Angels Fall First

I've been told that an old flick raised the idea that we can be defined by two questions:

1) "Who are you?"

2) "What do you want?"

I'll add "What the fuck are you doing here?" as the third question, and start to answer.

So, who am I? I'm Angelus, a semi-reformed carebear still (hopelessly) clinging to my rapidly dropping sec status, a part-time pirate and a tireless theorycrafter. I am also a new combat pilot who has a hell of a time figuring what he wants to fly in the first place, where the right buttons are and how to not fail every time a fight goes south.

I also happen to be that smug bastard on the bottom of the photo banner.

What do I want?  This one is easier: I roam New Eden in the search of thrills, kills, single-malt whiskey and ISK. The ISK part was born out of obvious necessity: Thrills and kills do not come cheap, and neither does that goddamned whiskey. I'm out here to have fun, and quite often, having fun means blowing shit up. I can also tell you what I don't want: I don't want to fight in massive fleet actions, I don't want to lay sieges to star systems and I sure as hell don't want to follow orders when I don't feel like it. I do what I want, when I want and however I want to go about it.

Finally, how did I end up here? Well, you see, there is only one way truly reliable way to make friends in New Eden: Blow them up. It might seem counter-intuitive at first, but if it does, you'll realize the truth of this statement later down the line. Of course, that means that someone needs to be blown up to keep everything nice and balanced. In my case, I got the short end of the stick. It seems like ages ago, but one of my current partners in crime, Cass, cost me a Rifter. That bastard.

Since then, one thing led to another, and here I am, writing stuff for you to read. Stick around, we might not always make a lot of sense around these parts (frankly, we don't really try, most of the time), but we definitely like to make no sense in a myriad of funny ways. It also helps that the opposition likes to make no sense as well, which makes for some funny killmails (or lossmails).

As a parting shot: If I had one piece of advice to give someone starting out in New Eden: Go get blown up. Nothing stirs up the butterfly effect as much as the expanding debris cloud of a dead ship.

Trust me. I've been on both ends.

Fly well,

Ang.