Deep in the shadows of your deepest secrets
I sleep next to the precepts you hold most dear
Your heart is in my province hour upon hour
I shiver when you feel the cold,
Everything you say I hear
Like a bomb and its fuse,
We bring bright light
But I could be a devil to you
My engines roar to life as I align towards Belt X-1, pointing the nose of my Hurricane directly at the the Ferox, Vengeance and Retribution sitting some 300km away. Jack’s Myrmidon is already aligned and all we need to do now is distract them from the truth.
To distract them from the truth, we must first posit a false truth.
Jack starts talking shit in local and I add to it with the odd quip or some unimportant trivia. They start to respond. Chitter chatter chitter chatter… Together, we are filling local with the kind of junk that causes true capsuleers to consider not updating their clones.
We have already tried to attack them at the belt but they simply warped off to an on grid tactical safe some 300 klicks off. Their plan now is to sit still and look like viable targets until we get into range. Once we are at a range at which we might start getting excited, they will align and then warp off, leaving us high and dry and without satisfaction.
We know what their plan is. They know that we know what their their plan is. As convoluted as it sounds, they also know that we must know that they know that we know their plan.
In their search for truth the first step must be a question. Without the question, the truth can never be ventilated. If truth is not sought, it cannot be discovered. They have taken the first step. They have asked the question:
So why are we approaching them?
We are not going to catch them – they are 300km away, have eyes on us and are at a safespot. We are not inexperienced PvP pilots. We must know that our approach leads only to a lack of satisfaction.
We have checked the surrounding systems and know that they have no backup. I focus on their ships’ speeds – 0m/s. Perfect – everything is going according to their plan. I check in with Amber. More nonsense fills the local channel – there is even reference to old media and various exchanges are made regarding the “fairness” of capsuleer combat (an issue which, apparently, neither party regards as important).
We shoot some rats, providing them with an opportunity to warp to the wrecks as we continue to slowboat towards them. They do not respond. We destroy the wrecks, denying them the opportunity of warping in. They respond with afew jabs and thrusts in local about whether or not we want a fight.
If we don’t want a fight why are we approaching them?
Of course we want a fight… but in New Eden, You get used to a lack of satisfaction and a dry existence where PvP combat is fair. A life where PvP combat is predictable and safe.
Assumed truisms are necessary in their search for truth. Glimpses of such “truths” arise in their minds. We know we can’t actually attack them but are slowboating towards them because we are bored and they are the only viable targets in the surrounding systems. We are all here to have fun and we are willing to risk a lack of satisfaction in order to obtain fun. We are “friends” or perhaps even “colleagues” engaging in an honourable “debate” in which our weapons speak and counterpoints are made by electronic warfare, range and tanking. We are all just capsuleers looking for a good time. We are friends engaging in the recently proclaimed “fight club community” that is lowsec pvp.
I check in with Jack. He is aligned and ready. Amber gives the go ahead and the countdown ensues.
I land directly on top of the vengeance and point him. Jack calls point on the Ferox as my my 425’s unleash hot fire in every direction. Local is suddenly quiet – this wasn’t part of their plan.
We are not here to make friends. We are not here for the conversation. Lowsec is not “fight club”. Lowsec is our domain and we are here to kill you.
The truth. As pure and simple as it gets.
Following our successful, but somewhat boring Metropolis Campaign, Mise en Abyme moved to Kor-Azor lowsec.
Kor-Azor contains a number of small lowsec pockets and is linked to a number of other regions containing small lowsec pockets and, to our delight, a number of DED sites. Our campaign has stretched throughout such areas and, on occassion has included high security space.
In general, the Kor-Azor campaign has been overwhelmingly successful. The campaign was kicked off by Xi ‘xar and Volstruis in Ami and has been littered with successful ganks, unfair fights, fights involving overwhelming odds, brutal murders, wormhole ganks and some rather fun moments.
On occassion, good fights were had. However, this has not been the norm. Mainly, this campaign has been a learning experience – Miners have been taught valuable lessons. Faction fit Dramiels have finally been taught their proper place. Even this Navitas pilot learnt a lesson.
When it turned out that January was our best ever month, Xi ‘xar threw down the gauntlet and challenged Mise en Abyme members to up their game even further. M-E-A members responded positively to the challenge – February held an even higher number of kills, fewer losses and simply put, better kills.
Surprisingly, February also held two wardecs issued against Mise en Abyme. Neither wardec has yet lead to any noteable fights, simply appearing to have been carebears or bitter vets wasting isk in an attempt at vengeance.
Noteably, over 1.2 billion isk worth of Pods and Implants have thus far been destroyed by Mise en Abyme Pilots during our Kor-Azor campaign
We have no intention of abandoning the campaign at this stage. For the time being, Kor-Azor will remain our “home”.
I leave you the reader with this recording of the Local Channel, captured by one of our pilot’s automated log system:
Azriel Dahma > I give up
Xi ‘xar > Don’t.
Jack Tygra > Do. You are terrible. You have no place in this universe. Please send me your iskies before you go.
Druken Sailor > ^
Xi ‘xar > Don’t listen to jack – he’s a sad man
Azriel Dahma > You’re right. Real life is much more fun. I have 285mil who wants it
Xi ‘xar > I’ll take it
Azriel Dahma > Xi xar take it
Xi ‘xar > Thank you very much.
Without those mentioned above, our members may not have survived the following engagements:
In addition, Mise en Abyme pilots welcomed the call to arms by the Blood Raider Covenant.
Your blockades will ever be successful should you again call upon us again. Our memory of the event is sweet. Clearly, the warning in local that “A local pirate gang has been called in to reinforce the blockade” was not sufficient for Lethiana Vokan.
Mise en Abyme looks forward to working with the above in future.
I pushed my cheetah forward slowly over the edge of the force field, curving down towards the mammoth. He was outside the force field, offlining the large anchorable lasers and although I had already previously tried to tackle him in a Jaguar, seemed entirely oblivious to my presence.
But I was too far and the necessity of maintaining my cloak until I was in proper range made my speed too slow. The mammoth pilot scooped the lasers into his cargo hold and began re approaching the force field. Before I could reach him, he breached the shields and stopped, entirely safe.
“Stay aligned – maybe he does something stupid” I said over comms to Vic and Amber, who were waiting just outside of d-scan range.
“Amarr Control Tower Medium: Unanchoring – 19 minutes 59 Seconds Remaining.”
The force field disappears. I align towards the Mammoth, de cloak, overheat everything and speed towards him at 3 kilometres per second, desperately trying to target him
“Point! Warp to Xi warp to Xi!”
Vic lands first in a rifter, instantly webbing the mammoth and opening fire. Amber’s Brutix seals the deal.
I catch the pod and call in my old partner in crime Volstruis to finish the job.
19 minutes later the control tower is safely stored in the corporate hangar awaiting sale in Amarr.
“Ah I don’t believe you’d like it,
You wouldn’t like it here.
There ain’t no entertainment
and the judgements are severe.“
– L. Cohen
Metropolis – the epicentre of the universe – a vast nebulae whose fingers stretch out from Hek, the rotting core itself, to Auner and Arifsdald, Ofslold to Sirekur, Isbrabrata to Brin.
Metropolis lowsec isn’t the kind of place in which you will find new mission runners, unsure of why their agent insists on sending them to lowsec. Metropolis isn’t filled with enthusiastic new pilots itching for a fight. Metropolis is the black heart of it all – the dark, filthy hole in which the scum of New Eden coagulates.
With 208 kills (9 billion isk destroyed) and 217 losses (6.8 billion lost), overall, the Metropolis campaign has been successful.
For the last three months, we have lain, waiting, in the depths of the shadows, between the fingers of star dust and gas, taking opportunities when they presented themselves, assassinating those that deserved it and occasionally stepping out in full force to lay waste to those that choose to stand in our way.
Tomorrow, we bid farewell to Metropolis.
Thoughts race through my mind as the capsule begins to fold around me. Utter darkness, a cold grey lack of sensation, a mindless, black, emptiness – I am enveloped. My capsule is raised up and lowered into the control centre of my Wolf. My ship is thrust into space in a single, fluid motion. The vastness surrounds me and my mind clears as neurons and synapses automatically begin piloting the vessel.
I banish all thought and begin my search. Hadozeko is empty – nothing but planets, dry asteroid belts and empty space. A list of potential systems flashes behind my closed eyes. I set course for Eifer. My ship aligns and accelerates and time and space blur as I burn towards the next gate, and the next, and the next. Planets slip by unnoticed, filled with the mortal lives and souls of persons unknown. I spread my fingers and begin my mantra. I do not breathe. I bear no scars. I feel no sorrow. I hold no love. I am not human. I am nothing.
A blip on my scanner and instinct takes over: IX Cluster. My ship aligns. jaguar@30degrees. Scan narrows. Ammunition loading. I short warp to gain perspective. 5degrees@belt IX – I. The hunt is over. My mind tenses for the sudden assault…
But I do not always kiss and tell. Not here. Not now. Not to you…
I move on. System after system flashes by.
This is low security space – these empty, silent systems set against a hollow, blackened sky. This is home…
My old friend Volstruis meets me in Gusandall in a Daredevil. His voice, haggard, lined and laced with cheap booze, crackles over the cheap communications channel which we have set up. We come to a quick decision and start out journey down the pipe towards Wiskeber.
My attention crystallises as we jump into Bogelek. Vol reports a Rifter on scan towards a Concord sanctioned DED beacon. I do a wide scan, warping to the star to partially cover the system – a Dramiel is out there. I quickly run the local inhabitants against my intel systems against and notice a number of Gallactic Collision pilots in system: 5 in all. There is no way of knowing how many of them are active.
I swing my ship around towards the beacon and warp us towards the acceleration gate, dropping short by 100km. The Rifter pilot, is sitting about 50km from us. He immediately tries to close and we let him, burning slowly towards the sun as three Dramiels and a Hookbill land. All Gallactic Collision pilots. One of the Dramiels turns towards us and races forward – we let him inch closer and closer, pulling him further from the remainder of his gang. As he hits point range, the other Dramiel not far behind, I warp us to a short safe, targeting systems and warp scramblers ringing behind us.
We immediately double back and warp directly to the DED gate, activating it as soon as we land. The Rifter, Dramiels and Hookbill are already approaching… Our ships burst out of sight, pulling out of warp amongst a small army of Angel fighter pilots. They choose, wisely, not to interfere.
I quickly lower my scan range and wait… a Wolf in its cave… And then there it is – a Dramiel, closing in behind us. The warp bubble bursts around us. He lands right on top of us and the Daredevil’s webifier and warp scrambler immediately strike home. I let loose my autocannons, fire and plasma bursting forth into space. As I approach the Dramiel pieces of its hull splinter off across the void and into the solar winds. As it explodes I am reminded of tearing the legs off of a spider.
This is lowsec, this place of beauty and brutality. This place of poetic justice.
Too late to save his friend, the Rifter lands and my pre-heated autocannons rip through its shields in a single shot. The two remaining Dramiels and the Hookbill land. My Wolf’s warning systems flash wildly and scream as I am locked in place.
Vol is gone. Perhaps he was never there. It doesn’t matter now.
This is lowsec, this place of vengeance. This slough of muddy water and blood.
I feel the tug on my soul as the Hookbill webs me. It is close now. The Rifter explodes and I turn to the Hookbill, cycling my guns…
All I see is white light. I lose my thoughts within themselves, forgetting what it is that I cannot remember – that feeling of vast, sudden expansion tearing through me, burning and screaming as it seeks “more“. All I feel is nothing. And then it comes – the explosive burst of atoms, ripping through evermore, this nothingness, this everything. It is simplicity, thoughtless, random, mindless. It is all and nothing. It is the collective. It is the essence.
I wake up vomiting in Hadozeko, covered in slime, tearing at the artificial life supports.
This is lowsec – a blood stained, forgotten battleground. Rainbow-oil-slicked and filled with broken glass and shards of broken teeth. This void, this abyss, is New Eden’s dirty back alley.
This where I leave the shards of my shattered soul.