Almost Eight

 Sometimes it's better to light a flamethrower than curse the darkness.
-- (Terry Pratchett, Men at Arms)

Wednesday 16th of January 2008, almost eight years ago I embarked on a journey that would bring the adventures of Kane Rizzel to the masses. I had taken the leap under the influence of long time friend, fellow pirate, blogger and all round good guy, Flashfresh and with the help of my then editor Soup Spoon I was able to put my sometimes jumbled thoughts and crazy experiences into this blog. Soup was there to make sure my dyslexia didn't make me look like an idiot.

What have I learnt in eight years? Well, writing isn't easy and inspiration is fleeting. Without the inspiration to write it is sometimes best not to write anything, I felt a lot of pressure sometimes to try and post as much as I could and the drafts section of my blog can attest to that, but I resisted the temptation to post some of the unworthy.

Some adventures never really lived up to the expectations I had for them in print, the moment never translated well into words. I wanted this blog to be entertaining and not just some after action report of going through the motions.

As the years have gone by and my time in game has dminished so has my posting, 2008 of course was my most active year with a whopping 107 posts, it was all so new and exciting. my next most prolific year was 2012 with 73 posts, but I avearaged between 50 and 60 posts until 2014 when I embarked on my real life adventure with Sea Shepherd.

It's weird looking back at some of the stuff I wrote, and somewhat embarrasing but I can not lie, I have enjoyed writing this blog for as long as I have. I've had many redesigns over the years and the custom banners were always my favourites, the current was designed by Joe Struck.

Flashfresh is no longer active, I miss the dude, a lot of the old school bloggers are gone, replaced by the streamers. The Blog Pack is dead, Crazy Kinux's work in compiling a list of active blogs was always a good stop to find interesting happenings in EVE. Most of the blogs in my sidebar are no longer active, gone are the days when there were constantly new blogs to read.

Blogging like Solo Piracy isn't dead, it's just a little bit more difficult.

I'm still with Sea Shepherd, currently docked at an island off the coast of Marseille, chavving wifi and logging into EVE. So much has changed and will take getting used to. I don't have a good enough connection to actually PvP, but will be about rediscovering the game as and when I can.

In April of 2016 Kane will turn Ten, and I hope to be around to do something special.

See you in space.

Mischief, Gold and Piracy

This ones for the mighty sea
Mischief, gold and piracy
This ones for the man that raised me
Taught me sacrifice and bravery
This ones for our favorite game
Black and gold, we wave the flag
This ones for my family name
With pride I wear it to the grave


A lot has changed in this universe. A hell of a lot, I feel like a rookie on my first day, a lot to take in. A lot of cleaning to do, the hangar is a mess, ships in disarray, need to get a solid hangar crew together to sort this out.

In Nashh We Trust

The librarian was, ex officio, a member of the college council. No-one had been able to find any rule about orang-utans being barred, although they had surreptiously looked very hard for one.

-- Unseen University politics at work
(Terry Pratchett, Eric) 

I first encountered Nashh Kadavr as a fresh faced pilot with a great idea, The Celebrity Death Match was a really cool concept that I was keen to be part of, six years ago, the Summer of 2009 was when I was probably at my most active and most ruthless, it was a different time in EVE.

Over the years we have become good friends, and Nashh has continued to have great ideas. He is the driving force behind EVE_NT, a player gathering in Nottingham, which I was honoured to be able to attend the very first one, as a guest of Nashh and his wonderful family.

I don't know many EVE players in real life and those that I do I consider good friends, and of those Nashh is the one I would trust to move my assets.

My name is Kane Rizzel and I endorse Nashh Kadavr for the Counsil of Stellar Management.

A vote for Nashh is a vote for a better EVE.

It's always sunny in Gusandall

The geo-static orbit of the station keeps us in the light, the warm glow of the sun washing over us every time we undock.

The Pirates of Gusandall were once feared across the universe, a kill or be killed union of miscreants from all walks of life, the station a hub for random acts of violence to which capsuleers were drawn to like moths to a flame. Some friends, many an enemy but Gusandall was home, our home.

Back in day the pirate menace brought rise to mighty anti pirate corporations and alliances, large fleets would roll through trying to stop the tide of malevolence, but much like the Pirates of old, they have all but disappeared, names lost in time.

But the Pirate legends still live, spoken in hushed tones in cantinas across the universe, some have become respectable ladies and gentlemen, with vast commercial and industrial empires, others have retired to enjoy the comforts of their plunder.

And then there were some who took their fights to more dangerous waters. 

The universe is a totally different place from those early days, advances in ship and weapons technology have shaped battles in countless ways, tactics evolving as fast as the industrialists built these machines of destruction. 

It was easier back then, low sec was the wild frontier where even large nullsec alliances feared to tread, it was the great unknown, and it was exciting. Legends forged and fortunes made.

As the universe has expanded and population has exploded, what was once feared and revered, now feels tame. 

I miss my Rifter, the smell of fuel and gunpowder, the rattle of auto cannons, the acceleration of micro warp, the satisfying explosions and rain of debris, pushing the limits and often exceeding them. 

I miss Gusandall... And I miss all of you!

Stay strong. Never surrender.

Strong hearts, Iron will.

Kane Rizzel

There and back again... And there again.

"But ye gotta know *where* ye're just gonna rush in. Ye cannae just rush in *anywhere*. It looks bad, havin' to rush oout again straight awa'."

-- Feegle tactics (Terry Pratchett, The Wee Free Men)

I was all ready to get back home and fire up my gaming rig to unleash hell upon the heavens of New Eden, only to be deployed again straight after finishing a six month voyage at sea.

So after a short visit home for my birthday next week I shall be off to sea for up to 3 months.

Apologies to whats left of my readers, I promise I want to play and write again, but I'm having such an awesome time trying to save our planet :)

I also promise that when I do start playing again there will be a violencing and explosions.

Yes, this is why we love EVE

 Anathema didn't only believe in ley-lines, but in seals, whales, bicycles, rainforests, whole grain in loves, recycled paper, white South Africans out of South Africa, and Americans out of practically everywhere down to and including Long Island.

-- (Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman, Good Omens)



In other news I will be departing for a few months in the Antarctic in the next fortnight, unfortunately the ships internet isn't good enough to even log in but at least I have over a years worth of skills queued.

Memory

The hangar is always dark these days, a myriad of vessels powered down, in hibernation, the deck crew has long gone, their employer seemingly nowhere to be found.

It's cold in here, the life of this once vibrant hangar, lost in the void.

A light flickers, a frigate in the far corner, powers up for a second, but in this darkness it feels like a stroke of lightning. The darkness returns, the brief flash making it feel heavier... Darker.

The frigate, a favourite of this particular hangars owner, pulses once more, brighter, making the returning darkness feel... ominous.

a low hum breaks the silence, systems powering up in the darkness, the afterburners fire, the frigate in its cradle held fast, and just as suddenly the darkness returns, a little brighter, warmed by the glow of the cooling back wall.

The Rifter feels a memory, its systems for so long melded with the mind of its pilot.

It misses its pilot...