For most capsuleers, Death is a constant companion. If we’re not dying, we’re killing. If we’re not killing, we’re trading in the implements of death. If we’re not trading, we’re manufacturing new and improved ways of killing people.
Funny occupations for someone who’s functionally immortal, don’t you think?
I guess there’s some truth to the common perception that capsuleers are sociopaths who don’t care about baseliners. I mean I’ve personally caused the deaths of tens of thousands, if not hundreds. I don’t think I’ve hit the millions, but that may be wishful thinking on my part. Of course, they all had it coming (Except possibly my crew. But they’re well compensated). You take the coin from a pirate, you trade in slaves, and you give up any rights you have to life.
These days, I tend to keep a few steps removed from it all. A Merchant of Death, rather than a deathdealer. Are my hands any cleaner? Probably not. Still doesn’t interrupt my sleep. Only thing which does, is thoughts of my own death. Like with the H4-RP4 Kyonoke outbreak. Sure I had a backup, but that’s not the same. At least not for this me.
I guess it comes down to keeping your friends close, but your enemies closer. Death’s the greatest fear of a capsuleer. True Death, that is. So we flirt with it. Hold it close, wear it like a cloak, spreading it where ever we go. There are times that I think on the religions of my childhood, and fear the day it all comes crashing down.
Memoirs: Death by Fuzzwork Enterprises is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.