In the newly founded sandbox we were promised a fuller life

As I jump from my current location into clones in distant space
And think about who owns this station – they, the previous holders replaced.
And before them others had owned it. I watched them flourish and fall.
Yet the gods of the Jovian sectors silently outlast them all.

We were living on land when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That internet space ships were useful and lasers looked hot when they burned.
They gave us space rocks to harvest they promised us ISK untold
They even gave out a space yacht that was made of solid gold.

But some there were who doubted, were lazy, or out of their mind
So they left the Jovians offer and became a plague on mankind.
They wardecced and killed with abandon and on any unlike them gave chase
And the noobs lot became a sad one, as they devoured tears from their face.

They warred on the miners and salesmen. they killed off friendly and free.
They chased away any from deep space now vacant for any to see.
And the Jovians told us, “don’t worry, build an empire of civil respect”
“A place where the friendly and helpful can build to their hearts content”.

In the newly founded sandbox we were promised a fuller life.
Which started by helping our neighbor and then stealing his boat load of ice.
M0o, Mittani, bob, and Lofty sold us a bill of goods
Claiming scamming and combat would feed us so we all covered our heads up with hoods.

They swore if we took up our weapons, that attacks on us would cease
That those who take our things from us would leave us here in peace.
But the arms and building exposed us, they drew envious attackers like flies
They took everything we constructed, then covered their crime with some lies.

So now I sit in the station, that my former alliance laid down
The current masters are tightwads, and the market will not make a sound
Because tho’ we have plenty of money there is nothing our money can buy
For the scammer controls the near markets and the prices have gone up too high.

We’re all looking for some place to setup, safe undiscovered remote.
A place to call a homeland, for those still daring to hope.
But something inside me is leery, I’m doubting it will be the case
That any find peace in a system this side of Jovian space

As the gods of the Jovian sectors plan new mazes to bring us down low
I think up schemes to take outposts that we owned many years ago.
The peace and prosperity promised may never come to this place
As long as pilots with jumpclones remember who settled this space.

– an adaptation of Rudyard Kipling’s “The Gods of Copybook Headings” by EVE player Barbara Nichole.  This won a bonus prize in the PLEX for Parody poety contest.

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