleers. Pilots that were illegally cloned for the first time. Pilots that were illegally registered in CONCORD’s records. Pilots like Rettic.
Another white flash. But this time it wasn’t the windows. Rettic vomited again.
He yearned for solid ground. Not just dirt beneath his feet, but an existential ground. A home, or the closest thing he knew to it. He wanted his sister. A single reminder of her always brought back a cascade of memories that seemed more fogged every day: his father hunting in golden wheat fields, Aloraluna laughing in the creek. Clouds. Clouds that made his child mind know with piece of mind that Villore was the center of the universe.
Now his reality was twisted. There was no down, there was no up, and there sure as hell wasn’t a center to his universe.
Aloraluna, I’m dying. Where are you?
Rettic’s Log are the accounts of Rettic in-character, his history, and the story of my experiences in New Eden as seen through his eyes. Read all of them here.
Solo flight didn’t last long. As chance would have it, Nocipe, a co-worker and friend that recently got his pilot license just happened to be stationed in Oursulaert for the past few weeks—the very system I’ve been basing my hi-sec hangar and market operations. Out of convenience, and just to have another soul in my chat window, he decided to join me in Project Copernicus. This is a good thing.
Though I have a good six months of skill training more than he has, mentally, we’re at a similar milestone in our experience. We both have the desire to learn lessons the hard way. We want to study our ships, fly them well and often, know all of their strengths and weaknesses, make mistakes and learn from them. We’ve read enough guides. We’ve heard too often how it’s ‘supposed’ to be done. We want to take hold of our own paths in New Eden, rather than flying with the current, so to speak, as we have been.
It began as a request from me to test a new Incurus fitting I put together on a few of his hulls. We fleeted up, picked a planet in Renyn and I proceeded to make him my punching bag. I first, and with hesitation, brought my frigate up against his Destroyer. Having a reputation for being frigate killers, I was a little worried he may burn me down before I had much of a chance to take the offensive. This wasn’t the case, thankfully, and my three T2 Electron blasters put him in hull before he had me around 85% armor.
Both of us intrigued at the outcome, we tried it out on his Vexor, which gave me a little more trouble, but mostly because of his youth in skill training, the Incursus still prevailed.
Since he was still training for a “Wensley Special” Rifter fit I directed him to a few weeks ago, the next night we put combat on hold and devoted all our flight time to playing directional scanner cat-and-mouse. I would set out to a random belt or planet in Du Annes, and we chatted on vent, both figuring out the best tactics for narrowing down a specified target in the shortest time possible. At first we were taking up to a minute or two before we had each other at a 5% angle. By the end of the hour, we were clocking more easily under a minute before warping to one another. Nothing special, but progress.
And last night, Nocipe could finally fly his Rifter—fully fitted aside from a T2 Afterburner. I grabbed my T2 fit Incursus and we rendezvoused at Oursulaert VII at 50 km apart. From there, we had around four or five duels, each time his Rifter getting the drop on my Incursus at surprising speed (curse you Wensley!). Then we slowed down and took turns studying the effects of orbit distance on our optimal range, AB on or off, varying speeds, etc. It was a course in trial and error, and we both learned much better tactics for piloting our Frigates.
So well in fact, than when we finally found my orbital sweet-spot while testing my blasters, they hit his Rifter so hard and instantly that I popped his ship before I could even turn off my hard points. Yeah, I ate the ISK on that one. There was much laughter.
Through this routine over the past week, we’re both more eager to get flying in real combat situations than we’ve ever been. Yes, we’re aware we’ll get our asses handed to us, probably sooner rather than later, but we’re ready for it. Each loss mail is another lesson. We need that.
After probably another night of trail duels, our objective for the weekend is to fit out a handful of our best fitted Frigates and hit low-sec.
Look forward to the outcome. I sure am.
Valuable knowledge for any new pilots out there. If you don’t think “\o OMW to the POS w/2 BS BPCs, T2 LAR, MAR, MAPC, and MWD BPOs” is a sentence, you should probably have a look.
As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport.
— William Shakespeare
The war in Providence has shaken out the excess, so to speak, and I along with them. M3, gods bless ‘em, is staying behind to fight ‘til their last breath. Frankly, I wouldn’t expect them to do anything otherwise. A merc job isn’t just a job to them. They breathe it, and live it. They become their client. Until the next job…then they do it all over again.
I don’t have that kind of devotion in me. Maybe I’m a lesser man for it.
Either way, that wasn’t my fight.
So I’m in Empire space again. Self-employed. Doing some trading in Oursulaert III, Renyn. Hell, I’ve even taken up a small exploration gig with a new partner I’ve found. Nocipe, real nice pilot. Green as hell to life in the black, but nice, and a lot of heart for the fight. I’m showing him a thing or two I learned in the outer rim, and he’s helping me keep the front to my small corporation. A fair trade.
But exploration. How about that? I’d like to think dad would be proud. If nothing else, CONCORD is. It’ll keep them from getting suspicious for a—
The muffled static of a docking clerk interrupted the feed—”Balle VII to the Copernicus, docking clearance has been granted”—click.
—Ok well, business calls. I, ah, I know you aren’t tellin’ me where I’m gonna find you. I know you aren’t going to answer this message either. But, if you want to at least tell me you ain’t in any kind of—you know.
Just be safe, sister. You know where to find me. You always do.
—
NEOCOM MSG Transmittal - 15:04 - Balle - Sinq Laison
Outgoing: Registered Capsuleer Rettic
To Incoming: Aloraluna - 4 MSGs Unrecieved
SENT
—
While scouring the new blog pack additions for sites I hadn’t read, I happened upon a post that mentioned my recently expressed desire to go solo and experience the unknown through exploration. Turns out, Diary of a Bored Spaceman is practically an entire blog devoted to the very mission I’m on. He sums up our shared urges perfectly in his first post:
If I went [to wormhole space], I wouldn’t be bringing any road maps or guidebooks promising surefire ways to maximize isk profits for minimum risk. That would be missing the point, which was to make my own mistakes, learn my own lessons. So much of what had bored me to tears over the past couple of years was the fact that once you read up all of the FAQs and tip sheets there only seemed to be one way to do anything: The Right Way. To hell with that. To paraphrase another starship captain, I aimed to misbehave.
I echoed almost this exact sentiment in response to Kirith’s post about the ups and downs of solo flight. I just need to experience the downs for myself. It’s the only way I’m going to learn my place in New Eden.
I digress. Go read Diary of a Bored Spaceman now. So far, it’s wonderfully written and gives a space nomad like me plenty to ponder. I’ll be spending the week combing through his archives.
My former corp mate and newly accepted member of the blog pack, Jager Da, is starting a wormhole training corp called the Kairos Syndicate. It’s got a good premise, and he’s a good pilot, so if you’re interested in learning the ways of wormhole exploration or just want some mates to fly with, give it a look.
