So CK, Crovan, and Alsedrech are returning with the Drone Bay once again, and this time they’re bringing along a welcome female voice to the mix, the wench herself, Maeve Trinity.
I’ve noted on my site many a time before how truly essential the early Drone Bay episodes were to my development in EVE. I simply wouldn’t have made it without the noob-centric “Don’t Panic” segment. So, yes, I am especially excited to welcome them back to my podcast library.
Cheers guys!
Update: Episode 25 is released and can be found at thedronebay.com
I now have a Flickr account where I’ll be posting some of my favorite screenshots from my travels, along with a sampling of some EVE related design work I’ve done. Check it out!
Speaking for music for space:
Selected by a committee chaired by Carl Sagan, these songs were etched into a 12-inch, gold-plated copper record that was placed aboard the two spaceships in 1977.
Eclectic and lovely. I wonder how we could get a mix of all of this in one download. (wink?)
If you’re viewing the Chronofile in your browser instead of a feed reader, you’ll probably notice a peculiar date format associated with each post now. Thanks to a little curious thinking and community effort, all content on the blog is now dated in compliance with the Yoiul Conference calendar and marked in EVE Standard Time (ET, EST, or GMT).
One of the first fiction-related question I had when initially researching EVE was “when?” When does all this take place? What year? And through research I came to find some of my favorite lore in the EVE Chronicles archives: Time & the Astrologer.
Take time to read the story if you haven’t before, but for the sake of explanation, the short of it is this: When all of the empires came together, they had no common language for determining time. So a few groups formed based on different time-telling philosophies, and they were to hold a conference on a Jovian ship called the Yoiul—hence, the Yoiul Conference. Politics won the day, and ‘the Traditionalists’ determined that dates would be set on an ancient 365 day planetary calendar, with 24 hour days.
The year would start at year 1 from that moment forward. The conference, to the date of this posting, happened 112 years ago (23236 A.D.). Thus, this year is YC-112.
For some more info on EVE and time:
• EVElopedia
• EVE Timeline
• Grismar’s EVE Wiki: EVE Time
Special thanks to Krispy Dingo, Jorshan, and Xeross for their help. Check out Krispy Dingo’s post here for the code to change it on your own blog.
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. 5: Cyberpunk Suite.
(One note on this mix: It’s somewhat aggressive and very cerebral music, meaning, it’s not the easiest for passive listening. But it’s that much more rewarding if you do let it into your head. Enjoy.)
The feeling you get the first time you plug in to the network is simultaneously the most insignificant and monumentally god-like you’ll ever feel. You are at once but a cell in the bloodstream of information connecting every capsuleer, and a neurological mainframe ready to access any spark of information at the mere thought of it.
There are the majority of capsuleers doing their part in the bloodstream of intelligence, contributing complacently to the benefit of the megacorporations, never to disrupt the flow. And then there’s the others of us—those that wield cybernetic information like a fighter wields turrets.
We are the hackers, code breakers, analyzers, and decryptors. We’re the binary shadow in your darkest corners, and we’re here to take your mind.
The kids will love it! Comes complete with creepy choir voices, and it’s full of stars!
Head over to Jump On Contact and read the incredibly interesting account of a new, potentially major, war brewing between some of New Eden’s greatest powers. (I made him assure me that this wasn’t an April fools prank. Rest easy.)
For the browncoats out there, an upcoming book that features “a nostalgic look back on the Firefly TV show and the Serenity movie spinoff” as well as “new Firefly prose short stories by original writers of the TV show.” Gorram right.
Read all chapters here.
Rettic’s camera drone eyes were fixed on a nebulae cloud’s eternal dance through the stars. Eternity. What a concept. And how long have you been reaching across these heavens, old cloud? What are you reaching for?
His daze was interrupted by the shadow of a Megathron class boat passing overhead. He was close enough to feel the turbine thrusters reverberate across the hull of his ship, like nerves would feel a low wind brushing over the skin. He returned his camera eyes forward to see the station—Trust Partners Warehouse. It was of Minmatar build, protruding antennae and raw solar panels raking the surrounding space. Aside from the Megathron and a few docking cruisers, it was quiet. There were no apparent signs of any of these ships looking to engage his Myrmidon.
After being released from his pod, he kneeled on the metal grated floor for a moment, allowing himself to take a few slow, deep breaths. It hasn’t started yet. So far, this fresh clone had reset his bearings, relieving him of the debilitating nausea and extreme disorientation he had suffered for countless months in previous clones. It would return though. It’s only a matter of time.
He wandered the station looking for the nearest public space. That’s where they’d meet him—where there was a crowd. It’s always safest that way.
In an open mall area littered with rusty shoppe signs, one in particular seemed to be winning the hearts of the stationsiders: Il Buono, Il Brutto, Il Cattivo. Matari loved to tease a little elegance with ancient dialect.
“Step back, coat open,” said the Sebiestor doorman as he gestured with a metal pipe. Weapon checks. This is definitely the place. The guard took extra time inspecting Rettic, as he certainly stood out amongst the body tattooed, leather strapped crowd. Rettic opened his grey overcoat showing an empty holster attached to his mexallon mesh body suit, glinting a dusty green in the dim light.
The bodyguard nodded for Rettic to enter.
He sat at an empty table far from the commotion at the bar. The room was pulsing with the heartbeat rhythms of Vherokiorian music as women danced above on walkways that doubled as rafters supporting the height of the reaching ceiling.
Some in the room were capsuleers, most were capsuleer crew, which, in null sec, are an equally dangerous lot. Any crew fearless enough to support a pilot’s ship in the outer rim is as unafraid of death as your average clone. They’ve not only accepted their temporary stay here in space…they embrace it.
The sound of breaking bottles nearly drowned out the music. It wasn’t but a minute longer before three men approached Rettic.
“I stand out that much, huh.”
“You need to come with us, Gally,” spoke the tallest one. “He requests to see you in private.”
“The rule was to meet in public.”
“Rules changed.”
Rettic nodded in defeat, put out his cigar and stood to follow them through a guarded corridor past the crowd.
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.
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. 4: War Suite.
The Drums of War. The thunder of weaponry that sends ripples across the souls of the galaxy. The battle cry that calls the demigods of the skies to demonstrate their true power over common beings. Such is the conflict for sovereignty over worlds.
The percussive drive of the Minmatar runs blood through the fleets. The triumphant horns of the Caldari strike pride into their numbers. The throaty, droning chant of the Amarr rattle the core of their enemies. And the lamenting voice of the Gallente, a singular melody crying for peace in a universe that knows not the word.
All fates are decided here, in the chorus of war.
